My Story Our Journey

By Tungshang Ningreichon [caption id="attachment_255570" align="aligncenter" width="565"] Renewal and Hope: The Naga Reconciliation process is a journey of transformation to a new way of living and relating. It is about common hope and a shared imagination for building a shared Naga future. This file photo from May 2010 shows a young Naga mother praying with the Joint Working Group of the NPGs and the FNR.[/caption]   One When they shot my brothers I wiped my tears and vowed revenge I took them down one by one I was pleased I let the fire that stoked when they call me ‘brave’ burn within. It made me proud till I spent restless nights, remembering the names and faces. I moved places but the memories surfaced Some nights I woke up to dreams of screams In the morning my mother’s calmness would sweep my thoughts But when the night set the fears would return I was possessed! I disclosed my fears to the woman who bore our children and shared my journey, but not my dreams. She told me about Nebuchadnezzar The mighty king whose sanity was restored when he looked upto heaven I ran to the quiet of the room to find the great king of Babylon Oh he had all the power and glory the world could offer He had Pride! It took him down. I writhed in pain. Heaviness choked my heart, my life my freedom to peace. I counted the years I have lived Oh the few years I might have in hand I did not possess the time or the design I only had pride that walled my heart pretending to be bravery I counted the deaths one by one to realise that the enemies were not them but within me I ripped myself apart to face my great nemesis My pride! I knelt in shame I hungered for forgiveness I wept And I remembered He wept too In the dawn, my mother’s face appeared like the morning glory I found my way to seek forgiveness And surrender my pride ‘Neath the cross That night the dreams returned again But this time, We set the albatross around our necks free. I had entered Reconciliation Two I found my peace but the war had not ended It birthed widows and orphans I sought counsel from the elders and the leaders; the learned and the sacred. I knocked on every door but love, like life, was short everywhere. I was restless again till I met the widow at a funeral I remember her man pled for his life but I closed my eyes and shot him The dirge was long and heavy My anxiousness heavier I ran through my memories to latch onto my mother’s words It gave me courage. We shook hands like it could thaw unforgiving hearts I asked forgiveness. She said she nursed her wounds, but never held anger. Her pain was like a long walk in the desert but it was in the matrix of God’s gracious plans Like how it was for Joseph, son of Jacob. I returned home to the quiet of the room to find Joseph His story of forgiveness that healed his brothers and restored light and dignity to them His wretched brothers! They tried to kill him but sold him to slavery. He had the chance to destroy them but he cried instead, in the joy of reunion That night I slept thanking life for the gift of stories The different mystery and philosophy it opens to everyone That night I walked like Joseph to a wider path of reconciliation The war continued like the incessant rain But the battlefield was changing. The actors too. The walls got higher, and the hearts, colder ‘We are for political and historical rights’ they all said But raged lives and peace The war spread to civil space and sense Peace got more violent everyday The youths lay wasted like the cadres The church got bigger and the souls smaller Women were asking for rights and becoming more patriarchal Men grew wealthier and shallower In the nights my dreams were of pitch black I kept running in the wilderness My prayers became laments They were long and bitter The land was mourning Injustice grew deeper and showed its scars in splits: Of movements, churches, homes, tribes, gender, civil societies, politics. We had not found the centre to anchor. If we are to emancipate our people We must unchain our women and widows Free the youths from condemnation, even if they fall Give new hope to our men when they fail Teach our children the colour of truth and justice first Not the scars of violence and tribe Insist our church to embrace lost souls, not tithes And measure our leaders by the size of the heart, not wealth When freedom is restored Like dignity and justice in the lives of the people There will be peals of thunder that writes Let my people go! That will be the last walk of reconciliation! Reconciliation is a long road. It is a political process. It is a spiritual churning. It is both a personal and a collective journey. My journey to reconciliation has been a lonely one. Before my days end I must pass on my baton of struggles and stories to our women, the widow and her co-travelers in mourning They hold the key to transform rigidity into love!