It started last summer, when the men came. At first we were proud, excited, happy. They came with large packs slung over their shoulders filled with food, water, and large machines.
"This is it!" We would sing to our saviors. "This is the time! You have brought salvation!"
They brought food, water, guns, and death.
They would ask our brothers, our uncles, and cousins if they wanted to try.
"Do not be afraid!" Plastic smiles. Voidfull eyes. "Here! Hold it just like this, there you go. On the count of three pull this!" They wrapped his fingers around the trigger. Excited and eager, the boys would pull with all their strength on the levers and were shot back as a bullet ricocheted into the forest.
Deafening gunshots would echo through the village, a haunting cry of our savior song. "This is the time, you have brought salvation!"
They brought guns.
And more guns.