The Last Moment of the Hero
27 years ago, on day 9 of the month February, at the dusky hour the hero who conquered my soul has left this planet to re-join the likes of him. His soul speaks inside me out loud as if I am his reincarnated body. Never did I stop watching his last moment of departure with a tormenting imagination nor did doubt his presence in me every time I live that very day. Sometimes, I go far curious if his heart was telling him that it was his last day to confront the spirits of the earth with courage, accept fate, and spit at death, ‘‘I triumphed over you, even though I don’t face you anymore. And if I could; I would do it again for my people who deserve liberty and prosperity to eternity, because my soul reason to choose this road is them; for my comrades whom I share my youth, my heart, my dream, and my innocence; for the baby boy of almost three, who soon his comrade mother is going to bear him my name as a tribute to my worthy death.’’
A rather emotionless gesture with unnoticeable bit of smile he posed in his last photo is capable of conveying the fearless and unshakable spirit he had possessed. In my mind, I picture him in his last moments: while in his tank with an immense passion, carry on his journey to the port city, and reaches the Ghorgusum plains adjacent to the sea, his final resting place to his tired soul and bid farewell. Every time I look into the picture feel like he is watching me as my own guardian angel. Sometimes, I wish I had a spirit in me like his to live my life to the fullest.
Heroes do not speak of what the future may hold, because they live at present and somehow they know it’s beyond their reach. However, they do envision it with the help of strong faith inside them. Once they put their trust onto their fellow ones, they give all their best- their energy, enthusiasm, vision, wisdom, and above all, their precious breathe. They are this much generous.
One’s life is worth living. And it makes you wonder to think of them leaving fulfilled and feeling no regrets of forsaking their own lives for others. Betraying souls like these in any sense might equals to the greatest sins ever committed on this earth, and even transcends the heights of the hierarchies of Dante’s Inferno. This is why each and every living citizen owes them at least a respect.
This short article dedicate to the Martyr Fitawrari (recruited revolutionary school fighter) Mengs Woldemikael. He fell at Operation Fenkil 1990 in Massawa.
||| Mengs Abraham