“We must fight!” cried Gord. “Why are we sitting while that monster feeds on our mother?”
“Shut up!” said Hjat. He smacked his younger brother across his nose. “You know nothing. You speak when you’re asked.” Gord touched his nose and looked at his paw. There was a bit of blood, but he wasn’t finished.
“Papa wouldn’t want us to be cowards! We shoul—” Hjat struck him so hard this time he knocked him from the tree. He reached out and caught a branch as he fell. Gord didn’t say anything more after that. The other brothers wouldn’t protect him from Hjat.
“I must leave,” he told Nyira, as they slept in the trees that night.
“Why? Your papa will be back soon.” She envied Gord that fact. At least he had a father who could return.
“I couldn’t face him. Mother must be avenged.”
“Can I go with you?”
“It may be dangerous. Stay here, my brothers will protect you.”
“I—I could help you…”
*
The leopard wasn’t difficult to track. After it had had its fill of Nje, it picked up the carcass and carried it out of the clearing.
“Maybe she has cubs nearby,” said Nyira.
“That would slow her down,” replied Gord. “It could be an advantage.”
They moved within the thick canopies of the trees and managed to keep pace with the cat, but Nyira needed to inform Gord of something.
“She senses us.”
“No. How?” said Gord. “We’ve been very quiet.”
“I don’t know. But she does,” said Nyira. “I can tell how she drops Nje and pretends to take a bite. She’s listening.”
“Then this will be harder. I was hoping for surprise.”
“We could wait,” said Nyira. “Your papa could—”
“I can’t,” replied Gord. “That beast carries my mother in its jaws. I have to get her back!”
“But if she feeds her to the cubs…” She couldn’t say it. “Oh, Gord! I’m sorry.” Gord stayed quiet for a long time. They both remained in the trees.
“We can just go back,” Nyira finally said. “Your brothers won’t know.”
“Yes, they will. They’ll know by now,” said Gord. “To them I’m nothing, so I can at least die with honor. Father will respect that.”
Nyira threw her arms around him. “No! I don’t want you to die, Gord!” She began to sob.
“That’s why I didn’t want you come, so you wouldn’t have to see.”
“I came to help so you wouldn’t die. Please, let’s wait and try to think of something.”
“But I don’t want to lose her.”
“We won’t. I can hear what she’s thinking. She won’t get away.”
Gord climbed to a lower limb and never took his eyes off the leopard.
The leopard reached her lair where her cubs awaited the arrival of their meal.
The lair was located in the western valley, off a tributary of the Congo River. Nyira liked that there was a rear approach to the cave. The river flowed past it as well. So the leopard wouldn’t have to look for water.
“She goes into the cave,” cried Gord. “We have her trapped!”
“But… she might be waiting for us to come through the mouth of the cave.”
“I don’t care if she is waiting.” He jumped to the ground and lumbered toward the cave opening. Nyira had no time to react.
“Gord! Wait—”
“Come out, monster!” roared Gord, beating his chest and flinging dirt at the entrance. “Come out and face me!”
Nyira realized that if she was going to help, she needed to leave the trees as well. As she got closer, she saw the leopard crouched at the mouth of the cave. Nyira could sense she was unnerved by the young gorilla’s brazen challenge, and wanted to make sure there weren’t others with him, who might attack her from the rear. Nyira had an idea. She ran around the side of the cave and came over the top, and hid in the brush. Once there, she mimicked the sounds of Gord’s three other brothers. The sounds were so realistic, Gord apparently thought his brothers had actually joined him. This was not what Nyira intended, because Gord got much bolder.
“My brothers! Join me!” cried Gord. “Dyil, Hjat, and Biko! Let’s avenge our mother!” He snatched up a large stick from the bank of the river and charged the leopard.
“Gord, don’t!” cried Nyira. But it was too late. Gord ran up and smacked the confused feline across the face with his club. She swatted him away and tried to run, thinking that others would be upon her. Instead of taking the victory and letting her go, Gord grabbed her tail. This was not a good idea. The leopard spun around and caught him across the face with a vicious swipe. Gord staggered—blinded by the blood in his eyes. But he kept calling to his brothers and swinging the club. He hit the beast a solid blow on the top of her head. He pushed the blood out of his eyes and backed her up to the river, while Nyira increased her echoes and threw rocks and dirt, too—making it seem like the brothers were attacking from the left side of the cave, out of the bush. Gord took the opportunity of her confusion to beat the cat toward the river. Nyira wasn’t sure what he intended. Gord didn’t swim, or at least not that well. That didn’t stop him from pushing the leopard into the water while flailing away at her with his stick. Leopards are usually adept swimmers. Although in this instance, Gord had the advantage. He was upright, and the waist-high water helped blunt the swipes the leopard took at him. Gord was able to land a number of significant blows. Nyira just hoped he didn’t lose his weapon in the water. Otherwise, he was dead. The last blow to the leopard’s skull was so vicious it broke Gord’s club, and the creature didn’t come up again.
When Gord emerged from the water, he collapsed onto the bank, and Nyira saw the bloody gashes on his chest and torso.
“Gord, lie down!” she said when he tried to get up. She quickly gathered moss to pack his wounds. “Let me help you.” But Gord wasn’t happy.
“I failed. I couldn’t get her,” he said, breathless, as he watched the leopard float further out of his reach. “I wanted to take her body back to my papa. I failed, Nyira. It was all for nothing!” He began to cry.
“Don’t Gord. Please rest. I’ll find something to put on your wounds, and we can get back to your brothers.”
“Why should I go back? They won’t believe me. And I don’t have anything to show for my efforts.”
“Yes they will. Every animal in the bush saw what you did, and your papa and brothers will hear of it.”
Nyira was able to get him to relax then. She left Gord on the bank and went into the jungle to find herbs to put on his wounds. She shouldn’t have left him.
When Nyira was returning, she heard the sound of Gord in distress, so she moved quietly and concealed herself in the bush. When she climbed the trees overlooking the bank near the leopard’s cave, she saw Gord tied down by a net and a group of men standing over him, as he struggled to free himself. One of them was the big man from the Mikoni.
Nyira didn’t know what she should do. She was afraid of the Mikoni, but couldn’t just leave her friend in their clutches.
“Let him go!” she demanded. “What do you want?”
The big man turned and faced the direction her voice was coming from.
“Good day, my little sorceress,” said the man. He was actually smiling. This irritated Nyira very much for some reason.
“Let him go! He’s hurt!”
“Yes, I see,” said the man. “But he was magnificent against the leopard. I’ve never seen a gorilla use a weapon.”
“He was brave!” yelled Nyira, as if that fact alone should be enough. “Let him go!”
“You speak animal very well, by the way. I’ve been watching you with them. Your gorilla will command a high price at my village market.”
“You can’t take him! I won’t let you!”
“You don’t have a choice. My warriors will kill him rather than let him go. His large head alone will make a great prize.”
/> “No! Please…” she said and began to cry a little. “He was… brave.”
“Yes, I saw. That will make him worth the price.”
Nyira didn’t speak for a while, as she considered what might happen to her friend.
The big man turned to his men.
“Let’s go,” he commanded. “Pick him up.”
“No wait!” cried Nyira. “I… I’ll give you something else.”
“What would that be?”
“Take him home, and I… will come with you. And you promise not to hunt him or his brothers?”
The big man seemed to think about that for a moment.
“That’s a good offer, child. How do I know you’ll honor it?”
“If I don’t, you’ll know where to find him.”
The big man smiled.
“It is agreed.”
She stayed in the bush and followed as the warriors carried Gord back to his band, in the jungle near her burned out village.
2
Saint Domingue (Haiti)
Ten-year-old Enriquillo noted that the French soldiers were too encumbered to pursue him. It often puzzled him how the white men expected to be successful in the thick jungle, dressed as they were—every inch of them covered in the tight garments they wore. Add to that the long fire spear they carried propped upon their shoulders. But the most curious was the thing they wore upon their heads. It sat black and squat like a fat petulant crow and seemed to increase their misery in the dense heat of the bush. Also, when Hurucane showed up, he would take them with him as he raged through the island.
Enriquillo was perched high above, within the branches of a cedar tree, as the troop marched up the trail into the jungle. He had to restrain himself from scampering down the trunk and snatching one of the head things. If for no other reason than to say: This item is worthless! Can’t you see that?
Enriquillo used one finger to stroke Taki, his hawk, on the crown of her head. She was situated near his knee on a branch. She didn’t like it when he did that, and if anyone else tried it they would lose part of a finger, but she seemed to understand that calm was required at this moment. Although she did flutter up to a branch above him, and then eyed him suspiciously. He had grown bored with this hide and seek game. But Enriquillo had brought this upon himself.
He had snuck onto the Bissett plantation and stolen a prize Arabian colt. It wasn’t a fair trade for his friend, Arak, and Higuamota wasn’t happy when he led the animal into the village cave.
“You can’t keep it, Enriquillo,” she told him.
“I have to have something, mother,” he replied, as the horse whinnied and pawed the cave floor.
“This won’t bring him back.”
“I can sacrifice it. Arak will…” He knew the argument was flawed before he finished.
“You must return this creature, Enriquillo. The white men covet them. They will be searching for it. Besides, it didn’t cause Arak’s death, so it shouldn’t have to suffer for it.”
Enriquillo looked at the horse’s face. It twitched its ears and dipped its head as if to say: You know your mother speaks truth. Dejected, he dropped the bejuco tied around the animal’s neck. At that moment, a bat dove from the cave rafters and spooked the colt; it bolted toward the far corner of the cave and disappeared into one of the dark chambers. Enriquillo didn’t feel like pursuing it.
“If you don’t go and get it, you will have to replace it,” his mother told him.
“How will I do that, mother? I don’t have another one.”
“In the way we always do it, my son, with fish.”
“The boat will have to be repaired,” replied Enriquillo. “It still has the hole in it. That won’t be easy without Arak.”
She went and embraced him. Enriquillo was almost as tall as his mother. Higuamota stroked his forlorn face, and then kissed the flattened forehead that was common among the Taíno people.
“You will do it, Enriquillo,” she said. “You must.” She turned and headed toward the front porch of her caney, the customary house of the tribe’s cacique, which she was. Enriquillo decided to go and retrieve the colt instead. He couldn’t yet look at the hole the white man’s fire spear had made, that stopped funny, playful Arak from moving.
*
Enriquillo had waited until nightfall to lead the colt back along the eastern edge of the town. The Bissett plantation was a sprawling property about two miles from the beach. That’s how the white man had spied the two Taíno boys playing in the surf, bringing their boat in from a late evening fishing expedition. Enriquillo was usually very careful. He normally went on these treks alone, because while he was young, he was the only member of the tribe who had invisibility. But there was to be a gathering of the remaining Taíno tribes—decimated and driven into hiding with the arrival of Columbus and the Castilians over three hundred years ago. They were coming out of the mountains to Higuamota’s village cave—so more fish would be needed. Arak had offered to accompany his friend, and help manage the larger catch.
They had been frolicking in the waves. Arak had become a stronger swimmer that summer and was racing the boat as Enriquillo paddled through the calm blue water. When they got through the surf, Enriquillo was blinking in and out of invisibility, teasing Arak as they commenced to tug the boat onto the shore. When Arak got into the vessel to retrieve the large haul of fish, Enriquillo heard a small explosion and saw the hole in the boat after his friend fell and didn’t get up. The white man had not seen Enriquillo. He had still been invisible when the man pointed his weapon at Arak. He hadn’t even bothered to come and look at Arak after he’d fallen, but simply turned and strode away, as if all he’d felled was a bird. Enriquillo could only sit and cry as the man walked back through the acres of sugarcane that faced the beach at the edge of the property.
*
The colt did not make a sound as they made their way through the canebrake. Once they were through, Enriquillo found himself in the middle of a massive field of sweet potatoes. The crop seemed to stretch for miles and was a testament to the white man’s wealth. Enriquillo thought that perhaps on his way back, he would pick a few as a surprise for his mother—and then decided that he wouldn’t. Higuamota would ask how he’d managed to pick them when the tribe’s crop was in a valley to the west of the mother cave.
The moon and clouds were not cooperating as they had on his initial foray to take the colt. The clouds now receded and the moon caught the white of the horse’s coat and set him ablaze like a walking, four-legged star. Enriquillo panicked a bit when he noticed the effect. He reached down and grabbed a handful of the dark, moist soil and tried to rub some upon the colt, to diminish its glow. The animal wouldn’t stand still for it, as if it knew the dirt would take away its luster. Enriquillo finally gave up when the colt reared up in protest. He managed to calm it down and simply walked it quietly through the rows of potatoes. When he got to the edge of the field, they were in the yard behind the stables. The colt could obviously smell the other horses, as it pawed the ground and pranced a bit. You can let me go, now. I’m home. I’m home! it seemed to say. But Enriquillo still had to put the horse back where he had taken him from. He put his hand on the beast’s muzzle, and stroked it a bit, hoping to make it settle down.
The trouble started when they got through the front door of the stable. Enriquillo had not considered what the horses already in the stables would do when the colt returned. They began a loud, exuberant ruckus: whinnying and neighing, some of them even pawed the floor of the stables and reared up in excitement, and the colt responded to the energy of its stablemates. Enriquillo realized he should’ve just let the animal go when they were in the stable yard. It was too late for that now. He was then struck on the head from behind.
*
When Enriquillo awoke, he was laying on his side in a stall filled with the grass the white men called “hay.” The strong smell of the horses made him cough, and he had a difficult time sitting up because his hands were bound behind his
back. When he finally accomplished it, he saw that another boy was in the stall with him. It was one of the dark people the white men had brought to his land. The boy was thin and had a large scar on his face below his left eye. It was a fresh scar. Enriquillo wasn’t surprised. The Taíno knew the white men were kinder to their animals. The dark boy backed away when he saw Enriquillo was awake.
“Hello,” said Enriquillo. He smiled at the boy who was about his age, but a little taller, and dressed in rags. “What’s your name?”
The boy retreated all the way to the gate at the front of the stall.
“Massah! Massah! He wake!” cried the dark boy.
“Massah, Massah, He wake?” replied Enriquillo. “That is a… well, I am Enriquillo.”
Enriquillo stood up and went toward the boy. The boy climbed onto the stall gate, and continued his cry: “Massah! Massah! He wake!”
“Yes. I heard you the first time,” replied Enriquillo. “Don’t be afraid. I’m of the good people.”
“No! You stop!” said the boy, kicking out at him and practically falling off the gate. “Stay from me! You evil!”
Enriquillo stopped and looked at the boy. He was shocked.
“That’s not true. I am…”
“Massah! Stay from me demon! Massah say you eat eyes!” He continued to try and kick out at Enriquillo.
“I am not… Who is this ‘Massah’ you speak of?”
The boy sat precariously on the gate, barely managing to keep his balance. He seemed to consider Enriquillo’s question.
“Massah… is… Massah. Him… own this,” he said, regarding the building. “Him… own all. Own… me…”
“I have never met this ‘Massah’,” said Enriquillo. “So how could he say that I… and how can someone own you? You’re a person… like me. We can’t be owned.”
The boy just stared at him, as if he didn’t comprehend what he was saying.
“I’ve heard that the cannibalistic Caribs take people and keep them,” continued Enriquillo. “But that’s only until they eat them. Why don’t you just run away?”
Nyira and the Invisible Boy Page 2