The Forgotten Family on Mutundwe Hill

Diary Entry – 20th May

Today is about a million degrees. The banana trees my mum planted are swaying – and singing – in the breeze that rises up the mountain we live on. I'm lying in the hammock staring up at the upside-down ocean, the great drooping leaves littering the relentless sun through their frayed edges. Sweat lines up on my forehead. It feels like my entire body is being cradled, just as mum did when I was a baby. I miss her. It's been almost three years since she disappeared, but I look for her every day. If I don't go and I don't write about it, what do I have left? Her story cannot end like this. I refuse to let the memory of her die, even if everyone else has moved on.

If I close my eyes, I can see her glistening cheekbones cupping her face as she drank mango juice – her favourite – through a straw. Sometimes, when I'm drifting into sleep, I feel her cocoa buttered fingers comb through my hair – my 'off-button' she called it.

And then, she left.

My dad gave up searching weeks after she left. Sometimes I think he never cared at all.

Today, I went to her favourite juice stand in the city. Nothing. On the way home, I stopped at her favourite bird-viewing spot - halfway down the Mutundwe Hill on which our house sits. Nothing. No trace of her anywhere in Kampala.

People look at me in the street as if I'm a madwoman. I'm convinced my neighbours shut their curtains whenever they see me, as if I'm delusional for continuing the search. I will never stop. Ever.

I miss you, mum. Where did you go?

***

Diary Entry – 24th May

Just got in after another day patrolling the streets looking for any trace of her. I'm beginning to forget what she looks like.

***

Diary Entry – 25th May

Bumped into some old friends from school while I was out. I hadn't done my hair, and my sandals were torn. I don't know if they noticed, and I don't really care; to be honest, the distraction was welcome.

In the years since my mum vanished, I've grown a talent for looking people dead in the eye. It makes them feel uncomfortable; I can see their pupils twitching and their brains pinging as I stare them down. If you're going to look at my pain, you have to earn it. If I take my eye off of anyone, who knows what might happen.

"It's like space", one of the girls from school told me earlier. I noticed their eyes as wide as dinner plates. The two of them had the unique ability to speak directly with me while clearly living in an alternate plane of existence. They seemed to witness everything but nothing at all. I admired that. They had clearly heard about my mum – how, I don't know – because as I turned to leave, both of them simultaneously placed a small bag with a bunch of tiny, multicoloured squares in my hand.

"Freeze it," one of the girls said.

"It might help."

I've stared at my freezer since I got home.

***

Diary Entry – 1st June

Dreams are supposed to tell you something

But what if there is nothing?

My eyelids scrunch, twitch, and wrinkle

Unblinking, unyielding

My favourite minute is the first

When I forget,

When my only thought is thirst

A spirit shaped like a question mark

There is nothing, no trace

A tired mind protected from dreams

Never here, never there

I struggle, always asking where

My dreams left,

I remain.

Searching for an answer I won't like.

I miss my dreams.

I'm happy I don't dream.

***

Text Message – 9th June

'I shouldn't have to remind you but forget about your mother for one year. Go outside. It might do you good.

I don't want to go through this with you for another year.

Dad'

***

Diary Entry –9th June

I've spent every day of the past two years looking for my mum around the streets of Kampala and beyond. Today, I won't be leaving the house. Today is National Heroes' Day, a day of parades, ceremonies, and awards. It's a day that celebrates the peace and stability that came from the Bush War in the 80s.

It's also the day my mother went missing. For once, I'll take my dad's advice. I won't be indulging in happiness, and I won't even attempt to recognise stability. I was taught that this day marks the anniversary of Edidian Mukiibi Luttamaguzi's murder after he refused to reveal the hiding place of the rebel leader Museveni. My mum would speak about his sacrifice every year and begged my dad to take us to the ceremonies. One year, after he predictably said 'no,' she snuck us out of the house and into Kampala. I loved that day, seeing all of the country's heroes and even the president. There were fireworks, and people dancing everywhere. I liked it because it meant so much to her. But she's not here anymore. So, in the spirit of resistance, I'm not moving from the last place she was seen. I don't want to see any heroes. I just want my mum to come back.

***

Diary Entry – 9th June

Dad seems to love this day even more than before, as if mum's disappearance has made it better. Fuck him, by the way.

This day is the only day I don't go out searching for her, so I don't know what to do with myself. I'm writing this on the faded, red-tiled floor in my kitchen in front of the freezer.

"It will help", whispers the girl from school. At least, I think that's what she said.

Here I am, holding a tab in my hand. Fuck it, I'll see what happens.

***

Diary Entry – 9th June

It's been two hours, and nothing is happening. Maybe it's because of the heat today. Or maybe it's because I have absolutely nothing for the drugs to react to.

I've never taken any drugs before, barring a singular puff of someone's weed in some corner of my cousin's farm a few years ago, so I have no idea what to expect.

***

Diary Entry – 9th June

An ALIEN. A fucking ALIEN was in my garden.

I have to scribble my thoughts down fast. I can feel my writing hand slipping away from me, and I don't know if I will even believe myself tomorrow. Everything is starting to warble and change colour. I swear I can see lines falling from the sky. It's like the world is constructed in a series of interconnected grids and patterns. Shit, where was I?

Alien! Yes. It looked exactly like I thought an alien would look - gross, with big, stick-like arms and eyes almost as big as its head. It popped its green, slimy skin out from behind the pear tree in my garden and, for a minute, I didn't feel scared at all. I don't know who I'm writing to at this point, but I felt connected to this creature. As if I had some sort of connection to it all along, even though I can safely say that, up until this point in my life, the only interaction I've had with anything extraterrestrial is that silly American movie from the 80s. E.T I think it's called.

Am I losing my mind, or is this the drugs? They haven't properly kicked in yet. I'm able to write this diary entry. Well, it's quite difficult because my arm is starting to stray. But there was definitely an alien in the back garden.

It told me it knew where my mum was. Then I ran inside and started writing. I really can't control

***

Bukedde Newspaper – 10th June

Page 10: 'Strange Light Source Seen Outside Kampala on Heroes' Day'

'Amidst the presidential awards and parades, citizens living on the outskirts of Kampala claim to have witnessed a momentary blinding white light, Bukedde reports. The light reportedly pierced the bright blue summer's sky, followed by what locals describe as a 'shriek'. Bukedde has reached out to the local government for comment.'

***

Anonymous Mail – 12th June

'Aliens in Kampala? Don't be so ridiculous. No wonder your mum left.'

***

Anonymous Mail – 13th June

'Of course, it's you and your family trying to ruin National Heroes' Day. Maybe your mum just left because she didn't want you anymore. Have you thought about that before you go walking the streets looking for her again? Or perhaps you'll go searching for an 'alien.' The light was the sun reflecting on a window, nothing else. No one wants you on this street anymore.

***

Anonymous Mail – 14th June

Hello,

Is everything ok? My husband and I have heard some unusual noises coming from your house. We don't know what happened on Heroes' Day, but I'm writing to express my concern. You haven't opened your curtains in five days.

Sincerely,

A concerned neighbour.

***

Mail – 11th June

'Daughter, what are you doing? I've had calls from your neighbours asking me to come here and sort you out. It's been YEARS. I'm trying to move on with my life; maybe you should try it sometime.

You've always been too much like her. You were both accidents that were never meant to happen.

I have a family to deal with, so please get your shit together.'

***

Diary Entry – 16th June

I have been alone since the beginning of time. The lights are bending and morphing into multicoloured mouths, their words are turning me into a lonely piece of stone. My hands are grey.

Letters, so many letters.

Piling up at my door. Where am I?? The sky has been falling on me for days now. It hurts, mum. My freezer is empty. Answers elude me. I've searched the entire galaxy for that creature, but I can't find it anywhere. I know it was real. Did it exist? Mum, I know you loved that creepy movie. I hated his pointy finger. I never knew why you liked Hollywood so much. Why must you taunt me? What I would give to watch that film with you again.

I know it was real. This plane of existence won't show me the answers. NO one will help me, not even dad. I don't know what either of you looks like anymore. Everything is so bright.

Where did that fucking alien go? WHY did it go? Where did it come from?

***

Diary Entry – 18th June

I feel like an alien

To my own life

My words keep her alive,

It will come back

I must keep going

Higher, further, far, far away,

Mother, come home,

Up and over the moon,

Two wheels on the surface

I have what it takes

Why did you go?

Who took you from me?

Show me a hole in the fabric of it all

And I'll punch through

Please.

***

Diary Entry – 20th June

I've explored every known corner of this universe. I've spoken with gods in the middle of a black hole at the edge of a solar system. I bargained with Zeus. Now, my walls are made of fire. I can't move my leg because it's stuck in the green slime that covers the floor of my home. I can't see anything anymore.

I have seen everything, yet I've found nothing. I need…more. I have to find her. It. Outside.

***

Bukedde Newspaper – 21st June

'A 22-year-old woman was found dead at the bottom of Mutundwe Hill on the outskirts of Kampala last night. Locals say she hadn't been seen in days after the anniversary of her mother's disappearance on National Heroes' Day. She was found with high traces of the hallucinogenic drug, LSD in her system.

Her father spoke to the press today, saying, "My daughter and I became estranged after her mother left us a few years ago. I hoped she would come round to meeting her baby brother and start again, but sadly, he will never get to meet his sister. I hope she and her mother have found peace.

Her death is not being treated as suspicious.'