June 13, 1992.
Little boy Ama was playing in his room when he heard the commotion. At first, he ignored it. He preferred role playing with his G.I.Joe figurines rather than caring about people shouting at each other and using foul language.
He had been brought up in a Christian environment. Both his parents had come from small villages, where the divine matters and the traditions were followed to the letter. However, both of them were too open-minded and free-spirited to be contained in their respective villages. Having moved to a big city, they preferred to keep to themselves. They still valued their upbringing and had mostly kept to their traditions, but they were not as brainwashed as they thought that their fellow villagers had been.
The commotion grew stronger. Actually, little Ama could only hear one man shouting and cursing. He knew who it was. One of the residents of the upper floor. Ama had never liked him.
He was a white haired man; his face was scarred from the travels abroad as a sailor man and so was his attitude. He had always been less than polite, his manners were offensive, his sense of humour more so. However, Ama’s parents were close friends with him and his wife, so Ama had to put up with them both, whenever they came to visit.
The sailor carried on cursing for more than two full minutes. He used expressions like “go to hell”, “fucking stupid twat”, “piece of shit whore” and “worthless cunt”. He also said something about someone’s kid being an “abomination”.
Little Ama tried, to the best of his ability, to concentrate on his figurines. After a couple of minutes, the shouting subsided.
The Cobra agents were kicking the shit out of the G.I.Joe soldiers. This was happening for the first time ever. Lifeless G.I’s lay around Ama’s feet.
“Attack! Oh, you brave warriors!” Ama shouted, imitating the voice of the G.I. General figure that he was holding in his right hand.
“HA! HA! HA!” he, then, imitated the Cobra leader’s malevolent laughter. “You have no luck today! You will die like the rest, you worthless cunt!”
Ama immediately froze into place. His eyes felt hot and his cheeks burnt red with shame. In his 13 years of life, he had never cursed. Not even once. He had never even called someone so much as “silly”. He nailed his eyes to the door. He expected his mother to come in and teach him a lesson for using foul language. Any minute now, the door would open and he’d be in for a slapping.
His parents had never laid a finger on him, but he was certain that this time, he wasn’t getting away. He stared at the closed door; he held his breath, involuntarily. Half a minute later, nobody came in.
He smirked. Maybe his mother hadn’t heard him? His father was away on duty. His brother was at school. He was home alone with his mother. He was in his room while she was outside, cleaning the balcony.
“Cunt”, he whispered and chuckled. “Cunt! Cunt! Cunt!” he then shouted, as he made the Cobra leader jump around the G.I.Joe General.
A couple of hours later, Ama felt hungry. He read the time off the Casio watch that his father had bought for him. It was one of those digital watches that had a full calculator keypad under the screen. The illuminated digits were bright green. Like an Amstrad CPC monitor.
The screen read “14:51”. As soon as Ama had read the time, his stomach growled. As if starvation was on a timer and it had just gone off.
“Mom!” he shouted, “Mom, I’m starving!”
Silence answered him.
“Mom!” he screamed, angered, as he marched out of the room. The door slammed behind him. “Come on! What’s for lunch?”
He found his mother lying on the cold, flooded balcony. The water was still coming out the hose in her hand. Her face was wet, either from the water or the tears she had shed as death claimed her.