by van Heerling
“Had I, what would you have told me?”
“I would have said that you are mad and would have had you purged of this demon by the shaman.” We both laughed. Neither of us held much stock in such things.
“And now?” I inquired.
“Well, now it is too late for you. No purge will rid you of this displaced friendship.”
“I see.”
“Well, I have made my peace and have said what I had intended.” He stood, stretching his arms above him, still clasping the ale. With a healthy sigh, he admonished, “the council members have asked that I give you a formal warning about your arrangement. As you well know, the beasts are not allowed in the village, and if she follows you there, she will be killed. I tell you this not to hurt you, but so that you may make arrangements so this does not occur. There have been too many casualties in the past to allow you exception.”
I held my drink in salute to him. “Abasi,” I said as he walked away, “she is the most gentle soul I have ever come to be acquainted with. I daresay she may be an angel.”
He turned to me squarely and endearingly said, “Malaika.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It is Swahili for angel.”
“Angel?” I pondered. “I like that very much.”
“But when she has your neck between her fangs, will she be an angel or a demon unveiled?”
“Again you don’t understand, I—”
“Then tell me. Why risk your life? Incredible dreams or not.” He returned and sat back down.
“I can’t let this go. Can’t let this be taken away. It is all I have left. My wife—gone. I don’t get to see my children. I’m a man without a home.”
Abasi’s plump lips tightened amusedly as he held his tongue.
“It seems you have something to say,” I said, slightly offended.
“It appears that African loss is quite different than American loss.”
“How so?” I inquired critically, fuming internally about the injustices of my life.
“Well, my friend, if I may be blunt, all this time you have talked about how you walked away from your American life. How you walked away from your wife. And the reasons you have put forth to me about why and how your children would be better if you left. You may see your wife and children at anytime, however. They are only a sea away. This is the American loss I speak of. Now, African loss—this is the ‘taken’ you speak of so willingly. With the loss I speak of—it is more than a mere ocean I must cross. For if it were, I surely wouldn’t be here speaking to a crazy American man drowning in his make-believe sorrows. I would be five hundred miles into the ocean toward my wife—swimming without missing a stroke, and I would not stop until I had her back in my arms. But what I speak of is fairy tales. In this life, what I speak of will never be. Not to mention I have lost many of my friends and family to famine and disease. But you, you have what has been ‘taken’ from you still warm within your breast, but you are too righteous to see what is plain for all to see.”
He was right, though I didn’t tell him so. I know now that it hurt him to be so blunt with me.
He pressed his rough palm against my shoulder compassionately, almost as if apologizing.
“And it is not true,” he continued “that you have lost everything. I am here. You have me.”
I only gazed forward and nodded reluctantly. He shrugged as he turned from me and headed back to the tobacco fields.
The next evening I stood in the meadow, a seed of flickering contempt curdling in my stomach. As Malaika met The Three at the edge of the meadow, the patriarch butted his crown against hers, making a sound like two coconuts cracking against each other. The two females then hissed her into submission. It would appear she was receiving the same “greeting” from her world as I was from mine. The last few times I had met with The Three were without incident. Meaning they paid little attention to me; thus, I didn’t have the urge to pee myself. Abasi may have been right. Maybe we were tempting fate. As they disappeared down the ravine, I turned, but I could still hear their guttural snarls. I wished she had a compassionate friend such as I had in Abasi.
Days later, I found myself walking at the edges of the village. It had been a while since I had left my relatively isolated home. Nearly midday, I was maybe one hundred yards from the edges of the tobacco fields, and although I could not make out their faces, I knew the village folk recognized me when most stopped with their machetes in hand, turning toward me.
“Man with the lion’s tongue” I scoffed endearingly. It wasn’t a moment later that my feet bumped violently over my head from a leveling head-butt to the back of my thighs. As I lay there staring into the African blue sky, she wrestled playfully, pouncing around me. When I caught my breath, I grabbed her around the tuft of her neck and roared lightheartedly. I could hear some of the field workers laughing hysterically at the spectacle. She really was a hunter. I had no warning. However, my jubilation quickly drained as I noticed not all were amused. In fact, most were grasping their weapons. She read my fear as she stared into my eyes. I picked myself up and quickly walked back toward my “segregated” rental. She stayed at my side. I petted her occasionally as we walked. All the while I thought about what Abasi said—Malaika would never be accepted in the village.
It wasn’t long after I got home that Absko came over and began wrestling with Malaika. He had really warmed to her, and she to him. Occasionally, I would hear him squeal as her mouth would come down a little harder than Absko would have liked.
“You should put a leash on her and parade her all around,” he said.
“She is not mine to cage.” I could have snarled at such a preposterous proposition, but I didn’t.
That evening I walked with her to the edge of the meadow. The Three waited for us as before. This time was different as they sat on their haunches. The king raised himself upon seeing us. Although I was fifty yards away from him, it felt like a mere fifty inches. I was unwelcome, and he made this clear. Malaika passed me and within moments, passed her pride leader and met with the matriarchs. She turned toward me—perhaps indicating that we would meet again soon, then retreated.
“You know where you can find me,” I whispered.
I don’t remember lying long in my bed. When my head hit the pillow I was out.
When the morning sun snuck over the mountains, I sat in my chair and waited for her. Drinking my coffee, I preempted a saucer of coconut milk for my soon-to-be guest.
Soon, I heard her lap the milk, and I felt proud I had such a friend as her. With milk dripping from her chin, she radiated “good morning” in her eyes. I, admittedly, was giddy this crisp morning, for I had arranged a treat beyond anything I had supplied before. I reached into a cooler at my side. Her expression was of curiosity, but in hindsight, I figure she was being polite, because with a lion-equipped-nose, it couldn’t have been much of a surprise. I lifted wet butcher paper swamped with blood. As I opened it, I set it in front of her. Absko had provided me with a fresh cut of beef. Or at least I think it was beef.
Malaika flared her nostrils over it, then turned to me with a glint in her eyes. Respectfully, she refused.
“Not fresh enough for you?” I asked. Exactly the case. Later, I found out that the kill is half of the meal and that handouts were below her. I was forgiven for my cultural ignorance.
A couple weeks later, Absko peered his head into my room with a young lady on his arm. She was timid to her new surroundings and held him tightly. Her youth enhanced her remarkable beauty.
“This is Sanura.”
Pulling my glasses from my face, I placed Ralph Waldo on the makeshift table, welcomed them, introduced myself, and offered them root beers.
“Absko, I assume this lovely young lady is your secret.” They both shied against each other. He nodded, smiling, as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, trying to hide her face. “Oh, my boy, what I would give if I could bottle what you two are feeling. That’s wonderful, just wonderf
ul.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t ask first if I could bring a guest. I know how you like your privacy.”
“Nonsense,” I replied quickly. “Okay, you are right-on, but I am very willing to make an exception. I haven’t seen your father in days, and frankly, it is nice to see you and a new face. So, Sanura, what is the meaning of such a beautiful name?”
She smiled as she gazed toward the floor. “It means young cat.”
“Is that right? Well, I’m sure your friend here has told you about a friend of mine.”
“Yes, he has. The entire town knows about you and your friend.”
“Yep, I have heard that as well. I wish they didn’t know. If you stick around, she may come by in the evening. You feel like hanging around awhile?”
“I was hoping you’d ask that,” she said as she looked up to Absko. Gently, he smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Oh, young love, how I wish I could bottle it. I’m jealous of you, young friend. So very jealous,” I said as we made our way out to the porch and sat, watching the daylight bleed away.
After a few hours of banter and a couple thousand points of rummy, Malaika entered our camp, seemingly unsurprised by our new guest. Sanura became wide-eyed, immediately frightened. Absko assured her everything was fine. Both slowly stood as I stayed in my chair. She bumped her head into my hovering palm as she passed me.
“Malaika,” I said proudly, “I would like you to meet Sanura, or young cat.” She walked toward the kids and held her gaze upon this new visitor. She flared her nostrils, smelling what was there to be sniffed. Sanura was visibly scared as Malaika walked toward her side and ever-so-slightly brushed her body against Sanura’s upper thigh and waist. Then the cat bumped Absko with a robust head bump against his backside, but was sure not to jostle Sanura too much. Absko belted out a hardy laugh. They began to wrestle, continuing, I assume from their last match.
Sanura sat back down and watched in awe this humongous beast vigorously rough-housing with her sweetheart.
“Sanura, tell me how you met such a hopelessly in love boy as that one right there.” She was beginning to open up. Hours of rummy and laughs and root beers will do that.
“We met very young when we were just children, but recently we just noticed each other.”
“I’ve got news for you—you’re still children.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I suppose I do.”
“I was hoping you could do me a favor.”
“Depends on what that is, darling.”
“It’s kind of dumb, but I was hoping you could tell me what American name would fit me.”
“Why would you want an American name?” Absko grunted, as he tried to lift Malaika but was quickly countered as she pressed her fangs against his thigh. She wasn’t about to be lifted. With each inch raised, she pressed harder against his thigh, and soon he realized that it wasn’t to be. Sanura and I practically fell down with laughter.
After Sanura regained her composure, she said, “because one day, I want to live in America.” I realized before she said it that this was the reason. It saddened me, but I understood. I could fault her, but I was doing the same thing in a way.
“I see. Well, let me size you up so I can figure out an acceptable ‘American’ name for you.”
From toe to head, I assessed her. She wore black Nike sneakers, muddied in areas and mostly worn from the terrain, ripped blue jeans, a beige blouse with three Abalone buttons—two of which were unbuttoned, exposing a bit of cleavage. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Those dark eyes bright with hope. She had perfect bone structure and such a beautiful smile, which she was doing as I made my assessment. She was embarrassed at such scrutiny.
“Be nice to me,” she joked, “or I’ll make my own assessment of you.”
“You, my dear, have no faults. Me, on the other hand, well, we won’t talk about me.”
“So what is my name to be?” she asked eagerly.
“Veronica,” I said definitively. Her smile faded as she pondered it for a moment.
“I love it. What does it mean?”
“Honey,” I scoffed gently, “no idea. We Americans don’t put much stock into such things. They are just names. Well, I suppose there is of course a meaning to most names, but we don’t pay much attention. It is a shame, really. That’s why I like it here. Everything has meaning, everything has a history.”
“Either way, I like it very much. And when I go, I will use it.”
It was getting late; the kids said their good-byes. Malaika again gently brushed her new friend, “Veronica,” and then the youngsters walked back to the main village.
Malaika stayed with me this evening, which was odd, but it did happen from time to time. She had something to tell me, but I couldn’t quite pick it up. As I slept, I found her at my side in a dream where the sky was baby blue with vanilla and soft magenta scraped across it. It was here she told me that Sanura was pregnant with a baby girl, warming my heart. As I woke, the sun was not yet up, but I could see the silhouette of Malaika’s enormous head in front of me. I reached out sleepily. My hand caught her cheek, as I delicately rubbed her. She turned away slowly. I heard the screen slam shut as she made her way back into the night. Message delivered.
Absko carried two bags of groceries at his side as he stepped onto the porch and into the kitchen area. I had been expecting him. As I loaded the groceries into the icebox, I pointed to his payment and asked him if he was going to tell his father, or if he wanted me to break the ice.
He was confused for a moment. “Tell him what?” he asked. “That I have a girlfriend? He knows.”
I paused for a moment as I held a fresh cut of meat. “I know your secret.”
“What secret?”
“The one you’re keeping from your father. The one that you wanted to tell me, but I wouldn’t let you.” He slumped into himself, but then recovered, trying to deny with his body language that any such secret existed. “Sanura’s pregnant,” I said bluntly.
He caught himself by pressing his youthful hand against the wall. His dark face drained slightly at my news.
“How do you know? Did she tell you?” he gasped.
“No, Malaika stayed last night, and in a dream, she told me. This is why she only brushed against Sanura—fear of hurting the baby.” Absko was blown away.
“Are you going to tell my father?” he panicked.
“No, not unless you want me too. Eventually he’ll find out, of course. It’s a matter of when. Absko, you are young, but I know you have a solid head on your shoulders. You’re going to be fine. And Abasi just might surprise you.”
He bit at his thumbnail at the thought of breaking the news to his dad.
“Do you have any names picked out? I was thinking Sherri.”
“We’re having a girl?!”
“My God, you don’t know. Absko, I’m sorry. I should’ve known you didn’t know yet. She’s not even showing yet. I-I’m sorry I blew that.”
“I’m having a girl!” he whispered delightfully under his breath. He stepped toward me, gleeful in the moment, picked me up and hugged the living stink out of me as we bounced around in celebration.
“You going to tell your dad?” I asked.
“Not a chance. You tell him, but wait until he’s had at least three lagers before.” Still gleeful, in a whirlwind he bolted for the door and ran toward the village.
“Where are you going?” I yelled.
“To Sanura! I have to tell her!”
A few days later, I found Abasi at my side, two lagers down and one more to go before I could spill it.
“Absko is tiptoeing around me. Do you know anything about this?” he asked me. I have not been known to keep secrets from him.
“Drink the third lager, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Oh, that bad, huh?” he sighed.
“Depends on what you think is bad, I suppose.”
“It’
s Sanura, huh?”
“Yep.” I didn’t hesitate. He probably just wanted to hear me say it.
“My friend,” I said proudly, “you’re going to be a grandfather.”
“I know,” he said sternly. Then he chucked his half beer into the field in a moment of aggression. “I wanted him to go to the university and become something other than a tobacco farmer’s son.”
“Abasi, have you asked your boy what he wants for his life?” His blood boiled under his skin a moment longer, but as my question seeped in, he calmed down, shook his head, and told me he only wanted what was best. “Of course, every father wants this for his children.” As we sat, he opened another lager, sipped it, and sighed.
Shortly, his white teeth grinned and he belted out a hysterical laugh. “My boy is his father’s son. I was about his age when I became entangled in this exact scenario!” He reflected on the similarities. “Do Sanura’s parents know?”
“I don’t believe so,” I said. Abasi had to hold his belly as he doubled over in laughter. “Oh, I do not envy him. I have been there, and I do not envy him!” He began to brush tears of hilarity from his eyes.
“I think he is going to name her Sherri . . .” He stopped laughing and turned to me. He then held his hands to his face, now weeping.
“They’re having a girl? I’m going to be a grandfather to a baby girl?” I just let him be. In a moment, he had gone from the highest high to deepest sorrows only to end up in awe.
“You know university is not out of the question. He is smart enough. If he fully desired to accomplish such a feat, he could do it.” Abasi felt I was placating him.
“Not with a little girl to raise,” he countered. “Getting out of here is hard enough without a family.”
“Not so. They don’t call it America, the land of opportunity, for nothing. I could pull a few strings, find some grants and whatnot. When the time is right, and if he wants it, I could probably get him a long way.”