by Jan Coates
“I’m not scared to sleep outside, are you?” Jacob asked Willy as they lay awake, side by side beneath the roof, listening to the crickets and the crackling of the fire. “My mama says she can hear the stars singing at night.”
“I was scared last night and the nights before that. It was as dark and scary as the inside of a lion’s den. But not with all of you here,” Willy replied, pressing his leg up against Jacob’s. “And the fire. Do you know any stories? Mama always tells us stories at bedtime.”
Jacob reached into his pocket. “This is my Mama stone. You can borrow it, if you want. Maybe it will tell your mama you are thinking of her—it works for me.”
Willy took the stone and rubbed it with his thumb. “It’s so pretty—is it magic, Jacob?”
“I think it is. Maybe the stone will bring your mama to visit your dreams tonight.”
“Oh, thank you, Jacob.” Willy stuffed the blue stone into the pocket of his purple shorts.
“And, yes, I do know some stories—my grandmother is the storyteller of our village. She says I will be a storyteller, too, someday. Do you know why the warthog is so ugly, Willy?”
“I don’t know that one. Tell me, Jacob.”
“This is an ancient event. Long, long ago, Warthog was a handsome beast. He was very proud of being handsome and bragged to the other animals about his fine appearance. One day ...” Jacob looked down at Willy and smiled at the peaceful sound of his slow, even breathing. He curled up beside the small boy and closed his eyes.
Every small sound seemed to wake Jacob that night. He watched fearfully as two scruffy, spotted hyenas snuffled and snorted their way around the village, hungry for a midnight feast. He plugged his ears against their crazy laughing and tried not to think of what they might be eating. He thought he saw a skinny dog several times, hiding among the shadows of the village, but it didn’t approach their shelter. Overhead, kite hawks swooped; he couldn’t see them, but their distinctive broken cry, which sounded a little like Oscar, told him they were there, hunting in the dark. He remembered Mama telling him to think kindly of the foolish birds; they sounded unhappy because they were always being picked on by other birds, the Majok birds, probably.
They next morning, after they had eaten, they prepared to move on. “I will stay here,” Willy said firmly. “Maybe my family will return for me.” His older brothers had also been away at cattle camp.
“By yourself?” Jacob looked around at the ruins of the village and remembered the hyenas.
“I can talk to my brother,” Willy replied, plunking himself down next to the burial mound. “I will ask him what it is like up there in Heaven. Maybe Luke can see where Mama is from up there.”
Jacob looked at the blue sky. “I hope so, and I hope you will be able to hear him from so far away!”
Suddenly Willy jumped to his feet and sprinted off toward a nearby stand of trees. “Minoo!” he yelled. Jacob and Louise ran after him, through the scrub trees and into some tall grass. From a distance, they could see a big furry animal crouching above Willy; the little boy’s purple shorts and legs squirmed and wriggled as if he was trying to escape.
“Willy, are you all right?” Louise called out. “Run faster, Jacob!”
“Is it a hyena?” Jacob shouted. “It sounds like it.”
They could soon tell it was Willy laughing and not a hyena. A mangy black and brown dog stood on top of him, its paws on his chest, cleaning the salt from his face with its long pink tongue. Willy wiggled and struggled to get away from the licking.
“It’s Luke’s dog, Minoo—I thought he was gone forever!” Willy exclaimed, trying to get to his feet. “Down, boy, down!” He finally pushed the scruffy animal away. Minoo gave Louise and Jacob a little sniff, then turned and trotted back toward the village, his tail wagging happily.
Willy led the dog straight to the burial mound. “See who I’ve found, brother—it’s Minoo!” The dog sniffed all around the pile of stones, then lifted his leg to release a small squirt of urine. He turned around a few times, dug a little dirt, then flopped down on the grave, and rested his long skinny snout on his front paws.
“See? I won’t be alone now,” Willy said cheerfully. “It’s okay for you to go—Minoo and I will look after each other.” He scratched the dog’s floppy ears and put his arms around Minoo’s neck. “Just until our family returns.”
“You must keep the leftover stew and half the water,” Monyroor insisted. “It could be the end of the dry season before your family comes back.” Jacob and Louise had found three hollow gourds, and they helped Willy pour his food and drink into them and store them safely in a hole in the ground.
“Wadeng, Willy,” Matthew said, swishing his cow’s tail around the little boy and his dog one final time. “Look to the future ...”
“Keep safe!” the group called as they walked away.
“Jacob! Wait—your Mama stone!” Willy called out, running to catch up with them.
Jacob tucked it safely inside his own pocket. “I would be lost without it ... I wish I could let you keep it, Willy. But I’m sure your mama knows you are thinking of her. She will come for you soon.”
“I know she will.” Willy walked backwards, waving both hands and grinning as they said goodbye again. His grin looked a little wobbly.
“Will he be all right by himself?” Jacob asked anxiously, looking over his shoulder as Willy and Minoo became smaller and smaller in the distance. “He is so little.”
“He is strong,” Monyroor replied, putting one arm around Jacob’s shoulders. “Big and strong inside, although still small outside.”
Monyroor carried the heavy jug of water most days. Matthew tried to take a turn, but it was difficult to manage both his stick and the jug. Jacob sometimes lagged behind. “Is it time to stop walking yet, Monyroor?” I will not cry, I will not cry in front of Louise ... “I am so hungry and my legs hurt.”
Matthew leaned very heavily on his crooked stick, but he did not complain, even after a long day of walking. One evening, they came upon a lone fig tree. With an end-of-day burst of energy, Jacob scrambled up into it, looking carefully for cobras coiled around the rough branches. They were good at disguising themselves.
“It is good!” he shouted to the others. “No flatheads!”
“Are you sure?” Louise called back, peering up at him fearfully.
“Very sure,” Jacob landed on the ground in front of her. He held out his empty hands. “Sadly, no sticky figs either ...”
The four travelers lay very close to each other as they settled beneath the tree for the night. “Goodnight, my children,” Matthew said. “God willing, we will see another fine sunrise over Sudan tomorrow. Wadeng ...” He began to sing, in a quavering voice. The children joined in.
O Creator,
Creator who created me in my mother’s womb,
Do not confront me with a bad thing.
Show me the place of cattle
So that I may grow my crops
And keep my herds.
Jacob squirmed around and tried to get comfortable on the hard ground. He and Louise were on the inside; Matthew and Monyroor on the outside. I am used to sleeping with many people. It feels strange with only four, but we are already like a family.
Just as Jacob’s eyes grew heavy, a helicopter rumbled across the sky, carrying its bundles of sadness to another village. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, covered his ears, and prayed for his family. The weight of the cool, smooth stone in his pocket reminded him of Mama’s soothing hands. Through his tears, he smiled back at the happy faces of his family as he settled into sleep. If only I were home listening to one of Grandmother’s long stories right now. Maybe we will reach Ethiopia tomorrow ... Then a cool flood of darkness swept over him.
Most nights, Jacob slept fitfully, tossing and turning on the cold, hard ground. He often awoke with sharp daggers of pain shooting up and down his skinny legs. His arms were dotted with swollen insect bites. The bottoms of his feet were scraped raw a
nd caked with dried blood in spots. One morning, he sat up, scratching, and looked around for the others. Matthew and Louise were still asleep, but Monyroor was missing. Beyond a stand of thorn trees, Jacob saw his nephew standing on top of a boulder, on a small rise. The older boy was bathed in the golden pink light of the early morning sun. He appeared to be staring at something intently.
Chapter Seven
“What do you see?” Jacob shouted, forgetting his pain and running to join him. To the north, a giant snake appeared to be slithering across the sand, moving constantly, clouds of dust rising up on either side of it. They called for Matthew and Louise to come and look.
“What is it?” Louise asked, holding on to her grandfather’s free hand. As they stood watching, the snake grew legs, hundreds of legs, like a giant centipede.
They sat down to wait as the sun moved across the sky, and the centipede crawled closer. “It’s people!” Monyroor exclaimed. As they watched, it became apparent he was right.
“They do not look like the bad men, the ghost men,” Jacob said.
“No, they do not appear to have much clothing at all,” Matthew said.
The sun crept across the blue sky as they waited, all of them wondering who the walkers might be.
“They must be from a very big village—there are so many of them!” Louise said.
Finally, “They’re boys, all boys!” Jacob cried, jumping to his feet. Forgetting about his aching legs and feet, he ran toward them. The others followed, more cautiously. Jacob slowed down and looked back; his smile became more hesitant as he got closer to the line.
“But why are they all boys?” Louise asked. “Where are the girls?”
No one had an answer for her, but it was true—every single walker was a young boy. The four travelers stood several feet back, watching the line shuffle past. A few of the boys smiled faintly, but most kept their brown eyes fixed on the ground. A few more skinny, hungry people were not of interest to them. “Can you count them all?” Monyroor asked, grinning. There were more boys than it was possible to count. None of them looked familiar, although Jacob looked at each face carefully, hoping to see someone he knew.
“Should we ask where they are going?” Louise said. “Are they Dinka?”
Just then, a small boy broke away from the line. “Jacob? Jacob the Hare!” he called, limping quickly toward them. “Is it you?”
“Oscar? Is it really you?” Jacob asked. “Oscar?” The raspy kite-hawk voice was Oscar’s, and the big monkey ears, but the broken, dusty body did not look like Oscar’s. One of his scrawny arms hung loosely by his side. Jacob’s stomach heaved at the sight of the large open wound, partially wrapped in a filthy rag, but he grinned anyway. “I’m so happy to see you! But who are all these boys? And where are you going?”
“I don’t know where they all came from.” Oscar shrugged. “After the bad men came, I just started walking in the forest, all by myself. Majok found me one day, and we walked together. Even he didn’t know which way to go. Then we met some of these boys and went with them. Each day there are more and more boys. We haven’t eaten in a very long time.” He looked at Matthew and Monyroor hopefully. Monyroor offered him a small sip of the water they had left.
“Where is Majok?” Jacob asked.
Oscar waved his hand at the boys behind him. He stuck his tongue between his teeth. “Sss ... Sss ... somewhere back there—he prefers the company of ‘educated’ boys!”
“Of course he does,” Jacob said. “I hope they like hissing snakes!”
Jacob, Monyroor, Matthew, and Louise fell into line with the others. Already, most of the boys looked very thin; their skin-covered bones made Jacob think of dead cattle he’d seen. Many of them wore only shorts and carried nothing in their hands. Some carried skins or blankets on their heads. Several of them stared longingly at the jug of water Monyroor carried. Most walked stiffly without looking around, their eyes focused on the dusty feet plodding along in front of them.
“We have found nothing to drink or eat,” Oscar said. “We don’t know where we’re going. It’s like a giant game of Follow the Leader, only not so much running and skipping. We’re all just following the boys at the front of the line. They say they are going to Ethiopia, following the rising sun to safety.”
“Does anybody know how far it is to Ethiopia?” Monyroor looked around. “Ah, Majok. The school boy who knows everything. Surely you can help us.”
“I am sure it’s not far,” Majok answered. “We will be there before the next full moon, or earlier,” he said. “There will be more food than you can imagine, and schools and fine houses full of chairs and tables. I learned about it in school.”
“Of course you did,” Jacob said.
“Do you know where all the girls are?” Louise asked.
“All kidnapped, taken away by the soldiers to the north. They will become slaves,” Majok said. “Or worse ...” He did not look especially unhappy about his news.
“Oh ...” Louise poked her tongue through the space between her front teeth and reached for her grandfather’s hand.
Jacob and Oscar turned their backs on Majok. “It must be my lucky day!” Jacob squeezed his friend’s good arm. “I can’t believe I found you!”
“Actually, I think it was me that found you,” Oscar corrected him.
“Of course it was,” Jacob said, laughing.
“Today, we are walking under the sun. We will also walk under the moon, then rest tomorrow,” Oscar explained. “It is too hot for us to always walk during the day, so we take turns. Walking at night is scarier, but so much cooler!”
The days and nights of walking all began to blend together in Jacob’s mind. The land soon changed from dry grasslands to sandy, windswept desert. When the sun was at its hottest one day, they reached the remains of a small village. Several boys broke away from the line and ran toward a large pond just beyond the village. It had become a burial ground of sorts, and the sickening smell of rotting meat hung in the air. Jacob licked his dry lips but felt his stomach turn at the same time. The water was brownish red; oily circles floated on top. It did not look safe to drink. A few of the youngest boys splashed into the pond, searching for clear water. Older boys pulled them back. “Silly boys. Do you want to get sick?” they asked. “You are already hungry as well as thirsty—if you get sick, your bodies will be as empty as hollow gourds!” The boys and Louise dipped their swollen feet quickly to cool them.
Jacob tried to keep track of the sunrises and sunsets. Each morning, he wondered if they would survive to see the next sunset. Each evening, he wondered if they would see the sun rise again. Several times during the day, he repeated the number. Day 19, Day 20 ... I wonder where Uncle Daniel is. Maybe we will see him on our journey ... maybe Mama and the girls are with him ...
Some days, Jacob wondered what would happen if he simply stopped. Jacob had seen only one dead person before, his father, but he had lived to see seventy-nine harvests. How long would it take to die? What would it feel like, waiting for death, alone in the desert? Would Monyroor and Oscar wait with me? A pair of vultures circling overhead squawked, as if they’d heard his thoughts.
Jacob shivered and caught up to the others. He tried to walk in Monyroor’s larger shadow. “The sun can’t find me here!” he said, taking giant steps, trying to keep pace with his nephew’s long strides. Matthew’s shorter leg bothered him more and more each day, and he and Louise began to fall back in the line. Their bobbing heads blended in with all the others until Jacob could no longer pick them out in the crowd. He and Monyroor stopped to wait for them.
“Don’t worry about us,” Matthew called to them. “We’ll be fine.” When they came to a small stand of fig trees, he made a decision. “We will rest here for a time.” He sank to the ground in the shade of a tree. I hope he is not stopping forever, Jacob thought.
Some boys, including Jacob, scrambled up into the fig trees, hoping for some dry, wrinkled fruit to stuff into their pockets. Others followed them until
the trees were full of boys. Some, the stronger ones who had been walking for a shorter time, swung from the branches.
“Like monkeys, without tails!” Louise said. “Especially Oscar, with his funny face!” Her brown eyes sparkled as she ran to join them. Her hair was growing scraggly; Matthew had tried to braid it for her. It did not look much like Mama’s neat crown of braids.
“That’s mine!” Majok grabbed a small fig from Jacob, almost pushing him off the branch as he did so.
“I had it first,” Jacob cried, trying to snatch it back.
“Whoops!” Majok shoved Jacob hard with his shoulder. Jacob landed on the ground with a heavy thud. His eyes filled with tears, but he refused to let his enemy see him cry.
“You are like a cobra, Majok—nasty and full of poison.” Jacob got up and walked toward Matthew and Louise, trying not to limp.
After the trees had been picked bare, it was time to move on.
“Majok wouldn’t share,” Oscar complained. “I got nothing.” He held up his empty hands.
“Did you really think he would?” Jacob asked, rubbing his knee. “He pushed me right out of the tree.”
Monyroor offered to rest with their new friends, but Matthew insisted they keep walking. “You are young and strong. Go with the boys. Louise and I will see you in Ethiopia. Wadeng ... Look always to a brighter tomorrow ... Keep safe ...”
To Jacob, he whispered, “Do not be anybody’s slave, Jacob— go to school, like your wise mama wants for you!” He waved his cow’s tail around them several times as they said goodbye. They didn’t have to worry about sharing their jug of water—it had been empty for days.
As they walked, Jacob looked back at his friends, leaning against the rough, cratered bark of the tree. “Will they be all right, Monyroor? Maybe we should stay with them. His legs ... What if she gets taken away?”
“Don’t worry so much, Little Uncle. We will be safer with this growing centipede of boys,” Monyroor answered. His face showed no emotion, like the stern face of a lion. “Let’s go.”