The Art of Killing You

Sins of our Mother. Words lost from wonder.

He was by the board, painting what I couldn't see. Maybe it could be a picture of a dark day above sea. But If his brush was crooked, it'd be a painting of me.

"I heard this story once", I began. "When I younger..."

"It's an African tale, about a woman who couldn't have children. So, one day she went to see this witch that lived alone isolated on the mountains. She told the witch of all her problems and why she wanted a little someone to sing lullabies to as the moon rose. The witch told her she couldn't give her what she wanted. She said, all it would bring would be pain for both the woman and the child she would have".

Ian stopped painting and was looking at me with eyes full of attention. It shouldn't have, but it made me feel a type of way. But through those eyes, I saw a man alone... a man at war. A ghost.

I continued, "The witch said that if the woman wanted a child of her own to love, she would have to give up someone she loved equally or more. The woman had no family, only a husband and no one else apart from him. There was nothing else in the world to love as much as she did her husband. So she did it, she herbed her husband to sleep and while he was unconscious, she dragged him to the mountain were the witch was".

This was one of my favorite stories as a child. While the others were out obsessing over Snow-white and Prince Charming, I was in the dark contemplating about the poetry and irony behind it.

"She lay his unconscious body on the witch's door. The witch dragged her husband into her house and on her floor. From there, in front of the woman, the witch cut open his chest and removed his heart. Blood trickled as it was beating, she poured the blood of the beating heart into a pot of clay and gave the clay to the woman. Then the witch said, with this clay, you will mold a child. From that child, you will know betrayal like your husband has".

A broken soul, a whole mess I was. I told this story as a certain excitement arose. I couldn't wait get to the end so I could feel fulfilled. I wanted to breathe this tale of sorrow and what betrayal decreed.

"From the clay, the woman made a child and life magically came into her. The witch gave her conditions that since this was a child made from river clay, she wasn't ever supposed to get socked in the rain or she would dump up and become a puddle and that would be the end of her. The child was named Kamudoti meaning one made from clay and she grew up without ever feeling a single drop of rainfall on her. She would always watch as the other kids got to play and be lonely in the rain. She could always see the rainbow as that last bit of rain poured and she would wonder why the other kids didn't try to reach for it. She would wonder why something so beautiful would be left to fade away untouched as the sun went back into hiding".

I personally didn't judge her for wondering. I blamed the other kids for lucking imagination.

"To make sure she was home, her mom made a song for her".

kamudotiweh, kamudotiweh...

taba nvula

kamudotiweh, kamudotiweh...

taba nvula

To which she would sing along in reply to signal she was indoors and away from the rain,

"Amama, naluta mwana wanu...

taba nvula

chimutu, chumutu kwati Jeliyah"

"Every time, she would sing the song and the daughter would sing back and the woman would be so relieved to know her child was safe and away from the rain".

The phrase 'taba nvula' would mean 'escape the rain'. So every time it rained, the mother would call her daughter's name and beg her to run from the rain. And the daughter would reply with 'Amama, naluta mwana wanu. Chimutu kwati Jeliyah'.

This was just "mother, I, your child am away from the rain. I have a head like that Jeliyah". That was the woman's dead husband's name. She had put it in her song to always remind her of her betrayal and that it would come for her any second.

"But all wasn't well", I continued. "Kamudoti had seen enough of the beauties of the rainbow and wanted to touch it. It so happened that her mother had gone to the stream one day and she saw the dark clouds begin to the gather. She knew it was going to rain and she thought that if she hurried fast enough to were the horizon was, she would find the rainbow by the time the rain was over. But then she remembered her mother telling her not to ever go out in the rain".

"Quite childishly, she did not heed. She thought of everything that could go wrong and decided the thrill in reaching for the rainbow outweighed whatever bad that the rain held. Before the rain began she had raced deep into the mountains looking for high ground. Once she was at the edge, the rain began to pour".

Pain, only pain was all this tale knew from here on out. But I didn't care, I was in love with contemplating sorrow and all it was about.

"She didn't see the rainbow. All she saw was every bit of her disintegrate as the rain drops hugged her skin. She watched as life escaped her and all she was turned to wet dust. She dreaded, alone in the rain. All in pain, she faded. Till finally before her eyes closed, she saw the rainbow and one last tear hit the ground splattering to infinite sparks of heartache."

"Her mother went home and didn't find her. She tried singing her song but there was no reply. She tried, and tried and cried. She went through the forest singing the song, feeling alone, missing her home, and the daughter that always graced her return. She went to the mountain, and found a small hill of clay and knew it was her daughter. She held on to the dirt in her palm and screamed at the moon. She cried, till the witch appeared. The witch said, if you want your daughter. Reach for the rainbow, and then went".

Ian wasn't fazed, he just looked at me like he had heard much sadder stories.

"The rain stopped and the woman stood at the edge of the hill. She looked far below and saw the rainbow. She was told her daughter was somewhere in those shimmering bands of color. And so, she jumped".

"While falling, she had known how insane it was to search for her daughter in the rainbow. She knew this was her end and didn't want it any other way. She had nothing to love, and nothing to live for. She hit the rocks on bottom and... that was the end of her".

Ian then asked after I spoke the last word, "This story is the greatest Art piece to you?"

I didn't say, "The woman had a man who loved her, but she betrayed him for something she wanted more. In return, her daughter chose the rainbow over her. The woman couldn't live with herself and so, she betrayed herself. Ending her life to find her daughter".

I had spoken these words barely when I felt a cold breeze. The blood in my veins stopped and my heart did freeze. An air of loneliness made me feel alone. I looked by the board were he was and realized he was gone.