Tamara
27 Jan 2012 Leave a Comment
in Coffee
Sorry it took so long. Enjoy and don’t forget to leave a comment 
You might want to read the previous post–> ”Through her eyes” if you haven’t because ‘Tamara’ is a continuation x
He parked his motorcycle behind the town hall building and walked to the front door. He gave it three short raps and two long ones and it opened up a second later. The other rebels were gathered around a broad, hand crafted table and he noticed their guns were kept close to their sides like quiet companions. They looked up when he walked in and he gave them a short bow. They murmured their acknowledgement of his presence with quick nods and he pulled up an empty chair and joined the tight circle. A man with thinning hairline stood up and a hush settled over the meeting. His name is Kingsley and the most noticeable thing about him was the scar that started at the top of his forehead and ended at the bottom of his lip. He got it the first night he spent in jail for kidnapping the child of an employer that worked for one of the oil companies. The police men that found him beat him mercilessly until he was coughing up a mouth full of blood and broken teeth. They threw him into their already cramped cell, taking him out only to torture and question him until he confessed his crime. He was released the next day with a deep cut on his face that ended up requiring 28 stitches. As he bit down on his lip to stop himself from screaming in pain at the community clinic, he decided to form the rebel group and recruit young men who were willing to die and kill for the justice he believed in.
‘My Brothers. Welcome.’
‘Our Leader.Welcome.’
Tamara tuned Kingsley’s voice out and allowed his mind to wander to his cousin. When Tari had first arrived, he had his doubts about her, but over time she proved to be a resilient young woman and a friendly face he appreciated when his aunt’s disapproving looks followed him around the house. He fingered the trigger on his gun and thought about the first life he had taken. It was his initiation night and he was sent on a police station in one of the communities he was familiar with. He walked in to find the only policeman on duty sleeping. He laughed and used the butt of his gun to violently wake him up. The policeman dropped to his knees and begged Tamara to spare his life. He babbled and cried about his wife and children at home for a few minutes before Tamara got tired of the pathetic grovelling and shot him in the head. He was surprised at how killing came so easily to him; he had no fear and the cocaine he had snorted earlier in the day was still heavy in his system. He grabbed whatever guns he could find and stepped on the puddle of blood and brain matter that was starting to form, leaving a trail of dark red boot prints in his wake.
He heard Kingsley say his name and he looked up quickly and caught the end of the sentence.
‘…Tamara is finally a man.’ The rebels flashed their yellowing teeth in approval and the ones close to him patted his back and congratulated him. He stood up, loudly repeated the oath and sat back down. Watching the men regard him with new-found respect made his heart swell with pride. His decision to become a rebel had hurt his aunt deeply. She wanted him to focus on school and finding a good job, but at 20, Tamara was very restless and stubborn. He knew he had a calling and he was convinced this was it.
Kingsley rounded up the meeting with the oath and proceeded to produce a large bottle of rum from his messenger bag. He took a healthy swig and passed it around the table with a loud laugh. When the bottle got to him, Tamara tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut when the warm liquor slid down his throat. He passed it on and embraced the burning sensation that made him feel invisible and untouchable. When the feeling the feeling died down, he remembered Tari alone in the house and hurriedly joined the stream of men leaving the town hall.
