Kiya and the God of Chaos

by Philippa Bower

  Chapter Ninety Two: Depression

  Kiya recovered enough to tell her parents that the baby had not died but had been given to Hathor.

  “I praise the gods that Meri still lives,” said Ramala. “But will he be safe with Hathor? She has not always shown you friendship, Kiya.”

  “I had no other choice but to give him up to her,” said Kiya. “If he had stayed here in the mortal realm he would have died. Too many people wanted a share of him.”

  “I regret we exposed him to such danger,” sighed Teos. “I would never have told my friends if I had realised the consequences.”

  “I am going to miss him,” said Ramala and she started to cry. Teos comforted her and as Kiya looked at her parents’ distress, she felt as if a dark blanket descended upon her soul. With dragging feet she followed them back to the farmhouse, all energy stifled by her depression.

  Within hours Kiya’s breasts became swollen and painful as they continued to produce milk for the baby that no longer fed from them. The ache in her breasts echoed the ache in her heart and she longed for the feel of Meri’s eager, suckling mouth.

  Ramala cared for Kiya with her new-found skills. Camphor cream cooled the heated breasts and the juice from cut aloe stems soothed the inflamed nipples. Gradually the milk dried up and Kiya’s breasts returned to normal.

  Kiya’s body may have recovered from the loss of the baby but her spirits did not. Her depression deepened and in the days that followed she sat listlessly in the house.

  “Help me gather in the harvest, Kiya,” said Teos.

  “I will help you later, Father, when I feel stronger.”

  “Come and prepare medicines with me, Kiya,” said Ramala. “We can take them to market and meet our friends.”

  “I do not want to meet friends,” said Kiya. “I do not want anything.”

  Teos left her hammock among the palm trees. “Why don’t you rest there, instead of upon the seating bench. At least you will get some fresh air, while you grieve.”

  And so, to please him, Kiya spent her days lying in the hammock. She felt removed from the world around her. Sounds were muted, colours dimmed. Misery weighed down upon her and she thought that it would never lift. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of birds singing, insects buzzing and the river flowing and thought how pointless it all was.

  “Greetings.” A voice interrupted Kiya’s reverie. She opened her eyes and saw that she had visitors. Hernieth and her grandson stood beside the hammock, looking at her with worried eyes. Khamet held a bunch of flowers and Hernieth a basket of fruit.

  “We are very sorry to hear about the death of your son,” said Khamet.

  “Oh Kiya, I wish with all my heart that I had died instead of Meri,” said Hernieth and she burst into tears.

  The old woman’s distress touched Kiya. She rose from the hammock and took her in her arms. “Don’t cry Hernieth. You must enjoy the life that has been given to you.”

  “We are very grateful,” said Khamet, “but it was a gift with a terrible price.”

  “Not so,” said Kiya. She led them back towards the house. “You must not tell anybody,” she said, “but Meri is not dead. I have given him to a wet nurse to be hidden.”

  “Really? That is wonderful news.” Hernieth’s tear-stained face was transformed by a smile.

  “Will the wet nurse be successful in keeping such a marvellous gift secret?” said Khamet. “We must keep his survival to ourselves,” said Kiya. “But I am sure he is safe.”

  In reassuring her neighbours, the weight of Kiya’s depression lifted slightly. “Let me give you refreshment,” she said.

  They sat in the cool of the house and she brought them goblets of beer. “This fruit looks delicious,” she said to Hernieth. The basket contained peaches, pomegranates and grapes as well as dates. It was a generous gift. “Please help yourselves to fruit. I will put the flowers in water.”

  “You are so kind, Kiya,” said Hernieth. “I expected you to be angry with us.”

  “With you? Of course not,” said Kiya. “If I am angry with anyone it is with myself.” She breathed in the sweet scent of the roses Khamet had given her and her mood lightened even more. “How could any of us have known what would happen? None of us has ever experienced a healer before. Indeed, I doubt if anyone like Meri has existed before.”

  “He is the most incredible baby,” said Hernieth. “I will never forget the warmth of his love.”

  “There was a glow about him,” said Khamet, “as if he had an inner light.”

  “He will return to us one day,” said Kiya.

  They comforted each other and, when it was time for her neighbours to leave, Kiya embraced them both. “Thank you so much for coming to see me and for your gifts. I feel much better now,” she said.

  “We have been so troubled,” said Hernieth, “and feared that we might upset you by visiting. I wish we had come sooner.”

  “You have put our minds at rest,” said Khamet.

  Kiya stood on the doorstep and watched them go, then she turned back to the house with renewed vigour. Her parents were due back from market soon. She should have time to grind barley and make fresh bread for their tea.

  Ramala and Teos were pleased when they returned from Thebes and found Kiya busy in the kitchen.

  “How are you feeling, my darling?” said Ramala.

  “Much better,” said Kiya. “Hernieth and Khamet came to visit and they brought me lovely flowers and a basket of fruit.”

  “Mmm! pomegranates,” said Teos. “It has been ages since I had a pomegranate.”

  “Help yourself,” said Kiya, “and I have made some fresh bread.”

  Ramala came over to Kiya and gave her a hug. “I am so glad you are better.”

  “I feel as if a heaviness has been lifted from me,” said Kiya.

  Ramala nodded. “Women can suffer from depression after giving birth, but you had so much more to be unhappy about, Kiya. I was worried about you.”

  “Others have had more reason to grieve than me,” said Kiya. “Some lose their babies to death. At least Meri is alive and being well looked after. I feel ashamed of my black mood.”

  “It is a relief to have you back to your sunny self,” said Teos.

  “I still have medicines to sell,” said Ramala. “Perhaps you would like to come to market with me tomorrow. A change of scene would do you good.”

  “Thank you,” said Kiya. “I would be happy to come.”