Arrows, Bones and Stones

by Donna White

  “The next day Walukaga visited the king and said, ‘Sir you have given me a most difficult task. I asked you to help me by providing me with two small item. If a great king like you cannot help with such a little thing, then how can a humble blacksmith like me do the work of our Creator?’

  “The king thought and thought about this. His face became hard with anger but then softened as he thought and thought some more. ‘You are right, Walukaga. The task I gave you was impossible.’ He gave Walukaga a present and sent him on his way.

  “And that is why to this day when a person in Uganda is confused and does not know what to do, the people will tell him . . .”

  The circle filled with a chorus of voices: “Find a madman and ask his advice!”

  Sam looked up, startled. The circle had grown while Eseza was telling her story. Children were sitting and standing and kneeling and holding other children on their shoulders, all intently listening and watching the young storyteller. Sam had been so fixated on Eseza that she didn’t notice the children gathering around them. The look on Eseza’s face as she gazed around the circle showed she was equally amazed.

  “Tell us another one, please, please!” one girl begged.

  “Yes! Please!”

  Soon the whole group joined in, making different requests.

  “The story of the hippo!” shouted one boy. “Do you know that one?”

  “And what about the story of the golden-crested crane? You must tell that one too,” called out another.

  “No, no, no, no. It is time for bed.” Eseza shooed the children away. “Now go to your blanket and close your eye. Take the story with you. Perhaps it will make for the good dream tonight.”

  The children walked away, disappointed.

  “That was a good story, Eseza!” Albin jumped up and down, holding on to her hand. “Are you sure you only want to tell one story? You can whisper one more into my ear. No one has to know you are telling another.”

  Eseza smiled. “No. It is late, Albin. And you have school tomorrow.”

  Albin stopped. All of his energy left with his smile as he stared at the ground. “Oh,” he said quietly.

  Eseza placed the bags at their heads and lay down on the lawn. She patted the ground beside her. “Here, Albin. You lie here in the middle. That way you can protect us.”

  Albin lay down. He reached into his pants pocket, pulled out his slingshot and a couple of stones, and laid them on the ground beside his head. “For protection,” he said. “Just in case.”

  “I’ll sleep well knowing I’ve got a brave warrior looking out for me,” Sam said as she lay down. She smiled at Albin and closed her eyes.

  “A man has to protect his wife, you know.”

  Sam and Eseza laughed.

  Chapter 26

  Sorrow is like a precious treasure shown

  only to friends. ~ African proverb

  Sam woke and stared into the sky. It was a perfect blue: bright, clear, crimson-streaked, and totally unfamiliar for a girl who was used to waking up with four blue walls and a ceiling surrounding her. She groaned.

  “Our little warrior left something for you,” Eseza said as she stirred a pot on the coals. She pointed to Albin’s slingshot lying on the ground near where Sam had laid her head that night. “He had to leave early and did not want to wake you. He said you needed it more than he did. Said you were afraid of jok.” Eseza chuckled. “Now what gave him that idea?”

  Sam held the slingshot, pulled back the black rubber tubing, and tested its strength. “Um. Just something that happened when you went out to get the water. I saw something and it scared me.”

  “Really? You big muzungu woman are scared of something? Now what was it?”

  Sam hesitated. “Nothing, really. Kind of silly now that you mention it. Let’s forget it, okay?” She placed the slingshot in her pants pocket and buttoned it closed.

  “Okay. I can do that.” Eseza passed a cup filled with a thick brownish liquid to Sam. “Here. It is not much, but it will help us with the many mile we will be footin’ today.”

  Sam sniffed. “Smells good. What is it?”

  “It is like the oatmeal, but it is made with the wheat chop. I cook it and add the sugar to make it sweet sweet. It will give us energy for the day.”

  Sam took a sip. “Yeah. It’s good.”

  “Then hurry and drink. You have missed the sunrise and we are late in leaving.”

  Sam gulped it down, allowing the warm liquid to take the chill from her body. She looked around. Most of the children had already left. Only a few stragglers were still there, but they were already putting their blankets on their heads and walking back down the road from which they had come.

  After washing her cup, Sam placed it in the sack and Eseza helped her set it on her head.

  “Is there anywhere I can use a washroom? I really gotta go,” Sam said.

  “Wait until we get out of the city. The store do not like to share their washroom with the children. We will be out soon.”

  Sam followed Eseza until they were past the edge of the town, where the trees became more plentiful and the bush grew denser.

  “Here, go in there,” she said, pointing into the brush. “I will wait and watch the bag.”

  Sam placed her bag on the ground. “I don’t suppose you have any toilet paper in that bag of yours, do you?”

  “No. I am sorry, that is something I lack. You can use the leaf if you want. That is what I use.”

  Sam walked into the bush.

  “It is a good idea to make big loud step when you go into the bush. It warn the animal and the snake you are coming. Then there is less chance of the surprise. The surprise is never good. No.”

  Sam stopped mid-step. She turned around. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Eseza shook her head.

  “No, of course you’re not.” Sam stomped into the bush. “Just me coming in to take a pee, okay? No reason to get upset, everyone. Get out of my way and no one will get hurt. Okay? You hear that, lions and tigers and bears?”

  Eseza laughed. “We have no tiger and bear here in Uganda.”

  For a second, Sam was silent. “Then that means you have lions, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “But I do not think you have to worry. If there were any lion around, they would have gotten you by now.”

  “Thanks. That’s good to know . . . I guess.”

  Sam heard the sound of an approaching truck. Its brakes squealed.

  “There is someone coming, Sam. Stay in the bush.”

  “Yep. I’m not going anywhere for a while.” She peered through a small opening in the bush to the road.

  The pick-up truck pulled up beside Eseza, and a tall soldier leaned out his window. He wore camouflage army gear and a black woolen hat on his head. “You are alone, young miss? It is not good for you to be footin’ it alone. The LRA are out, and you would make a beautiful wife for some commander. Even Kony himself would like a girl as lovely as you.”

  Sam stayed as still as she could. She cocked her ear and listened.

  “Eeh? No, no sir. My father is in the bush. He is relieving himself. He will be out soon.”

  “You do not need to lie to me. If you are needing a ride, I can take you to where you want to go. You will be safe safe in the truck with me.”

  “No, that is very kind of you, sir, but I do not mind the walk. Besides, it is not much farther that I have to go. I will be going now.”

  Sam detected a slight quaver in Eseza’s voice. She stood and pulled up her pants. She heard the truck door opening and heavy footfalls on the stony ground.

  “No. I insist. It is my duty to protect the people of Uganda. That is my job.”

  “Ojone, sir.” The exasperation in Eseza’s voice rose. “Please, let me go!”

  Sam crept toward the roadway and looked out. The man stood a few feet in front of her. He held Eseza’s wrist with one hand and twisted it behind her back, forcing her
toward the truck.

  “Prick,” Sam said under her breath. She unbuttoned her pants pocket and pulled out the slingshot Albin had left for her. Thank you, Albin. She looked on the ground in front of her for a stone. Nothing. She looked behind her. Where the hell is a stone when you need one? The whole flippin’ road is covered with them. She felt the top pockets of her pants, then the side pockets near her knees. Her eyes lit up. She pulled out a smooth, round, very pink paintball and placed it in the rubber tubing. Aiming the ball at the man’s head, she pulled the rubber back, farther and farther until it couldn’t be stretched anymore. She let go.

  “Arghh!” The soldier yelled and turned toward the bush. He dropped Eseza’s arm and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at the bright pink paint on his fingers.

  Sam reached into her pocket and pulled out another ball. She let it fly.

  “Arghh!” The soldier yelled again, covering his nose. “What the?”

  Sam shot a third and then a fourth ball, hitting the soldier in the face not just once but twice. He covered his eyes and screamed.

  “Hop in the truck!” Sam yelled. She ran out of the bush and kicked the soldier in the groin. He fell to his knees and gasped. Sam grabbed the bags and threw them into the back. She jumped in the driver’s seat, while Eseza hopped in and slammed her door. They took off, the tires spinning on the gravel road, shooting up rocks and dust as they sped away.

  “Seems to me we’ve done this before, Eseza. I’m starting to detect a pattern here.”

  Eseza laughed. “Well, this will make up for all the time you wasted sleeping this morning!”

  They rounded a corner and nearly collided with an oncoming truck.

  “Get on the other side of the road, Sam!” Eseza yelled as she held on to a handle above the door.

  “What’s the jerk doing driving on the wrong side of the road?” Sam screamed. She turned her head and glared at the truck as it sped away.

  “You are on the wrong side of the road! Not them!”

  Sam pulled onto the left side. “Oh,” she said calmly. She shifted in her seat and took a deep breath. “I didn’t know that.” She put her foot down and sped off.

  Eseza started to giggle. And then she laughed. She laughed so hard that she held her sides and tears rolled down her face.

  “What? What are you laughing about?”

  “The UPDF man! You covered his face in pink! How did you do that?”

  “Oh, that. Paintballs. Courtesy of my dad and Anarchy Paintball Equipment.”

  “Paintball? You mean ball filled with paint?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, my dear friend, you are going to have to get me some of those. I think I could make good use of them.”

  This time Sam laughed. “And you know what the best part is?”

  “What is that?”

  “I used the high-quality stuff. He ain’t getting that paint off him for a long, long time.”

  Eseza laughed so hard she snorted.

  They came upon a group of children walking along the side of the road dressed in their school uniforms: the boys in shorts, the girls in skirts, and all wearing purple cotton shirts. Each carried their schoolbooks and a small tin can with a rope handle.

  Sam slowed as they approached them. “How far is the school from here?” she asked.

  “I do not know. Sometime the walk is a mile, sometime it is more.”

  Sam looked into the distance. There was no sign of the school, only a few huts in the fields. She pulled onto the side of the road and stepped out of the truck. “Want a ride?” she yelled.

  The children looked at each other, shrugged, and then ran toward the truck. They piled into the back and sat on the edge, smiling and laughing. “Apwoyo matek, miss,” they yelled out as Sam got back into the truck.

  They continued on their way for a short distance and saw another group of children. Sam stopped. Without her saying anything, the children climbed into the truck. The laughter grew louder. Someone started to sing and the whole group joined in.

  They drove another stone’s throw and came upon a third group of children. Again Sam stopped, and again the children piled in. Sam looked into the rearview mirror. The box was full; children were sitting on children who were already sitting on children, but no one seemed to care. They sang even louder and waved at the children on the road as they passed by.

  “You are too slow, ka-boy, ka-girl!” they yelled. “Run run or you will be late for the school and you will have to sweep the step!”

  The children ran, trying to keep up with the truck. Sam drove on for another mile until Eseza pointed into the distance. “It is right here. See in the field?”

  Sam slowed, pulled over to the side of the road, and stopped. The children climbed out of the truck and passed by her window. They reached in and shook her hand. Some gave her a high five, while many of the girls curtsied and gave appreciative little smiles. Sam watched them run across the field toward the school. She smiled as she pulled back onto the road and drove away.

  “I am wondering now what the children are thinking,” Eseza said, shaking her head. “What will they be telling their teacher? They receive a ride to school by a kind muzungu miss, dressed in army fatigue, driving a UPDF truck. That story will take some convincing to believe, I am thinking.” Eseza laughed.

  Sam smiled. “Well, anything to make their day a little brighter.” She paused. “So where are we going, anyway?”

  “We will take this road until it give us a choice. Then I will decide. I do not know the road that well.”

  “Sounds fine to me.” Sam pulled the window shade down to keep the sun from shining into her eyes.

  They drove on in silence past burnt huts, their grass roofs gone and the red clay walls singed black. Women were working in the fields, some with their children tied to their backs, stooped over, tilling the earth with their hoes, planting the seeds in the rich soil.

  “That’s gotta be hard work,” Sam said.

  “Yes, it is. And the women will do it all of the day, and then they will cook the meal for their husband and family. Then they will wash the dish, gather more of the water, bathe the children, and put them to bed. And then they will mend the clothing and gather the wood and . . .” Eseza sighed. “And then they will do it all again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.”

  They passed by a couple of women sitting at the foot of what Sam thought looked like a miniature red mountain. One woman held a long piece of grass and pushed it into the clay mound. Another woman stirred the coals under a blackened frying pan.

  “They are capturing the termite and cooking them,” Eseza explained. “They stick the stiff grass into a hole in the mound and the termite bite onto it with their sharp teeth. Then the women pull out the grass and put them in the frying pan and cook them in the oil.”

  “Really?” Sam’s eyes grew wide. She slowed down to get a better look.

  “Yes. It is what many people do when the crop are few and the tree are not giving of the fruit.”

  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry again, but not for termites, that’s for sure.” Sam paused. “Hey, take a look in there,” she said, pointing to the glove compartment. “Maybe there’s something in there we can eat or at least use to barter with in case we find a store.”

  Eseza pulled the door open and looked inside. She rummaged through the papers and candy wrappers. She gasped and quickly shut the door.

  “What did you see?” Sam asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Well, there is a roll of money, but it is not our to take. Besides, we can only use it if there is a store to buy something from, and there are no store here. Not for many mile.”

  They rounded a curve and came to a clearing on the side of the road where several tin-roofed buildings stood. At the front of each small enclosure was a wooden shelf that opened from the front, revealing the insides of a store of some sort. And on each shelf was food. Lots
of food: fruits, vegetables, breads, buns, sweets, drinks, and things the identity of which Sam could only guess at. Her mouth watered and she swallowed.

  “Come on,” she said. “Grab the money and we’ll eat like we haven’t eaten before. We’ll think of it as a ‘sorry’ gift from the jerk who wanted to take advantage of you.”

  “Yes, this is a good good idea, smart muzungu Sam,” Eseza said as she grabbed the money and stepped out of the truck.

  A few minutes later they walked away from the stores carrying two very full bags of fruit and vegetables, buns, and drinks. Sam started the truck, pulled onto the road, and drove away. “Looks like an intersection up ahead,” she said. “Which way do we go now?”

  Eseza stared out the window. She did not respond.

  “Eseza? Which way do we go?”

  Sam pulled up to the intersection and stopped the truck. “Eseza?”

  Eseza looked down one road and then the other. She closed her eyes and breathed in. Her voice trembled. “I think it is best that we turn to the right.” She looked away and stared out her window.

  “Okay, if that’s what you think is best.”

  “Yes . . . that is what I think is best.”

  Sam glanced at Eseza. She had her back turned to her and her hands over her eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Eseza did not respond. Sam turned the truck to the right.

  They drove on in silence, past more fields and more women tilling the soil. A father and his son walked along the side of the road, guiding their two cows. Sam glanced at Eseza again. She stared straight ahead, her eyes offering no emotion, her jaw firmly set.

  “I think I’m ready to eat. How ’bout you?” Sam asked.

  Again there was silence.

  “There’s a tree up ahead. How ’bout we sit under it and enjoy some shade?”

  Eseza continued to stare out the window.

  Sam pulled up to the tree and parked the truck behind the large trunk, trying to keep it in the shade as much as possible. She grabbed the bags and sat under the tree. Eseza followed and sat across from her.