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African Violet- Chapter 1
The soft wails of new life floated across the dry plains. A worn out sun was setting in the distance. Replaced by a cool breeze that swept across baby and mother, Ayan. She held the new bundle in her arms, squinting through eyes covered with sweat and tears, momentarily savoring her joy. All dark memories pushed aside for tonight, for the next few hours at least. ‘Alhamdulilah, alhamdulilah, alhamdulilah’-(thank you God, thank you God, thank you God). It was all worth it. Ayan closed her eyes to rest for a second as the bundle in her arms squirmed and suckled. It was getting dark now, harder to be spotted between the bushes for a while. Maybe they were safe tonight on these dark sandy plains. The stars were barely visible, guided by some divine credence to keep them hidden, untouched. Unbeknownst to her, however, they were soon to be found.
She woke up startled and cold. Her hand instinctively reached for her belly. She looked around as she reached for her young one. It was the beginning of the month and a shy crescent moon lent its light to the dessert tonight. A good night to stay hidden. She had forgotten to cut the cord. Ilahayo nabadbadi! Oh lord please save us. She couldn't find her child. Wild eyed, dusty and bloody, she painfully raised herself from the ground to look for her precious newborn. Could a wild animal have snatched her in her sleep? Impossible! She would have heard it, and it wouldn’t have left her unharmed. At that precise moment, she felt a touch on her shoulder and heard another woman's whispers “she just got to sleep, shshshsh don't wake her, those faqash (soldiers) will hear”. Only then did she realize that amidst her sobs, she was reciting every prayer she knew out loud. “Who are you?” She snatched the sleeping bundle away from the strange woman. “Ina ayo?” (Whose daughter ?)
“I'm a haberjeclo, they call me fadumo dheere”. Said the tall lanky lady as she adjusted her garbasar around her shoulders. “You were in deep sleep when I passed and I heard her through the bushes. Thank God I came when I did because I cut the cord just in time. You both would have died otherwise.” Ayan was barely listening; she was inspecting the sleeping bundle in her arms. Everything seemed to be in order. In fact, she had also been wiped clean.
“I found a small well a close by and washed her up. We will need to move fast, someone's bound to find us here so near the water. Can you walk?” Fadumo was already on the go. She was scanning the dark terrain ahead for any signs of movement. Any predating enemies be they man or beast.
Ayan straightened the garbasar around her, folded her baby inside a pouch then gently laid her across her back. She tied a tight knot on her chest and quickly followed Fadumo who was already yards ahead. Where are you headed?” asked the tall lady without looking back. “ Hargaysa, maybe, what about you?" "I am headed to Lasanod, three days from here, my sister lives there. Why are you traveling alone?" Ayan asked quickly to deflect any future questions. Fadumo sighed as she picked a fat stick off the ground in front of her feet, thinking this would make a great walking stick. Her bones ache from all the walking. They kept walking silently for awhile, Ayan had almost forgotten that she had asked a question and was lost in deep thought when Fadumo quietly muttered “nima dhashay kuma dhalin/ The child you sired hasn't sired you.”
Ayan quickened her pace despite her fatigue and discomfort to be able to catch her story and listened intently as Fadumo, between cautious glances around them as they hiked the rough terrain, recited her ordeals in almost musical whispers. She told Ayan about her quiet life in Baidaba, and how she was graced by God by having nine boys and five girls. However, three of her precious boys passed away in infancy because of the fever. She tried everything back then, she even collected enough sheep to pay off a local sheikh (pious man) so that he would find the cause why her children where dying. At first, he told her to slaughter the fattest sheep they have and cook it then he would come and visit with his fellow clairvoyant peers and they will read the quran all night. They also needed an unemptying kettle of constantly hot spiced tea with milk along with a fresh batch of the best quality qat in the market. The expensive imported one, the one from Kenya. They were not a poor family, for her husband worked, he had a good job. A solid job. He was a small clerk in the local courthouse. He was paid enough to feed his family along with the constant flood of relatives and clansmen that always visited the house and stayed for weeks sometimes on months on end. In fact, they were so generous that Fadumo couldn’t recall the last time that only her and her family were alone in the house.as was the normal custom all around. Especially if you have a good reputation and are from good tribe or clan. In fact, it was one of her husband’s tribes women that recommended this particular sheikh. He cured Deka’s infertility, she was told. Deka was a young neighbour two streets down that was from her own tribe that she considered family. "I remember," Fadumo said, "I was there for the preparations." She added. Deka was married a full year with no children when he was called in and a similar halqa (piety circle) was arranged for her. She had five children ever since. In fact, she was still currently recovering from recently giving birth to her twins at home. Yes, Fadumo was hopeful, this sheikh will help her. They stayed up till dawn, chanting the quran between prayers and salams to the prophet. In the morning, he had told her that an evil eye was cast on her by an envious neighbor and that this evil eye befell on her sons. Girls were considered a burden. It was the number of sons that defined the wealth of a family. Fadumo had to protect the six boys that were left. Here, said the sheikh as he handed her a small blue pouch with a powder. You should sprinkle this over their food, only theirs to break the spell. Then he handed her six square folded papers. I’ve had written certain verses on these to keep away future evil. Put these under their heads when they’re going to sleep. So Fadumo thanked the old man and gave him a hundred shillings for his troubles and followed his instruction to the letter. They will not eat meat for a month now with all these expenses. But it was for something more important. Surely they wont mind the white rice lunches for the rest of the month. From tome t time, she still tried to get small pieces of meat and hide it in the boys' plates. The poor things need to grow big and strong. She never tired of trying to find the culprit responsible for giving her percious ones eye. Maybe Deka? She only has three sons now. Maybe she should stay away from her just in case. "Na kaltunay", she called her oldest daughter, fourteen, "did you beat the wheat properly for tomorrows lahooh (pancake)?".
"Yes hoyo."
"go make some shah for the boys, they will wake up soon.".
Everything seemed to be fine for a while till after the spring when Abdi and Warsame started to have uncontrollable loose stools. "We need to call the healer" they surmized. "They need to be cauterized."
So he was called and he marked their tummies with a red hot piece of metal.Above their screams, the healer kept saying, "yes this will release the poison, be men don’t cry. This was nothing. They should be given soft white rice for weak and black shah (tea). No milk or sour milk for them till it's all done."
They died two days later three hours apart. That summer, Kaltoon got married. Mandeeq second eldest, was soon to follow. But her wedding was postponed when Farah, the youngest fell out the window and broke his neck. Asha was cleaning the hallway when that happened. When Fadumo saw what happened to her sweet Farah, she picked a qaysaran (long slender stick) and attacked Asha till she could hit no more. Her baby was gone. She hugged the sobbing Asha till nightfall when her husband came to tell her that Farah’s been buried. She wouldn’t speak to Asha eversince.
The little bundle on Ayan’s back started to stir, it’s hungry cries where a little muffled by the cozy garbasar around it. Ayan carefully rotated the the pouch so that the baby was on her chest, pulled down the neckline on her diric and the warm bundle stopped fidgeting as it suckled. Ayan herself was feeling thirsty. Her dry mouth felt as if the desert dust has expanded inside it. She needed to rest too. The dizziness that started awhile back was beginning to get worse. She slowed down her pace even more. Fadumo looked back and paused as she scanned the rough path ahead. She knew they should try to cover as much foot area as possible in a moonless night like this so they could leave the habashi border well behind. The faqash were a real danger around these parts. They did not distinguish between a street girl or a big tribe girl. In their eyes, any Somali who was caught was good prey. They did not even care about age, they would rape a nine year old just as ferociously as a grown woman or even an elderly sixty year old. They had no morals. No deen. She thought grimly. However, she was now traveling with a new mother who gave birth only hours ago, she can’t just leave mother and child behind. They would be caught and tortured by the faqash then left for the wild beasts to feast on. No, Ayan was almost the same age as Asha from the looks of it. She will stay behind to help them. Just as someone might help out her Asha in her troubles.
There is a small hollow cave a little away from here if I remember correctly. We could stay there for the night. There is a birka (water reservoir) near by. I could get us water from there. Ayan looked gratefully at the older women as she tried to balance her child on her other breast while she speeded up her pace. She knew exactly how much danger Fadumo was exposing herself to by slowing down for their sake. She was overwhelmed by the whole situation. "May God bless you dear" she said just loud enough for Fadumo to hear.
It was a few hours into the next day when they reached the outskirts of the small town. Fadumo's tired frame turned to Ayan and asked the young mother, "is this where your husband is?"
Ayan’s face hardened and with a flat voice answered “My husband is dead.”
Published 25th Oct 2013
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