Dear Red

One

The sun beat down mercilessly on St. Xavier Girls' High School. It was the finals of the Inter-House Sports Gala 2012. I stood prominent at the front of Ngambe House's cheering squad, watching keenly as the participants of the 200metre race thundered toward the finish line. My heart pounded painfully in my chest because I knew full well that winning this race put us firmly in the 1st position, ahead of Kizito House. There were two girls leading the race, one of whom was running for Ngambe. We all screamed loudly as she reached the finish line, ahead of her competitor. However, instead of running straight through the line, she grabbed it as if her very life depended on it. She faltered for what seemed like a second and then she was sinking onto the ground. The rest of the participants raced forward and surrounded her. The games master, Mr. Locketo, run towards the group and the crowd parted to let him through. He took one look at the girl lying on the green carpet of grass and picked her up. He cradled her to his chest and ran as fast as he could. He went past the first aid tent, coming toward us. His face was a mask of terror, grief and anguish. When he was close enough, I was able to see the face of our participant who lay still in his arms. I froze. It was Komugasa Melissa, a fellow form three and daughter to John Tumwiine, the Minister of Trade and Industry. She was pale and her skin was slick with sweat. What captured my attention was the black and bluish thick substance coming from her nose that had the metallic scent of blood yet looked nothing like blood. A collective gasp rose from the squad gathered around. The games master continued running toward the infirmary. People began to talk in groups, speculating on what could have gone wrong with Komugasa. "Tina, what did you see?" someone asked, grabbing my hand. I shook her off and walked away to a secluded place beneath a tree. The games continued, like nothing had happened and this thoroughly irked me. The sports assistant called for the participants in the hurdles race and Ngambe's cheering squad continued as before with only a few girls noticing my absence. I saw no teacher move to investigate what was wrong with Melissa and when I finally went for lunch with the rest of the school, I was as angry as I was curious about Melissa-and I attribute this to the fact that she was a fellow form three member for we had no personal relationship whatsoever. As I returned from lunch along with a few peers, a Kadic Hospital ambulance sped by with Melissa, 2 nurses, a doctor and a body guard. She was still unconscious. Standing in its wake, it finally sank that something was terribly wrong with Komugasa Melissa and only God knew what.

Later that day, most of the heat had died down and a cool wind blew, very characteristic of Ugandan climate. The whole school was gathered on the field, sitting according to house or in my case, rank. The headmaster, Mr. Isingoma was giving his speech, which would mark the climax of the Sports Gala. It would be a lie to say I was patient and calm for I was waiting anxiously for the results to be announced. As Junior Sports Captain for Ngambe House, I had invested plenty into this Gala and all along, winning had been front and centre on my mind. Even the speech could not lull me into a state of calmness. Beside me was Jjemba Sarah, the overall captain of Ngambe House and Best Sports Girl at St. Xavier for 2 years running. She was in Form Six now and a paragon of sport at school. She had long and thick black hair which she wore in a knot at the back of her head and her black House shirt fit her built frame like second skin. She also wore black sports shorts that stopped halfway her thigh and Adidas sports shoes. On her wrist were Jamaica armbands that matched mine and a sports watch. I realized she was paying a bit too much attention to Mr. Isingoma and decided to do the same. 

"It is unfortunate that some of the participants faced challenges and were disqualified on medical grounds. Ngambe House, by far, suffered the worst damage although I know beyond certainty that Sarah is an excellent house leader," Mr. Isingoma said. Sarah inclined her head with a soft smile as everybody briefly turned toward her. 

"That's a lie! You can't take credit when Melissa is in hospital fighting for her life!" a girl shouted in our general direction. Before we could assimilate what was going on, Kamwiga Esther was on her feet, bearing down upon Sarah. I pushed to my feet. Esther was a Kizito House stalwart and one of Melissa's closest friends so she was understandably hurt but to openly accuse the house leader without proof was crossing the line. She was in my class, sat two rows behind me and was mean to everybody. "Esther, calm down. Melissa is going to be fine," I said putting a hand firmly on her shoulder. I felt, rather than saw, Sarah get up and stand behind me.