Chapter One

What happened to Sunday 

"Maria Sunday! Ma-r-i-a-a-a! A sharp hoarse voice followed by an echo, screamed at the far end of the hallway at St Paul's Mission orphanage. It was four thirty in the morning and sister Mary who was a matron at the orphanage was doing her routine check-in. She had a huge roster book in her hand and carried a large torch with the other. The hall was of gigantic size and was creepy too. It was an old church hall that was built in stones and has been there for ages. Some old members of the community were not even born when it's walls were erected. It has been serving the community for almost a century and was a plan of a first missionary evangelist ( father Michael Hendricks) who arrived in the community to be their spiritual leader. There were even rumours that the old hall was haunted by a ghost of an old nun who died of colon cancer many years ago. This former nun was a darling of the community and would visit all the members of the congregation to check their well being. Her designation was like that of the famous mother Theresa. Now the queer sister Mary was the one who was pulling the strings and was an opposite of the latter. She was one hell of a hard case and had an intimidating mannerism. Every day, the same time, those children were used to hearing the voice of  this take  no nonsense sister who was a nun for over thirty years. They called her 'mother' like any other old nun in Catholic church. They would kick their blankets and jump to grab their coats , gumboots and big hats and thereafter made a queue to the doorway. They were trained like the Boy Scouts and Girl Guides during the days of Lord Baden Powell who was the founder of scouts volunteers.  The chilly breeze would blow in their tender cheeks as they welcomed the new dawn. They would stamp their feet in unison while chanting and matching outside to meet their commander ( sister Mary) who would blow the whistle to make them follow her commands. Each and everyone of them would be given a task to perform before they took a quick cold shower to prepare for school. They were used to cold water even during the cold winter mornings.  Some were assigned to work in the garden while others would feed the pigs and clean the yard. Their ages ranged from five years to fifteen years. Those who were less that five years slept in their separate hall adjacent to the older one. They had their baby sitters who were also the orphans. One would hear screams and cries when approaching the hall for the young toddlers. Some of them never knew their mothers. They were taken to the orphanage right after birth after their mothers and fathers were killed in intertribal wars that took place in their villages. The only mother figures they knew were the nuns and their nannies. The nannies were so young and needed to be taken care of as well but the situations were not in their favour. They had to grow fast to adjust to their challenges as mock parents.

Sister Mary was a tall slim Irish woman with twinkling blue eyes. Her wrinkled face showed the signs of hard years she had been experiencing. She grew up in the orphanage as well. Her parents passed away when she was still a little girl. Her set of well arranged teeth were never displayed for amusement, they were rather shown when she had an important issue to emphasize. She would grin wickedly when giving orders to those grief stricken young fellows. They would quiver at every word of command she caughed at them. They had to take orders and do as they were told otherwise they would face the wrath of the old nun.

Maria Sunday, was among those orphans. She was a brilliant eleven year old girl who also lost both her parents during the intertribal battles. Unfortunately for her she was the only member of the family who survived the arrows, spears and the bullets during the battles. The only thing she remembered was seeing her mother in a pull of blood while she was lying in embrace of the lifeless body of her young son. She had a bullet in her head. She did not even scream. A group of men who covered themselves in balaklavas barged in their home one Sunday evening. They were members of the rebellion group who claimed the total control of the land Maria and her community were residing. They were given an eviction notice but they ignored it after the court was in favour of them. These rebellions had all sorts of weapons with them. They attacked everyone from an adult to an infant. They raided every household until they found Maria's. Maria was the only one who could escape from the claws of death that fateful evening. She ran for her life not knowing where she was going. She ran until she reached the river side where she plunged herself into the water. She stayed there crying until tears could not come anymore. It was almost in the middle of the night when she heard a noise and rumbling of the approaching vehicles. She quivered with fear and the coldness of water. She did not know what to do. As the vehicles came to pass through the bridge that was near where she was hiding, she ran to the nearest bush. She lay down and observed the whole commotion that was taking place. She could see that the passengers of the vehicles were the soldiers who were carrying huge guns and were waving them in the air and were ready to shoot. Their dogs were sniffing all over searching for anything they could find. One of the dogs came to her direction and bark inside the bush she was hiding in. She laid there helplessly and was sobbing uncontrollable. The owner of the dog was ready to distroy the bush when Maria screamed for mercy reminiscing the early events of that fateful Sunday . The soldier crawled inside the bush and took her. She was taken to the vehicles and the soldiers drove off.