Sissy Farm Chapter Eleven
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The six Kikuyu elders slowly took their seats on the ground opposite the equal number of Shulula Chiefs and spent the better part of the next hour passing the tobacco pipe in silence before one of the Kikuyu elders finally spoke.
‘It has been ten generations since the brave few from your tribe left their ancestral home and came to this wilderness,’ said Jomo, one of the Kikuyu Elders, ‘and you have always traded with the Kikuyu honorably.’
‘And the Kikuyu have always been a friend of the Shulula,’ said the old Shulula chief, Singing Badger.
‘Why have you summoned us?’ asked one of the Elders.
‘I have had a dream,’ replied Singing Badger, followed by Jomo.
‘And I too have had a dream, the same dream.’
‘It was of a child,’ declared Singing Badger.
‘A very unusual child,’ added Jomo.
‘A child blessed of the Great Spirit,’ said Singing Badger, after again partaking of the pipe.
‘A child of the wind,’ continued Jomo.
‘If we take it for our own and care for it well, we will be blessed,’ assured Singing Badger.
‘From where is this child to come?’ asked one of the Elders.
‘As Jomo has said,’ replied Singing Badger ‘it will come on the wind.’
‘We are Kikuyu and Shulula,’ said another of the Elders, ‘Of what people is this child?’
‘It will not be Shulula and it will not be Kikuyu, but it will become that with which it lives,’ said Singing Badger.
‘And it will come on the wind,’ Jomo repeated.
‘That is a very strange dream,’ offered one of the Chiefs.
‘Old men often have strange dreams,’ offered another elder, ‘and old men can oftentimes be very foolish.’
‘Perhaps,’ offered still another elder, ‘but if an old man, even a very foolish one, told you he had dreamed there was a jewel by your left foot, would you not look?’
‘Children are a blessing to all,’ said one of the Kikuyu Elders, ‘and we are a prosperous people.’
‘The Shulula are strong and this is an abundant land,’ countered one of the Shulula Chiefs, ‘We could provide.’
‘Is it to be a boy child or a girl child?’ asked one of the Elders.
‘That is a part of the dream that I could not understand,’ replied Singing Badger, ‘Sometimes it appeared as a boy and other times as a girl and other times as both.’
‘I don’t know about Singing Badger and Jomo,’ laughed one of the Chiefs, the oldest among them, ‘but I think I still remember how to tell.’
‘If it is a boy, that would be a good thing. If it is a girl, that would also be a good thing. If it is both, I think the Swahili should have it,’ said one of the Elders, again prompting laughter.
‘We must decide which of our people will get the child,’ said Jomo.
‘When the time comes, I think Jomo and Singing Badger should fight to the death to decide,’ joked another, this time to the biggest laugh of all.
‘I propose that if it is a girl, it will live with the Kikuyu,’ reasoned Jomo, ‘Girls make good traders.’
‘That would be acceptable,’ said Singing Badger, ‘and if it is a boy it will live with the Shulula and learn to hunt.’
For the better part of the next hour, the men of both tribes passed the pipe around in silence, giving everyone a chance to reflect on the decision.
When it was clear there were no objections and that everyone was in agreement, the Kikuyu rose and departed and the Shulula turned in for the night.
‘The others…they don’t believe in dreams, not like we do,’ declared Jomo, as he and Singing Badger stood for the third night in a row beneath the big tree next to the big rock they had seen in their dream.
‘Most dreams are nonsense,’ said Singing Badger, ‘but I believe in this one.’
‘As do I,’ affirmed Jomo.
Waiting further still through most of the windswept, cloudy and pitch black night, it wasn’t until just before morning that their patience was rewarded by the sight of a small amber glow just at the limits of their vision.
Slowly changing to the color of amber and then green and then gold before repeating the sequence over and over, it slowly moved nearer and nearer to them.
‘I have never seen anything like that before,’ observed Singing Badger, ‘and it wasn’t in my dream.’
‘Nor I, nor mine,’ agreed Jomo.
Their senses and their expectations now heightened to the extreme, both men almost jumped in fear as they suddenly beheld a very old black man with pure white hair suddenly appear out of the darkness, the light from his glowing pendant revealing the wicker basket he held in front of him.
And who are you?’ asked Jomo.
‘I am who I am,’ said the old man.
Cautiously reaching forward, Jomo lifted the small blanket covering the basket to reveal the calm, even serene, face of two creamy white infants.
‘Well now,’ exclaimed Singing Badger.
‘That explains why we couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl,’ declared Jomo, ‘So be it.’
‘So be it,’ agreed Singing Badger.
‘So be it, indeed’ repeated Jomo, as he took the basket from the old man’s arms, but both men then watched in further amazement as he took the glowing pendant from his neck and another from a bag slung over his shoulder and placed them on each child’s chest.
Resting until their color once again became that of a golden sunset, the pendants began to glow brighter and brighter and slowly change shape until the one on the girl had become a butterfly and the one on the boy had become an eagle.
Lifting the pendant from the girl, the old man placed it around Singing Badger’s neck as he spoke.
‘You will always live in her heart as one who believed in her. By this she will recognize you. If the pendant ever again glows, you will know she needs you.’
‘If she ever needs me, I will come,’ said Singing Badger.
Placing the eagle pendant from the boy around Jomo’s neck, the old black man repeated the words and Jomo promised that if the boy ever needed help he would surely respond.
‘Do they have names?’ asked Jomo.
‘You may call them as you will,’ advised the old man, but my name for her is Karapuleaanamichelo,’
answered the old black man, ‘and my name for him is Sondaleeakumasinbortok.’
‘Beautiful Transcendent Butterfly,’ said Jomo.
‘He Who Commands Lions and Eagles,’ said Singing Badger.
‘That is correct,’ declared the old black man, ‘but you must never tell or say those names to anyone. Someday a man will come who knows those names and by that you will know him as a man you can trust.’
Retrieving two small injectors from his bag, the old black man then placed them in turn on each infant’s chest and pulled the trigger.
‘By this, she will be black like the Kikuyu and he will be brown like the Shulula,’ declared the old black man.
Saying nothing further, he turned and quickly disappeared into the windswept night, leaving Jomo and Singing Badger once again alone.
‘I’m going to call him, Soars with Eagles,’ declared Singing Badger.
‘I’m going to call her Meecha,’ declared Jomo.
‘This child will bless your tribe,’ said Singing Badger, as Jomo covered the basket with the small blanket for the trip home.
‘And you must come visit her often, and offer me advice,’ offered Jomo.
‘As you must do for me,’ smiled Singing Badger.
‘We were wise to believe in dreams,’ said Jomo.
‘One thing I don’t understand,’ said Singing Badger, ‘Butterfly’s don’t like the wind.’
‘This one will,’ assured Jomo, ‘This butterfly will use the wind to soar like an eagle.’
‘May the natural world be with you, Jomo,’ offered Singing Badger, as he wrapped the boy in his shirt and watched Jomo disappear into the night, but even after he was out of sight, he smiled as he heard him begin whistling a happy tune as he and the butterfly headed toward their destiny.
Jomo sat i
n his camp chair and watched with amusement as the girl carefully made her last check of the harness before kissing each of the big oxen on the nose while scratching its ears in prelude to the coming hard days trek. It was something she insisted on doing every morning and even at only ten years old, the only thing he had to help her with was the big yoke.
She was much better with the oxen than he was. They were always cranky and stubborn in the morning if it was he or anyone else who tried to harness them, but they followed the girl around like eager little puppies.
For her, they would do anything.
‘Okay, Jomo!’ Ready to go! Another day and a long way to go! Better get cracking,’ she announced with enthusiasm as she made her way up onto the big wheel and finally to the big cushioned wagon seat, ‘If we want those suckers money, we have to go get it!’
‘The gods have surely blessed me in my old age,’ Jomo said to himself as he folded his chair and fastened it to the side of the wagon, ‘This child is a wonder.’
‘Suwahdeeohh!!!’ Jomo allowed the girl to call out to the oxen after he had taken the reins and settled in for another glorious day of endless pestering questions, totally unpredictable conversation and outrageous antics which began almost immediately after the oxen had taken their first step.
‘I saw a snake this morning when I went to get the oxen,’ she announced, ‘It wouldn’t listen to me and go on about its way so I had to get a stick and beat its ass.’
‘Goddamn it, Meecha, I’ve told you about cussing,’ admonished Jomo, ‘You’re not old enough to cuss.’
‘I don’t know why not,’ she argued, ‘You say that all the time. Just yesterday you told me that if I got into the sugar one more time you were going to beat my ass.’
‘And I meant it too,’ declared Jomo.
‘No you didn’t,’ she retorted confidently.
‘Well, if you don’t stop wearing that shirt you made out of dirty rags to the suckers camp to sell your cookies I’m going to,’ warned Jomo.
‘I don’t do that,’ countered the girl.
‘Liar,’ declared Jomo.
‘Well, you know how it is’ she reasoned, ‘Those suckers can’t stand to see a girl my age without a descent shirt. Last time I got three new shirts, two new dresses and two candy bars.’
‘That chocolate was good,’ admitted Jomo.
‘Chocolate is like your own little patch of heaven,’ she declared, ‘When I get to heaven I’m not going to eat anything but chocolate.’
‘You’re not going to get there if you don’t stop going around without your shirt,’ declared Jomo.
‘Jomo, do you think there really is a heaven?’ she asked, ignoring Jomo’s additional admonition.
‘No, but I still want to go,’ answered Jomo.
‘Jomo, exactly where is heaven?’ asked the girl.
‘Hell if I know,’ answered Jomo, ‘Everywhere I guess, except wherever you are. It’s up in the sky or something like that.’
‘And what do people do there?’ asked the girl.
‘Whatever they want,’ answered Jomo, ‘Whatever makes them happy.’
‘What if they want to cuss?’ asked the girl.
‘Nobody in heaven wants to cuss,’ assured Jomo.
‘Why not?’ asked the girl.
‘There’s nothing to cuss about, I guess,’ answered Jomo.
‘Do people go naked in heaven?’ she asked.
‘No, never,’ answered Jomo, ‘They wear clothes all the time and it’s always the same clothes and they never get dirty and they never have to go to the bathroom either.’
‘So why don’t the snakes listen to me?’ asked the girl, returning to the subject of the snake after
contemplating Jomo’s words, ‘The oxen listen to me and the horses listen to me and the dogs listen to me, and even the chickens listen to me. Why don’t the snakes listen to me?’
‘Because snakes don’t have ears,’ replied Jomo.
‘They don’t?’ she exclaimed in amazement.
‘Nope,’ answered Jomo.
‘Well, then they’re just going to have to get their asses beat,’ she declared.
‘What would you say to a snake anyway?’ asked Jomo.
‘I would say… stop biting people, and stop eating little baby birds… and mice too. Mice never hurt anyone.’
‘Well then, there you have it. That’s why snakes don’t have ears,’ declared Jomo.
‘I don’t get it.’
‘Nobody has anything to say that a snake wants to hear,’ announced Jomo.
‘Snakes are so bad,’ declared the girl.
‘No, they’re just snakes,’ said Jomo.
‘Well, they’re not good,’ reasoned the girl.
‘No, they’re just snakes,’ reiterated Jomo, ‘snakes don’t know about good and bad. They just know how to be snakes.’
‘People are like that,’ announced the girl.
‘Like snakes?’ asked Jomo.
‘They only hear what they want to hear,’ she said.
‘Umm…’ agreed Jomo.
Taking a break from the conversation and deciding it was time for some recreation, the girl worked her way over the big footrest of the wagon until she could jump onto one of the oxen’s back.
Jumping back and forth from animal to animal as they plodded along, she amused herself for a while before giving each of them it’s turn of her riding on it’s neck in a big hug and again scratching it’s ears and expressing her love for it before returning to the wagon and standing on her head in front of the wagon bench, holding herself in place by wrapping her legs around Jomo’s waist.
‘I like to be upside down,’ she declared, ‘Do you like to be upside down, Jomo?’
‘I used to when I was your age,’ replied Jomo, ‘Not so much any more.’
Using her youthful suppleness to raise directly up and sit in Jomo’s lap, she once again asked for her favorite thing.
‘Tell me the story again, Jomo,’ she pleaded, hugging him around the neck.
‘I’ve told you the story a thousand times, Meecha,’ said Jomo, knowing he was going to tell her again, but resisting just so he could hear her beg.
‘I know, but I want to hear it again… Pleeezzzeee’
‘Oh, alright,’ Jomo began… ‘Singing Badger and I had a dream, the same dream… it was a dark and windy night… and the pendant glowed… and the old man disappeared into the night…’
‘And I was white?’ she asked, also for the thousandth time.
‘White as the snow on Kilimanjaro,’ said Jomo, ‘and your hair was sandy blond.’
‘Jomo, ‘What are white people like?’ she asked.
‘Like black people,’ answered Jomo, ‘Only white.’
‘And you don’t know who my father is?’ she asked.
‘No, Meecha, I don’t know,’ replied Jomo.
‘Or my mother?’ she asked.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t,’ replied Jomo.
‘Do you think I’m going to be pretty when I grow up, Jomo,’ she asked.
‘You’re not going to live that long if you don’t stop getting into the sugar,’ declared Jomo.
‘Goddamn snake!’ exclaimed Meecha, as Jomo reined the oxen to a halt just in time.
Jumping from the wagon seat and working her way down the big front wheel and onto the ground before Jomo could stop her, she scurried as quickly as she could to protect her beloved beasts.
‘Meecha! Goddamn it! You crazy girl!’ yelled Jomo, but he knew he might as well be yelling at a tree. She never listened to him. She never had and she never would.
Still a few days shy of her tenth birthday, it only meant that she had almost ten years of practice doing exactly as she pleased and nothing Jomo could say or do was ever going to change it.
Of course, there was nothing he would change even if he could, except to live a little longer just to see what she would do next. He also knew that if something were to happen to her, he would die of a broken heart before sundown.
‘Meecha! Watch it now! It’ll spit at you! Watch your eyes, Meecha!’ pleaded Jomo, as she first waved her arms to divert the big cobra’s attention and entice it to turn away from the oxen before raising up and flaring its head in anger and warning.
Too old to do anything but
watch helplessly, Jomo’s fear turned to abject horror as his precious beautiful transcendent butterfly slowly went to her knees in front of the snake before taking off her shirt and wrapping it around her eyes.
Thus protected, but also blind, as it twice spit at her, she simply clasped her hands together and lay them in her lap as the big reptile swayed its head back and forth in an effort to size up its opponent.
For over a full minute, but what seemed like an eternity to Jomo, the standoff continued until the big cobra slowly lowered itself back to the ground and slithered off at top speed and the girl casually removed the shirt from around her head and rejoined Jomo on the wagon seat as if the whole thing had been nothing.
‘Have you learned to talk to snakes then?’ asked Jomo, as she threw her shirt in the back of the wagon and propped her bare feet up on the footrest in satisfaction.
‘Sort of,’ she answered, ‘I can’t talk to them, they’re too stupid, but I can make them feel things.’
‘And what did you make that one feel?’ asked Jomo, as amazed as he had ever been in his life, but not for a minute doubting what she was telling him.
‘Safe,’ she answered.
‘Aren’t you going to put another shirt on?’ asked Jomo, as always, uncomfortable with her carefree approach to clothing.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ she answered, ‘No use to get two shirts dirty in one day.’
‘I suppose not,’ grumbled Jomo.
‘Besides I will get another one when I go to sell my cookies in the sucker’s camp tonight,’ she declared, ‘Chances are I’ll get two or three, maybe even four. Trust me, for a girl my age, a dirty shirt is like a goldmine.’
‘Well, you might as well get it while you can,’ laughed Jomo.
‘I may never have to buy another shirt again as long as I live,’ she laughed, happily.
‘Now, Meecha,’ Jomo admonished her again, ‘Proper ladies don’t go around in dirty shirts.’
‘Oh, alright, alright,’ surrendered Meecha, ‘don’t worry, I understand, but for now its fun and besides, I’m just doing them a favor. I get free stuff and they get to feel good about themselves. I know I’ll have to be a proper lady when the time comes, but in the meantime I’m going to get it while the getting is good.’
‘Spoken like a true trader,’ said Jomo, ‘but you know you’re slipping, you haven’t gotten any chocolate for a while.
‘You have to beg for chocolate,’ she informed him, ‘I’m too old now to beg. I have to use bait now.’
‘You’re going to have to beg if you want your birthday present,’ said Jomo.
‘No I’m not!’ she exclaimed, ‘I better not!’
‘You’re going to have to beg like a dog,’ said Jomo, ‘a hungry homeless dog.’
‘Maybe I will start begging again after all,’ she declared, ‘I’m going beg for money and when I get enough,
I’m going to hire somebody to beat your ass.’
‘Not when you see what I’m going to give your for your birthday,’ grinned Jomo again.
‘Singing Badger!!’ Meecha cried happily, as she ran and jumped into his arms, not paying any attention to the white man who accompanied him until she had gotten her hugs and he had carried her to the big bench under the wagon awning.
‘Meecha, this is Jack, Ranger Jack,’ said Singing Badger, as he finally directed her attention to the red-headed white man with the big gold badge on his shirt and the ranger tattoo on his forearm.
‘Hello, Meecha,’ he addressed her cheerfully, before handing her a small bag of chocolate, ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, happy birthday.’
‘How do you do,’ said Meecha, politely, but also now somewhat wary, aware that something big was afoot, ‘Thank you very much.’
‘Meecha,’ began the big Ranger, ‘Today is your tenth birthday and a long time ago it was decided that on this day I would tell you something very important.’
‘Okay,’ she answered, now more wary than ever, as she felt the presence of the three grown men surrounding her now looming large.
‘Meecha,’ said Jack, now bending down on one knee to be less imposing and more friendly, ‘As I said, I have something to tell you, but first I have something to give you’
‘Okay,’ she answered, but so great was her anticipation and apprehension she was only able to slowly reach out and take the small flat leather pouch from the big ranger as he held it out for her, but upon opening the pouch, her heart leaped as she beheld a small photograph of a white man and woman.
‘Who are they?’ she asked, already suspecting and desperately hoping she knew the answer.
‘They are your parents,’ affirmed the big ranger.
Pansy
- 27.01.2023
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