Then we didn’t have this thing called technology.

We had no phones, no electricity, even that which they called the post office just came in new into town.

Writing wasn’t common those days so most of us didn’t bother sending posts, our words were the only thing we had to give ’cause when we say it, it becomes a promise we have to fulfill.

My family was separated from me the day it happened. The day the riot broke out.

Who would’ve known a riot would breakout in the city that day?

Few weeks later the riot died down, my whole town was empty as i walked through it, dead bodies and burned down houses was all that was left of it.

All I prayed and wished for is my family to move on and forget about me if they ever made it out alive.

I walked into my home but all I found was a fully equipped empty house. I was able to recognize it coz of the family photo we took with our little prince and princess. I took the photo off the wall – the house became the strangest place I’ve ever been to.

Why?! Why did I go into town that day? Why didn’t I continue our hide and seek play with our babies? If only I’d stayed for few more minutes, maybe we would still be together. I thought.

Are they dead? Are they alive? Did they escape the riot? Where they separated? Those were the words that passed through my mind as I left the house in regret of failing my family.

Where do my search start from? What would I do if they were hurt? What would they think of me? A father that left and failed to be there in their times of fear?

Am I a failed father?

I hope they remember my last words to them before I left for town that day, the last thing I said after my promise to return home.

My Goodbye to them.

 

This article was written by Joel Joshua; connect with him on IG here

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