We lived peacefully for the remaining part of our lives and tried to shake off all the troubles we had gone through. It seemed like my father had somehow evaporated, we never saw him or heard from him until I was 25. This was 12 years after. I met Joyce in 1980 and within 2 years we were customarily married. We stayed with my mother at home. In 1984 we had a celebration which our families really wanted us to have. All the happenings of that day were very special to both Joyce and I as we celebrated with our families and friends, everything just went well and we were excited.

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We ultimately reached our eldest sister's place three kilometers away at around five or so. Our journey from our home to there was the longest I have traveled so far in my life. The longest in the sense that I was only 11, afraid and full of questions as to why was all these were happening to us. What happened to our family? or was is it all a bad dream that I would wake up from. All these questions shot through my mind like bullets from a machine gun and none of them hit the target anyway instead they left me as blank as a they found me. The next thing I vividly remember asking again and again in my head was; was there really a God out there? I used to hear my parents talking about God in our home and my dad was himself a preacher, and we used to have Church at our home ever Sunday. At that time I must confess that I doubted the existence of God simply because I kept asking questions and for some reasons only known to him, He never felt obliged to reply. On reaching our sisters place we did not even know how to explain our sudden unexpected arrival, moreover in this bad weather.

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