The preacher was still up there. He was swaying around, looking up at the ceiling, sweat coming down his face. His voice got louder and it was almost like he was singing.
“I'm here to tell you this morning, huh!, that when you need a friend, huh!, go to your Father, huh! Your neighbors, huh!, may not be there for you, huh! Your spouse, huh!, may not be there for you, huh! My God, your pastor, huh!, may not be there for you, huh! But no matter what, huh!, no matter the hour, huh!, your Father, huh!, He'll be there for you. Can I get an ‘Amen'?”
“Amen!” somebody shouted.
“Can anybody out there, huh!, understand what I'm saying? Huh! If you know your Father, huh!, the way that I know mine, huh!, why don't ya say ‘Amen'?”
“Amen!”
“Amen!”
“Yes, Lord!”
“Preach it! Preach it!”
I felt sad. I missed my daddy. I wished he was still my friend like the preacher said he was supposed to be. I wished he ain't stop coming to see me. I remembered how back in Michigan he used to wear a gray tweed cap and after work his face would be dark and the hair would always tickle and then hurt my face whenever he picked me up and hugged me. On the weekends me and him would go down to the park and wrestle in the grass and we would be laughing and every time he would let me win. Then we would be laying on our backs, staring up at the sky, watching the lil birds fly by, their wings just a-flapping. At night we used to sit in front of the TV and watch Monday Night Football, then I would fall asleep and he would carry me to bed and I could tell he was carrying me even though I was sleep. My mama and grandma don't know, but I heard them talking the other night about how my daddy got him a new girlfriend even though my mama and him not divorced yet. I heard them say my daddy's new girlfriend “pregnant.” That was before my birthday, and then when my birthday came, he ain't never show up.
Last week I wanted to ask my mama what it meant that my daddy's new girlfriend was “pregnant.” But I knew I wasn't supposed to have heard nothing about that. So I ain't ask. I asked her if my daddy don't like me no more, if that's why he stopped coming to see me.
She started looking sad. “It's not you,” she said, hugging me. “It's him. He's not the man he used to be. There's something wrong with him. Not you.”
I felt like she was just saying that to make me feel better. Like the time Frisky died and she said dogs go to Heaven and then I asked the preacher if it say anywhere in the Bible about dogs going to Heaven and he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Heaven is the land of the blessed. It's for us, young man. People like you and me who love God and accept Christ as our Lord and Savior. Pets can't know God the way we do. They can't go with us to Heaven.”
So I felt like my mama was just trying to make me feel better. My daddy didn't like me no more. And I knew why. Last year when me and him came home from the Falcons game, my mama told him about my grades. She told him I wasn't studying and I was watching too much football on TV. He got mad and took off his big, long belt and whooped me with it. And he kept on whooping me. Then he pointed his finger at me and said, “Don't you never let me hear 'bout you getting bad grades again. You too smart for that, boy. I want you to make something outa yourself. You hear me?”
I ain't say nothing.
“Look at me when I'm talking to you! Do you hear me?”
I made myself look. “Yes, sir.” I tried not to, but I started crying. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I'ma do better.”
“Yeah, well, you just make sure you do.”
Then he left and went back to Michigan and I ain't never see him again. For a while he ain't even call.
I think he still mad at me. That's why he don't like me no more. Thinking about all that while the preacher was up there preaching, my eyes started hurting. But I wasn't gon' let myself cry. I tried to stop thinking about my daddy. But I couldn't. That's when people started shouting, catching the Holy Ghost. It's always the ladies catching the Holy Ghost. I don't never see none of the men catching it. Maybe the Ghost don't like them as much. That lady next to me, the one with the green hat and the sweet perfume, she threw her hands up and started bouncing around. The whole pew shook. She was a big ole fat lady. She had on a green dress with flowers all over it. All of a sudden, she hopped up, started jumping up and down, moving all around. I was scared she was gon' fall on me and squish me to death so I started doing what she was doing. She throw her hands up, I throw my hands up. She wiggle around, I wiggle around. She jump up and down, I jump up and down.
The lady sitting in front of me saw me and bent over laughing. I stopped then. I just knew I was about to get it. But my grandma—she ain't see me! I was lucky 'cause I had forgot all about her. She ain't see me 'cause she was too busy helping them ushers calm this other lady down a few pews back. They was fanning her and she was laid back against the pew with her eyes closed like she was sleep. Her arms was spread out and they was fanning her. Wasn't nobody around to help that fat lady next to me. She had to keep getting happy till she tired herself out.
The preacher was finished preaching by then. He was sitting down. He had a Bible in his hands and kept tapping his foot to the music. He was smiling. Seem like he was looking right at me! The skinny man sitting next to him stood up. I guess he a preacher, too. He asked everybody to “come forward with the tithes and offerings.” I used to couldn't say “tithe” right, but my mama taught me how. Me and Grandma stood up and waited like everybody else. Two men was standing up at the front, below where the preacher was sitting. They had straw baskets in their hands. They looked real serious in them dark suits with them dark ties. They always looking serious. My mama told me they called “deacons.” While we was standing, my grandma gave me two quarters to put in the offering. I rubbed 'em. They was smooth and after a while they felt warm in my hand.
When it come time for the offering, they always gotta start with the people in the back. Me and Grandma was up front so we had to wait seem like forever to get a chance to walk around the church and put our money in. It was hot in there. My hand started sweating, so I put them quarters in my pocket. Paul walked past along the side aisle and looked over at me. But he ain't ball up his fist this time 'cause my grandma mighta seen him.
When me and Grandma's turn to go up came around, she ain't go. She sat back down and told me to take her five dollars up there for her. She was leaning back against the pew and her eyes was half closed. She looked tired. So I went without her and followed all them big, tall people around the church. When I saw Paul again, he was back in his seat. He ain't see me this time though. He was too busy digging up his nose and wiping boogas on his pants. I said to myself, If he try to mess with me again, I'ma tell people what he was doing. I'ma tell how he was up in church, wiping boogas on his pants.
Before I knew it, I was up there at them baskets. I put the five dollars in and came back and sat down. My grandma patted me on the hand and smiled at me. She still looked tired, but she was smiling. My hands was still sweaty, so I started rubbing 'em up and down my pants. They was shiny corduroy pants, and I watched how they turned from dark brown to light brown every time I rubbed 'em.
It was then I felt something in my pocket. It was them two quarters! They was still there! I had forgot to put them in the basket! I had put my grandma's money in but had forgot to put my own in! I stuck my hand in my pocket to make sure it was them quarters I was feeling. It was them all right. I was about to run up there and put 'em in one of them baskets before the deacons took the baskets away. But I ain't want people laughing at me and looking all at me. I ain't want my grandma to get mad and say I was shaming her. I felt bad. Like I had did something wrong, something God was gon' be mad at me for, something He was gon' punish me for. But I ain't even mean to do it!
I know some kids who be doing this all the time. They keep the money their mama or grandma give 'em and go and buy candy after church over. One time this fat boy name Kevin did that, and after church he ate them apple Now-and-Laters till his stomach hurt. I ain't never k
ept the money I was supposed to put in the basket. Never. Not till today.
I feel so bad I wanna go tell my grandma right now. But she gon' probably think I meant to do it. She always thinking I'm up to something. My mama say Grandma just old and used to the way things used to be when she was young. Mama say I got too much energy for Grandma. Man, I'm glad I wasn't born back when she was. That was way back in 1907! My mama say back then kids was to be seen and not heard. They do anything, they get a backslap.
I don't know what I'ma do . . .
I guess I could keep these two quarters and put 'em in with the two my grandma gon' give me next Sunday. Yeah, maybe I will do that. I guess God don't be caring when He get His money. Long as He get it.
And if God can forgive me, then maybe my daddy can too. My grandma say, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can move mountains.” I have faith and I been praying to God. So that must mean my daddy he gon' forgive me and start coming to see me again.
But to make sure, I wrote him a letter after church. I used a red pen 'cause red his favorite color. I told my daddy how good I did in school last year. I got all As and one B! So he can see for himself, I sent my report card too. The front of it got four shiny gold stars. Next year I'ma get five stars 'cause I'ma make sure I get straight As. That'll make my daddy happy. But I know he gon' be happy when he see how much I done already improved. After I wrote the letter, I got a stamp and a envelope from my mama. I wrote his address on the front and got her to make sure she could read it. For some reason she looked sad when she handed the envelope back to me. I guess she still feeling sick. She been sick all week. I put the letter and my report card inside, and I ran down to the foot of the hill and dropped the envelope inside the mailbox.
I can't wait to see my daddy again. I know he coming back. I know he is. And when he do come back, he can tell me how to beat Paul once and for all. I was lucky last time. If Paul come after me again, I don't know what I'ma do. And he probably is gon' come after me too. Now that I told Hi-C about him digging up his nose in church. Hi-C was walking through the projects, drinking some Hi-C when I mailed my letter. That's when I told him. I lied though and said Paul had ate his boogas. God ain't gon' be the only one mad about that lie. But God gon' forgive me before Paul will.
Maybe my daddy will call soon as he get my letter. Then I can ask him how to beat Paul. I need to know soon. Real soon.
It's nighttime now, so I betta go inside. I don't want my grandma to start fussing at me again. It's cool out here, and the old people that ain't gone in yet don't need to fan theyselves no more. It's getting real dark, dark like that ink that spilt on my suit, and I can hear a lil bird chirping in my grandma's tree. Now he flying away. Planes is like birds, like big metal falcons, and my daddy he gon' get on one and fly down to see me and it's gon' be like it was when he came to see me last time. Like it was when me and him lived in the same house.
And he gon' like me again.
Lion's Blood
BY STEVEN BARNES
Cetshwayo's old hunting injury prevented him from riding, but his twin sons Keefah and Darbul wouldn't have missed a hunt for a fistful of Alexanders. So as the sun dipped low above the kraal, Kai and seven highborn men, Zulus and Abyssinian alike, gathered their restless mounts in a mesquite flat abutting a conifer woodland. A dozen lean, alert Zulus accompanied them afoot.
The lead hunter was Shaka Zulu himself, a giant of a man who rode like a centaur. He raised his brawny arms—an ornate spear in one hand, hunting bow in the other, with a quiver on his back—and screamed to the moonless sky. “Let the hunt begin!”
Like Darbul and Keefah, the unmounted warriors were lean, muscular agile men, trained from infancy to be athletes on a par with any in the world. They gripped short stabbing umkhonto with elongated steel blades Kai recalled Malik's sober evaluation of Zulu skill: “Avoid close-quarter combat if there is any chance at all.”
“And if I cannot?”
“Then consign your soul to Allah and prepare to enter Paradise. Just do your best to ensure you reach those gates together.”
Abu Ali, Ali, and Kai carried rifles as well as spears. Despite her pleas Elenya remained behind at Cetshwayo's mansion. On a normal hunt the Wakil might have considered allowing her to accompany them. “Why can Nandi go?” Elenya had pouted.
Cetshwayo himself had overheard that last and had laughed heartily after Elenya stalked out of the room. “In the old country, Nandi would not ride to the hunt.” He sighed. “But this New World gives girls airs. What can I say? I can't control her any longer.” He dug his elbow into Kai's ribs hard enough to make the boy chuff air. “I wish you better luck!”
Shaka's white teeth shone in the torchlight. “Only here and on the battlefield do I feel so alive.”
Abu Ali pulled up next to him. Kai's family rode Cetshwayo's mounts specially bred hunting stallions of imposing strength and size. Kai's seemed responsive to a feather touch of his knees, and Abu Ali already rode his as if he had raised the monster from a colt.
Abu Ali glanced doubtfully at Shaka's spear. “Can you really make the kill with such a weapon?”
Shaka's broad, scarred face glowed with amusement. “You had best hope so, my friend.”
Distantly, there came the mournful wail of the hunting horn.
Shaka grew ruminative. “We bring the calves five thousand miles and raise them here, that we might honor the ways of our ancestors. He dies today. Perhaps he will claim one of us as well. Haiii!”
With the suddenness of a lightning stroke he wheeled his horse about as if sensing something that the others had missed completely. Abruptly out of the brush not three dozen cubits away charged two hundred sep of the most fearsome creature Kai had ever seen in his life. Its black horns looked as if they could punch holes in steel, its breath snorted from its broad wet nostrils in clouds of condensation, its hooves furrowed the earth.
Savannah buffalo. Magnificent, and the most dangerous game animal on the African continent. Crafty, powerful, and fast, the buffalo had killed more hunters than lions and leopards combined, and had no natural predators—save men like Shaka Zulu.
Abu Ali's face went grim and he reined his horse closer to Ali. “They are insane,” he whispered. “Hold back a bit. Give Shaka and his men the honor of first contact.”
“Gladly.” Even gallant Ali looked unnerved.
Kai was still formulating his answer when Nandi rode past them. Her tan riding pants were unadorned, as simply functional as any of the men's. Somehow, the garb merely enhanced her sensuality.
As she passed Kai she spurred her steed and grinned back at him.
As the very wind of her passage ruffled his face, Kai felt her call: primal and wild and stronger than he had anticipated. He felt dizzied. “You would have me marry into this family, Father?” Kai called to Abu Ali. “They are all mad.” And perhaps I am as well, he thought. “Hai!”
Kai spurred his own horse forward into the fray.
Ali laughed. “Allah, preserve us! I think the boy is in love.” And raced after his younger brother.
The footmen's shielded, gas-burning lanterns probed the darkness, but deep patches of shadow remained in the forest. Death lurked within them.
Shaka, his nephews and footmen worked forward in a practiced arc, clearing one segment of grass after another. The buffalo seemed to have disappeared.
Kai's heart was in his throat. How could so large a beast vanish so completely? Twice he had seen the buffalo erupt out of shadows, and the mounted Zulus had scattered, hooting, as its horns came within digits of their horses. Insanity! Worse yet, they treated it almost like a game. Almost. These men were in the finest, highest physical condition he had ever witnessed. Clearly, they were competing with each other not only physically, but in display of courage. And Nandi was right in the thick of it. What manner of man could ever control such a woman?
There! Their prey had raised up again, and snorted as it charged. One of Shaka's footmen thrust at the beast wi
th a spear, and it wheeled, hitting the man from the side. This time, the hunter was unable to spin out of the way, and the horn pierced his ribs. With a despairing wail, the footman collapsed bleeding into the tall grass.
Two more men veered in, jabbing, and the buffalo turned. Shaka galloped back in. “Hold!” he cried. “He is mine!”
Deferentially, the footmen backed away. Almost as if it understood that some ultimate moment had arrived, the beast pawed the earth and faced Shaka. Had the Zulus trained it for such an encounter? Did they somehow prepare the calves to provide such moments of drama? Certainly no wild beast would behave in such a manner. Kai glimpsed, and in a shadowy manner understood, something new about the culture whose daughter he was to marry.
Kai and Nandi were eighty cubits to the side, and Kai was ready to wheel and run for it if the monster broke in his direction. But he was also transfixed by its power, by its lethal sweep of horns and breadth of shoulder. In the darkness, partially lit by torches, it seemed more a creature of myth than reality, and Shaka some conquering hero of legend, not a man of flesh and bone.
Shaka and Keefah drew their bows, pulling steadily . . .
Suddenly, as if finally comprehending its danger, the animal flickered its tail and turned, vanishing into the high grass. As it turned, Shaka loosed his first arrow and it struck behind the buffalo's shoulder. Keefah's shaft, only a moment later, missed the flank and drove into the ground. Roaring with pain and anger, the buffalo made a chuffing sound as it disappeared.
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