Bwandungi Uses Prompts

She is not for eating

Mukaaka stared at me, waiting for a response. My brain was an open cavern from which no words came. Did gehena mean something different from what I thought it meant?

I cleared my throat.

"You need to close your mouth before all the flies swarming around the compost heap come and build their homes," she said, turning around to reach for the lever that would close the hole of roiling fire and brimstone that coughed sparks onto the basement floor.

"Mukaaka," I began, my voice cracking in the silence of the large room. "A passage to gehena?"

She had to use the entire weight of her body to push the lever back into place, closing the gaping hole.

"I'm not strong enough to keep doing this, and your sisters would have fainted. So now it's your job."

I opened my mouth to say something.

"Boys can't handle this kind of work, and I've already said it is going to be you and the deal was signed."

Apparently, I had no choice. "With whom?"

"They'll be here in two minutes and we need to be ready."

There have been times in my life when I haven't fully comprehended the result of my actions, but I doubt I could have imagined that responding to my Grandmother's invitation would result in this... what did she call it? Responsibility.

"Help me with this," she grumbled from the corner where there were stacks upon stacks of old newspapers. "I want the table underneath."

If I'd gathered my thoughts, I'd have asked the questions that scorched my dreams that night leaving me wide eyed and sweating.

As we gathered items to place on the table, Mukaaka droned instructions.

"Yahash requires newspapers. Don't ask why. She just does. Don't put the cup with the handle on the table. It goes on the floor. And when Kimpihi starts complaining about the soul of his latest torment, it is just better to let him finish what he is saying. Otherwise he will be back before month's end and the inside of your skull will crawl as though small ants found a way in through your ears.."

"Yes, Mukaaka."

What was I supposed to say? No? No I'm not going to carry on in your stead and look after the demons that crawl out seeking your counsel?

"If you stare at Nakani's chest head, you'll face death before your time. Her eyes are in her hands. Look there."

She straightened her back, the stiffness exacerbated by the cold clutch of the basement air making it hard for her to move. She seemed satisfied with her work.

"Are there only three?" Somewhere in my mind I'd begun to accept this role that was thrust upon me, though if you'd asked me at the time I'd have said I was planning some kind of escape.
She didn't answer and just threw me a tattered red cloth. Another one dangled from her hand and she put it on her head shifting it slightly so her eyes could peek through holes in the fabric.

I copied her finding the holes in my own tattered cloth.

Then she gestured at the lever and nodded, her eyes smiling with encouragement.

The blast of heat from the opening in the floor and the roaring fire made me flinch a little, and when I looked back at Mukaaka she just nodded again.

She beckoned to me and held me tight against her side so that I could feel her ribs poking out from beneath her suuka.

A creeping feeling of dread that started from my toes crept up my leg and wound itself around my chest. Mukaaka squeezed my arm and told me to open my eyes. I hadn't realized that I'd closed them.

Purple smoke dancing with shards of sparkling gold dust formed itself before my eyes. It was sniffing my face. Lidless eyes emerged from the mist glancing at my grandmother then back at me.

"This one?" A cheerful voice chirped from within the smoke, part of it cupping my face.

"My granddaughter, Arinaitwe."

Another face poked through the smoke, soft tentacles reaching out to touch me, rippling through the fabric to place their wet residue on my skin.

"She's mine," the new face said, it's voice wet and thick like dark molasses."She tastes like my..."

"Waringa, you can't just claim whomever you like because they taste good," hissed someone I could not see. "She is not for eating."