This happened in a Country far, far away from the Kundla continent called Dundla, some long time ago, when phones and social platforms were released at a pilot level, only for some rich and gangster people.
His name was Dumas. He was born in a small countryside town, Drundlu of Dundla, from a very poor family and raised in a very dire situation. He went to school barefooted, like most of the kids in town. He got used to the once-in-a-day meal, that his mother reserved for him from the leftover food, which the rich people, she worked for, gave her for lunch. He knew his mother didn’t eat much because she had to spare more than half of the food for him, even though her job at the rich people’s house was exhaustive and she was diabetic.
“Why are wealthy people so greedy and ungrateful?” he would ask himself as he knew all the rich people in town. “They are sucking the blood and energy out of my mother, and they still look down on her like she is a burden to their luxurious life.” The life of rich people in, leave alone Drundlu, but the whole Dundla is affording a 52 iron sheet roof house with, one bedroom for mom and dad, another one for all the ten children, and one kitchen where the house servants sleep—oh, and one grass roof shade for the cattle.
Bad thoughts about rich people had been revolving in his brain and blasted when his mother died helplessly diabetic and hungry. “…and they say diabetes is a rich men’s disease in this town. Rich men my elbow! What about my mother? Was she a rich woman? Nope, no no… she was just diabetic and poor. She was so ill and hungry that her service wouldn’t satisfy the rich people a little bit like the old days. So they did not just dismiss her from her exploitive job but they also stopped giving her their leftover food! And then, we both went hungry.
Yet, she tried to hide her illness and tricked me in to continuing my education. I never knew how she managed to get some leftover food and tried to fill my stomach until I was seventeen. That was ten years of struggle with diabetes and a gluttonous stomach of a teenager kid. My stomach was never full though; like I have had a hyena tied inside it. My mother had that monster called diabetes in her but she never complained about hunger…And I should have known better. Instead of the army, I should have joined the Shkulu Mululu, after quitting high school. I would have had prolonged my mother’s life. ”
He spoke such thing during his inaugural ceremony when he became head of the Shkulu Mululu! Shkulu Mululu is the Nation’s most feared and ruthlessly organized gang in town.
In his brain, joining the army had been the right thing. At least he transferred some six months salary of his and covered his mother’s medications. A soldier’s payment in Dundla is cigarette money. It never lasts a day of an extravagant vacation. That’s why the soldiers get a half-night vacation in a nearby town to enjoy the tarts, after a bloody campaign. Even though he fought in three bloody battles, he never dared to have a half night vacation. He sent his entire payment home to support his mother’s medical cost. His mother would buy the medicines by the money her son sent. But she wouldn’t have something to eat. Whenever he thought of the passing of his mother, he would say to himself, “Army my elbow. I should have been Shkulu Mululu.”
Well, his sorrow wouldn’t bring his mother back. But luck brought the Shkulu Mululu to him when he was almost drinking and smoking his life away in a local liquor store. His good reputation in the army, which he left following his mother’s death, was overheard and made him a perfect candidate for the gang. His gang membership didn’t last long. He just became the leader. And what shocked the small town? All of a sudden he claimed that he was going to build a machine gun factory in Drundlu.
How is that going to happen? Nobody knows. People were so confused about the shortest way he came to power. They even questioned whether the gang lost its genius brains; most of the time by killing one another, or this Dumas really is a genius with a capability of building a sophisticated machinegun factory?
In a public announcement, which was usually made by loyal whistle-blowers of the gang, for whistle-blowing is the only medium of mass communication in town, he told officials not to worry about grabbing land by force to build the factory. They don’t have to worry about bank robbery either. He said “I will just build it!”
What does that mean anyway? Is he going to build a factory on the moon or else? This was everybody’s question in town. Such kinds of announcements were always whistle-blown. Society was always puzzled! The result would be chaos or silence most of the times. This time there was no chaos or silence, only confusion.
Some people who were already affiliated to the gang activities said the building of the machinegun factory would bring difference to the town’s history. They said the killing will transform. “It makes gang groups transform from axes and daggers to machine guns! Whoa, they will wipe-out each other real quick! And the administration would have its relief!” they uttered such things to one another.
One could describe his expertise as “But in terms of money machineguns could be costly! You know the fool in power won’t sell anything with cheap price! Daggers are the best in this case! You just stick it in your enemy’s neck and pull it out, brush the blood on his coat, and walk away. Cheap as that.”
The confusion on the other walks of life is not even about the factory but how come this crinkle-faced Dumas got to the leadership of Shkulu Mululu in such a short time? Simple, he stabbed every one of the old leaders of the gang in the back. Every time something wrong went between gang groups, it was from too much trust or too much mistrust. They just vow on a very strong law of trust and one day some greedy gangster would break it and then no one would trust his own shadow. There should never be such thing as being a blood spilling gangster bound with the laws of trust and loyalty.
“Some foolish young men only believe the gang’s fairy tales about a strict code of trust and loyalty between themselves”, said a wise Towner called Dobe Kumsi ones. “They would tell you that you could be a millionaire in one night if you smuggle one kilogram of cocaine by stashing it in your stomach. A fool who believed them died his intestine shredded like a toilet paper! It may be a matter of time but the only thing you could get from loyalty and trust in a gang group is a stab in the back. We may be poor but we all don’t have to choose the path of the gangs to be rich. We need to build our morals. If our morals are dominated by vengeance and grief, there is no doubt all the forests in this country will be full of gang groups”, he would say these words when the Shkulu Mululu was out of town fighting with some rival gang somewhere.
BY SHAMA
The Ethiopian herald May 15/2024
