Drought

By Janet Baldey

All through the summer, the villagers had been watching the skies. But all that moved in that hard blue desert were waves of heat burning their upturned faces and scorching the grass at their feet. Around them, their crops withered and bony cattle raised dust in arid riverbeds, pawing the ground as they searched for water.

Kofi bent, dug his fingers through the rock hard crust and scooped up a handful of gritty soil. Slowly he let it trickle through his fingers. Rising, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and his shoulders sagged as he turned homewards. As he walked his son Chidi, trotted by his side, his dark curls barely reaching his father’s elbow. They were halfway there when Kofi felt Chidi tug at his sleeve. A steer was staggering drunkenly along the dusty road. It bellowed mournfully as its front legs buckled and it fell to the ground. By the time they reached the animal its eyes were glazing over.

   “That’s one of Jengo’s,” Kofi said. “We must tell him”. He looked down at his son.  Chidi nodded and immediately turned left at a fork in the road.  Kofi followed him without argument. Chidi was different from the other children. He’d never uttered a word but he knew things that others didn’t.

 

“My well ran dry this morning. I pump and I pump but it does nothing but wheeze. That poor beast is the first to go but others will follow. I think I’m finished. I think we all are”.

  Jengo’s hands were hanging limply by his sides and his eyes were sunk deep into his face. He was but forty, Kofi knew, but at that moment he could have been seventy. The two men looked at each other. Things had never been so bad. Droughts were not new to them but this one seemed unending. Their womenfolk struggled to put food on the table. Their flour was almost gone, so also was the salt beef and pork and if the water table was drying up their crops would be lost and so would they.

“I hear the Elders are calling a meeting tonight”.

 Jengo shook his head. “We need to pray”. 

   That evening, a tide of anxious villagers surged towards the Meeting place. As if magnetized, their eyes were once again drawn upwards to where the baleful sun was melting into a blaze of orange fire as day gave way tonight. Muttering to each other, they entered the Hall and took their seats on the wooden benches that lined its perimeter.

In the centre, a group of black-robed elders were huddled together, their grey beards wagging as they talked.  When the last of the villagers had been seated and the babble of sound had muted, their Leader rose. His face was grave. Deep marks etched into his forehead as he looked at the sea of faces before him.

“My friends.  We all know why we are here. We have fallen upon hard times.   For three years now we have been fighting an enemy we cannot touch. The sun. Without rain, we cannot survive another winter.  Up until now, we have managed to survive by living off the fat of previous seasons but this we can no longer do. Our stores are empty. We have no fat left.  My friends, it is time for us to leave this place. It will take courage but we must flee or die.”

Although most of those present knew that what he said was true, his words shocked.  Panicky whispers ricocheted around the Hall.

“What about the old folk?”

“What about the children?”

Generations ago, their ancestors had travelled to this place searching for a place of peace and plenty away from the world. Ring fenced as it was by the mountains, their hideaway had remained a secret ever since. The villagers looked at each other with fear in their eyes. It would be a long and arduous journey through the mountains and weakened as they were, many would not survive.

Everyone began talking at once and it was in the midst of this hubbub of sound that Kofi felt Chidi again tug at his clothing.

Kofi looked to where Chidi was staring. A stranger, carrying a sack over his shoulder, was lounging in the doorway, his strange blue eyes flickering back and forth.

Heads turned, following Kofi’s gaze and gradually all sound drained away and a breathless hush took its place. The stranger straightened and stepped out of the shadows. As he did, his creased white suit glimmered in the light of the moon that shone through the open door.     

“Good evening to you all”.

Nobody uttered a word.   Not within living memory had a stranger been seen in the village. It must have taken him weeks to travel over the plains and his progress should have been plain to see as he parted the grasses, but not a soul had spotted him. They watched as he walked into the centre of the Hall. There was something about him that triggered old memories, a white stranger with shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes.   The older villagers remembered seeing a man like him before, hidden amongst the pages of books, relics of their ancestors.

A shrill cry rang out and a woman pushed through the crowd. Her veined hands clawing at her stringy neck she let out a howl.

“Tis the Lord Jesus”.

The stranger smiled a secret smile.

“Not Jesus mother, but I do bring blessings”.

Reaching into his sack he pulled out a bottle of clear liquid. With a quick turn of his wrist, he unscrewed the top and poured a stream of shining water onto the beaten earth floor.

“Friends, I have seen your predicament. You can’t stay here. In my travels, I’ve seen many settlements turned into dustbowls by the drought as I have also seen the bones of those that tried to flee. But I can take you to a place, where you’ll never have to pump water. A place where all the water you’ll ever need will gush forth at the turn of a tap.  Follow me ….”

Turning, he strode out of the Hall. The villagers rolled their eyes and looked at each other, then one by one they followed. They found the stranger standing next to a strange machine. It squatted on the bare ground humming softly to itself as its fuselage glowed a dull silver in the moonlight.

“All you folks have to do is to make your mark on this piece of paper and all your worries will be at an end. This machine will carry you all to a place of plenty”. He patted the aircraft as if it were a lover.

Chidi circled the crowd that gathered around the stranger. Although he hadn’t heard the man’s words, he had been watching his face intently and had noticed something. Every now and then the surface of the man’s face rippled.  He looked around at the excited mass of people and saw the awe on their faces. He shifted his gaze back to the man and watched, seeing what others didn’t. The man before them was wearing a mask. If you looked closely, it slipped sideways for a split second and showed another face, a dark face that smiled an unpleasant smile while its eyes sparkled with malicious glee. Chidi shivered.

Suddenly a series of visions exploded into his mind.   He saw his father, his face drenched in sweat, his body bowed with fatigued, labouring day and night in a dark building that rang with noise.  He saw his mother, muffled up against the cold, crouched in an icy street, a sign at her feet saying ‘NO MONEY. PLEASE GIVE’.  He saw his sister, a smile painted on her once innocent face, being led by men into noisome alleyways.  He saw himself, his eyes empty and uncomprehending, locked inside a bare white room. He screamed and clutched at his father, trying with all his strength to pull him away.

Kofi looked down at his son who was obviously scared witless. He paused, a frown passing over his face. Chidi had always been a knowing child. He looked at the villagers crowding around the stranger and an unpleasant thought sneaked into his mind. The blankness of their faces reminded him of bullocks tempted by food before being herded into the slaughterhouse. His eyes flicked towards the stranger and he felt a sudden certainty. No, he did not trust this man. What did anyone here know of him? Nothing, yet they were willing to follow him to an alien place where they would be the strangers. Maybe they were bewitched. Maybe Chidi could break the spell that bound them.

He thrust himself into the melee and made his way to the front. Turning, he faced the crowd.

‘My friends,’ he said. ‘You know me. I am Kofi. A brave man who wears a lion’s pelt. But I say to you – beware of this man. His words are as honey but you all know the dangers of following the wild bee.’

He looked down at his son who was mouthing words that had never before passed his lips and a great gladness filled his soul. The child could speak at last. What he was about to say must be truly the word of the gods.

 ‘Listen to my son. He speaks for the very first time. It is a miracle.’ He lifted his son into the air and Chidi began to speak…… 

Copyright Janet Baldey