Usan Abasi's Lament

by Gavin Chait

  Usan Abasi fell into the deep rest of complete contentment.

  When he awoke, there were flames. All around him.

  The ground tremored. The walls shook. Termites ran about randomly, scrambling to maintain purchase. The floor seemed to glow and steam.

  ‘No, no, no!’ shouted Usan Abasi, his voice unheard beneath the grinding and shifting of the mountain.

  Somewhere, something had failed. The flame had leapt back down into the depths where the liquid methane was stored. Walls had cracked under pressures too vast to contain. Air and expanding liquid mixed. The volatile mixture contacting the flames further up, boiling and melting passages and chambers into a seething molten fluid.

  Pressure continued building until, with a final furnace howl, the top of the termite mountain exploded, shattering it, hurling magma across the sacred grove and driving smoke and flame almost to the edge of space.

  The eruption was so enormous it flung termites high into the sky and distributed them across the great plains of the continent.

  The termite matrix-mind was destroyed, leaving only the remnants of a memory; of the need to build a mountain and chambers within. Never again would so vast a colony come together in one place.

  Tiny earthen mounds rose all across the grasslands as termites instinctively continued their mission.

  And Usan Abasi follows them, covering the mound flanks in animal skins and plugging the chimneys with bones and skulls, before burrowing inside so that he may hide from the Sky God, so that he may find warmth.

  2

  Joshua laughs. ‘That is a good story, thank you.’ Shaking his head, ‘but poor Usan Abasi. You have made him so small.’

  ‘We should never be in awe of our gods,’ says Isaiah.

  ‘Neither should we underestimate their dangers,’ smiles Joshua, squeezing his son’s hand. ‘You are set on this race?’

  ‘Yes,’ nodding and looking towards where the sun is setting. ‘It will be a great adventure.’

  ‘Will you see the Souls?’

  ‘I hope so. Calisto swears that he can navigate us directly beneath each of them.’

  ‘Would that I were younger,’ says Joshua. ‘To be on the first Ewuru solar yacht, sailing so close to the sun —’ gripping Isaiah’s hand ‘— you promise you will be safe?’

  ‘Yes father,’ laughing. ‘We are taking the slowest, safest route between the Souls. We will be well.’

  Joshua stares wistfully at the horizon.

  ‘You miss Samara?’ asks Isaiah.

  Joshua nods, smiling. ‘Everyone.’

  He makes as if to rise. ‘Come, shall we go?’

  ‘There is no rush. Shall we wait? Look, the sun is about to set,’ says Isaiah, holding his father’s hand.

  And so, with their feet hanging over the edge and the song of the water below, they watch as the last embers of the day turn the horizon to purple and gold.

  Author’s note

  I enjoyed revisiting the world I explored in my first novel, Lament for the Fallen. Ewuru feels a very gentle place when set against the context of 2017.

  This short story serves as both a stand-alone companion to the novel’s paperback release on 1 June 2017, and as a bridge between my first and third novels. No prizes for what that story will be about.

  If you wish to learn more about ndem-worship in Efik culture, you should visit the Efik Eburutu website at http://efikeburutu.org where you will find a wealth of information on their traditions and history. The ceremony and song in Usan Abasi’s Lament are sourced from there.

  And, as always, a song to complement the tale:

  ‘Sirata’, Ma Ya – Habib Koité [Usan Abasi’s Lament]

  You can find a list of my novels and short-stories on https://gavinchait.com.

  @GavinChait, May 2017