Dear Jaime,

I have seen death speeding on the highway since I was a child. I know little, but I have ascertained it spoke all the languages of men.

Perhaps, this is why it hits every vein in the country.

You see, it hoots like the owl and comes up on us with the stealth steps of a jaguar. Many people decry it,  but some saw it coming and could do nothing. 

Some like our father who couldn't claim the right to weep.

You were too little. How could you know?

The first time these bandits came upon us, they knocked like neighbours. Father opened, but he found their request outrageous.

Did he fight? Yes. Only few men would chicken to safety when their wives are requested by bandits.

One week gone, and he was yet to rise from the sick bed. One week gone, and mother was yet to be returned to us.

Right now, I can't say it was the sickness that led him into the womb of earth. It was something we all didn't understand as children.

Mother returned weeks later, bruised and exhausted. She might have gone for days without food just to get home to us.

But she was met at the entrance by the raised earth where her darling laid.

Her eyes darted towards us, and her countenance darkened with realization.

That was how she ceased to speak. Mute for the rest of her days. Nevertheless, she walked us through the first few years. I saw her nurse that wound every midnight because we shared a room.

Jaime, our parents didn't abandon us. They fought for us, but they were just one man and one woman against the cursed hounds that despoil our lands.

Don't let anyone tell you otherwise...not even our aunt, Ify, and her family.

Your big sis,

Kainene.