by Donna White
Eseza took the pot of yams and placed it on her head, then lifted the pot of rice to her hip. She pulled on the rope and walked down the path.
“Hmmph! Imagine that. A muzungu serving tea to the commander!” Eseza laughed. “I wonder what he will think of that. A white serving a black for a change!” The teen led the way, joining in Eseza’s laughter. Eseza followed, pulling Sam behind.
They followed a well-worn path from which several smaller paths branched off. Sam glanced down a trail and noted another hut and a couple of teenage girls preparing a meal around a fire. An older man sat on a wooden chair while a third girl filled his cup with water from a yellow jerrican. So that’s where all the voices are coming from, she thought. It’s just like a little town.
When they came into the clearing, Sam almost stopped in her tracks. Well over one hundred children were sitting on the ground. They had been subdivided into groups of ten to fifteen, with their hands tied together and one long rope joining each child to the next. It was absolutely quiet. No one spoke a word. They stared at the ground, motionless in the hot sun.
Each group was guarded by two or three soldiers holding guns. All the soldiers wore the same uniform: army fatigues, rubber boots, and dreadlocks. A few wore red or blue berets. Sam gasped. Red berets were worn by plenty of different militia groups, including NATO forces. And blue by the UN peacekeepers. How the hell did they get those? And then she knew. The UN came to countries to bring peace. And anyone who went against the UN could only be terrorists or warmongers.
Sam followed Eseza until she stopped before a long table made of split logs. Kokas sat behind the table on a bench between two men. Sam studied their faces. They were old. Not old like her grandparents, but old like her dad. The man sitting to the right of the commander wore a khaki outfit, neatly pressed—not a wrinkle or a speck of dirt in sight. The other man’s uniform was just as immaculate, but his sported bright orange tabs on the tips of his shirt collar surrounded by a yellow embroidered design that looked like feathers.
The soldier who led the way approached the table and placed the pot of meat in front of Kokas. A young girl set a plate in front of each of the men, then quickly followed with a fork and knife at each place setting.
Eseza walked forward, looking downward, seeing only the table. She placed the two pots next to the meat and stepped back.
A white truck pulled up beside the table, and a man jumped out and walked toward them. Sam couldn’t help but stare. This man was old. The white that speckled his hair and the wrinkles on his face confirmed it. He carried an air of great authority as he stood at the table and faced the men.
“Come, Vincent. Sit down. We have goat and yam today. There is no need to rush. Turn off the truck and sit down. The girl is here. She is going nowhere. Eat.” Kokas lifted the lid off a pot to show the man the goat meat covered in thick gravy. Vincent glanced in the pot.
“No. It is a long trip and I am late late. Put the girl inside and I will go. Kony want to talk to her personally.”
“At least stay for tea, Vincent.” Then turning to Eseza, Kokas demanded, “Bring the tea here and pour Mr. Otti a cup.”
Sam inched her way closer and looked from the pot to the table and then to the men. She placed the pot, full of water, down and removed the lid. The steam rose into the air. “I’m sorry,” she said. She grabbed the pot with her bound hands and flung the boiled water at the men. It splashed onto their faces, hitting their eyes and scalding them. They threw their hands up and screamed.
“Go!” Sam yelled. She grabbed Eseza’s hand and pulled her toward the truck. She yanked the door open and shoved Eseza inside.
Sam jumped into the truck and shifted it into gear. Letting out the clutch, she stomped on the gas and drove straight at the table and the men behind it. They jumped aside. Legs, arms, and goat meat flew everywhere. She pressed the accelerator to the floorboard and sent the truck roaring into the bush.
The truck’s nose tipped and lunged forward, plunging down a bank, sending leaves, branches, and the occasional tree flying across the windshield.
“Hang on!” Sam yelled.
Eseza grabbed the side of the door, pushed her feet against the floorboard, and looked down. The bank was now becoming a hill, and the hill a very steep mountain. Sam screamed as the truck bounced and jostled and drove through every tree, rock, and bush in its path.
“Oh, no!” Eseza screamed as the bush opened up and a vast river came into view.
Sam stepped on the brake. “Jump!” she yelled.
They threw their doors open and flew through the air, plummeting into the water. The truck soared over the bank and plunged in headfirst. They surfaced, sputtering and coughing. Sam kicked and thrust her bound hands above the water, trying to keep herself afloat. Eseza swam to her side and within seconds untied the knots and flung the rope into the water. They looked at each other, then at the mile-long strip of bush cleared from the mountain. They laughed.
“You have gut, my dear Samantha. Big strong muzungu gut.”
Sam smiled. “Yeah, but no brains. What the hell are we gonna do now?”
Eseza lay back in the water and lifted her feet, pointing her toes in the direction of the current. “Follow me,” she said.
Sam lay back and did the same.
“Keep your feet ahead of you just. That way, when the current get strong, you can push yourself off any rock that may come your way. But do not stand up. The river will push you under if you do.”
“Rocks that come my way. Right. Got it.”
They bobbed in and out of the water as the river carried them farther and farther away. Everywhere Sam looked was green, from the short reeds that lined the shore to the tall thin trees with spindly trunks reaching into the sky, and all of the flowering bushes in between. Even the water had a green tinge. Sort of green, sort of gray, dark and murky. And everywhere there were birds. Tall birds with long legs holding fast onto the thin branches overlooking the shore, small birds flitting in and out of holes in the hard clay walls that towered over the river, and birds of every size flying through the trees, soaring through the air, diving into the water. A white heron walked among a lush carpet of neon-green leaves while a huge black bird with a long thick beak stood on a rock, looking into the water, searching for any passing fish.
Sam turned her attention to the river ahead of her. It was hard going. Her feet constantly wanted to go under her body as the current pushed her along. And the water, refreshing at first, became bitter, bitter cold. Her teeth chattered and her skin turned a light gray. They passed several fields and some old huts with their doors facing the water. A few cows grazed near a couple of orange trees, the orange fruit peeking through the dark green leaves.
A large stick floated by Eseza. She grabbed it and tossed it to Sam. “Here!” she yelled as she snatched another stick, holding firmly on to the end. “Just in case!”
“In case of what?”
“Croc or hippo,” she answered. “I do not know what is worse. The croc, it take you down and roll you under the water, but the hippo will snap you in half like a twig.” She clapped her hands to imitate a hippo’s massive mouth. Sam shuddered and glanced from one side of the riverbank to the other.
“Do not bother looking for them. The croc hide under the water with only their eye and nostril peeking out. You cannot see them until it is late late. And the hippo, they come from under you and divide you in half—one half for this side of the river and one half for the other.” Seeing the stunned expression on Sam’s face, Eseza laughed.
Sam looked toward the riverbank with a start. She could have sworn she saw something in the distance crawl into the water.
“Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, big, fat, huge, honking no.”
She watched the water, looking for any movement, any signs of life.
Just your nerves, Sam. Just your nerves, she thought. Relax and enjoy the ride.
Something slammed into Sam’s back, pushing her under the water. The current too
k a hold of her and rolled her around and around until her mind went black and a million stars flashed before her eyes. Then it stopped. She kicked and thrashed her arms and pulled herself above the surface. She gasped for air and turned in a circle, searching the waves and ripples flowing around her.
“Was that . . . ?” she asked.
“Do not move!” Eseza shouted.
Sam obeyed, every part of her body on high alert. She glanced from side to side, hardly daring to breathe. Eseza watched the water surrounding her.
Two brown eyes surfaced and stared. Sam screamed.
“Hit the eye!” Eseza shouted. “Hit the eye as hard as you can!”
The words had barely registered before the crocodile was at her side, its mouth opening, revealing long rows of fearsome teeth. Before Sam could realize what she was doing, she pointed the stick skywards and thrust it between its massive jaws. The crocodile thrashed its head from side to side, trying to break the stick that stopped its mouth from closing upon its prey.
“No!” Sam screamed as she brought her fist down on the beast’s eye with all her might. “No!”
The crocodile spun around and knocked Sam under the water. She resurfaced just in time to see its tail disappear under the murky surface. Eseza rushed to her side.
Sam’s voice shook. “Where did it go?” she asked.
Two eyes surfaced behind her. Eseza screamed and thrust her stick into the beast’s eye. The crocodile lunged and they threw themselves backward, narrowly escaping its reach. Eseza rushed at it again, ramming her stick into its other eye. The crocodile plunged under the water.
They placed themselves back to back and watched the rippling surface. A long stick floated by and Sam grabbed it. “Come on, you bastard,” she said. “Come on. I’m ready.”
As if in response to her challenge, the crocodile rose to the surface and lunged at Eseza. Eseza brought her stick down on its snout, breaking the stick in two.
Sam grasped the end of her stick as two thoughts came to her: Stick! Throat! As the crocodile came at her, she thrust the stick into its mouth and rammed it down its throat. The water rushed in and a gurgling sound came from its mouth. Sam pushed the stick in farther, and the crocodile slowly sank under the water until only its eyes were showing. It gave one final lunge and disappeared beneath the surface.
They stared into the muddied depths.
“Is it gone?” Sam whispered.
Eseza continued to stare into the water, watching the waves and the ripples swirl into each other until the water became a smooth surface again. “I think you killed it, Samantha,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “We have to get out of here. Follow me, but do not make any quick movement. Slow. Like this.”
Eseza pointed her feet toward the shore and allowed the current to carry her. Sam did the same.
Eseza grasped on to a tree root hanging from the riverbank and pulled herself up, then wiggled her way to the shore. She grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled. Sam dug her toes into the bank, pushing herself until she crawled onto the top and lay on the grass. Her arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish thrown to the shore.
“Come, we cannot rest here. We need to go into the bush more.” Eseza grabbed Sam by the hand and pulled. “Anyone passing in a boat could see us. Come!”
Sam tried to lift herself.
“Come on!” Eseza demanded. “We have come too far to have someone find us now! And the croc love to hide out in place like this just, close to the shore.”
Sam needed no more words of encouragement. She groaned as she pushed herself up and half crawled, half walked, into the bush. A couple of hundred yards into the dense coverage, they stopped and lay on the ground.
“Are you hurt? Did the croc get you anywhere?” Eseza crawled to Sam and looked at her arms and legs.
“No, I don’t think so.” Sam ran her hands over her body. “Just right here,” she said, pointing to the small of her back. “Feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
Eseza lifted the back of Sam’s shirt. “There is a large red mark left by the crocodile nose when it rammed into you. You will have quite the bruise there soon. And you will be sore”—she paused and pulled Sam’s shirt back down—“but I can heal that.”
Sam laid her head on a soft pile of leaves and sighed. “Just let me rest here for a bit,” she said, closing her eyes. “I’ve had a really tough day.”
Eseza sat at the base of a tree and leaned against the dark green bark. She strained to see what lay beyond the bush and trees. “You sleep. I will watch. Okay, big gut muzungu woman?”
There was no response.
“Okay,” Eseza whispered.
Chapter 21
To be without a friend is to be poor indeed.
~ Tanzanian proverb
Sam opened one eyelid and stared at the dappled sunlight that fell on the leaves and grass just inches from her nose. A large ant maneuvered its way among the growth, dragging a dead fly, while a green and blue spotted butterfly landed on a rock and spread its wings to capture the last rays of warmth from the sun. The tch tch sound of a bird came from high above, as its mate answered from somewhere deeper into the forest. Sam lifted her head and stared into the trees.
“Do not get up yet, dear muzungu Samantha,” Eseza said as she took a stone from a pile of coals and rolled it on the ground. She placed it on Sam’s back.
The heat from the rock sent tingling sensations up her spine, instantly warming every nerve and muscle in her back.
Sam sighed. “Just call me Sam. That’s what all my friends call me.”
“Sam? But that is a boy name.”
“Yeah, I know. But it’s okay where I come from. Just call me Sam.”
“Then Sam it is.” Eseza took another rock, rolled it on the ground, and placed it beside the first stone.
Sam’s skin absorbed the heat, welcoming the healing and soothing touch it offered. She closed her eyes. “Why am I here, Eseza?” The words escaped as a heavy sigh.
Eseza placed another stone on Sam’s back. “Tell me what you know. Perhaps that will help.”
Sam traced her memories back to the events of the night she had arrived in Africa. “The last thing I remember doing was looking at this wooden box. It came from the museum my dad works at. I figured out how to open it, and when I did, this sack fell out. I opened it up and there were five stones inside. Each of them was this really nice shiny green color, and when I held one up to the light it looked like a thread of silver light was running over it.”
Eseza’s hand stopped in midair as she held the hot stone a few inches above Sam’s back. “Say that again?”
“The box, it was like a puzzle and—”
“No, no. Not the part about the box. The stone. What did they look like?”
“Green, a real nice green. Like a fir tree. No, that won’t help you understand what I mean because you don’t have fir trees around here, do you? Let’s see.” She glanced around at the trees in the bush and pointed to one in the distance. “See that tree? The one with the long leaves hanging down, in the shade there? They were that color of green. Not a limey green. A darker green. And there was a faint glimmer of silver—”
“Like a thread that ran over it as you turned it round and round?”
Sam sat bolt upright and the stones fell from her back.
Eseza stared at her, shaking her head, and grinned. “The boy. This is what he was telling me!” She held her face in her hands. “I wanted to believe him. I told him I believed him, but . . . I was not sure. Sometime people, they do not know what is the truth. But here you are. An angel! A real live angel!” She looked at Sam’s back and placed her hands on her hips. “But where are your wing?”
“Wing?”
“Yes, you are an angel, yes?”
“Me? No, I’m no angel.” Sam laughed.
“But you are smart. Not dumb like both the angel that helped Charlie.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You are here b
ecause of the stone, Sam. The stone have power. They bring you here, they change you, and you help people. You helped me escape. That make you my angel.” Eseza’s smile grew broader as she laughed. “Yes, that make you my angel. I am going to have to tell Charlie I am sorry sorry for not believing him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you know Bruce and Scott? Because that would really make Charlie glad glad if you could tell him how they are doing.”
Sam clutched her head in her hands. “You’re not making any sense, Eseza. You need to go back. Start at the beginning. Tell me everything. The stones have what?”
“They have power. They must be ancient stone from the god; that is all I can figure. And you found them in that box. The one you said was made like a puzzle. And when you held the stone, it sent you here, because you are my angel and you came to help me. Which you did.” Eseza took Sam’s hand and stood. “Come. Let us go back to my hut. Charlie can tell you how Scott and Bruce helped him escape and how the stone work. He will be able to tell you more than I can.”
Eseza pulled Sam up.
“But who’s Charlie? And who are Bruce and Scott?”
“You will find out soon enough. Let us go.”
“But—”
“Do not ask anymore, for I cannot tell you. If you want to find the answer, you must hurry hurry with me.”
Eseza took off into the bush, and Sam had no choice but to follow her. They walked for a few minutes until they came to a clearing and stopped. “We have to stay with the bush. It is not safe to be seen in the open,” Eseza said.
They returned to the shelter of the trees and continued on their way. The sun was now falling behind the tops of the lower bush, filling the once-blue sky with a crimson glow. Sam wiped the tiny beads of perspiration from her forehead.
A short while later they came upon a second clearing. Eseza crouched behind a tree, pulling Sam down beside her. “I know this spot. There are orange tree here next to the river. I will go get some. You stay here and wait.”