Nazura

Chapter 2

Nazura was now on her 16th year. She has been fully accepted into her tribe with the help of the paint that Hahaya has given her the knowledge to make and use. She creates her own stripes and many of the tribe's man have claimed her to be the most beautiful, of course the women have made her to be an enemy. 

She was silently gliding through the trees looking for the best hunt to give to her chief. She quietly came upon a clearing where many animals come to get water from the lake that lay in the center. There she spotted a deer that would feed and clothe the children and a buck great enough for the other families in her tribe. 

The other families in the tribe trusted her greatly knowing that she would always bring them food, and they also looked to her as a great talisman of luck for them. She was always granted the best meat from the hunts and the best furs or pelts. Many of the men her age have tried for her hand in marriage, but she always politely refused.  

            She liked being by herself. Not even her father bothered her about things in her family. He allowed he to be alone as his wife, and her mother, had wished. Sure she missed her father, but how can you miss one man any more than she did when he was never around to begin with and her mother was not even a memory she wished to have. She did not hate her mother, but she did not love the woman either. She just prefers her life the way it is. Alone.

            Chief on the other hand was always there for her even when she wished he were not.  He was currently trying to get her to accept becoming his son’s bride. She would always refuse of course, not because she hated Chief. In fact she loved the man almost like a father. It was not even Mincah and his pompous attitude that was the reason for her not marrying. It was simply the thought of sharing her life with someone that she was so against. She wanted to be alone and wished everybody in her tribe would finally figure that out. She was a lone wolf, and she liked it that way.

            She was securing herself in the trees to launch herself at the buck and deer when an animalistic noise came from the direction of her tribe. She quickly dashed off in the direction. Bending branches and swinging on vines to go faster and she was fast until she came to the clearing where her tribe lived. Upon entering the clearing she saw all the people in her tribe over at Chief’s hut. They were all grunting in hushed whispers and touching each other’s foreheads and sharing their thoughts.

            Nazura walked in closer anxiously edging around the crowd. She could not see nor understand what was going on, so she walked around to the back of the hut and peered in through the small covered window.

            Inside was Chief. He was lying down on his bed made of leaves and pelts. He looked different. He looked more worn and pale in color. He had black around his eyes and was sweating more than he should in this warm tropical heat. His stripes looked old and sagged on his weary face. Suddenly the old man looked over to the small window and spotted Nazura, he beckoned her inside. She looked around and crawled in through the window. Chief smiled and patted the pelt next to him. Nazura obeyed and sat down next to him. He placed his hand on her forehead.

            “Nazura” said the old man in her head. “You are the daughter I have always wanted, but could never catch hold of.” He chuckled.

            “Chief,” she began to chide him, but he held his other hand off to quiet her.

            “Nazura, I am leaving.”

            “Where are you going?” she asked plainly with no emotion showing on her face. Many have complained to her saying she was lacking emotion. She was not emotionless she just did not want others to see her feelings as plain as the sun.

            “I am not leaving with my body, Nazura. My spirit is going to move on to another. I have done all I can in this body and in this time that I was offered.” Nazura began to feel her tears now hearing the man she thought of, as a father speak so sadly.

            “But I still need you.”

            “Nazura, before I go. There is something I must show you. It explains why you are different from the others.”

            “But I am not different. I am the same!” She exclaimed indignantly.

“Nazura you and I both know that is only paint no matter how hard you try to make it permanent. Now pay attention to what I show you and do not repeat this to anyone until the time is right. Understood?” He demanded. She nodded. “Good.”

He began to show her images of a woman walking alone in a desert wasteland completely covered from head to toe. She carried a bundle with her closely in her arms. She was coming upon her tribe’s village and Nazura could tell. She collapsed as soon as she saw the village. A man having seen her grunted for his people as they ran out to help her. An older man who looked a lot like Chief stepped forward with a young boy next to him. The man reached out towards the woman and grabbed the bundle. It squirmed and moved until a baby’s head popped out giggling. It was a boy. The woman looked up then and grunted for the man to come closer. She showed him what had happened and the man nodded. The boy stepped close to the woman then and reached out to her face. He removed her scarf covering her face and it reveled to be completely bare. The boy stepped back shocked and looked to his father. The man shook his head and began to walk back with the baby. The boy looked back at the woman and noticed that she had died.

Many years have passed now and the boy was now a man, and this man was Chief. The Chief she knew and loved. Next to him stood a woman, Hahaya, and in her arms his son, Mincah, though he was only a baby. He was looking at the marriage between another couple. It was his brother and the baby that his father had taken from the dying woman. Nazura just knew.

It was again a few years later when Chief was waiting outside her father’s hut with his brother next to him shaking in fear. Chief simply laughed having gone through the same fear only a few years before. His brother’s wife was giving birth. Suddenly a baby’s cry could be heard and his brother rushed into the hut only to come back out in shock. The midwife came out with the baby in her hands keeping it away from her body for fear it might bite her or infect her with disease. The baby was bare.

Nazura was back again with Chief in his hut. “You see Nazura. You have somewhere you are really from with others like you. I just know it. My final demand of you Nazura is to find them and go back home. Where you truly belong.”

“How do you know I belong somewhere? What if that woman was like me? From a tribe of stripes of spots and was simply a bare.” She cried out in fear.

“Nazura the only thing I couldn’t show you were my father’s memories. Because I was not given acceptance to those, but my father did tell me something. That woman was from a tribe. A tribe completely made of Bares. She was banned for having a child with a striped man. You are her descendant. She was the daughter of a chief. You must go to them Nazura. I fear they might need you. The other chieftain from the other tribes are gathering to wipe out the bare and their children. You must go and protect them. You are a warrior. You are a leader. You must go.”

With that Chief’s hand slipped away as his eyes slowly closed shut for forever. Nazura stared at the man for a bit and then stood up and crawled out the window. She walked back to her tent, and cried. Alone. She was no longer alone.