As my eyes adjusted going from absolute darkness to the
bright lighted street corner, I can see the silhouettes of several
soldiers around me. I can feel myself being dragged backwards.
The sound of gravel is grinding together underneath me and I can
feel the pain of my skin being ripped off. The soldier is easily
dragging my tiny body behind him. His hand is holding one end of
the handcuff to drag me along the gravel road and the other end
is squeezing both my wrist together behind my back. I let out a
scream from the bottom of my lungs from the pain in both of my
shoulders. If the soldier does not let up, I fear that both my
shoulders and arms will break very soon. The soldier stopped,
turned around and kicked me really hard in my ribs, taking my
breath away, and he said “Oh, so you can scream but you can’t
talk? I see what kind of game you are playing”. The soldier
continued to drag me to what seemed like an eternity. I cried and
coughed uncontrollably but couldn’t get any words out of my
mouth. He stopped at a light post, grabbed me by my hair and
stood me up, and tied me to the light post. Ah what a relief that
my arms are not being stretched backwards anymore. I would
take the pain of beatings and hair pulling over that anytime. I
could see through my swollen, watery eyes that I was at the end
of a street. Not a residential street but a street full of shops,
stores, and offices. I have walked in front of these stores many
times to get to school every day, and sad that this time may be
my last. I looked around I saw large amounts of fresh blood on the
ground, and suddenly the gravity of the situation weighed heavily
on my mind. My level of fear went up another gear when I saw the
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fresh blood, because I knew that they must have killed someone
in that very spot just earlier, tied to the same light pole I am tied
to, and I am next. I felt my stomach tie up into a knot and I got
physically ill. I tried hard to hold myself back from throwing up but
I am unable to. Ten to fifteen soldiers swarmed around me
staring at me, as if looking at a hunted animal. Like a flash they all
walked back and lined up in front of me with their rifles pointing
right at me with such precision that I could tell they had done
many times before. I could feel the end was coming soon, this is
it, and this is where I will be executed. The gravity of what will be
happening hits me, and I am hyperventilating and crying. How can
this be happening? My tears are pouring down, and my heart is
beating so fast that it makes breathing difficult. I was cold and
shivering and my teeth are chattering. As my impending death
nears, a feeling of calmness came over me. I am not worried
about myself or my death, all I can think about is my mother, how
sad she will be to find out I was executed. I always thought
execution was for murderers, revolutionaries, or criminals, so why
am I being executed, it just didn’t make any sense. The
countdown starts, and it snaps me back to reality. I can hear the
voice of an authoritative and powerful man outside the firing
squad telling his men:
“Get ready….get set…… “I can hear all the rifles being cocked
and the noise echoing in my ears. I close my eyes and brace
myself for the moment of impact.
Fire…………
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Suddenly I woke up drenched in sweat from head to toe, and
found myself in the fetal position under my living room table in my
house. I realize once again, that I was having another terrible
nightmare, another night terror. How would I ever heal or forget
about what had happened to me on September 8th, 1978 that has
come to be known as “Black Friday”. When will I ever stop having
these flashbacks?
First I was so happy the nightmare was over, but I slowly
realized that it was not a nightmare, only a twisted recollection of
the intense terror I had hidden and put away in the dark corners of
my consciousness to protect myself from the cruel and disabling
truth I had lived through. Very confused about what I was doing
under the table, I crawled out and walked back to my bed. Night
after night I found myself having night mares about running and
hiding from soldiers. I had numerous bruises and cuts from
running in to the walls and furniture, as I ran aimlessly through the
house reliving the dark forgotten memories I was now
remembering. My memory was finally coming back to me, with all
the ugly details of my past. The memories of that dark and bloody
day, September 8 1978, or Black Friday, were all coming back to
me. My brain had done a very good job of blocking them for 30
years to protect me from these terrorizing and scarring details.
Before that day, I had a general idea of what had happened, but
never in such graphic details, and vivid colors. My memory had a
lot of holes in it, and I could never make out how I made it home
or how I survived. I know I had asked for it when I asked for help
from my counselor/spiritual mentor/best friend, Mili Naugle, to
help me recover all my memories of that dark day. She was and
still is a beautiful middle aged lady from India, who also happened
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to be a Marriage/Family Therapist or an MFT. She is one of the
kindest people I have ever known. She is selfless, giving, and
very connected to god, spirituality through meditation. She saved
my life, and nursed all my emotional and psychological wounds.
She warned me that there was a good reason why I blocked the
memories of them, and perhaps it is best if I don’t remember. I
insisted and begged her to help me, and tried to convince her I
am ready and I want to know every detail. Within a month or so,
with the help of Mili, my full memory of Black Friday came to me
through many night terrors. She helped me to remember them
through meditation, surrendering to god, and allowing myself to
regain those memories. She always told me that god would not
give you more than you can handle. So surrender yourself and if
you are truly ready you will remember them. After 30 years and
months of therapy and meditation, I finally learned why I was
spared.
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