Cry of Judith (1)
A note: the atrocities of the Lord's Resistance Army are all too real. Those who are disturbed by scenes of sexual abuse and other horrors should take note.
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In the eighteenth year, the two and twentieth day of the first month, there was talk in the house of Nebuchadnezzar king of the Assyrians that he should, as he said, avenge himself on all the earth.
So he called unto him all his officers, and all his nobles, and communicated with them his secret counsel, and concluded the afflicting of the whole earth out of his own mouth.
Then they decreed to destroy all flesh, that did not obey the commandment of his mouth.
Book of Judith: 2:1-3
Imatong Hills, Uganda, May 2003
Forty days and forty nights.
Bethany floated out of herself while her husband grunted into her. Forty days and forty nights it had seemed she had been walking with the men. It could not have been that long. It felt that way, as if she were with Noah in the Ark while the rains came down. Before, she had been in school with the others. The Sisters had said she would have a cake for her birthday. Fourteen candles, there would have been. But then the men of the Prophet had come in the night. Most of them were only boys--stolen from villages or from the fields, forced to carry guns almost as tall as themselves. Leading them were older boys and men, mad from the Prophet's words and years of living in the bush. They had shot the gatekeeper of her boarding school and fallen upon the dormitories. Bethany's class and three others had been marched out into the jungle to become wives and concubines. Now she was the Lieutenant's wife.
She had screamed the first time.
She had learned not to after the beating.
Bethany silently prayed to God and the Lord Jesus. His mercy was infinite. Surely he would welcome her into heaven no matter how filthy her body had become? Sinking deep within herself, she cried the noises that the Lieutenant seemed to like. He quickened. That was bad. It hurt. It left bruises inside, after. It would be over quicker though. If the Lieutenant liked her enough, he would not beat her like he had Mary. The crack of the butt of his rifle against Mary's skull had been so loud. Then her friend had laid down and not moved at all. That was good. Mary had died a martyr and was in heaven with Lord Jesus. Bethany had to endure. Perhaps soon she would be with--
Are you ready to be strong
Yes. Give me strength, God.
Are you ready to be strong?
Yes. I plead with you, grant thy servant mercy.
Bethany's fists balled up while the Lieutenant huffed.
Are you ready to be strong?
Not on the ground beneath a man. Chained in a cave, men chanting, darkness coming invading pain rage hurt--
--beneath a muzungu white and cold as death, tile under her, holding her down, stop off throwing him clear--
--battle cries, in the cavern again, standing with others, monsters all around, other girls fighting like fiery angels--
Are you ready to be strong?
Yes.
A crash. Dazed, Bethany sat upright. She could see clearly despite the fact her glasses had long been lost in the march. All around her, the Prophet's soldiers and the surviving girls from her school gaped at the Lieutenant. He lay at the base of a tree with a hand to his head. Bleeding. Staggering to his feet, he snatched a rifle from a boy-soldier. He advanced with the rifle held high. The butt was raised to beat her like Mary. Mary dead and with Jesus. He had killed Mary. Monster. A monster, with fangs and claws and yellow eyes hiding underneath a human face. Stop. Bethany had to stop it. Destroy it.
Slay it.
The Lieutenant shouted when she ripped the rifle from his hands. Metal screeched as she twisted the gun apart. In one thrust, she rammed the barrel through him. Stake to the chest, dust to dust. A crack. Her side hurt. Bethany was already ducking when the next bullets came from the pistol of the second-in-command of the Prophet's men. Bethany hurled the stock into his face. The front of the man's skull disintegrated from the impact. More shots, more cries. Her sisters ducking when the soldiers fired wildly. Blood streamed from her side like Lord Jesus' when the spear had struck Him on the cross. It did not matter. She was ready to be strong. There was a knife attached to the end of the barrel sticking out of the Lieutenant's corpse. Bethany tore it free.
The Prophet's men screamed in terror when she strode among them, the knife blurring like a jaw-bone in the hands of Samson.
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"All dead?" the officer shouted, over the noise of the helicopter hovering above. The rank flashes of a major in the Ugandan army glinted on his collar.
"Torn apart, sir." The sergeant's dark skin was several shades lighter than usual. "I've only seen this after a gorilla attack, once, in Virunga."
"Gorillas don't use knives." The major poked a severed head with the toe of a jungle boot. "And this is too far east."
"The students say it was a girl." The sergeant shook his head. "Shock. No schoolgirl could do this damage by herself."
"It must have been a fight among them," the major said. "An argument over a girl or loot. These maniacs are all insane enough to do it."
"And the missing girl?" the sergeant asked. He pointed at a line of dark stains on the jungle floor. "Blood trail leads into the hills."
"Probably took her with them, or crawled away." The major shook his head. "We can't risk sending men after her. Get the survivors to the clearing and onto the helicopters."
The major was silent while his men herded the abducted schoolgirls to the landing zone. Right. A fight among the Lord's Resistance Army raiders. It was plausible. Certainly better to put in his report than a wild tale. The missing girl would just have to disappear like all the others had: kidnapped as concubines for the LRA's senior officers. Or else dead with a cut throat. The major shuddered, though, at the damage the young men had suffered. The strength of a wild ape. But what gorilla would use a knife on-- The crotches of many of the dead LRA soldiers had been slashed. He was a man. Such a death was not one he wished even on his worst enemy.
All around him, the forested hillsides of the Imatong range rose up from the savannah. Anything could hide here. The major was an educated man, with a degree from the University of Kampala and taken military courses in America. Yet he was also a veteran of the bush war that had brought his president to power. There were darker things than the Lord's Resistance Army that hid in the jungles and hills. A muzungu might scoff. A wise African man might pay a visit to a shaman for a protective charm. Just in case.
The sun was setting.
Marching a little more swiftly than expected, the major sprinted to the landing zone to join his unit.
+++
In the eighteenth year, the two and twentieth day of the first month, there was talk in the house of Nebuchadnezzar king of the Assyrians that he should, as he said, avenge himself on all the earth.
So he called unto him all his officers, and all his nobles, and communicated with them his secret counsel, and concluded the afflicting of the whole earth out of his own mouth.
Then they decreed to destroy all flesh, that did not obey the commandment of his mouth.
Book of Judith: 2:1-3
Imatong Hills, Uganda, May 2003
Forty days and forty nights.
Bethany floated out of herself while her husband grunted into her. Forty days and forty nights it had seemed she had been walking with the men. It could not have been that long. It felt that way, as if she were with Noah in the Ark while the rains came down. Before, she had been in school with the others. The Sisters had said she would have a cake for her birthday. Fourteen candles, there would have been. But then the men of the Prophet had come in the night. Most of them were only boys--stolen from villages or from the fields, forced to carry guns almost as tall as themselves. Leading them were older boys and men, mad from the Prophet's words and years of living in the bush. They had shot the gatekeeper of her boarding school and fallen upon the dormitories. Bethany's class and three others had been marched out into the jungle to become wives and concubines. Now she was the Lieutenant's wife.
She had screamed the first time.
She had learned not to after the beating.
Bethany silently prayed to God and the Lord Jesus. His mercy was infinite. Surely he would welcome her into heaven no matter how filthy her body had become? Sinking deep within herself, she cried the noises that the Lieutenant seemed to like. He quickened. That was bad. It hurt. It left bruises inside, after. It would be over quicker though. If the Lieutenant liked her enough, he would not beat her like he had Mary. The crack of the butt of his rifle against Mary's skull had been so loud. Then her friend had laid down and not moved at all. That was good. Mary had died a martyr and was in heaven with Lord Jesus. Bethany had to endure. Perhaps soon she would be with--
Are you ready to be strong
Yes. Give me strength, God.
Are you ready to be strong?
Yes. I plead with you, grant thy servant mercy.
Bethany's fists balled up while the Lieutenant huffed.
Are you ready to be strong?
Not on the ground beneath a man. Chained in a cave, men chanting, darkness coming invading pain rage hurt--
--beneath a muzungu white and cold as death, tile under her, holding her down, stop off throwing him clear--
--battle cries, in the cavern again, standing with others, monsters all around, other girls fighting like fiery angels--
Are you ready to be strong?
Yes.
A crash. Dazed, Bethany sat upright. She could see clearly despite the fact her glasses had long been lost in the march. All around her, the Prophet's soldiers and the surviving girls from her school gaped at the Lieutenant. He lay at the base of a tree with a hand to his head. Bleeding. Staggering to his feet, he snatched a rifle from a boy-soldier. He advanced with the rifle held high. The butt was raised to beat her like Mary. Mary dead and with Jesus. He had killed Mary. Monster. A monster, with fangs and claws and yellow eyes hiding underneath a human face. Stop. Bethany had to stop it. Destroy it.
Slay it.
The Lieutenant shouted when she ripped the rifle from his hands. Metal screeched as she twisted the gun apart. In one thrust, she rammed the barrel through him. Stake to the chest, dust to dust. A crack. Her side hurt. Bethany was already ducking when the next bullets came from the pistol of the second-in-command of the Prophet's men. Bethany hurled the stock into his face. The front of the man's skull disintegrated from the impact. More shots, more cries. Her sisters ducking when the soldiers fired wildly. Blood streamed from her side like Lord Jesus' when the spear had struck Him on the cross. It did not matter. She was ready to be strong. There was a knife attached to the end of the barrel sticking out of the Lieutenant's corpse. Bethany tore it free.
The Prophet's men screamed in terror when she strode among them, the knife blurring like a jaw-bone in the hands of Samson.
++++
"All dead?" the officer shouted, over the noise of the helicopter hovering above. The rank flashes of a major in the Ugandan army glinted on his collar.
"Torn apart, sir." The sergeant's dark skin was several shades lighter than usual. "I've only seen this after a gorilla attack, once, in Virunga."
"Gorillas don't use knives." The major poked a severed head with the toe of a jungle boot. "And this is too far east."
"The students say it was a girl." The sergeant shook his head. "Shock. No schoolgirl could do this damage by herself."
"It must have been a fight among them," the major said. "An argument over a girl or loot. These maniacs are all insane enough to do it."
"And the missing girl?" the sergeant asked. He pointed at a line of dark stains on the jungle floor. "Blood trail leads into the hills."
"Probably took her with them, or crawled away." The major shook his head. "We can't risk sending men after her. Get the survivors to the clearing and onto the helicopters."
The major was silent while his men herded the abducted schoolgirls to the landing zone. Right. A fight among the Lord's Resistance Army raiders. It was plausible. Certainly better to put in his report than a wild tale. The missing girl would just have to disappear like all the others had: kidnapped as concubines for the LRA's senior officers. Or else dead with a cut throat. The major shuddered, though, at the damage the young men had suffered. The strength of a wild ape. But what gorilla would use a knife on-- The crotches of many of the dead LRA soldiers had been slashed. He was a man. Such a death was not one he wished even on his worst enemy.
All around him, the forested hillsides of the Imatong range rose up from the savannah. Anything could hide here. The major was an educated man, with a degree from the University of Kampala and taken military courses in America. Yet he was also a veteran of the bush war that had brought his president to power. There were darker things than the Lord's Resistance Army that hid in the jungles and hills. A muzungu might scoff. A wise African man might pay a visit to a shaman for a protective charm. Just in case.
The sun was setting.
Marching a little more swiftly than expected, the major sprinted to the landing zone to join his unit.