Most people's earliest memories are of happy, profound childhood experiences. But the earliest memory of the eccentric man seated next to me is the stuff of nightmares.
"Mum, why aren't you talking?" enquired the precocious toddler when he discovered his mother lying in bed. He tried to wake her up and even suckled her, unaware that she was dead. She had become ill earlier in the day while assisting people in plowing their shambas. And had gone to lie down for a few minutes. She would never wake up. Kassanga, her youngest child, would be the one to discover her death. When his father died two years later, the young boy finally understood what it meant to die.