My Path to Justice
Patricia was born into a privileged family; her father was a barrister and her mother an accountant. When she was thirteen, her parents died in a plane mishap which left no survivor. Her life changed the day the incident happened. She was separated from her siblings to live in the village, an entirely new experience for her. More
I could hear the beep! beep!! sound of a machine and different voices in the room. One was very familiar, a male voice saying “doctor, is she going to wake up? It’s been two weeks now, is my wife drifting away?” It was then I realized it was my husband speaking. I was responding “honey, honey, can’t you hear me, how is Theresa and Michael? Are they in school?” I was talking but nobody could hear me. Am I dead? I asked myself, but I can hear their conversation. I tried opening my eyes but they were too heavy, I tried moving my limbs but couldn’t feel them. Different thoughts flipped through my mind, then I realized I was unconscious.
How did I end up here? I tried recollecting my thoughts; all I could remember were childhood memories. I saw faint pictures of my family eating together on the dinning table with mum filling our plates with dinner and dad asking us how our day went. I was born into a privileged family, my father was a barrister and my mother a chartered accountant. We lived in a fine duplex surrounded by a beautiful garden in the highbrow area of the city. Among our domestic staff were two cleaners, a cook, a gardener, two security guards, a driver and a supervisor. They all lived in the bungalow close to the main building. My childhood days were fun. I looked forward to holidays when we visited neigbhouring African countries. My favorite places were the zoo, market places where I bought souvenirs and other interesting locations. I liked throwing bananas to the monkeys and watch wild animals in their natural environment; they looked harmless though we kept a safe distance. I always had stories for my friends after the holidays.
Though my parents were professionals and had time demanding jobs, they spent quality time with us when they were around. They enjoyed attending occasions even if it took them out of the state; but, were sure to leave us in capable hands and in close contact through phone. I am the third child with two elder sisters and two younger brothers. We attended good schools and had private tutors who ensured we had good grades at the end of each term. Life was good, everybody was nice to us; friends, relatives, business associates as well as church members. When they visited our home, they often left smiling.
One fateful day, my parents were all dressed up for a two day event in another state and as expected, instructed us on what we should and shouldn’t do while they were away. The usual hug and kisses took place, if only we knew it would be the last we wouldn’t have let them go. All was well until late in the afternoon when we heard in the breaking news on television about a fatal plane crash which left no survivor. It was the same plane my dad and mum boarded. The plane had taken off in good condition; the weather was fine and was closely monitored by the air space control unit. Half way into the journey, the first engine failed, gradually the second engine developed problems. The pilots tried an emergency landing in an open field but the second engine failed before they could touch ground. Everything went up in flames within minutes. I fainted when it was confirmed they weren’t coming back. I was thirteen year old when it all happened. My elder sisters were eighteen and fifteen while my younger brothers were eleven and six respectively.
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