To die for the country

Three bodies lie on the ground, broken and lifeless.
Three Ugandans are never going to sing their party slogans again.
They are now the winds that dry our clothes. The stuff of historical stories.

These three braves did not know that the buck was stopping at them today. They probably left home with things to do still. Unfinished cups of tea, uncompleted laundry, half done essays; their lives…

These three stiffs we shall never really know. They could actually have names. And families. And plans for the future. Not necessarily a future without a certain bald headed person lording it over them but a future anyway. Heck, they did not really care who came on to rule the country. They’d still live the same dreary lives no matter what the political talking heads said on their campaign trail.

And the country collectively shook their heads and went, “tut, tut. This is a sad case. How could this have happened?” then they went back to their fisticuffs, forgetting the three stiffs on the ground.

Three bodies lie on the ground, broken and lifeless.
Why did they die? Why do we never move from one station to the next without having to double over and start back at one?