The Interlude #WattysShorts

Chapter 4

There were twelve of us, a pack of boys and girls between the ages of eight and twelve. Christine and I were the youngest. The boys cut the banana tree trunks and the girls cleared the path. We formed teams in pairs. Prosper chose me as his partner. The girls settled first on the trunk and then the boys pushed it and climbed on it along the way.

From the top, I marvelled at the well-kept vegetable gardens in the valley and the beautiful sorghum and maize fields with their ears rippling in the wind. As we descended, fresh air beat our temples, raised a few swirls of scarlet dust, and we felt as light as feathers. Everything was beautiful, all shades of green spread as far as the eye could see.

I was having the time of my life. I complained when we had to go up the slope with the trunk and lamented when I had to get the sap out of my shorts without tearing them. I hated it all and at the same time I had a feeling of freedom like no other. In the city, I was always cloistered behind a large gate and high walls; in the campaign, I discovered vast spaces, the air mixed with dust, smoke and the delicious smell of eucalyptus. Mami Wata lived again out of the water.

After a while we started to get hungry and decided to help ourselves to the surrounding area. Down below there was a nice corn field with ripe cobs. We invaded the field.

The boys were on the lookout and the girls were harvesting the cobs as fast as they could. I stayed behind with the boys so as not to slow them down. A man jumped from the house next door and chased us. We laughed and made grimaces at him. He shouted insults and cursed us.

I intervened just as he was about to catch up with us. I stood in front of him with my legs spread apart, my mouth ajar, waving my hair all over the place. He let go of the big stick with which he was threatening us and went back home, frightened as if he had seen the devil. He was terrified of my braids. They congratulated me for my feat by whistling and applauding. I was their saviour but our loot was not enough to satisfy our hunger.

Prosper decided that now we had to tackle a sweet potato field. We left one field cultivated by a widow and then another, owned by an elderly and poor woman, but the third field was the right one. It belonged to the only bar owner in the village. Apparently, my companions hated all his children who were haughty and pretentious towards everyone. We went on a raid. His wife chased us screaming but at the sight of me she reacted like the first owner.

In the end, we still needed a few more avocados to eat with the sweet potatoes. Christine was the expert. We had overtaken three avocado trees because at a glance she judged that the fruit wasn't ripe enough. At the last one, she gave us the green light. One of the boys climbed up the tree to pick them.

We sat under the tree. The boys dug a hole and put the sweet potatoes in it. They lit a fire above it and covered it with soil. The girls set up three stones with branches to toast the maize. We shared everything. Each person would bite into an avocado and then swallow it with a piece of sweet potato. Everything was delicious: the yellow and sweet avocados inside, the tender and slightly sweet corn kernels, the soft and melting sweet potato flesh in the mouth. It was a real feast for us.

We ate it in silence, listening to birds singing, the wind in the trees, the cheerful laughter of a young girl in the distance. What serenity! When the meal was over, we had to hurry home. As we had come a long way from the village, we ran down the hill. I came down with my arms outstretched, roaring my nickname: "Mamiiii Wataaaa" which echoed in the distant hills. We collected in the clearing our water warmed by the sun which was falling down very quickly, going from yellow to orange before we reached the valley. I was hobbling around, suffering martyrdom, having lost one of my sandals. As I was still slowing them down, the oldest boy in the group, Christophe, offered to carry me on his back which allowed me to hurry.

When I arrived in front of my aunt's house, everyone said goodbye and hugged me, wanting to take away some of my protection forever. Prosper smiled, embarrassed to have fooled them with this goddess story. 

He stayed away with his arms outstretched and held out his hand to me as he left. 

"One day I'll come to see you in town and you'll be my wife"

My mother was waiting for me worried. I got a resounding slap. My clothes were dirty and torn. My buttocks were exposed, I had only one sandal, and traces of avocado juice, banana juice and mud stained my yellow shirt. Dirty and happy, I was. At least for one day, I had been entertained. I didn't care what he reproached me with. Christine and I were more interested in the good smell of the meat sauce that flowed from the kitchen. My cousin danced under her mother's beatings, celebrating her aunt's visit. Before dinner, my mother polished us with hot water and rubbed us vigorously under the fire of anger. I quickly stuffed myself with food and ran off to rest. That night, I dreamt I was flying over the hill. I touched the treetops, the corn and sorghum flowers, the clouds. I landed and flew away at will.

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What can I say? Simple life with simple things. I was happy in that summer. No more restrictions. To be able to run in dust, climb mountain and laugh was really a good thing. The war in the city prevented people from going out and we were locked behind the walls.

Yes, I like to fly. I dream to be a bird and to be able to fly by myself. To travel all over the world. 

How did you like this chapter? I hope you enjoyed it. 

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