?I blushed at his words, but I think that that was the moment that I fell in love. I knew and he knew that I was lost. He asked my father for permission to marry me six months later, and I eagerly accepted. We agreed that because we were both in our senior year in college, we would wait until graduation to get married. It really wasn?t that far away, but because we were officially engaged, we felt at liberty to play and tease with each other a little more than before.I remember one night after dinner, he was walking me back to my dorm in the dark. He took my hand and slipped me into a dark alley in between two buildings. We were no strangers to kissing by this time, so I brought my arms up around his neck thinking he wanted to steal a private smooch before we got home. Instead, he stretched my hands up to where an old sign fixture was still sticking out of the wall. He whispered in my ear to grab on to it and hold. As I stood there with my arms over my head, he took a long. Fearing that a white reaction would only allow the rogue government the excuse for even worse abuses.Their children and guests were already hidden around the farmhouse.During the Independence struggle most white owned farmhouses had built in hidey holes to hide the family and valuable possessions. With the recent upsurge in violence most farmers had stocked and cleaned up these bolt holes left over from the war. Hopefully these thugs would accept their presence and not look further.The door crashed open. Booted in by hard men with hard boots. They swarmed inside with fierce faces. Dark faces, with a variety of emotions, from exultation to fear. Faces maddened by gangi, alcohol and the heady victory of their unopposed violent seizure of this farm.Bob Clarke give his terrified wife a reassuring hug as the black thugs swarmed in side. They watched as a lifetimes precious memories were smashed and sent crashing to the floor. Cursing, laughing, threatening men surged around them deeper.
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