What Really Killed His Parents?!

Shortly after Sinanda became king, he brought his father and mother to Port Bamanga to live in the palace with him. He had given them a magnificent guest house with servants and a motor car to take them wherever they wanted to go.

At first they had been proud of their son and all the things he said he was going to do. But they became worried when they saw his terrible rages and heard the stories about the killings and disappearances. They missed the village life. They missed their sons and daughters and the villagers. They even missed working on the farm every day. Worst of all people in the streets booed and hissed at them whenever they went out in the

car. They felt that they had become prisoners in their son's palace.

After a long discussion they decided to talk to Sinanda. It was late at night, but they went to the palace and asked to see their son. They were told he had gone to bed, but they demanded to see him.

The king finally appeared, dressed in his any uniform.

"Well?" he asked. ''What's so urgent? Is anything the matter?"

''Don't be angry with us, son. We have come to tell you something."

"What?''

"We do not want to live in this palace any more''

"Why?" asked Sinanda, starting to get angry.

"We're afraid,'' his father said.

"We want to go back to our village in Timanga,'' said his mother. ''Do not forget, your father and mother are poor people. We are used to being poor..."

The words drove Sinanda into a furious temper. He began to pace up and down the room. For a moment he forgot he was standing before his parents and he began to shout. He got more and more angry when he saw the tears in his mother's eyes.

"So!" he shouted. "You are not on my side? You are against me. You do not want me to be king. Everybody in Bamanga fears me! Everybody in Bamanga respects me! Everybody in Bamanga loves me - everybody but you!?" He pointed at his mother.

His father could not allow his son to speak this way but he did not know what to do. Sinanda's rage frightened him. He tried to explain as gently as he could.

"You are wrong, my son. Of course we love you,'' he said. 'We love you and wish you well - but we do not enjoy this kind of life. It is not for us."

The noise was so great that Danta was wakened from his sleep. He crept along the corridor and peered in through a crack in the door. When he saw his father shouting at his grandmother and grandfather, he ran quickly back to his room and locked the door. He beat his fists against his pillows. But the shouts still came to his ears.

Sinanda was almost screaming with rage now.

"I've brought you from the village,'' shouted Sinanda. "I've given you a lovely house, You can go anywhere you want in your motor car. I've given you every comfort. What do you want?'' The king stared at them with a mad look in his eyes.

Sinanda terrified his mother, but she spoke up

bravely. ''It's not comfort we want, son, but peace! The people of Bamanga are dying."

She was going to say more, but Pa Mininda spoke quickly to stop her.

"We're not used to so much luxury and comfort, my son,'' he said. ''We're afraid."

Sinanda screamed and screamed at his mother and father until they nearly melted with fear.

"You don't have to work! You don't even have to go to the shop! You don't have to do anything! You can just sit and enjoy your -"

"No, no!'' his father interrupted him. "We are bored ... We want to go back and work on the farm again. We miss the farm. We miss our neighbours. We are used to farming and labouring. This life is not good for us."

Sinanda looked at his parents. He had stopped screaming now. Instead he began to plead with them.

"I beg you to stay ... It will be a disgrace for me if you leave me like this.'' He held his arms out to them. ''I have become king of Bamanga. The father of the king cannot farm! It is poor man's work.''

"But,'' said his father, ''you are always telling the people on the radio - farm, farm, farm .. I heard you again today. I am one of those people. My son, let me go and farm. People will see that your father is a farmer and you will be proud of that. Your people will be proud of you."

Sinanda stared at his father. His eyes slowly grew angry again.

''Oh, demons!'' cried the king. His face had an evil look and he rubbed his hands together as if washing them. ''Save me from these demons!'' He started to pull at his hair in his rage. "So you are against me - you too?"

His father's eyes grew dull with fear.

Sinanda suddenly went quiet again. He sat, holding his head in his hands. When he raised his head again, his eyes were flaming with rage. "I shall have to arrange a special car for you ... Yes, I shall have to-"

At that moment Queen Mirama appeared beside him. She had changed over the months. In an attempt to please the king she had bought many new clothes. Now she wore a beautiful green sleeping gown, and she smelt of an expensive perfume. She looked more beautiful than ever.

"I heard what they said, dear king,'' She smiled at him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "They don't like the palace. But surely they won't leave us now? I don't understand this ... It is a very bad sign! Something bad will happen!"

King Sinanda said nothing. He sat staring at his parents with the same evil look in his eyes.

''Why don't you stop them?" Queen Mirama turned to her husband. "This wil be a disgrace. What will people say?''

Still, King Sinanda said nothing. He stared at his mother and father who were sitting nervously holding hands.

"Very well! Let them go!" Mirama said sadly. ''If they want to go, let them go." She began to sob. ''If they want to disgrace the king ..."

Sinanda stood up. He looked at his father and mother again.

"I have asked you to stay with us, to show that you are proud of me.'' He spoke quite calmly now. "If you cannot stay ..."

He turned to leave the room. His mother came after him.

''So we can go?'' she asked. ''Oh, thank you, thank you ... God bless you.'' She fell to her knees. ''God will bless you, my son."

Pa Mininda and his wife returned to their guest house. They were too tired to sleep. They lay on their bed and made plans for the future.

The next morning Sinanda came to see them. He was calm and even smiled a little. He asked them again to stay in Port Bamanga at the palace. They told him that they still wanted to return to Timanga. They were frightened. They did not want him to go into another rage. But Sinanda only smiled.

"If that is your decision, I will not try to change it," he said.

"God bless you, my son,'' Pa Mininda said. "Your mother and I thank you for all this, but we will be happier in the village, with all the people we know."

''Very well,'' said the king. "The car will be ready to take you to Timanga tomorrow at dawn. Pack all your things and have them ready."

He put his arms around them both for a moment and then left the room.

****

The next morning they set off in the early dawn. There had been more tears from Queen Mirama, but King Sinanda said goodbye with a smile. He waved until the car was out of the palace gates.

****

They drove for four hours along the highway going north. The driver stopped and poured them tea from a flask. He said that he was a little worried about the brakes. They were not working very well. But Pa Mininda was eager to get home to the village. He asked the driver to drive on. They stopped later at an army base for more petrol. The driver asked the mechanic to check the brakes for him but they could find nothing wrong.

It was late afternoon. The highway stopped at Tima. They were now driving along a dirt road about an hour from the village.

Sinanda's mother was sleeping, giving little snores from time to time. Pa Mininda shook her gently. She opened her eyes and looked about her.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Quite near the village."

"Ah, now I am happy! I feel free now!"

The car bounced along the poor road. The driver was trying to go as quickly as possible. He wanted to get his passengers home and be back on the road to Port Bamanga.

"Just Bujama Hill, the bridge over the river and we are nearly home," said Pa Mininda.

The car started down the long, steep hill. The driver braked to slow the car. The brakes did not seem to work. He pumped the brakes harder. The car still did not slow down. It was going faster and faster now. The driver tried hard to keep the car on the track. At the bottom of the hill, the road curved round and crossed a bridge over the river. As they l neared the bottom, the driver pulled at the steering wheel to try to get round the bend. The car was going far too fast. It began to turn over. It turned over once and then again. Everyone in the car was thrown heavily from floor to roof. The car was now turning over again and again. Finally, it crashed through the bridge and down into the river below.

One of the boys from the village saw the accident. He ran to get help and all the villagers rushed to drag Pa Mininda and his wife from the car. There seemed to be blood everywhere.

It took many hours for the ambulance to reach the village and many more hours before Sinanda's mother and father reached the hospital. Long before then, both parents had stopped breathing.

Sinanda did not come to the funeral in the village. He sent an army general instead.

At the funeral many people said that it had been an accident. Sinanda could never kill his parents they said, no matter how much he loved power.

But there were many more who whispered that Sinanda was an evil man. He had offered his parents as a sacrifice to the devils he worshipped. A sacrifice so that he might rule for ever.