A tall man in a smart dark blue designer suit stepped out of a sleek modern Mercedes Benz. The car was dark blue matching perfectly with his three piece suit and its UAJ plate number told us that it was new, brand new. The man stepped carefully on the road, his shiny black Prada shoes reflecting the light of the midday sun.
It was the perfect picture, almost too perfect, like on of those commercials that end up having nothing to do with the car, the suit, the shoes or the man. But there was something terribly wrong with this perfect picture. Why had the man stopped on the roundabout? Why was he coming out of his car in such an awkward place?
Could it be possible that he had run out of fuel? A Mercedes Benz with no fuel! Now there is an oxymoron!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
AN ISLAND ADVENTURE
by Eky Ntulo
The sun bore down heavily on Kamu’s bald head and bear shoulders. He pulled out his now grubby handkerchief and wiped it gently over his head trying to keep from rubbing the gritty sand into his scalp. Looking down he noticed that his shadow was very short and he tried to quicken his short steps struggling against the warm soft sand that wanted to swallow him up. The sack full of Nkulasa fruits slowed him down, but trudged on determinedly.
No wonder the island people wore those funny wide flat shoes, Kamu thought shaking his head. What a fool he felt now for having joined in the laughing and teasing whenever an islander came to the mainland.
This was Kamu’s first trip to island to pick Nkulasa fruit. His uncle had told him that if he did not start contributing to the family upkeep, he would have to find another relative to live with. Kamu was in class five even though he was twelve years old. His parents died when he was young and he had been tossed from one relative to another until Uncle Bulagi, his father’s youngest brother, had taken him in and put him in school. That was four years ago. Life was very pleasant living with Uncle Bulagi until recently when he married a second wife. Everything changed for everyone, but especially for Kamu as the new wife, for some unknown reason loathed him.
“I must hurry,” Kamu whispered to himself, shaking his head to concentrate on navigating the sand. “I can do this!”
Talking to himself was the only way he could keeping himself sane, what with the heat wave, the sinking sand and the wicked new wife … If only that was all there was to worry about, he thought. Whatever would he do if he missed the ferry and had to spend the night on the island?
A cold icy figure ran down his spine making him shiver in spite of the intense heat. All those stories about the terrible things that happened to people who missed the ferry just did not bear talking about. They weren’t really true, he told himself. After all he did not know anyone who had been taken away by the natives and never seen again. And if they never came back, who told the story? Besides the natives were the most gentle, polite and soft spoken people he knew!
Kamu hurried down the sandy beach as the ferry’s horn echoed loudly. It was sounded twice to let everyone know that it was the last ferry. He had made it, he thought walking confidently to join the crowd of people trying to board the ferry all at once.
I will wait for the shoving and struggling to stop, Kamu thought, resting his sack on the sand and looked around. His eyes strayed to a market stall displaying wild fruit and as if on cue, a strong gust of wind filled the air with a strong sweet aroma of ripe, begging to be eaten, fruits. Kamu’s tummy grumbled and he swallowed, surprised that there was any saliva in his dry mouth. He took a deep breath and tore his eyes away from the market stall back to the ferry. He was shocked to find that there were no more people boarding and the ferry was pulling up its ramp.
Stunned, Kamu stood there as if his feet were stuck in the sand. None of his senses seemed to be working. It was almost as if the sweet smell of the wild fruits had bewitched him and now he could not move, the ferry was leaving and he was going to be taken away by the natives! He thought in horror. Looking back at the market stall, Kamu noticed the pleasant smiling faces of the women, calling out to him to buy some fruit. Their eyes seemed to glitter in the midday heat and their smiles were a little bit strained. Kamu turned back to the ferry where a man was shouting to him to run and jump on the ferry before it was too late.
“Get your mind off the wild fruit,” the man’s voice float across the beach. “Run, come on hurry up, before it’s too late!”
His last words echoed in Kamu’s mind, bring him sharply back to reality. He had to leave the island or else. The stories came rushing back into his mind setting him free from his frozen state.
Kamu ran towards the ferry, his heart beating so fast he thought it would burst through his chest. The words ‘too late’ were reeling over and over in his mind spurring him on. As he stepped up to the wooden ferry landing, he could vaguely hear the women still calling him to buy fruit. His mouth was dry now and even as he tried to swallow there was nothing. The ferry was pulling away. The man was still shouting and holding out his hand.
“Jump boy, Jump!”
Kamu breathed deeply holding his breath as he raised his hands in front of him and leapt forward. It was one of those timeless moments but he felt his feet slip off the side of the ferry and he heard the agonizing cry of a desperate animal.
This was the end of his short life, Kamu thought as he fell to the water. If the ferry’s turbines didn’t get him, the islanders would. He held his breath waiting expecting to hit the water at any minute. Then he felt a sharp pain run through his arms almost pulling them out of their sockets. This was the beginning of a painful death, he prepared himself, trying to grab onto something, anything. His hands closed on something rough and wet and clung to it a glimmer of hope creeping into his mind. He still had not hit the water and his whole body was still intact.
“Heave yourself upwards as we pull,” a now familiar voice shouted. “Don’t let go of rope.”
Kamu didn’t know where the strength came from, but with all that he could muscle, he heaved upwards as his arms were pull and the next thing he knew he was in the ferry speeding away to the mainland. Everyone in the ferry cheered and clapped. Well everyone except the shouting man, who told him off.
“Didn’t anyone tell you not to look at the fruit market when you are boarding the ferry?” he said in a scolding but relieved voice. “That market is a trap to keep you on the island.”
“You mean the rumours are true?” Kamu asked in a shaky voice.
“What rumours?” his rescuer asked. “Once you begin eating those fruits, you won’t want to stop and the ferry will leave you. Don’t you know that the ferry doesn’t wait for people? It leaves exactly on the hour.”
“This is my first trip to island sir,” Kamu said his voice still shaky. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Hmmm,” the man said almost to himself. “Children should not be allowed on the island without supervision. I shall take this up with the authorities.” At Kamu’s chaste fallen face, he added, “You can come along again if you promise to stick with me. That is a very good sack of Nkulasa fruit you picked.” The man pointed to Kamu’s sack.
Kamu had forgotten all about his sack. Relief washed over him as humbly thanked the man for saving his sack as well. He sat down next his sack and reflected on what had just gone down. If that man had not saved him it didn’t bear thinking about where he would be now.
“I am Zigochi,” the man came and sat next to Kamu. “You will be alright if you stick with me. Now tell me about yourself.”
Kamu had heard of the great Zigochi who owned the ferry and most of the business that came from the island. There wasn’t much to tell, Kamu thought as he told his brief life story. “So I am going sell this Nkulasa fruit so that I can stay in school,” Kamu concluded his tale a broad hopeful smile lit his face. “I can go to the island every Sunday and sell the fruit during the week.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Zigochi said encouragingly. “Look, if you can pick a sack like this one every weekend, I will buy it off you for…” He closed his eyes briefly then looked straight into Kamu’s eyes. “You seem to be a very hard working boy, I will pay for all your school needs on the condition that you let me have the sack for 10 Miches and you promise to only go to island under my care and supervision.”
Kamu’s jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this. Why did this rich man want to help him?
“Look, I want to help you because you remind me of me when I was your age,” Zigochi said kindly. “I know you are Bulagi’s nephew.”
Kamu opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out but his mind continued to work thoughts racing through. The sack of Nkulasa was only worth 6 or at most 7 Miches, why did he want to give me more? How would he explain the extra Miches to uncle? “You can take 6 Miches home and I will start a saving fund for you with the rest of the money,” Zigochi continued as if he had read Kamu’s mind. “Don’t worry, everything will work out fine. Just remember to remain faithful to yourself.”
“Thank you, sir,” was all Kamu could say as the man walked away.
Kamu leaned back resting his head on his sack and closed his eyes. Did he really have a saviour in Mr. Zigochi or had he dreamed it all?
THE END
The sun bore down heavily on Kamu’s bald head and bear shoulders. He pulled out his now grubby handkerchief and wiped it gently over his head trying to keep from rubbing the gritty sand into his scalp. Looking down he noticed that his shadow was very short and he tried to quicken his short steps struggling against the warm soft sand that wanted to swallow him up. The sack full of Nkulasa fruits slowed him down, but trudged on determinedly.
No wonder the island people wore those funny wide flat shoes, Kamu thought shaking his head. What a fool he felt now for having joined in the laughing and teasing whenever an islander came to the mainland.
This was Kamu’s first trip to island to pick Nkulasa fruit. His uncle had told him that if he did not start contributing to the family upkeep, he would have to find another relative to live with. Kamu was in class five even though he was twelve years old. His parents died when he was young and he had been tossed from one relative to another until Uncle Bulagi, his father’s youngest brother, had taken him in and put him in school. That was four years ago. Life was very pleasant living with Uncle Bulagi until recently when he married a second wife. Everything changed for everyone, but especially for Kamu as the new wife, for some unknown reason loathed him.
“I must hurry,” Kamu whispered to himself, shaking his head to concentrate on navigating the sand. “I can do this!”
Talking to himself was the only way he could keeping himself sane, what with the heat wave, the sinking sand and the wicked new wife … If only that was all there was to worry about, he thought. Whatever would he do if he missed the ferry and had to spend the night on the island?
A cold icy figure ran down his spine making him shiver in spite of the intense heat. All those stories about the terrible things that happened to people who missed the ferry just did not bear talking about. They weren’t really true, he told himself. After all he did not know anyone who had been taken away by the natives and never seen again. And if they never came back, who told the story? Besides the natives were the most gentle, polite and soft spoken people he knew!
Kamu hurried down the sandy beach as the ferry’s horn echoed loudly. It was sounded twice to let everyone know that it was the last ferry. He had made it, he thought walking confidently to join the crowd of people trying to board the ferry all at once.
I will wait for the shoving and struggling to stop, Kamu thought, resting his sack on the sand and looked around. His eyes strayed to a market stall displaying wild fruit and as if on cue, a strong gust of wind filled the air with a strong sweet aroma of ripe, begging to be eaten, fruits. Kamu’s tummy grumbled and he swallowed, surprised that there was any saliva in his dry mouth. He took a deep breath and tore his eyes away from the market stall back to the ferry. He was shocked to find that there were no more people boarding and the ferry was pulling up its ramp.
Stunned, Kamu stood there as if his feet were stuck in the sand. None of his senses seemed to be working. It was almost as if the sweet smell of the wild fruits had bewitched him and now he could not move, the ferry was leaving and he was going to be taken away by the natives! He thought in horror. Looking back at the market stall, Kamu noticed the pleasant smiling faces of the women, calling out to him to buy some fruit. Their eyes seemed to glitter in the midday heat and their smiles were a little bit strained. Kamu turned back to the ferry where a man was shouting to him to run and jump on the ferry before it was too late.
“Get your mind off the wild fruit,” the man’s voice float across the beach. “Run, come on hurry up, before it’s too late!”
His last words echoed in Kamu’s mind, bring him sharply back to reality. He had to leave the island or else. The stories came rushing back into his mind setting him free from his frozen state.
Kamu ran towards the ferry, his heart beating so fast he thought it would burst through his chest. The words ‘too late’ were reeling over and over in his mind spurring him on. As he stepped up to the wooden ferry landing, he could vaguely hear the women still calling him to buy fruit. His mouth was dry now and even as he tried to swallow there was nothing. The ferry was pulling away. The man was still shouting and holding out his hand.
“Jump boy, Jump!”
Kamu breathed deeply holding his breath as he raised his hands in front of him and leapt forward. It was one of those timeless moments but he felt his feet slip off the side of the ferry and he heard the agonizing cry of a desperate animal.
This was the end of his short life, Kamu thought as he fell to the water. If the ferry’s turbines didn’t get him, the islanders would. He held his breath waiting expecting to hit the water at any minute. Then he felt a sharp pain run through his arms almost pulling them out of their sockets. This was the beginning of a painful death, he prepared himself, trying to grab onto something, anything. His hands closed on something rough and wet and clung to it a glimmer of hope creeping into his mind. He still had not hit the water and his whole body was still intact.
“Heave yourself upwards as we pull,” a now familiar voice shouted. “Don’t let go of rope.”
Kamu didn’t know where the strength came from, but with all that he could muscle, he heaved upwards as his arms were pull and the next thing he knew he was in the ferry speeding away to the mainland. Everyone in the ferry cheered and clapped. Well everyone except the shouting man, who told him off.
“Didn’t anyone tell you not to look at the fruit market when you are boarding the ferry?” he said in a scolding but relieved voice. “That market is a trap to keep you on the island.”
“You mean the rumours are true?” Kamu asked in a shaky voice.
“What rumours?” his rescuer asked. “Once you begin eating those fruits, you won’t want to stop and the ferry will leave you. Don’t you know that the ferry doesn’t wait for people? It leaves exactly on the hour.”
“This is my first trip to island sir,” Kamu said his voice still shaky. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Hmmm,” the man said almost to himself. “Children should not be allowed on the island without supervision. I shall take this up with the authorities.” At Kamu’s chaste fallen face, he added, “You can come along again if you promise to stick with me. That is a very good sack of Nkulasa fruit you picked.” The man pointed to Kamu’s sack.
Kamu had forgotten all about his sack. Relief washed over him as humbly thanked the man for saving his sack as well. He sat down next his sack and reflected on what had just gone down. If that man had not saved him it didn’t bear thinking about where he would be now.
“I am Zigochi,” the man came and sat next to Kamu. “You will be alright if you stick with me. Now tell me about yourself.”
Kamu had heard of the great Zigochi who owned the ferry and most of the business that came from the island. There wasn’t much to tell, Kamu thought as he told his brief life story. “So I am going sell this Nkulasa fruit so that I can stay in school,” Kamu concluded his tale a broad hopeful smile lit his face. “I can go to the island every Sunday and sell the fruit during the week.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Zigochi said encouragingly. “Look, if you can pick a sack like this one every weekend, I will buy it off you for…” He closed his eyes briefly then looked straight into Kamu’s eyes. “You seem to be a very hard working boy, I will pay for all your school needs on the condition that you let me have the sack for 10 Miches and you promise to only go to island under my care and supervision.”
Kamu’s jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this. Why did this rich man want to help him?
“Look, I want to help you because you remind me of me when I was your age,” Zigochi said kindly. “I know you are Bulagi’s nephew.”
Kamu opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out but his mind continued to work thoughts racing through. The sack of Nkulasa was only worth 6 or at most 7 Miches, why did he want to give me more? How would he explain the extra Miches to uncle? “You can take 6 Miches home and I will start a saving fund for you with the rest of the money,” Zigochi continued as if he had read Kamu’s mind. “Don’t worry, everything will work out fine. Just remember to remain faithful to yourself.”
“Thank you, sir,” was all Kamu could say as the man walked away.
Kamu leaned back resting his head on his sack and closed his eyes. Did he really have a saviour in Mr. Zigochi or had he dreamed it all?
THE END
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