It hadn’t rained in that part of Africa for years, Alaya and the other kids of the tribe had never
even seen rain. They played on the parched ground before their huts and went home covered in dust
that blew off the ground every time they tread on it. But they had heard of rain, from their
grandparents as they sat in the evening circle smoking clay pipes.
Those were Alaya’s favorite kind of stories, ones that entailed a very young version of her grandfather venturing into the forest that surrounds their reservation and finding his way to the river. Allure! The forest and the river seem so different in these stories, she hardly recognizes them. They are green there; the foliage rarely allows light to filter down through and is teeming with life. The river is alien too; wide and full of fishes. Alaya finds it incredibly hard to believe!
She and the other kids aren’t allowed to enter the forest alone and the river she knows is barely a narrow creek of smelly brown sludge. Once, a few years ago, when she was in the forest with her mother picking dry, fallen twigs for the fire the sky had turned dark and a cool wind blew the tendrils of her hair off her face, she had heard frogs croaking then, but never seen a fish in that sludge.
The inviting, nurturing forest of her grandpa’s stories she and the other kids of the tribe have never known, they’ve been taught to fear the forest; told that it is filled with wretched animals as hungry as them!
It’s true, she has seen it herself. Rickety, thin hyenas often crawl through openings in the thorn-bush fences of the reservation looking for an easy meal. Their eyes gleam with malice and once or twice they have carried away newborn babies to feed on. The look on those shaggy faces reminded Alaya of her brother who died last summer of hunger.
The drought that had set in years ago had put an end to the plantations that their parents worked on and as the drought intensified even the forest ran out of fruits to feed them. The flowering trees died off within a few years and the animals could no longer sustain themselves and often they made forays into the reservation looking for food and scraps, very unlike Grandpa’s stories.
And then one day, the sky darkened, a high wind blew from the north and the smell of wet grass floated into the reservation. Everyone rushed out of their huts leaving all in great abandon just as the first great drops touched the dusty ground. Alaya gazed eyes wide as she saw the big transparent drops fall out of the sky. The sensation of running water on her skin was exhilarating, even the grounds under her feet cracked and hot all her life was changing texture.
The rain fell hard making everything hazy around, masking the tears that now trickled down the faces
of the tribe elders and drowning the euphoria of the children. Alaya stood in the middle of the
dancing amazed; she could finally see the reservation of her Grandpa’s stories. The torrents of
falling water rushed down the slanting roof of their hut and dissipated into the ground, she finally
turned her eyes to the forest.
She couldn’t see very clearly, the mist was rising through the downpour; she needed to get closer to see if the forest too was going to change. With water dripping off her hair, her frayed dress sticking to her body Alaya edged closer to the forest; at that moment she had forgotten all that her mother had said of the forest –the hungry animal, the chances of getting lost…all, a strange thrill had taken possession of her. Could this falling sheet of water really transform this wooded land that she had known all her life into the fairyland of her Grandfather’s story?
Her little feet squished mud underneath as she walked, little trellises of water ran all across the forest floor, and for the first time in all her life, the forest felt alive! It was no longer that piece of half-burnt, dry empty land she had known all her life. The high wind was playing through the empty branches creating a whooshing sound she had never known before, her feet were slapping on the ground splattering mud around and there was a continuous droning sound in the air.
Alaya listened hard and wondered what that could be and after a while, she decided it had to be the sound of the cicadas that Grandpa had talked of. The forest was not yet the hazy green like his but this was the closest it had come to resembling it. She ran through the rain, eager to see the river and indeed it had changed! It was wider, coursing with water dark and muddy from upstream and lo and behold, even though it was impossible to see any fishes here, the frogs were causing a raucous! ‘Where had they been all this while?’ Alaya wondered as she scampered up a rocky outcrop to gain a better view of a tiny little waterfall across the bank when something moved behind her.
Alaya turned in a whiff and caught sight of nothing but a black shadow before it melted into the background. A sense of foreboding enveloped her, she quickened her pace, all she needed to do was cut across this rocky outcrop and then walk a few yards straight through the forest and she would emerge on the eastern edge of the reservation, but would she reach it?
The scary stories of her mother played themselves inside her head and to add to the misery she could hear low grunts close by. Strangely enough, this transformed forest, resembling that of the stories of her Grandpa, seemed a place better suited for atrocities than the one she had known! The rain was making it hard to keep sight of the edge of the outcrop and just as Alaya was about to take a turn, she caught a black shadow leap to the ground to her far right.
Sucking in all the courage her body could muster along with a long breath, she snuck into a caved sheltered among the trees on the opposite end of the outcrop. She couldn’t outrun the black shape on this slippery ground and that might insight it to follow her anyway. She stood close to the mouth of the cave and screamed her lungs out to scare it, but the black shape was now gaining prominence as it walked straight at her. The sky was dark and the trees around reverberated with Alaya’s screams, rendering the atmosphere quite unholy, while doing nothing to deter the shape inching closer. This was how it was supposed to end for Alaya then, the day it finally rains!
Alaya had been afraid all this while, ever since she had detected the black shape but now as its green glowing eyes fixed on her, she no longer felt that crippling fear. Her whole frame grew numb, all she was aware was those two bulbous green eyes of the Black Panther edging closer to her. She stood there locked in its eyes, as a bird is in the eyes of a snake, unable to move or scream. The panther had a graceful way about him, he pranced closer, eyes on her, never hurried, and body tensed ready to pounce but locked in her eyes too.
They stood there, dripping in the rain, breathing in the same heady smell of the wet earth, waiting for someone to stir. Alaya stood still but the strain on her eyes was telling on her, she had lost track of time; it could have been mere seconds, minutes, or an eternity. A part of her was afraid that her eyes would fail her soon, she’d blink… and he would pounce. The lines at the edge of her peripheral vision were blurry already.
And then the unthinkable, a peal of thunder wrecked the forest asunder; Alaya’s head snapped in the direction and the spell was broken. Alaya waited for the pounce to come but it didn’t and after a while, soft footfalls melted away.
Nobody would die in the forest today, not today! A truce had been signed among all, a stalling, to let all enjoy the first rain in years and all would abide by it, man and beast.
Those were Alaya’s favorite kind of stories, ones that entailed a very young version of her grandfather venturing into the forest that surrounds their reservation and finding his way to the river. Allure! The forest and the river seem so different in these stories, she hardly recognizes them. They are green there; the foliage rarely allows light to filter down through and is teeming with life. The river is alien too; wide and full of fishes. Alaya finds it incredibly hard to believe!
She and the other kids aren’t allowed to enter the forest alone and the river she knows is barely a narrow creek of smelly brown sludge. Once, a few years ago, when she was in the forest with her mother picking dry, fallen twigs for the fire the sky had turned dark and a cool wind blew the tendrils of her hair off her face, she had heard frogs croaking then, but never seen a fish in that sludge.
The inviting, nurturing forest of her grandpa’s stories she and the other kids of the tribe have never known, they’ve been taught to fear the forest; told that it is filled with wretched animals as hungry as them!
It’s true, she has seen it herself. Rickety, thin hyenas often crawl through openings in the thorn-bush fences of the reservation looking for an easy meal. Their eyes gleam with malice and once or twice they have carried away newborn babies to feed on. The look on those shaggy faces reminded Alaya of her brother who died last summer of hunger.
The drought that had set in years ago had put an end to the plantations that their parents worked on and as the drought intensified even the forest ran out of fruits to feed them. The flowering trees died off within a few years and the animals could no longer sustain themselves and often they made forays into the reservation looking for food and scraps, very unlike Grandpa’s stories.
And then one day, the sky darkened, a high wind blew from the north and the smell of wet grass floated into the reservation. Everyone rushed out of their huts leaving all in great abandon just as the first great drops touched the dusty ground. Alaya gazed eyes wide as she saw the big transparent drops fall out of the sky. The sensation of running water on her skin was exhilarating, even the grounds under her feet cracked and hot all her life was changing texture.
She couldn’t see very clearly, the mist was rising through the downpour; she needed to get closer to see if the forest too was going to change. With water dripping off her hair, her frayed dress sticking to her body Alaya edged closer to the forest; at that moment she had forgotten all that her mother had said of the forest –the hungry animal, the chances of getting lost…all, a strange thrill had taken possession of her. Could this falling sheet of water really transform this wooded land that she had known all her life into the fairyland of her Grandfather’s story?
Her little feet squished mud underneath as she walked, little trellises of water ran all across the forest floor, and for the first time in all her life, the forest felt alive! It was no longer that piece of half-burnt, dry empty land she had known all her life. The high wind was playing through the empty branches creating a whooshing sound she had never known before, her feet were slapping on the ground splattering mud around and there was a continuous droning sound in the air.
Alaya listened hard and wondered what that could be and after a while, she decided it had to be the sound of the cicadas that Grandpa had talked of. The forest was not yet the hazy green like his but this was the closest it had come to resembling it. She ran through the rain, eager to see the river and indeed it had changed! It was wider, coursing with water dark and muddy from upstream and lo and behold, even though it was impossible to see any fishes here, the frogs were causing a raucous! ‘Where had they been all this while?’ Alaya wondered as she scampered up a rocky outcrop to gain a better view of a tiny little waterfall across the bank when something moved behind her.
Alaya turned in a whiff and caught sight of nothing but a black shadow before it melted into the background. A sense of foreboding enveloped her, she quickened her pace, all she needed to do was cut across this rocky outcrop and then walk a few yards straight through the forest and she would emerge on the eastern edge of the reservation, but would she reach it?
The scary stories of her mother played themselves inside her head and to add to the misery she could hear low grunts close by. Strangely enough, this transformed forest, resembling that of the stories of her Grandpa, seemed a place better suited for atrocities than the one she had known! The rain was making it hard to keep sight of the edge of the outcrop and just as Alaya was about to take a turn, she caught a black shadow leap to the ground to her far right.
Sucking in all the courage her body could muster along with a long breath, she snuck into a caved sheltered among the trees on the opposite end of the outcrop. She couldn’t outrun the black shape on this slippery ground and that might insight it to follow her anyway. She stood close to the mouth of the cave and screamed her lungs out to scare it, but the black shape was now gaining prominence as it walked straight at her. The sky was dark and the trees around reverberated with Alaya’s screams, rendering the atmosphere quite unholy, while doing nothing to deter the shape inching closer. This was how it was supposed to end for Alaya then, the day it finally rains!
Alaya had been afraid all this while, ever since she had detected the black shape but now as its green glowing eyes fixed on her, she no longer felt that crippling fear. Her whole frame grew numb, all she was aware was those two bulbous green eyes of the Black Panther edging closer to her. She stood there locked in its eyes, as a bird is in the eyes of a snake, unable to move or scream. The panther had a graceful way about him, he pranced closer, eyes on her, never hurried, and body tensed ready to pounce but locked in her eyes too.
They stood there, dripping in the rain, breathing in the same heady smell of the wet earth, waiting for someone to stir. Alaya stood still but the strain on her eyes was telling on her, she had lost track of time; it could have been mere seconds, minutes, or an eternity. A part of her was afraid that her eyes would fail her soon, she’d blink… and he would pounce. The lines at the edge of her peripheral vision were blurry already.
And then the unthinkable, a peal of thunder wrecked the forest asunder; Alaya’s head snapped in the direction and the spell was broken. Alaya waited for the pounce to come but it didn’t and after a while, soft footfalls melted away.
Nobody would die in the forest today, not today! A truce had been signed among all, a stalling, to let all enjoy the first rain in years and all would abide by it, man and beast.