Our hopes of Justise were burred with bitter twisted lies.

Not only our but the justice of black people was bure deep underground. The day
was all but over thinking, was my father murdered? There was no humanity, no
equality, no freedom, perhaps it was the murder of black people’s justice.
My father was getting ready throughout the night before he went for the party.
The previous day was too short for him but he slept on his study table, that hole
night writhing the speech that he was going to present in the party. Me and my
small sister wake him up in the early morning.
My small sister calls out, “daddy wake up its time to go”.
As he lift his back from the chair I heard the fragile voice coming from his throat “
Uhh!”.
It was if he did not want to wake up today but as we insisted him to take us to
school as we were getting late, he lifted himself off the bed.
“Umar and Ali come out quickly”, Baba shouted while we heard the roaring voice
of the car.
We ran out of the home as I saw the clock strike 7:00am.
“Bye, mama see you soon”.
Everything was going out smoothly until by feelings began to twist as we walked
to school kissing our father’s hand. The shine in his eyes and his words were
worrying me the most. His tone was different at that time. There was a shote of
adrenaline as he uses the dictions “bye” “its time to move on our own ways”.
It keeps me disappointed during hole my school time. We came back to our home
with our mother.
I asked “Were is daddy why he didn’t come to pick us?”
My mother, “he must be in the work, I called him but he didn’t pick the call”.
The was getting rain so we went straight into our home. It was raining hard so
were unable to go out and play, so I just sit on the chair Infront of my room
window. It keeps on giving me some deep feeling that I never had before, that
suddenly filled my eyes with tears. My mother called me down for some work, so
I just ignore it thinking it as my mad feelings and thoughts. The thoughts were
completely disappeared from my mind. The time passed soon.
It was late night 9:00pm.
“Your father should be back right now”, my mother said”.
We were waiting on the dinning able for my father to come and have dinner with
us. My mother called my father, but he didn’t pick the call. The sound of Tooon!
Toooon! Was making me frightened and was ruining all of those thoughts.
There was a ring on the door bell, we ran to meet our father. The thing that I saw,
I would never be able to forget it…
My father was laying Infront of our door. The blood was his dress that he always
waits for with a smile. He was smiling to me, but it was my thought. Is my strong
father murder make my hole body to shiver and made my hart stop its job for a
minute?
Then there goes all of those struggling day that we spent on finding that criminal.
The things were all conflicting, the law was not standing for the right, people were
not living to make their live bright but to destroy others life.
We tried all organization that were supposed to stand for people but no one
listened to our helpless voice. There was no one not even a single person to stand
for our right. Our voices were buried before they had the chance to come out. we
were taught by everyone saying “You are black, your story would be highlighted
with bitter twisted lies”. I listened everyone suggesting to stop struggles as if they
do not even want to allow the fading voice to grieve before it gets buried in the
clouds of terror and injustice. These bitter twisted lies have burred the justice of
all black nation with no humanity and no equality.