A Labyrinthine Affair: The World of Taboo

The Hunter - Part 5

The energy surrounding the village now was tense and thick. On the surface, everyone went about their usual business: tending the livestock, carving down trees, hollowing out fresh pulpy trunks to make drums, sharing communal meals around large cast-iron kettles full of spicy flanks of flesh, buttery rice and fragrant vegetables followed by the smoking of tobacco and the retelling of tales. Mainly, of how the Ashanti settled in the rich land surrounding Lake Bosumtwe. Even Frema and Safo buried their grief in their work and chores, moving swiftly so as to distract themselves from the misery that swarmed around them like a heavy mist.

But James knew this measured calm was nothing more than a mask; covering an anxious surge just beneath. It was in the way the chief surreptitiously made his way to meet with Prah; something he rarely did so openly. It was in the way some of the men, seemingly bulging dams of rage, were ready to burst, if just given a signal. It was even in the way Akuba sank back into herself, barely speaking to anyone and disappearing from Yasi for stretches of time.

James, now a splintered thing, born to the Old World, yearning for the New, appreciated Yasi. Not simply for its hidden treasure or the ease with which the people enveloped him. No, the thing he loved most about the village, was how intimately everyone's lives intertwined with the land. No need to spout their beliefs in weekly, written sermons, or printed pamphlets, no need to chastise one another about social or communal duties. Every fragment of daily life was a calling, embedded with the deepest reverence and respect.

After every hunt, they gave thanks, utilizing each piece of the kill for food or clothing or tools. Each parcel of land within and slightly without the village was carefully tended; flowers, grass, roots and crops, cultivated in meticulous fashion. The stock animals were fed and tended to with deliberate devotion. And when they honored their Gods, in song and prayer, they gave thanks to the spirits dwelling in every bush, every tree, even the crisp, cool currents of the river. For they knew their nurturing would be reciprocated by the Gods tenfold.

This level of reverence reminded him of Amma. He long suspected her intention was for him to live in this place after the shipwreck. Yasi, sublime and rich, embodied the truest order of things. Not stone palaces and cobblestone streets, tenement houses crammed to the hilt, or beggars on dirty, dank streets. But water and sun and earth and a people intermingled and thriving. Together.

At the center of it all, for James, was Akuba. His reluctant companion. Just as he felt her fortress melting away, she was now, again, cloaked in a hefty silence. She still fulfilled her duties, making sure he had a hearty breakfast every morning, heating up water for his daily bath, cleaning his robes and loin cloths and sweeping and airing out their hut, burning fragrant herbs before they slept to sooth and relax them both. But everything she did not say hung between them like a cold, stone wall.

He almost felt like a stalker. Listening to her conversation with Prah, detailing her comings and goings. In London, a city of millions lost in their own thoughts and plans, he could have cloaked himself behind horse-drawn carriages or concealing attire. He could have even paid a vagabond to follow her, offering up a few sterling and a frosty pint of beer.

But in Yasi, it was much more difficult to conceal oneself. From anyone. Intermittently between duties, he would first let his eyes follow her movements to and fro, allowing her the respect of many paces before he moved physically. James hoped that she wasn't offended by this type of attention. Maintaining privacy and discretion seemed to be her natural way. Yet, he simply couldn't help himself. He'd never considered any sort of emotional attachment to her. Yet, imperceptibly, he now found himself wanting and needing to know more.

Akuba was fully aware of James' attention. Even outside of her peripheral vision, she felt James watching her and wondering. With those intense and pointed eyes of his. The few instances she allowed herself to look directly at him, usually as they ate their dinner together, she noticed how striking his eyes were. They reminded her of Yasi's sunsets; sparks of flame sinking into verdant green. There was something about his consuming gaze that at times made her shiver. He didn't so much look at her, as look into her, searching and probing for her secrets. Secrets she had fiercely concealed from so many of them. Secrets she believed would have James turn away from her in disgust.