Arrows, Bones and Stones

by Donna White

  “Here,” the commander said, throwing the sack of guns into the hole. “Cover them up. And I do not want to see any sign of us being here. You understand?”

  Charlie nodded, took his hoe, and began to fill in the hole. He stifled the sob that threatened to escape from his lips.

  “One second just,” Peter said. He brushed aside some dirt and pulled up a small skull.

  Charlie covered William’s body while he said a short prayer. He pictured William sailing in a little canoe, floating down the stream, going somewhere far, far away. Everything was all right now.

  “Put it back,” Fire whispered. “We must not disturb the child spirit. It is angry as it is. Quick quick, cover it again.”

  The boys filled in the hole while Charlie took two sticks and fashioned them together into a small cross. He pushed the cross into the ground and finally allowed his tears to fall.

  He had wanted to do that for a long time.

  Chapter 10

  Speak softly and carry a big stick;

  you will go far. ~ West African proverb

  Charlie woke with a start and listened.

  The koo-WEEU, koo-WIRIRIRI of the nightjar and the soft hoot-hoots of the eagle owl were gone. Fire tapped Charlie’s knee and held her finger to her lips, then pointed. Naboth, taking his turn as watchman, was leaning against a tree, fast asleep, his gun draped over his shoulder, his finger resting lightly on the trigger.

  “It is too quiet,” she whispered.

  Charlie nodded. “Wait here.” He slung his gun over his shoulder, dropped to his hands and knees, and crawled through the bush to the edge of the road, then glanced in both directions. It was clear. He turned, then stopped. A twig snapped and a man laughed.

  “It is only the snake and the bug that crawl. Get up, ka-boy.”

  Charlie felt the end of a rifle at the back of his head. He stood.

  “Give me the gun.”

  He passed the gun back.

  “Walk,” the voice commanded.

  When they entered the small clearing, the Arrow Boys and Fire were on their knees with their hands laced behind their heads. Two soldiers, one sporting dreadlocks, the other a red beret, pointed their guns at Fire and the Arrow Boys, their feet spread, arms taut, and fingers resting lightly on the triggers. Two little boys—Charlie guessed they were around eight and nine years old—stood to the side, cowering, their wrists tied, shirts tattered, and dirtied faces streaked with tears.

  The commander took a quick look at the sacks and the guns lying on the ground and laughed. “Eeh! What do we have here? Oh! Yes! The Arrow Boy! Come to steal our weapon, have you?” He pushed Charlie toward the group. “Kneel!” Charlie obeyed.

  The man swaggered toward Charlie and stared. Looks of recognition crossed both their faces. Charlie froze.

  “Charlie? What are you doing? You have left the LRA and joined the enemy, have you? That did not take you long long. Eeh, we will have much amusement with you when we bring you back to the camp.” He stuck the end of the rifle into Charlie’s chest. “Or perhaps we should start our fun here and let the Arrow Boy see what we do to our traitor?” He took a rope that hung from his side and tossed it to one of the boys. “Tie them,” he ordered.

  The boy in the dreadlocks stood guard while the one in the red beret unraveled the rope. He tied Peter’s, then Naboth’s hands, pulling the rope tightly around their wrists. It cut deep. Peter squeezed his eyes shut as he gritted his teeth. Naboth scowled at the commander, his nostrils flaring in anger.

  “Eeh! Look here,” the commander said, turning his attention to Fire. “We got ourself a girl.” He stood in front of her and stared, looking first at her face, her breasts, and then her hips. “Hmm . . .” He paused as he licked his lips. He ran his finger over Fire’s cheek, down the nape of her neck, and then onto her breast. “A beautiful girl. And what is your name, my dear?”

  Charlie glared. “Take your hand off her!” he yelled. He rushed at the commander, grabbed his gun, spun around, and shot. The bullet found its mark. The commander fell and lay dead on the jungle floor, his eyes open, staring, but not seeing, the star-filled sky.

  The soldier in the dreadlocks swung around and aimed his gun at Charlie, his finger at the trigger.

  “No!” Jonasan yelled. He grabbed the gun from the commander’s side and aimed it at one soldier and then the other. “Put your gun on the ground and step back.”

  The soldiers raised their arms. With deliberate slowness they placed their guns on the ground and backed away. Charlie stepped between them and their guns. He aimed his rifle, pointing it at their chests. His arms didn’t shake. His breath was even.

  “You can go,” he said to the soldiers. “Turn and walk away. But if you try to follow us, I will kill you. I will.”

  The soldiers walked into the bush. Charlie released his breath and relaxed his hold on his gun. The soldier in the dreadlocks turned and rushed at him and grabbed for his gun.

  “No!” Fire yelled. She yanked the gun from Jonasan and shot. Her expert aim hit the soldier in the head. He fell to the ground.

  Jonasan stared at Fire, and then at the still body and the blood that began to pool at his feet. He couldn’t move. The soldier in the red beret ran into the bush; the sound of breaking branches carried into the trees until it faded into the night air.

  Finally, Jonasan looked up. He glared at Naboth. “Whose watch was it? Was it yours?”

  Naboth lowered his head and stared at the ground.

  “No, it was mine,” Charlie said. “I took the next watch. I heard something and I went to see what it was.”

  “You left us? Without a watch? Why didn’t you wake someone?”

  “I did not think of it. I did not think I would be long. I am sorry.”

  “Sorry?” Jonasan shook his head. “We could be Kony kid by now. I thought you knew better, Charlie.”

  Charlie hung his head. Fire looked at Naboth as he glared back at her.

  “Let us go,” Jonasan said. “Let the hyna feast tonight. We have no time to bury the body.” He took the rope off Peter’s and Naboth’s wrists and threw it to the ground.

  The two young boys stood perfectly still. They raised their hands. Their arms shook. Fire spoke softly to one. “What is your name, ka-boy?”

  The first young boy stared at the ground. The only sounds that came from him were muffled sobs.

  “And you?” she asked the second boy.

  She was met with the same silence.

  “That is fine. I understand. You do not have to tell me. When we get back to our village, we will remove the rope then. For now, we do not trust you, and I am sure you do not trust us.” She checked the tightness of the ropes and loosened them a little. “And do not worry,” she said, “We will not torture you or poison your food. I know the soldier tell you that and it is not true. But we will look after you.” She took a few steps, stopped, and turned to face the boys. “Kony does not know where you are or where you are going. He only say that to the children to scare them. The spirit do not tell him where this child is or what that child is thinking.” She turned to Jonasan. “Let us go. It is going to be light soon, and we have all the gun we are able to carry.” She gave a gentle pull on the rope and stepped in behind Charlie.

  ****

  The sun had reached its highest position in the sky when everyone stopped near a creek to refill their bottles with water and find some shade.

  “We eat and then we rest for a short while,” Jonasan said as he gulped down his water. “Michael Jackson, you take first watch, then wake Peter. You know the order.” Fire passed the rope that tied the boys’ hands to Michael Jackson. “And hold the rope. Do not be tying it to some tree and then falling asleep. The last thing we want is for the boy to take off and get lost. Are we together?”

  The Arrow Boys nodded.

  Within minutes, after Fire passed out the simsim patties and everyone licked their sticky fingers, the group was asleep. Some leaned their backs against a tree, whi
le others lay exhausted, flat on the ground.

  The two young boys sat wide-awake and stared into the surrounding bush. Their simsim lay untouched on the ground. The smaller of the two boys laid his head on the other’s chest and squeezed in closer. The older boy whispered something in his ear and rested his cheek against the boy’s head.

  Michael Jackson squatted on his knees and smiled at the boys. “What village are you from?” he asked.

  The boys glanced at him, then quickly lowered their gaze. They reached out and held each other’s hands. Brothers, Michael Jackson thought.

  “You do not like the simsim?” he said, pointing to the sweet cake lying on the ground. “Or perhaps you are not hungry. I can eat it for you, then. I am always hungry.” He brushed the dirt off and took a nibble.

  The boys looked up.

  “Eeh? You are hungry now?”

  Michael Jackson broke the simsim patty in half and placed a piece onto each of their outstretched hands. He stepped back and pouted. “Whatever you have left you can give to me. That is not a lion you hear making the growl. It is my own belly.” He grinned as he watched the boys devour the sweet cake, then nestle back into each other’s arms. Their eyelids closed and soon they were fast asleep.

  Michael Jackson sat at the base of a tree and leaned against the smooth trunk. He stifled a yawn and forced his eyes to stay open. Then he began to sing, quietly, mouthing the words in a bare whisper. First he sang an upbeat song about a girl dancing in the moonlight, and then another song about a baboon stealing a crown from the king of a village. The song grew quieter and quieter until his head dropped to his chest and the only sound that came from him was a deep-throated snore.

  ****

  Fire woke and saw Michael Jackson sound asleep on the ground, curled up in a ball, resting his head on one of the young boy’s shoulders. She cleared her throat. He was totally oblivious. She cleared her throat again, this time louder. Michael Jackson rolled onto his back and smacked his lips. The expression on his face was one of complete euphoria, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Get up, kapere!” She glared, kicking him in the leg. “If Kony was here we would be well on our way to his camp. How dare you fall asleep, you worthless nobody!”

  Michael Jackson jumped to his feet. He glanced at the boys around him, still fast asleep. He sighed with relief. “I am sorry. I am sorry,” he whispered. “Please do not tell Jonasan. He would be mad mad. And I would never be an Arrow Boy again.”

  “We trust you with our life. And you cannot stay awake to keep guard?”

  “I told you I am sorry. What else can I do?”

  “Do not do it ever ever ever again.” Fire jabbed her finger into his chest, then turned. “Wake everyone up. It is time for us to get going. We have slept long enough.”

  Michael Jackson shook each of the boys awake. When he came to the young boys, he knelt and gently touched their cheeks. “Come on, ka-boy. It is time to go. I am sorry sorry we cannot eat now. Perhaps later. But when we get to my village, I will bring you to my hut and my maa will make you the best sorghum you have ever tasted. It is so good the bee hover around my mother as she stir the pot and ask her for the recipe. It is sweet sweet.”

  The boys gave a slight smile.

  While the group stayed hidden in the bush, they each took turns crossing the road and filling their bottles from a creek. Michael Jackson filled his, brought it over for the boys, and watched them gulp it down in seconds. He ran across the road and refilled it again.

  “That is all you should have, ka-boy. If I give you more, your belly will cramp and you will have many many trouble footin’ it. Come, we must go.”

  Without another word, they gathered the bags and set off.

  ****

  Charlie slowed his pace as he led the way through the bush. He knew the heavy loads they were carrying were growing heavier and heavier with each mile they left behind them. They couldn’t keep up the brisk pace he had set on the way in. They walked toward the sun as it began its descent. Everyone knew it was imperative they keep walking, even if it was daylight. The farther they got away from the caches and the dead bodies, the better. The group walked in total silence, taking turns carrying the bags of guns, shifting the weight from one person to the other whenever a boy tired of carrying the load, or when someone thought the bearer needed a rest.

  They walked and walked, watching the sunset and the moonrise. Using the light of the moon, they continued on their way until they stopped and sat for a short break. After eating a handful of peanuts, Charlie took a drink from his bottle and stood. The rest of the boys stayed in their spots, some already leaning against the trees and closing their eyes.

  “No, we cannot stop here. It is best to make it home while we have the dark and the moon,” Charlie said.

  The boys rose, got in behind him, and followed. Soon the forest filled with the sounds of the night birds, the flittering of bats’ wings, and the occasional screeching howl of a jackal. It was all the company they were given as they traveled into the night and watched the moon follow its path across the sky.

  When the blackness of the sky turned to purple and the faint lightness of the sun began to creep above the treetops, Charlie stopped to listen to the twitters and trills of the morning birds. The first rays of sunlight had just warmed his cheeks when he finally stepped into Fire’s yard. He stopped at the fire pit and waited until the rest of the group arrived. Michael Jackson followed, holding the rope that bound the two children. The rest of the boys walked into the clearing, while Fire brought up the rear.

  Jonasan cleared his throat. “We will bring all the gun with us and put them in the latrine at the school. Then we must meet there after the noonday sun passes. I will call Opio Ben and tell him to bring as many of the Arrow Boy as he can find. Now get some rest.”

  Charlie nodded half-heartedly, passed his gun to Jonasan, and turned toward the hut. He could only focus on the mattress lying on the ground. He stumbled into the hut and fell onto the mat and closed his eyes.

  Fire opened the door to the grain bin and checked to see if the bags were inside and unharmed. They were. She ran her hand over the black bag and sighed. “I will be back with Maisha right away,” she said.

  Charlie mumbled goodbye and fell asleep.

  Chapter 11

  To get lost is to learn the way.

  ~ African proverb

  Charlie opened one eyelid and attempted to focus on the broken beams of sunlight that came through the roof. Two round beady eyes stared back at him. He rubbed his hand over his face, yawned, and looked again. This time the two eyes were joined with a yellow beak and a tuft of brown feathers.

  “I see you have made yourself comfortable and now think I am a nest.”

  He stroked the soft feathers of the bird, then rubbed his fingers over its beak. The hen responded by pushing its head under his hand and rubbing its comb under his palm.

  “Do not get too comfortable there. Because we are friend does not mean you will not find your way into the supper pot soon soon.”

  As if in reply, the chicken sat up and squawked, then jumped onto the ground.

  Charlie looked where it had sat and lifted up a brown egg. “Apwoyo, ka-girl.”

  He glanced out the door and watched Fire cooking something in a small pot set on a few hot coals. Maisha was wrapped tightly to her back, sound asleep. Charlie made his way to the fire and sat.

  “Here. Your chicken has provided you with breakfast.” He placed the egg into Fire’s hand.

  “My chicken? No, she is not mine. She was here when I came. She must have belonged to the family that escaped when the LRA attacked this area.” Fire placed the egg into a pot, poured some water over it, and placed it on the coals. “But she certainly has a liking for you, so I would say she is yours now.”

  She spooned a large clump of rice into a bowl and passed it to Charlie. “We need to get going soon. Jonasan and the group will be waiting for us at the school. The rest of the
Arrow Boy will be there, and Opio Ben. He will be wanting to talk to you.” She readjusted her baby on her back, then sat down to eat.

  Charlie scooped the rice with his fingers and shoved it into his mouth. He swallowed it without pausing to chew. Twice more he grabbed a big handful and gulped it down. He passed the empty bowl to Fire. “Apwoyo matek,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Fire refilled the bowl but paused before she handed it to him. “The LRA stole many thing from us. Even the pleasure the mouth had to enjoy the food. You are free now. There is no hurry to put the rice into your stomach.” She placed the bowl into Charlie’s hands.

  He took a nibble and chewed slowly.

  “See. It is not all that hard. And your stomach will not cramp up.”

  Charlie closed his eyes and swallowed. The tenseness of his body began to subside. He opened his eyes and looked into the trees and watched a mother vervet monkey walk along a tree branch with her baby clinging to her belly. He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. Then he took another. He paused, drew in a long, deep breath, and smelled the freshness of the jungle. He smiled.

  When the egg was boiled, Fire cracked it down the middle and offered half to Charlie.

  “No. I had the last one. You eat it. You are feeding your child too.”

  “But you are growing.”

  Charlie took the half of the egg and popped it into his mouth. Two quick bites and it was gone. Fire frowned.

  “Oops,” he said.

  She took a small bite of her egg and chewed. Smacking her lips, she rolled her eyes and smiled. “See. The fine taste of that egg was a big waste on you. Next time I will eat the whole thing.” She winked.

  After the dishes were washed, they set off at a quick pace, taking a path that led east, away from the school and farther into the bush. When they neared another set of huts, Fire stopped and spoke to Salume. A few children were playing in the yard, kicking around a soccer ball made of leaves and twine.