Thursday 8th July 1965 around 10 p.m. or so at night I was woken up abruptly by unfamiliar sound. Tat! Tat! Tat! sharp sound in three successions. This was the sound of the German made G3 rifle standard issue to the Sudanese army. It was an extremely frightening moment for me at a very delicate formative age.
I was confused and gripped with panic as I heard my mother in our darkened house praying with my elder brother hurrying the family to move out quick. I had never heard my mother's voice sound forlorn as it did. She must have thought we would not survive given her lamentation to the Almighty. Under the guidance of my two elder brothers we left our house and just few meters away we heard a burst of gun fire and we saw our uncle who must have been coming to us fall. Survival dictated that we had to forget about him and continue least we perish too.
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