The sound that woke Deng from among the cattle in his fathers large Luak was at once ominous and familiar, but never this close. The night air filled with pungent smoke that stung eyes and made nostrils tingle. The animals shivered, their brown coats rippling with the danger all round. Gun fire sound had long replaced the cricket and owl sounds of the night. Their familiarity was only a small vestige of folklore that he heard repeated by older boys on moonlit nights when they spent time away in the open sky’s of his Homeland.
From pure instinct, Deng moved quickly and flung his flail long hands around the lead bull, hanging like a baby monkey on it’s neck. Everywhere there was pandemonium. Screams. Rapid gun fire. More screams that a shot or two would put a stop to. Whispered orders. More shots as if for good measure, then final silence to be quickly followed by loud orders from a familiar tongue. Cattle rustlers. Deng’s heart sunk. Continue reading