The Rising - Ennead 1

Pulling in the Threads - Act 2

M'Bour, Région de Thies, Sénégal
(M'Bour, Thies Region, Senegal)

A tall bear-like man with a craggy face [Boris] walks down a fishing beach. He's accompanying a young African girl in cornrows. The girl is dressed in a white and brown school uniform and a pink backpack [Yaa Asantewaa Boateng].

"We did not have to come all the way, Mother." Olaf growls in a heavy Russian accent.

His companion is distracted, and barely hears his concern. He tries again, "Your break. Over in less than..." he take a quick look at his Breitling Navitimer, "15 minutes."

Yaa replies with a distracted, "Mmmm."

"Mother must eat." The giant continues, adamant." "Not been taking good care lately."

Yaa suddenly stops, and so does her guard. She leans against Boris with one hand and takes of her socks and shoes. She looks down and smiles as she wiggles her feet in the sand. After a moment of childish delight, she shades her eyes and looks around the various sights on the beach.

Men working on boats.

Kids running by and laughing.

Tourists strolling.

Yaa finally stops and looks up at Boris.

"Bear bear," she says, "You always take very good care of me. Thank you."

"But, where's Henry?

"Gaines. He came earlier Mother. Tells me he found boy."

"Is he very far?"

Boris hesitates, "Quite."

After a moment, he breaks and sighs, "Piggy back?"

The child, leader of the First Society - her royal laziness, smiles sweetly and chirps, "You know me so well. It would be seriously bad if I got back to class sweaty."

Boris squats and waits for her to settle onto his back before he lumbers off.

Even though her transport makes good progress, let's take the lead on Yaa. We head to a bustling crowd scene a mile away. Space on the sand has been marked off with white washed stones. The crowd that mills around the ring of stones is expectant and air literally buzzes with excitement.

Several men are making and taking wagers. A tiny, old, morose looking man in a pristine white jellabiya paces methodically, within the cleared off space searching - perhaps for glass or any pointy objects. Satisfied, he finally nods and makes a beckoning gesture.

At his signal two swarthy, extremely dark skinned men step into the ring. Both are bald and clad only in basic loincloth. Both men, wrestlers, pose and strut as introductions are made and rules are recounted.

The crowd seems to already have its favorite. Taller than the other wrestler by a hand, he has white cloth bags tied around his wait and writs - the crowd goes crazy when his name is mentioned.

A youth, possibly in his early twenties, watches the proceedings. He has skin the color of strongly brewed coffee unhindered by additives. His tall spare form is well toned and his face has a prominent and complex scar on left cheekbone [Issah Sene].

Issah's hands count a set of worn prayer beads and his eyes flicker through the crowd.

Unbeknownst to our Issah. He's the subject of someone's attention: A tourist in a wide brimmed hat, [Henry Gaines]. Henry is at a drinking spot, and he sits under a faded umbrella that provides scant shade whilst closely observing Mr. Sene.