It Wasn't Always Like This
Life wasn't always about survival in my country.
Decades before my birth, the country was prosperous. Beautiful, a jewel.
After the revolution, it all went down the drain.
I was told the story of one of my fathers' uncle one day.
He was against the regime that took hold. He was shot at while sleeping, but he persevered and in anger at being shot, shot the man who shot him. Both men evidently died. But my uncle was woven into the history of our country as an anti-revolutionary. A sudden dissenter at the start of the revolution.
His little brother, in other words my other Great uncle, well, he's still alive. He's probably like 98. The man is still active, hunting and farming and as grumpy as ever. He drives an old truck with a bottle of rum and a shotgun in the back.
He fled the country in his youth, but he later came back as a young adult in an attempt to fight the regime. He wasn't successful, many people died in those decades of trying to take back what was stolen.