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African Hearts

By Laura OConnell

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Chapter One
Gumboli village, Uganda
Kamukama Bonsu knelt on the damp ground and straightened the
crude wooden cross at the head of his best friend’s grave. Marco
Messina had died two weeks ago. Kamukama’s nostrils twitched
at the damp earthy odours that floated on the early morning air. His
breathing slowed, as sweat from the effort of his run, trickled down
the sides of his face and dripped off his chin. The run helped him
forget the broiling in the pit of his stomach.
If only he’d kept a closer watch on Marco, reminding him to
take his medication whenever it was due, instead of accepting
Marco’s casual waving of the arm dismissing him as if it was of no
importance. It wasn’t until Marco was bed-ridden, and Achen had
kept a close watch on his regimen, that he felt he had some control
of Marco’s health, but by then it had been too late. Marco had lost
the will to live, and who could blame him? There was only so much
a man could take.
Insects buzzed around his face. ‘I miss you, man. There’s a hole
deep inside of me I don’t like.’ His voice became a forced whisper
because his pain was too great.
Hot tears stung the backs of his eyes. Kamukama picked up a
pebble and threw it against a tree trunk where it hit with a dull thunk.
‘Your sister hasn’t come yet, Marco. You said she’d come. Maybe
she didn’t get the letter...’
Kamukama swallowed and stared at his trembling hands, another
habit formed during the past couple of days because he was alone
as leader of Gumboli now. He was brought up to be a leader of a
Ugandan village and now he had the opportunity to prove himself he
wasn’t sure he was the man for the job. His first challenge was how to
preserve the excess food they produced. Drought would come again
in the future and they needed to be prepared by having money or
stores of grain to get them through bad times again.
He stood up to his full one hundred and ninety-five centimetres.
Yes, he was fit and strong, but he needed more than physical strength.
Marco wanted to raise a team to build a better Gumboli with a modern
hospital, food surplus and safety for the people. They’d begun to build
the team, but now that Marco was gone, the men had lost interest and
were returning to their old ways of idleness and expecting hand-outs.
No time for negativity. He had to push on and honour Marco’s wishes.
As a child, he was told not to worry about tomorrow, because he
had to deal with today first. He never really understood the meaning
of those words until two days ago, when people came to him seeking
answers for their and Gumboli’s future. Only time would tell if he
was the one called to lead Gumboli into the twenty-first century.

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