Corpus Civilization

Botswana

"I will crush you, stinky fly. Get back here!"

Nuru leapt over the couch, dodging the various articles of furniture that characterized her family's small home. Side tables, angled chairs, plant pots...all barriers in her path to exterminate the fly that had been pestering her all morning. The fly that had made her see red. The fly that had prompted her to dedicate her entire morning to a vigorous cat-and-mouse chase with a buzzing insect.

It had begun this morning.

Nuru awakened at her usual time, seven in the morning. She had washed up, said hello to the glowing sun on the horizon like always, and assisted her mother in the preparation of fresh vegetables for their morning stew. She hummed the usual upbeat song with her mother while she washed the various colored edibles, nodding her head along to the invisible words being sung by a saccharine voice in her head. Everything was working out smoothly, that was, until the cantankerous fly zoomed in out of nowhere and landed on her nose.

Seconds after the varmint tickled her nose tip, Nuru was a sneezing mess. The fly's soft, digging hands hadn't only triggered one sneeze, but a whole chain of convulsing sneezes. The potatoes in her hands dropped and thunked against the floor, becoming dirty once again.

"Stupid fly."

Nuru had scowled at the tiny black body buzzing away into the distance. Carefully, she picked up her potatoes and resumed food preparation once again.

The steady humming melody that rose from her mother next to her was comforting, and the duo fell into their breakfast rhythm. Nuru washed the vegetables with cold water, checking them over for any blemishes or marks. Then, she handed them over to her mother, who grasped them lovingly before slicing and dicing them into the pot.

The process was like a mini home vegetable factory—priming the veggies for the later journey into the stomach. Nuru envisioned each vegetable as a part of her future self, rinsing them with the gentle scrubbing of her fingertips. Her hands were cleaning not only the dirt and grime from the surface, but targeting the heart of the vegetable underneath. Every cleaned potato, carrot, or radish was a happier, freer version of itself. Nuru imagined her hands like therapists for the food, removing the hardship from each surface and resetting the vegetables back to their working state.

The vision of her veggie-cleaning mission kept her empowered in mind and spirit as she worked. By the time she was done, she was humming louder than ever, mixed with the occasional giggle as she would ask the vegetables personal questions about their well-being. How are you today, carrot? Are you well? I see you have a little dirt on you there, can you tell me about how that came to be? Trouble at home? Not enough sunshine in your life?

"Nuru." Her mother dried her hands off on a towel, carefully setting the bowl of cleaned veggies on the counter. "Today is basket day, I have a new weave to teach you. We'll get to work after breakfast, so prepare your things."

"Okay!" Nuru found herself growing excited. "I'll grab my weaving things and set them out."

Nuru rushed off to collect her weaving tools, returning within seconds. As she settled her strips of dyed wood on the table, she noticed the same fly from before, sitting conspiratorially on the rim of the bowl of clean veggies.

She glowered at it.

"Oh, no you don't. Get out of there, those are our vegetables!"

Nuru lighted on the bowl, her brows pinched. She grabbed a strip of her unmade basket and used it as a makeshift swatter, wildly swinging it around the bowl. The fly briefly left the bowl's vicinity for a moment before returning to its spot. Nuru frowned, flicking the strip out again. Once more, the fly made itself absent only long enough to thwart Nuru's swatter. Then, it resumed its spot on the rim of the bowl. Almost mockingly, it rubbed its hands together while it regarded her powerless self.