The following day, the search continued. It was carried out by “professional divers” from Maseru. I was later told that they were members of the police who had travelled all the way from their workstation to search for the disappeared boy. The search started in the morning, but they didn’t find him until noon. They were about to lose hope when they discovered him.

He was no longer alive. From where I was standing, I could see his corpse resting on the ground after it had been pulled out of the dam. He wore no clothes except for his underwear. The women started to cry out loudly. I was shocked. It was the first time I had seen the body of a dead person. The image stayed in my mind for so many years; even today, I can still visualise it vividly. Since that day, I started to fear deep water. But it would not be the last time that such an incident happened in my village.

A similar tragedy occurred in the same place. The similarity was that a person also drowned, even though the occurrences of that day differed from the first incident. I had just completed my high school at the time, if I’m not mistaken, when one man, “Chief”, who was in his late thirties or early forties, came out of nowhere to throw himself in the dam and drowned.

On that particular day, I was not at home. But that evening, when I returned home, I heard the story from my younger brother. A known man from our village had headed straight to the dam, walking alone. My younger brother was washing my father’s van near the dam at the time. So, when this man passed him, heading towards the dam, he thought that the man maybe wanted to kill some water birds. People normally hunted the birds in the dam. It was not strange to see a passer-by picking up stones and hitting the birds. When the bird was hit, the person who had killed the bird would rush into the dam to pick it. He would choose to enter into the water with his clothes on his body, or he would fold his trousers at the legs.

So, as Chief got into the dam, my younger brother assumed that perhaps he had hit his target. What surprised him, however, was that he did not see any dead bird or wounded bird floating in front of him in the water. Instead, he saw the man charging forward towards the deep side of the dam with all of his clothes still on, until his whole body was submerged except for his hands that were raised up as if he were saying “goodbye”. My brother started to feel terrified. Then those raised hands, within no time, disappeared into the water. Then my brother began to realise that this thing was serious. Other people in their homes and other passers-by also saw this incident. Thus, they started to alert many other people who came in numbers to find out what had happened.

It was agreed that a furrow should be made in the wall of the dam (the bolts and nuts of the outlet pipe were now rusted and could not be turned around), to let water out to make the search more conducive. However, the search did not take place that day. People were waiting for a miracle to happen, but it never happened. The man did not come out of the water. The next day, the search began. He was found after many hours of searching for his body. He was already dead when he was discovered.

These incidents have made me fear this dam that I have seen and known my entire life. They really caused and catalysted my fear of depths and deeper water. Do I have aquaphobia or bathophobia? I’m not sure; I’m yet to find out.

Tell us what you think: Why did Chief walk into the dam? What are your thoughts on this story? Do you share some of the author’s feelings?