sandy trails, a camel track. Tear through small thornbushes that grab at and leave blood stripes on their bodies, cross a damp laga , past a Morengo and Mareer tree, through an abandoned cattle boma , and crash into flowering acacia thickets, from where they can hear Kalacha springs murmur, the prattle of buffalo weavers and golden pipits.
The shadow of Wuoth Ogik.
Line of blood on Odidi’s face.
Ajany spits on her hands and wipes Odidi’s forehead where blood has clotted. Odidi winces. “Sorry, Odi.”
He pulls at her hair. “Is it showing?”
Ajany nods. “Sorry, Odi.”
“We say a wait-a-bit branch got me, OK?”
Ajany asks, “We pray?”
Odidi pinches her arm. “Silly!”
She sobs, “Where’s Obarogo’s face?”
Odidi’s fingers nip her upper arm. “Shhh.”
A falsetto trill seduces cows and camels to water. Water songs.
“Sprinkled life
Unshackle journeys ,
Respite. Rest .
Drink-Drink, flat-footed, sand-dreamer.…”
The two children wait for after dusk, when lanterns are lit. They tremble with the wind. The night is as jumpy as they are.
Odidi’s voice is slow and solemn: “Never, never, never shall we talk about this, never to remember the cave. We forget, and if we tell, the earth must gobble us up. Swear?”
Fear inserted itself between them.
It breathed.
It was in Odidi’s hiss, “You must swear .” Grabbing earth: “Hold this soil.”
The oath inflamed Ajany’s little throat, and she choked.
“Why m-me?”
“ ’Cause you’re a cry-dudu-water-mouth silly.”
“Not.”
“You scare easy.”
“Don’t.”
“So?”
With watery eyes, Ajany ground out the words “I swear,” clinging to the dirt, and something elemental inside her flowed away, just like the soil she held in her hands.
The woman glided toward the gate. Her AK-47 pointing downward. Not threat—vigilance. A sunset silhouette. Akai-ma. Baba was not home.
Two pairs of eyes followed Akai-ma as she inspected the patterns of the land, looking for something.
Ajany clutched her brother.
Her stammer worsened in Akai’s presence: Akai-ma’s all-seeing eyes, a temper distilled into condensed, burning, tearing words with the impact of a curse.
“Odi, I’m afraid.”
Ajany felt herself to be a shadow that flickered at the edge of her mother’s gaze. It was rare for her mother to call her by her name. “That One!” Akai-ma might yell until Ajany emerged, already protecting herself from physical blows that were implied but never came.
Odidi said, “We go. I talk, you shut up.” Which was the normal way of things between them. “And stop shivering, idjut !”
Sniffle .
Odidi’s harsh whisper, “Silly dudu . Can’t take you Far Away if you cry. Such a baby.”
Ajany forced herself to let the crickets’ chirping fill her thoughts.
She wiped her face and sniffed twice more.
“OK,” Ajany said.
They crawled out of the bushes.
“I anger.”
Akai-ma’s English, pockmarked, dragged through moonscapes, propped up by gesture and hacked into low-droned present-tense portions into which any number of languages were inserted.
Akai: I anger you.
Though Odidi dared a quiet snigger, Ajany had long understood that Akai rendered words as they were made to be—soldier verbs, constructed for action and war. Ajany cowered in front of them.
Akai breathing in Ngaturkana: “Where did you go?” She would say, “Etch!” And spit a long distance away.
Every time Ajany practiced spitting, she would end up with great globs of saliva spattering her feet.
“ Etch! Where did you go?” Akai-ma asked.
Odidi leaned back on one foot and looked back at his mother. A chin gesture indicated west, the place of the rock shelter.
A furrow on Akai’s forehead.
Odidi said, “Far behind the red stone. Where smoke and water come from the ground. I showed Ajany.”
Dangerous. But not forbidden. Not like the rock shelter.
The creases on Akai-ma’s face disappeared. Light lost to sky darkness above them.
The shadow of Wuoth Ogik.
Line of blood on Odidi’s face.
Ajany spits on her hands and wipes Odidi’s forehead where blood has clotted. Odidi winces. “Sorry, Odi.”
He pulls at her hair. “Is it showing?”
Ajany nods. “Sorry, Odi.”
“We say a wait-a-bit branch got me, OK?”
Ajany asks, “We pray?”
Odidi pinches her arm. “Silly!”
She sobs, “Where’s Obarogo’s face?”
Odidi’s fingers nip her upper arm. “Shhh.”
A falsetto trill seduces cows and camels to water. Water songs.
“Sprinkled life
Unshackle journeys ,
Respite. Rest .
Drink-Drink, flat-footed, sand-dreamer.…”
The two children wait for after dusk, when lanterns are lit. They tremble with the wind. The night is as jumpy as they are.
Odidi’s voice is slow and solemn: “Never, never, never shall we talk about this, never to remember the cave. We forget, and if we tell, the earth must gobble us up. Swear?”
Fear inserted itself between them.
It breathed.
It was in Odidi’s hiss, “You must swear .” Grabbing earth: “Hold this soil.”
The oath inflamed Ajany’s little throat, and she choked.
“Why m-me?”
“ ’Cause you’re a cry-dudu-water-mouth silly.”
“Not.”
“You scare easy.”
“Don’t.”
“So?”
With watery eyes, Ajany ground out the words “I swear,” clinging to the dirt, and something elemental inside her flowed away, just like the soil she held in her hands.
The woman glided toward the gate. Her AK-47 pointing downward. Not threat—vigilance. A sunset silhouette. Akai-ma. Baba was not home.
Two pairs of eyes followed Akai-ma as she inspected the patterns of the land, looking for something.
Ajany clutched her brother.
Her stammer worsened in Akai’s presence: Akai-ma’s all-seeing eyes, a temper distilled into condensed, burning, tearing words with the impact of a curse.
“Odi, I’m afraid.”
Ajany felt herself to be a shadow that flickered at the edge of her mother’s gaze. It was rare for her mother to call her by her name. “That One!” Akai-ma might yell until Ajany emerged, already protecting herself from physical blows that were implied but never came.
Odidi said, “We go. I talk, you shut up.” Which was the normal way of things between them. “And stop shivering, idjut !”
Sniffle .
Odidi’s harsh whisper, “Silly dudu . Can’t take you Far Away if you cry. Such a baby.”
Ajany forced herself to let the crickets’ chirping fill her thoughts.
She wiped her face and sniffed twice more.
“OK,” Ajany said.
They crawled out of the bushes.
“I anger.”
Akai-ma’s English, pockmarked, dragged through moonscapes, propped up by gesture and hacked into low-droned present-tense portions into which any number of languages were inserted.
Akai: I anger you.
Though Odidi dared a quiet snigger, Ajany had long understood that Akai rendered words as they were made to be—soldier verbs, constructed for action and war. Ajany cowered in front of them.
Akai breathing in Ngaturkana: “Where did you go?” She would say, “Etch!” And spit a long distance away.
Every time Ajany practiced spitting, she would end up with great globs of saliva spattering her feet.
“ Etch! Where did you go?” Akai-ma asked.
Odidi leaned back on one foot and looked back at his mother. A chin gesture indicated west, the place of the rock shelter.
A furrow on Akai’s forehead.
Odidi said, “Far behind the red stone. Where smoke and water come from the ground. I showed Ajany.”
Dangerous. But not forbidden. Not like the rock shelter.
The creases on Akai-ma’s face disappeared. Light lost to sky darkness above them.
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