Twenty-five years since my dear Sam died in the Kanungu Massacre under Dominic’s cult movement, the Restoration of the Ten Commandments.

Who was to blame for what happened?

Wasn’t it the fault of the government?

Shouldn’t they have arrested the troublemakers when they first heard the strange stories?

Or does the blame lie with Dominic and his cronies because they were the ones with the crazy ideas?

Maybe, it was Sam’s mother who was responsible? She ran away with a man when Sam was only ten years old and broke his heart, which was why Sam was always looking for love and acceptance.

Could it be because of Sam’s father, for being an alcoholic and abusing Sam when he was little? If Sam had had a stable family home, he would not have been so lost.

Or was it all because of me? Should I have done something more to protect my husband?

If I say Sam should have known better, because it had been his choice, and a person’s free will must be respected above all else, then, the fault lies with him.

But that absolves everyone else. Why should I do that?

Mostly, I tell myself, the crime pointed to God. And why can’t I blame him? He was the reason Sam had been brainwashed by those evil people.

Who can say anything against God, and his will?

Doesn’t the evidence speak for itself? Lies, lies and more lies, how the Movement manipulated Sam and turned him towards God, and away from me.

March 18th, 2000

Sameer and a thousand other people died in the Kanungu inferno. Maybe even more than that perished.

No one really knows.

The Ugandan government stopped the exhumation of bodies around the church. They established an ‘Enquiry Commission’ to investigate The Movement, and Dominic Kataribabo, Joseph Kibwetere and Credonia Mwerinde. Twenty-five years later, the Commission has never met. There is no list of the names of the people who died at Kanungu. My poor Sam is just a number.

No one been arrested or held accountable.

***

The corruption began on Christmas Day.

The school was closed for the holiday season, but as we were eating our lunch of roast chicken, salad and potatoes, we heard sounds of a football game in the compound. ‘It’s good to hear the children’s voices,’ I said.

Sam had been pensive for a few days, giving me curt answers. I knew the signs too well, he was going to give me bad news.

‘What is it, Sam?’ I said, when I served him a slice of chocolate cake and coffee. He did not reply but handed me some bank statements.

‘Ten million shillings! Transferred to The Movement. What for? You didn’t tell me about this.’

‘I tried to last week,’ he said. ‘You weren’t interested.’

‘But you didn’t say how much.’

He stirred his coffee without looking at me.

‘Well, who are they? And why this donation?’

‘They’re called the Restoration of the Ten Commandments or The Movement. I interviewed the founder, Dominic, at work last week. I asked you to tune in to FM and listen.’

‘But we don’t know anything about these people.’

‘You often give to charity at the mosque so I didn’t think you’d mind if I gave to this orphanage.’

‘It’s not the same thing. They could be fraudsters.’

He came over and put his arms round me. ‘Don’t worry, I trust Dominic.’

‘Ten million shillings is three thousand dollars, Sam. I thought we were saving for a holiday?’

He stroked my hair and held me. ‘You worry too much; we’ll go on our holiday too.’

‘You know how you get carried away. Just be careful.’

I let it go, but began watching Sam more closely. I knew him too well; I had seen him being carried away before.

Throughout January, every evening he had a ‘religious meeting’ and came home late. I asked him how long it would go on for. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It depends on Dominic.’

‘Tell Dominic you have a wife waiting.’

‘Don’t be silly, Laila. This is important.’

‘And I’m not?’

‘You should eat your dinner without me. I don’t like you waiting.’

‘I don’t want to eat alone. Can’t you leave the meeting early?’

‘It’s not easy to walk out in the middle of prayers, you should know,’ he said, and stormed out of the kitchen before I could ask him anything else.

I had been uneasy about Sam’s involvement in The Movement right from the beginning. I had told Nicole, my closest friend about my misgivings. I arranged to meet her for coffee at The Crocodile Café in Kisementi.

‘Sam’s started his obsessive behaviour again. He’s given a huge donation to some Dominic character, and attending endless meetings at a cult called The Movement.’

Nicole laughed it off. ‘He’s done it before,’ she said. ‘You know Sam.’

‘But this time, I’ve a feeling it’s different. He’s very secretive. In the past he’d give me a lecture on everything he’s heard and what he thinks. He’d talk at me for an hour. This time he’s so evasive.’

‘Sam’s a searcher, never satisfied. He’s obviously trying to figure out something for himself. But he’ll come back, don’t worry. He’ll get bored soon enough, as he always does. You’ll just have to be patient.’

‘But all he talks about is Dominic and his God.’

‘Thank your lucky stars it’s only God he’s infatuated with. Some of my friends are complaining about their husbands cheating on them with younger women. What you’re dealing with is nothing compared to them.’

‘Maybe you’re right. I’ll drive him away, if I keep confronting him.’

***

It seems like things happened in slow motion, but at the time it was intense and felt out of control.

One evening, Sam told me The Movement headquarters were at Kanungu, a small town close to the Congo border. ‘They have a church, a school, offices, dormitories, and a cemetery.’

I was changing the water in the lilies he’d brought me a few days earlier, and the air had a rank sweetness. ‘A cemetery?’ A breeze blew in through the window causing the tea lights on the kitchen table to waver. Sam tried to rekindle them, and I shaded the lights with my palms to help him. They revived for an instant, flickered and went out. ‘Don’t you think the whole thing sounds so creepy?’ I said, but he did not budge.

‘It’s because you don’t understand The Movement’s philosophy.’

‘Then explain it to me.’

‘You must feel it in your body, like you feel hungry or thirsty.’

‘Feel what?’

‘God calling you.’

‘How does it feel?’

He was quiet for a moment, then he said. ‘Dominic said if we talk about, it dilutes the feeling. This is a special relationship between an individual person and God. It’s not something you share with anyone. But let me say it’s a deep down feeling that God loves you.’

It wasn’t Sam’s fault that he was always looking for unconditional love and acceptance. He’d been only ten when his mother had left his father. She’d promised to come back and fetch Sam, when she’d found a place where they could live together in the States, but when she did, a few months later, Sam had refused to accompany her. He’d decided to stay with his father and told his mother he never wanted to see her again. His mother tried to explain to the little Sam, that she loved him, but his father wasn’t the right person for them to live with, but Sam’s father had already influenced him.

No matter how hard I tried to reassure him over the years that I loved him for who he was, Sam never believed he was worthy of love. Inside, he was always the little, broken-hearted ten-year old.

That evening, I found Sam in bed with a small, black book. I snuggled closer to him and tweaked his cheek. ‘What’s that you’re reading?’

He shifted in the bed. ‘Oh, nothing that would interest you.’

‘Can I see?’ I pulled the book from him.

‘Stop it, Laila.’ He shoved my hand away roughly.

‘Why are you so secretive?’ I turned the pages. ‘Published in 1996. A Timely Message from Heaven, The End of the Present Times.’

‘Stop it Laila, you’ll lose my place.’ He tried to grab the book from me, but I moved my hand.

‘To Sam,

Read this book and be delivered from evil and darkness,

Your Loving Shepherd,

Dominic.

Do you believe this, Sam?’

‘You won’t understand.’ Sam snatched the book, touched it to his forehead and kissed it. ‘This is my path.’

I had to tell him what I thought, even though I knew it would cause an argument. I should have been gentler. ‘Sam, you’re being brainwashed, by Dominic.’

He turned to face me, his face contorted with anger. ‘Guess what, I’m not the only idiot here,’ he said. ‘Have you forgotten you have rituals too? Ablutions before you pray. Reading the same verses from the Quran over and over.’ He paused. ‘And judging from the News, it’s not me, but you, following a religion of terrorists.’

Of course, he knew the last thing he said would hit a nerve. ‘You can’t make that comparison, Sam. There are millions who follow Islam, we can’t all be fools. How many has Dominic converted?’ I did not like the way we were speaking to each other, but now that we had started down the path, I did not know how to turn back.

‘If you really care to know, our numbers are growing every day. Anyway, that’s irrelevant. The Movement is only for the select few. You have to be chosen.’

‘What’s the criteria? Is it Dominic’s or his God’s? And I wish you’d look at me Sam. I don’t like talking to your back.’

But he didn’t move, and I sat in bed with my arms folded, waiting for his response. But Sam did not answer. Maybe he didn’t know what to say.

Outside, the rain pounded down on the corrugated iron roof which shaded the back yard. I turned to him, ‘My car window’s jammed. Will you take a look at it, Sam?’

‘Laila?’ he said, still with his back to me. ‘Tomorrow I’ll be working at Kanungu. I’ve taken a sabbatical from Radio One.’

I couldn’t believe it. He was jeopardising his career now. ‘What did you tell them? That Dominic offered you a position in a stupid cult?’ I poked his back. ‘Talk to me, Sam.’

‘It’s not a cult. I’ve told you. ’He receded further to his side of the bed. ‘I’m tired, Laila. Please leave me alone. Tomorrow’s an important day for me.’

I lay there wondering what had happened to him. Eventually, it dawned on me. ‘Dominic’s put a spell on you.’

‘Think what you like,’ he said.

The next morning, Sam was up early. Neither of us mentioned the night before. But at breakfast he said, ‘Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll be working late.’

‘Why?’ I stirred the porridge cooking in the pan.

‘I’ll stay as long as Dominic needs me.’

‘What exactly will you be doing at Kanungu?’ I placed a bowl of oats in front of him, with a jar of honey.

‘God’s work.’ He pushed the bowl of porridge away. ‘I’ve lost my appetite.’ His simple gesture signified his rejection of everything that we had built together. I had told myself that I would not be so critical, but I could not control myself.

‘First it was Coincidences,’ I said, ‘and the Celestine Prophecy. Then you were in love with Deepak Chopra, meditating on So Hum all day and night. After that it was deep breathing with Osho. Then it was, I don’t mind what happens to me, with Krishnamurti, And now it’s God’s work with Dominic. When will you stop? Your life is perfect, can’t you see that? You and me. We love each other. You’re pushing me away; you’re spoiling things at work. Why?’

‘It’s about God, Laila, not me.’

‘If that’s the case, why can’t you follow a normal religion?’

‘Like you?’

‘When will you stop dabbling in cults? The Movement is not going to give you the answers you’re so desperate for.’

‘Don’t mock me, Laila.’ He banged his fist on the table, overturning the bowl of porridge. ‘The Movement isn’t a cult.’ He began mopping the mess with a napkin.

‘Well, what is it then?’ I went to the window; the school compound was quiet, just the groundsmen marking up the pitch with chalk. ‘Which God do they worship?’

‘If you must know, the same God as you.’

He left a few minutes later, slamming the door behind him. For the next few days, he returned home late in the evenings and refused to divulge anything about what he was doing.

A couple of weeks later, when I returned from the supermarket, I found a white cardboard box on the kitchen table. Inside were some fingernails, black strands of what looked like human hair, and a small mound of ashes. I turned as Sam came into the room. ‘What on earth?’ He was bald – his head was shorn of its thick mass of dark curls.

He took the box from me and placed it on the table. ‘Sam?’ I said, as he tried to hug me. ‘What have you done now?’ I pulled away from him.

‘Congratulate me, Laila. Today is a big day. I was initiated at a Holy Ceremony.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Dominic baptised me at the Movement Church. He said out of many hundreds, I was one of the chosen few to be blessed. He shaved my head and took my hair and the parings of my finger and toenails and put them in a fire. Then – then he told me to undress.’

‘Sam, don’t tell me you stripped naked in front of strangers, because Dominic ordered you to?’ Sam had a strange, dazed look. I wondered if he had been drugged and if they had done anything to him. ‘What did you drink there?’

‘Dominic mixed the ashes with oil and anointed me. Then he stirred some with water for me to drink. He said it was all for my spiritual benefit.’

‘Was there anyone else there?’

‘Credonia. She’s Dominic’s special guide. She gets visions of Mother Mary.’

‘And what did she do?’

‘I had to spend time alone with her in the small chapel.’ He turned away.

‘Doing what?’

He did not answer. ‘And what’s that in the box?’

‘My ashes.’ He took a small bottle from the drawer and slowly spooned the ashes into it. ‘It’s a bad omen to spill any.’ He screwed the lid on and put the bottle in his pocket.

I could not believe this bald man in front of me was my Sam. My face must have shown my terror and shock because he tried to hold me and stroke my hair. ‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘This is the way of Truth.’

‘Let go of me,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe you let them do this to you.’

‘I’ve finally found people who really understand me.’

‘Do they? And who is this Credonia person? Don’t tell me she told you to have sex with her?’

He pushed me away. ‘You don’t understand anything. Dominic and Credonia are guiding me to the right path.’

‘Well, did she? I’ve heard all kinds of stories about cults.’

‘She didn’t ask me, Laila. It doesn’t matter. Are you jealous?’

‘Sam, would you have sex with her if they told you to?’

He went over to the window and opened it wide. ‘They’re my spiritual mother and father.’

‘Sam, just listen to yourself.’ It frightened me, the way he was speaking, and whatever I was saying was not registering with him. I poured myself a glass of water from the fridge. ‘By the way, we’re expecting more rain and you haven’t fixed my car window.’

He stood watching white clouds against a blue sky. ‘Dominic says rain’s a good omen.’

The following day it rained non-stop. I was home, working on a school evaluation study. I sent out the survey forms and said I would follow up end week. In the afternoon, I went down to the car. The driver’s seat was soaked. I couldn’t think of anything that I had which was waterproof, so I draped a shower curtain over the broken window and tucked the corners into the door frame. Sam’s irresponsibility was affecting every area of our lives. I had to do something.

I phoned Sam’s mother who lived in the States, and talked to her about Sam’s involvement in The Movement. After exchanging our general news, I told her about Sam’s long absences. She listened and then said, ‘You know Laila, we’re born alone, and we’ll die alone. Maybe that’s something you need to reconcile with.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I decided some years ago not to interfere in Sam’s life or yours, unless it was absolutely necessary. If Sam has decided The Movement has something to offer him, then you ought to support him. You shouldn’t judge him. We each come with our own destinies…’

She was talking about herself of course. I realised she had no interest in Sam, or what he was doing and how it affected me. I said, ‘And what if he gets hurt?’

She said, ‘He’s an adult, he is old enough to understand the consequences of his actions. Why don’t you see it that way?’

‘I don’t have the luxury of that,’ I snapped. ‘If his actions have an impact on my life, why should I sit back and accept it?’

‘You could always walk away, you know, if you don’t agree with his choices. Maybe it’s time to rethink what you want from your life.’

‘I love him.’ And without waiting for a reply, I hung up.

Sam came home at midnight. He paced the kitchen. ‘The word is out. Dominic says the world is coming to an end.’

I was in the living room watching a film. I switched it off and said, ‘Let it end, for all I care. Then we can get back to normal. Dominic this, Dominic that. Last week he said you were to stop using soap because bacteria on your body reminds you of your sins. And now this?’

‘Laila.’ He sat down next to me on the sofa and buried his head in his arms. ‘Dominic’s certain this time. Doomsday is finally here.’

A strong wind blew into the room from the open window. He went to the window to shut it. He fiddled with the latch.

‘I spoke to your mother about your involvement in The Movement.’

‘Why are you interfering, Laila? Don’t gossip about me.’

‘I’m worried about you.’

‘Then respect my wishes. I’ll be fasting three times a week, from tomorrow. And waking up at four every morning to pray for the Way of the Cross.’

I looked past him into the dark thinking who could help him realise, but no one came to mind. ‘What’s the point of it?’

‘You fast during Ramadhan.’ Sam pulled the window and banged it shut.

‘It’s not the same. Don’t compare this – this cult – with Islam.’

‘I’ve told you before, it’s an organised religion.’ He looked at me, his expression earnest and lost, and I reminded myself that he was the same little boy whose mother had abandoned him all those years ago. I went over to him and kissed his nape. ‘Sam, do you love me?’

He pointed to the newspaper on the stool. ‘If you were genuinely interested in knowing more, instead of criticising me all the time, you could read about it here. There’s a whole section on the Movement’s partnership with the government.’

‘What’s the government got to do with it?’

‘The Movement’s very organised, with a proper structure, and different tasks assigned to people depending on their talents.’

‘And what’s your role?’

‘Dominic said he’ll tell me when the time is right.’ He left the room taking the paper with him.

‘Sam?’ I followed him to the bedroom. ‘I’m worried about you.’

‘Go away, please.’ He sat on the bed and opened his black book. ‘Doomsday will start at Kanungu.’

‘So, what happens to me?’ I asked.

‘Pray for patience,’ he replied, not looking at me. ‘Ask God to give you patience. This is your journey too.’

I did not know what to say to that, so I just kept silent.

Sam began his prayers and fasting in earnest. He’d be up at three in the morning sitting in bed, reading his black book, or reciting something and after that he’d eat his breakfast before dawn. He broke his fast at the religious meetings, so we did not eat dinner together. When he’d come home, he’d be too tired to talk and give one-word answers to my questions.

‘Sam, you’ve ruined your health,’ I said one morning as he was on his way out. ‘You’ve lost so much weight, and I don’t even know what they’re feeding you at the meetings. Please stop this.’

Outside the kitchen window, the sun was rising, flooding the room with a warm glow.

‘It’s all for the afterlife,’ he said, ‘I’m only concerned about my spiritual wellbeing.’

‘What about us?’

‘It’s a small sacrifice for a higher purpose.’

After he’d left, I studied the newspaper. The Movement article made reference to government ministers visiting the Deputy Resident Commissioner in Kanungu. I decided to phone their office. They answered right away, and I explained I was worried about Sam’s involvement in The Movement.

The man listened. ‘I need to investigate. From what we know, there’s nothing suspicious.’

I waited all day for him to ring, and when he didn’t, I called him again.

He was very clear. ‘Yes Madam. I’ve enquired. The Movement is a legally registered NGO.’

‘But what exactly are they doing? They’ve brainwashed my husband and extorted our money. What kind of NGO is that?’

The man laughed. ‘Eh Madam, I’ve heard many such stories. The Movement’s also been accused of kidnapping children. But these are rumours spread by jealous people. I’m told Dominic is saved. Credonia has visions of Mother Mary. We must let them do their work.’

‘So what if Dominic is saved? He’s nothing but a common thief. He’s stolen my money and my husband.’

‘You need to stay calm Madam. Don’t get emotional.’

‘Please send a team to Kanungu to see what they’re doing.’

‘I’m a very busy person Madam, and you’re over-reacting.’

‘Did you know there’s a cemetery there? Why?’

‘I don’t know about it. I know he’s a minister of God.’

‘What about the report on Radio One last week? Even the newspaper said some MPs had taken bribes from Dominic to turn a blind eye.’

‘Madam, you better not meddle too much. You understand what I mean?’ He paused. ‘You must support your husband’s wishes. Don’t be calling us behind his back.’

The line went dead.

I sat there wondering what to do and then called Nicole. I told her about Sam’s behaviour.

‘Why don’t you join him?’ she said. ‘Go to a few meetings; you’ll probably find it’s just harmless bible bashing [or thumping].’

‘If only. They’ve somehow reprogrammed him. If you saw him, you wouldn’t recognise him.’

‘Sounds like Sam’s just bored of life. Plan a holiday? Maybe the two of you need some time alone.’

‘I’ll try, but I don’t think he’ll listen. Do you know anyone who knows a witch doctor?’

She was quiet for a moment, then said. ‘You’re really scared, aren’t you?’

That night when Sam returned from Kanungu, he was wearing three rosaries, two round his neck and one round his wrist. I tried to stay calm and told myself that I would try to be kinder to him. What was it about me, after all, that became so infuriated at Sam? Was it that I was also lost, like him, and needed him to be my anchor? Or was this betrayal, after all his many other forays, something more? Why did I feel so hurt and angry and frightened? Weren’t we all trying to find meaning in our own ways? Why should I begrudge Sam this chance? It was all of these feelings, combined with a genuine concern for Sam. This Sam, the one that I no longer recognised.

‘These are like tasbihs.’ I reached out to finger the beads with the cross resting on his belly.

He flinched. ‘Don’t Laila, you have to be initiated before you can touch them.’

‘Sam, can I come with you to Kanungu tomorrow?’

‘Why? So, you can pick holes in us?’

‘I’m sorry about the things I’ve said. But I mean it, I want to see Kanungu.’

‘I’ll ask Dominic.’

‘Tell him in Noah’s ark, all the animals were in pairs.’

Sam fingered the rosary beads round his wrist. ‘Dominic told me today, not to discuss the Movement with you. He said you’ll taint me.’

‘Sam, don’t you love me anymore?’

‘God comes first.’

‘But we matter, don’t we?’ I tried to stroke the fuzz of new growth on his head. ‘You know I love you, don’t you?’

He pushed away my hand. ‘From now don’t touch me.’

‘What?’

‘Dominic said abstinence is the path to God.’

‘Are you trying to tell me I can’t ever hold you or kiss you?’

‘Only God matters.’ His eyes had a faraway look, and his face a dazed expression.

‘You’ve gone mad, Sam.’ I ran out of the kitchen down the steps to my car. The shower curtain was hanging on the window, half inside and half out. I tore it off and sat in the car. I phoned Nicole from my mobile.

‘I’m sorry to ring you at midnight, but Sam’s lost it. He’s taken a vow of celibacy. Where will it end? I’m frightened, Dominic’s all he cares about.’

‘Do you think he’s fucking Credonia?’

The shower curtain flapped in the wind.

‘Give Sam his space, I’m sure he’ll come around.’

I returned to the house when it started to pour.

Sam was in bed reading his little black book. I slipped in beside him and tried to cuddle him. He moved away.

‘Please stop it, you’re distracting me.’

I nestled into his shoulder. ‘I miss us, Sam.’

‘The past’s the past.’ He put the book under his pillow and turned off the light. ‘The only thing that matters is God.’

A few days later, I found Sam fumbling in the kitchen drawers. ‘Are you looking for something?’

He scribbled on a note pad and gave it to me. I’ve taken a vow of silence. Where are my car keys?

‘Are you fucking Credonia?’ Fury on his face. He lifted the rosary beads around his neck and dangled the cross in my face.

‘Well are you?’

I’m married to God, he wrote on the notepad.

‘Do you love me?’

He did not answer and left the room.

From then on, we communicated only through scribbled messages.

I cooked his favourite meal, put on sexy lingerie, tried to kiss him, did not criticise Dominic and even baked a cake for Credonia.

But Sam did not relent.

I called Nicole and asked her if she had heard of anyone else involved in The Movement, she said it was unlikely that they would admit if they were.

***

On March 16th Sam finally broke his silence. ‘Dominic says I’m one of the chosen.’ His voice was hoarse, and his boyish face drawn and thin. He’d shaved his head again. He still fasted three days a week and refused to use soap. He leaned forward across the table, the cross round his neck dangled in his cup of tea and was then submerged. ‘Tomorrow’s the Day of the Apocalypse. Credonia had a visitation from the Virgin last night. After the Last Supper, we’ll be delivered. Dominic says it’s our final chance.’ He dabbed the cross dry with a napkin, held it up to his forehead and kissed it.

‘Please Sam, just listen to yourself.’

He pushed away his cup. ‘I’m leaving now.’

I went and put my arms round him. ‘Take me with you, Sam.’

‘Dominic says there should be no distractions from God’s worship.’

‘Please, Sam.’

‘Don’t touch me, Laila, you’re contaminating me.’

I dropped my arms. ‘What happened to the Sam I married?’

‘Called by God for a life of sacrifice.’

‘What about me?’

‘You’re selfish. You only think about yourself.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m late, Credonia’s waiting.’

‘I want to meet her.’

He picked up his wallet and cheque book, and headed for the door.

I ran after him down the steps. ‘Take me with you. We could be delivered together.’

He got into his car. ‘Dominic says you’re one of the cursed ones.’

‘Dominic can fuck off.’

‘You see? Dominic was right.’ He drove off.

I ran up to the bedroom and searched Sam’s drawers. There had to be some clue about what was going on. All I found were his clothes. I sat on the bed, picked up his pillow and breathed his scent. Then I saw the small black book. Sam had thumbed it so many times, the pages were almost falling out.

On the inside of the back cover was a list in Sam’s handwriting: 30 crates beer, 4 goats, matches/candles, 12 dozen loaves. A menu for the Last Supper?

***

It was cool when I drove from Kampala to Masaka at daybreak, but by noon I was sweating. Onwards to Mbarara, Ntungame and then Rukungiri, where the tarmac section of the highway ended. I turned on to the mud road and up a steep hill. I’m coming for you Sam, I said to myself. I’m coming. Above me, projecting boulders threatened to fall. Round every corner, the terrain rose and dropped.

When I reached Eneengo Valley, the car swayed and looking down at the ravine thousands of metres below, I thought how everything seemed so pointless. My fight for Sam, his struggle for Dominic’s approval and Credonia’s acceptance. What was it for? I felt exhausted by it all.

Then it began to rain, and the large drops coming at a slant through the broken window completely soaked me. I switched off the engine and shifted to the passenger seat. When the rain stopped, I started again, turning the car in semi and full circles on the tortuous route, until at last, in the late afternoon, the road flattened and I entered a village.

On either side plantations of coffee, maize and bananas and on the side of the rough road, a large signpost, Welcome to Kanungu Trading Centre. I drove along slowly, passing an office block, white houses with blue iron roofs, and rough mud huts. A herd of cattle grazed on thorny bushes, and children poked a dog lying on its side in a puddle, with a stick.

I parked the car. The children came running. ‘I’m looking for The Movement.’

A boy pointed towards a hill on the right. I walked in the direction he had shown. The rough, wet path was thick with mud and dense vegetation. Thorns and nettles scraped my arms, and mosquitoes and insects buzzed around my face. I tried to imagine Sam doing the trek. The trail eventually opened on to a field of small wooden crosses and a dilapidated building with a freshly painted wooden sign over the door: Welcome to Virgin Mary’s House. A little further, a compound fenced with barbed wire. In the centre, a decrepit church with dozens of overturned chairs and beer bottles scattered in the garden. Marabou storks circled overhead.

At the gate dozens of shoes and slippers. I recognised Sam’s brown suede ones. Relieved, I rattled the gate and hit the padlock with a stone. ‘Sam, I’m here. Hello,’ I shouted. ‘Can anyone hear me?’

‘Glory be to God!’ A wail from the church.

I ran along the side of the fence hoping to find a side entrance, but there was none. I returned to the main gate and banged the padlock against the gate. ‘Sam,’ I shouted again, ‘Sam, where are you?’

‘Amen! Alleluia!’

Thick clouds of grey smoke covered the church.

***

Who was to blame?

And why has no one done anything to find Dominic?

I am continually haunted by Sam’s ghost; he is still searching for answers.