It was one fateful October month of 1989, while a High School student at St. Bede's College, Ashing-Kom, and hype-manning during 'Socials' (for the 'listening and dancing pleasure' of the whole student body), that news reached me of the death of my lovely father, Jude Thaddeus Fulai Biyong. Immediately, I had to stop everything else that evening, and arranged for exit papers to be off to Fundong, and then, Muteff, for the burial ceremony the very next day. As it was (and is) the tradition in Komland, a vivid symbol of having successfully buried one's parent was the firing of guns after interment. Knowing just too well that even at that age I had never held (talk less of firing) a gun, my uncles carefully arranged to load the dane gun, fasten it to a coffee tree stem, before encouraging me to pull the trigger into the air. Even then, it still took me more than five minutes to muster courage and turn my face away, before reluctantly pulling out on the trigger. E...
We are committed in building our community through responsible communication.