"They lived on the innocence's sweats." 
Destroyed Roof in Pageri, Courtesy
If you had never been to that village or its neighbour, you might think it was just a false story. But the truth was quite different. Owiku never slept. During the day, it hooted softly, but come evening, it was more alert, as if sensing the approaching darkness.
The villagers deserted their homes, and a feeling of unease settled in. Trucks filled with children and women moved through the jungles seeking safety, while the men guarded the rear, like a startled elephant protecting its calf. As night fell, darkness cloaked the sky beyond, and minds wandered in chaos. The question echoed in everyone's mind: Why us? The villagers would never find an answer to a question.
Meanwhile, the invaders, promised by their leaders, vandalised roofs, metal doors, and remnants inside houses. They slaughtered those they found. Some homes became toilets; schools became their barracks, and hospitals into kitchens. Once beautiful and peaceful villages, now a desert of suffering and inequality. Those who cooperated were rarely spared their freedom of association and communication. The people had fled, leaving behind their homes and livelihoods.
As the situation worsened, Owiku's warnings became more urgent. Passing through our village, Owiku moved forward, its hooting a warning of disaster. Through the leaves of the trees and waterways, it spoke of imminent danger. "Tomorrow, we will reach your village; take time to cross over." My neighbours could not dismiss the fear. They trembled. Was it real? Yes! Owiku was real and hurting. Thinking of an earlier return, they joined the convoy fleeing their neighbouring villages. They too had to reach safety.
Sitting under my orange tree, life began to tangle and drift back and forth. “Why are the villagers running?” My mind was curiously puzzled. Yes, Owiku was not my concern, and I did not care. Let them go.
Nevertheless, the truth lingered. There were disappearances of young men and women. Silent wailings were loudly heard among communities. Vandalised metallic doors, windows, and roofs were turned into scraps and exported to neighbouring cities. The invaders appeared joyful but never knew the unknown that would fall upon them.
Some bought chairs, household items, and luxuries from the invaders. Who cared who belonged to no one? Was it true they belonged to no one? They cooperated; others joined the invaders, collecting villagers' animals as their hard-won gains. They lived on the innocence's sweats. Never did they know surviving on such would account profusely.
Owiku continued to save the innocence.
Abunerry, Ayella
