Left Unsaid (Short stories from Africa)

A little too much

Mother's face was deeply furrowed with worry, and I could hear her breathily heavily, trying to hold on to hope.

We huddled into a corner as the door burst open, my heart in my throat and my temple throbbing with fear. But the person who came in was the last person I had expected to see. The first thing I saw when he stepped in was the gun. My little sisters screamed and hid their faces behind me. That was when I noticed the blood. His camouflage soldier's shirt was soaked deeply in blood as he dropped the gun onto the floor and his knees buckled.

"They're coming. Run." He said his voice weak and tired. He must have run from the base to the village. I wanted to pity him as he lay there in pain, I really did, but he had cut deeper scars into my soul than the ones ailing him now. Mother recovered first, deciding to leave her dying traitor of a son on the floor as she came over to me. She took my hand and placed the butterfly pendant in my hand. She'd never been big on emotional gestures or displays of affection, but that butterfly was the only thing her father had left her with when he died at war.

"I don't trust him, but you have to go. Take care of your sisters." She said strapping an already packed bag on my younger sister Lethu's shoulders. I trembled slightly.

"But Father said that we should wait for him." I whispered.

"I'll wait. You run." She said, overcome with emotion, I thought I saw the ghost of a tear on her eye, but that was probably just a trick of the firelight. She had not cried since my eldest sister had died last year.

Suddenly I understood. Mother was staying, she was entrusting all her remaining children to me. I was responsible now. I felt the weight heavy on my shoulders as the three girls followed me out of the little hut.

"Langa." My brother said from the floor. "Take this." he pointed to the gun. I had held knives, whips and even a spear once but never anything this lethal.

As I picked it up, I looked at him. An unwanted shade of pity crept up to me, but I knew that death was a punishment that he deserved. For all the lies that he had told, for selling out his country for power, but mostly for leading our sister to her untimely death, I hoped that he rot in the wasteland soil. His name, Lizwe, was by translation, 'the nation', but he had betrayed even his own name.

It was as dark as a demon's soul outside and my little sisters held hands as I led them down the hidden path in the forest. I clutched Mother's butterfly in my hand and it reminded me of the old folklore of a lost boy who, when he held on to his loved ones' possessions, knew that they would one day be reunited. I blinked, and scolded the girls as I told them to pick up the pace, we had a long way to go and anytime now, the soldiers could intercept us. Lisa cried, and I remembered that they were so young, but then again, so was I.

Our path was hidden in the trees; therefore sometimes I had to crawl like a hungry dog along the way in order to make sure that no harm came to my sisters. I had walked this path times with my elder sister and brother, Lizwe, on our way to give food to the rebels. One time, Lizwe convinced my sister that they should leave me all alone in the middle of the forest, so that I could find my way home by myself. I had called and ran until I sat down on a rock and cried. My tears had fallen like two parallel rills down the Zimbabwean soil. Lola, my sister, had come back for me as the sun had set. She led me home and showed me the way. She was always full of compassion and grace, unlike my brother, and that ultimately led to her demise.

Growing up, I had always looked up to Lizwe. He had taught me many things, some which I still upheld today. He had taught me how to hunt, how to lay traps, how to herd the cattle and where the greenest grass was for them. Under him, I'd learned how and where to gather the best firewood and how to till the soil. As the rebellion had grown and the government started recruiting, or rather forcing, young men into the army, he had taught me how to use knives to kill the animals but he always said the same methods would work on humans. He was right, it worked on Lola.

Lisa was tired now, poor thing, she was only four. But before we could continue, I heard it.

"Shh." I said to the girls as we hid behind a cluster of trees.

They were riding a lorry, there could not have been more than twenty of them, all adorned in the same traitor uniform that my brother wore. In that moment, I wanted to run out of the bushes and shoot them down with Lizwe's gun. I would have done it too, were it not for my little sisters who clung desperately to my clothes.

All of a sudden, like a bombshell, it hit me and I understood why Mother had stayed. She must have known that they'd killed Father, and he had somehow gotten through to Lizwe, and got him to betray the army. I laughed mirthlessly, it was probably not too hard as he prided himself in his ability to betray and not blink a single eyelid. Mother must have known that all five of us would not have made it far, especially if they had found the house empty. She must have known that she would never see us again, that explained why she had been crying.

Father had once told me during one of my rebel training sessions, that I had inherited my elder siblings' worst qualities. He said I was soft, like Lola and I had Lizwe's impulsive recklessness. I disagreed. I was more like my brother than I would like to admit. I had his greed, his bad temper and his ruthless nature. I knew what he would do right now, because it was exactly what I wanted to do. I could run back the two kilometers that we'd walked, I'd sneak up behind them and burn the bullets into their heads before they tore down my village and gunned down my mother.

But this was not about me. What would Lola do? She would fight back, that was certain, but first she would have a plan, think strategically and get help. Her first priority would be getting the girls to safety as per Mother's instructions. There were three kilometers between us and the rebels' kraal. It used to be our chief, Chief Nduku's kraal, but he had gladly, for the good of our country, let the rebels camp there after my brother had diverted. What a scandal it had been! The son of the leader of the rebel army, now rising in the ranks of the soldiers. It probably didn't matter though, the soldiers never came to the old rebels camp to attack it. Lola had thought that this meant that our brother still had a soul as he had not betrayed our camp, I disagreed.

I turned to my little sisters now, and whispered, "We have to run. Don't look back." I said hoping to spare them the ordeal of witnessing the destruction of their home. I was the adult now, yet I was also just a child myself. As we ran through the trees, Lisa on my back, I turned around. Somewhere in the far distance, I saw my village, my home, Mmangwe of the African soil; go up in smoke with all its memories. Rest in peace, blood of Zimbabwe, I said my heart bleeding for my people.

I was sweating, tired and out of breath. Not only was Lisa still weighing down my back, but now I was also carrying Lindiwe on my side. Lethu was still standing, but her breath was in gasps and I knew that soon, she too would tire. It did not matter, we had passed the old rebels' camp, which was now used as training ground for trainee warrior rebels like myself. We were only a few minutes from the rebels' kraal and I could already taste freedom.

Langa. My name was isiNdebele, our native language, for the sun. I always thought that my parents should have given that name to Lola. She was the light, always glowing, leading and showing the way. A worthy role model. As the first born child in our family, she used to take care of us when our parents were busy with the rebels. I remember asking her, one day a month after Lizwe left home, how she handled everything, from cooking, looking after four children, hunting, farming to completing her warrior training at the rebels' camp. She had smiled.

"Sometimes it does become a little too much. It's a burden I bear so that none of you have to. But one day Langa, when I go to battle, your sunlight will shine and it will be your duty. Just know that even if it gets a little too much, it's worth it." She said. She was always deep.

Lola was wrong. My sunlight would never shine. The kraal was devoid of life. Dead bodies greeted us everywhere and I hid my sisters inside a small room. I stepped outside, and saw them coming for me. Ten men in that deranged soldier's uniform. I raised my brother's gun. I was not going down without a fight. But even as I raised it, I gathered that there was only one soldier I knew who was aware of the rebels' location, however vaguely. And I would be lucky if his gun even had any bullets in it.