Dear child, if you are reading this, it means I’m already dead. That’s all right, your daddy never was afraid of death. Regardless of my imperfections, that you should now be fully aware of, my love for you was perfect.
I was a ruthless thug with a stone in the place where others have hearts. Bereft of any remorse, I did some horrendous things that will make the bravest of men scream in their sleep like little girls for the rest of their lives.
I was not proud of the things I did, but neither did I condemn them; the evil and the good was part of me. I had lived at peace with my darker side. When you hear of what happened to the Jairos family, know that daddy is not proud of it. The whispers are true, dear child, we woke up at the middle of the night and torched their house because they had voted for the wrong political party. Their views were against the the mandates of the liberation struggle. I did it for you my son, It was unfortunate that little Joan could not get out of the house before the fire turned it into an inferno.
I have relived that day everyday. My child, I see the little girl with her dress spluttered with blood trickling from her innocent eyes and her mouth muttering, “Why did you kill me?” I have not slept properly ever since, but understand that I did it for you my son!
If you have heard of what happened to Sekuru Kandere at Zengeza bridge, you must be thinking I was some sort of a devil, I don’t blame you, I did it for you. The old man had been part of us for a while, but one day he grew a conscience and decided to betray us. I had to stop him. It was not my idea to tie him to his bicycle and throw him into the river but I stood and watched as his screams drowned in the brown churning waters.
Such was my life when i met your mother. A common village girl, ugly as a Gothic caricature, no man would look at her twice without having to spit at her. She smelled like a tavern, her teeth were rotten, her eyes swollen and her skin resembled the bark of a burnt Msasa tree. I hated her at first sight.
As fate would have it, one day I got overly drunk after we had massacred hundreds in the nearby villages that had stopped supporting the Chimurenga, I was in desparate need of a bed warmer. She being the only thing that resembled a woman near me, I took and raped her.
I shake as I write this, tears start to gather in my eyes. Oh son! Please forgive me for what I did that night! She did not deserve it! She did not, I see it now. I used her in the vilest of ways, tore her apart and left her bleeding on the floor. I despise myself for these tears that are spoiling the paper I’m profusely writing on.
About eight months later we returned to the village to gather supplies for another raid to the west. Flames of rebellion had started from the ashes. That’s when I saw her, her hair a little shorter, her eyes as wide as those of a person who has swallowed two mangoes and she was with child. My child.
I immediately summoned her to my quarters and questioned her. After a few attempts at hiding the truth from me, I finally got it out of her through means I wish not to tell you. For the first time in my life, my knees started shaking, I was afraid! I despised myself for such pusillanimous emotions but they were not groundless, for our mission also included burning her and the whole village. I could not burn my own son.
So I sat down and began writing this to you, for I am about to commit treason by giving your mother one of our rovers to escape in. They will find out eventually, hopefully she’d would have made it across the border. As for me, they will torture and kill me. That’s okay, daddy is not afraid of death.
“Traitor! Open the damn door!”
Child that’s my superior banging on the door. I don’t have a lot of time left…