"Now!...Go!...Hurry!" Words within my mind push me forward. "No...not here...higher...I must climb higher still...quick before its too late!" Dry, cracking soil crumbles beneath my feet, the sky begins to fade, and local villagers snicker at my haste pace at this hour of the day. "Owe!" I should have changed into covered-toe shoes like I had been advised, "but there was no time!" I justified.
The women of Mwanaminga were watching their husbands and children eat, hoping for a few leftovers to come their way. The children who had finished eating (or who had nothing to eat) were close to home but could be heard playing. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter. I hear the sound of little bare feet close behind me. The patters come closer, followed by giggling, then a few words hard to make out: "What your name?" Giggle...pitter, patter, pitter, patter. I reply with a smile, still trying to move quickly as the small voices behind me attempt to repeat my name and try to keep up. "Where you go?" I look behind to answer and I see a whole trail of little brown eyes moving their naked legs as quickly as possible. Calloused, bare feet, blazing thorns and prickly weeds as if they were nonexistent. I replied with the point of my finger towards the top of the hill. More snickers. I can't help but laugh with them as the race for daylight continues.
"Oh no, I missed it!" I arrived at the top and looked down upon the forming shadows of acatia trees and the deserted Rift Valley. The sound of a bouncing, water-filled jery-can and the master's whip trot away in the distance. Disappointed, I forgot for a moment the giggles surrounding me still. The flash of my camera caught the last of the setting sun. The push of a button confused my little audience for a short period of silence that was cut off by reaching hands and raised voices: "Me! Photo! Yes...yes! Photo!" Little hands and arms and loving embraces smothered my petty trouble.
I didn't get the picture I wanted that evening but I was given a better picture of something more important.
by the
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2 comments:
You have the power to take readers to places we have never been. You did not get your photograph that evening, but you have given us a priceless snapshot of life in Africa. I like the style and dialogue. I like the details, but what are "water-filled jery-can and the master's whip trot"? I would like more background. Why were you there? and so forth.
PS: Does "Owe!" mean "Ow!" or "Oh!", or have you created a combination of the two. Or does it mean, "I am going to pay for not heeding the advice to wear closed shoes"?
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