The drizzles were transforming into showers. The wind was growing stronger. Gradually they made their way down the hill, each clutching their loads on their heads as if their lives all depended on the little bundles, wrapped in leaves, they were carrying. They maintained the silence which had descended on them from the time they set out on this journey. It was not the first time they were walking these routes. No, it definitely was not the first, nor did it remotely occur to them that this could be their last. Everything had started as everything else usually starts-very small. Don’t the elders say that the thing that will kill a man starts with an appetite?
The children, according to their ages walked ahead. Their mother, Lumabi, like a mother hen kept watch from behind. The tears running down her cheeks were made invisible by the rain. Her heart was soaked, drowning in her own tears. Her body was wet, soaked by the tears of nature pouring its scorn on her and her children. The gods had gone to sleep, shutting their eyes and ears to her plight. She shifted the bundle on her head and propped up the child tied to her back. He was two years old, the last of five children she has born in nine years of marriage. the only boy and the source of all her misery. All this started with him. Was a boy not supposed to be the pride of his father? Why had her own fortunes turned out differently? Had she not prayed to the gods for a male child?
Wali, her husband had been happy when she became pregnant, just a few months after their marriage. He was proud to have a wife whose womb was so fertile, who didnot have to struggle like his brother's wife to have an issue. He built her a new hut. Erected a new barn in her old one. His wife must not cook and sleep in the same hut again. He will want a separate cooking space for his wife and separate sleeping space for his new child. He could hold his head high and beat his chest that he was a real man. When Lumabi had her child, he called her Bimafor, the Queen Mother. A royal title. A title of honour and he treated her with honour. She was happy that he was happy. He liked him even more for liking her daughter and for naming her after his grand mother. In those days life was good. Marriage was good. Oh! how she longed for those days. At this thought she whizzed and her shoulders sank. The bundle on her head shifted, her left foot caught a stone. she slipped on the rain soaked red soil, loosing her balance. She dropped her luggage, tried to steady herself, reaching to protect the child on her back. But at that moment the troubles of this world pulled her down against her will and she dropped to the ground.
"Bimafor!" she called out between sops. "Put that thing on the ground and come and give me a hand here." Bimafor dropped the bundle she was carrying on her head. She ran back to her mother. Her feet stamping the puddles and water splashing up her legs. She leaned forward and gripped the baby from her mother's back, pulling him gently towards her. "Are you ok mama?" she whispered, her voice quivering as the cold began to get to her. She looked down at her mother, the tears mingling with the rain and the sweat. Her eyes watered as the river in her swelled up as though the rain was pouring on the inside as it did on the outside. "Mama, are you ok?" she asked again, this time unable to hear even her own voice. She saw the pain on her mother's face. The river in her burst and the water in it came flowing down her cheeks. Salty -sweet it ran down her cheeks and she could taste it on the tip of her tongue.
Lumabi tilted herself on the ground. holding on to her daughter's shoulder she pulled herself off the ground. Bimafor, the pillar of her life stood still. Taking her mother's weight on her shoulders.
"Yes, I am ok" she said as she stood up. "I am fine, thank you. Let me have your brother now".
"I can carry him if you want me too"
"That’s ok. Let me have him. Run up ahead and take care of your sisters. Let’s get going. We will soon get there." and off she went leading the walk, heading into the threshold of tomorrow. Not sure when she'll becoming back to her father's house.
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