My aunty and her then boyfriend, now husband, loved watching football. They would even go watch a live football game. On one of those times she went with her boyfriend, they decided to bring me along. That day, she dressed me in my favourite green shirt and I was excited to see what it was all about.

However, just before we went out that evening, there was a big commotion at our neighbour’s house. He was drunk and picking a fight with one of those logistics guys who usually stopped by his place for some business dealings. What started off as verbal abuses turned into a physical fight. I didn’t watch the fight but at the end of it, when the guy ran off, I saw my neighbour covered in blood but didn’t seem to be in pain. On the contrary, he was showing off to on-lookers that he was OK despite the injuries. Anyway, everything quietened and we proceeded with our football plan.

We were walking to a bus stop to catch a ride when we saw the guy who was fighting with my neighbour lying faced down on the five-foot way. My uncle went to him to check if he was alright. He didn’t move. My uncle turned him over and felt his pulse. He was dead, my uncle said. I was so shocked! So much so that I don’t remember what happened next, whether we called the police, how we got to the stadium anyway, or even how I felt watching the game.

All I know was that we still went ahead to the game and everything else is a total blur. I only recall that for the next couple of days, I kept seeing that guy’s face in my head and I was really scared that he’ll haunt me. I also remember that my neighbour ran away for fear that the police will arrest him for the guy’s death.

I was about 8 or 9 years old when that happened. It’s been some 20 years ago but sometimes I still think about it.