The birth of the artist: Gad Brighton

It is on Thursday 15th of February 1990, midnight.

Mum is screaming, dad is sitting close to her looking afraid. The little boy am in mum’s womb struggling to get out. Dad runs to call Rita, an old woman, who comes as fast as possible. Rita helps mum to open the gate for me to get out. I can feel changes of place. I cry in the hands of the old woman smiling at me. She shouts, « Look, he is boy. » Dad gets in and smile. I am the seventh. By biblical inspiration dad calls me Gad. Neighbours come to congratulate my mother for the incredible child.

After 3 years, 1993.

Mum and dad are in the farm cultivating. I am in the back of my mum. Dad is sweating. Suddenly, Matwi comes running tongue outside. He says, « Hey, what are doing here? Have you heard that the President has been killed? » My parents stop and run home. Meanwhile a group of people with machetes come towards home. It is not as possible to carry anything than to escape. We get to the river. It is raining. Some parents drop their children in the river because they are burdens. My mum doesn’t but struggles to cross the river. Some people are shot by missed bullets. Mum run and run up to the next mountain. I feel hungry and thirsty but nowhere to get food. We meet a crowd with their belongings.

After 5 years, 1995

Story to be continued……………………