24 April 2012
Copyright Ⓒ 2012 Christopher Patrick Kirk all rights reserved
Laughter crept in as the Nguni were settled and accounted for. They had water and maize. Many of the Oxfam benefits were still apparent with this tribe, none more so than the t-shirt proudly worn by Tokren Kubabe; at twenty-two years, a brave chief who had been schooled at a workshop in Dakar.
Three innocent girls held sticks in the fire, prodding red ambers as they listened to the night darken around them. Staring into the burning warmth, the light pulled at the darkness tightly, their thoughts became new dreams. Stark reality turned endless pains into distant pleasures, untold and yet to be realised. The sweet smell of smoke burned hard, cracked dryness and thirst. Each held their stick at arms length; moving closer as it shortened into the ashes, pushing fire against fire and the tingle of flesh was ignored.
Sabadeen knew of the demons hiding there, she sensed their every move and deftly evaded them. She danced her stick back and forth in the hope of fighting them away. Angry sparks popped and screamed as the embers were disturbed, quickly finding strength again as the flames returned to roaring silence. As she drew closer, she thought of the father she had never held. Imagining his opposing starved lions in the bush and settling neighbouring disputes in the paint of their forefathers comforted her.
A few paces behind, Sabadeen’s mother cursed Kodu for the life stolen from them, the illness that had ravaged her tribe. Fellathra had cried for seven children, her tears had run to dust and she wanted to believe in something altogether better as she watched her daughter flicker and smile in the dark light, sure that she would be thinking of her father kindly.
“Sabu! Tome meu copo e beba-o…” called Fellathra as she passed Sabadeen the empty shell and poured water for her to drink. Sabadeen let her stick fall and eagerly grasped the cup with both hands, to savour every drop. She stopped and offered it to Jeolsha and Gerju but they were too engaged with the fire. As she took the last mouthful, Sabadeen wanted more but her words would not come. Briefly, she saw herself falling into the fire, as her young life escaped like a Great Egret flying across a white full moon. No pain, only surprise to neither light nor darkness.
Fallathra stood motionless, seeing the end had come for her Sabu, no strength to react. Sabadeen had been pulled from the fire, wetted and all looked down upon her in respectful silence. Fallathra kneeled by her and brushed away the ashes from her face and hair, to create the illusion of peaceful sleep. That Sabu and Kodu were together at last, gave Fallathra her tears.
Tokren, standing at her feet, looked upwards and began to chant; “As the fire burns on, this life would move ahead to the echoes of suns and moons; earth, fire, water and air join us forever… This day ends to start another.”
The Four Elements • Opuss № I