I come to you in words, a whisper in the evening when the clouds hover to usher in the dusk.
The sun has not beheld your countenance for two days, and she knows even that is a century…so she shines upon me, summons me out of my hiding to reach out to you.
You once said, “I hate flowers, they’re beautiful one second and dry up the next. If I could find whoever invented vases I would slap some sense into him…they never keep the flowers fresh!”
“How sure are you that it’s a man?” I asked.
“Most of the stupid things we see are invented by men…trust me.”
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So, I pretended to do just that and watched you cloud your pain with anger. Your friends thought you were being a jerk and they called you out on it, until you simply shook your head and said “The old man is dying, prostrate cancer, stage four or something…he wants to see me.”
It was then that they knew.
I am a choice you made Stardust, but the men around you- Mark, Matto, Jim, George and Stano…are your family, the ones who know how much is too much for you, the ones who looked at you and told you to secure the bag when they met me. Yes, I know they pushed you to apologize…Stano can’t keep a secret where chapatis are involved!
It’s been two days Stardust and you are doing what you do best. You are walking into the dark void that’s your pain and no one’s invited, not even me.
There are some trips I can never make for you…and had I something akin to Ariadne’s thread I’d give it to you so you could find your way back to me…and even that would take a while.
You’ve got to want to come back.
You’ve got to want it all…the pain and the pleasure…until then Stardust, I hope my words reach you.
In the kingdom of Kale, long before the gods came to dwell among men, and the waters of the beautiful lake graced every home, there were those who knew what an abomination was. These were the men and women who could look into your eyes and behold the lives of your great grandchildren. No one was allowed to visit these men and women. If your farm was dying and your children wandering even then you could not visit them. They only answered the call of the gods and it is because of one of these gods that I am here today.
Her name, Lando, meaning the fair skinned one. She was the sun and the moon, an ever present beauty at dawn and dusk. Those who beheld her say that she had the eyes that could sink nations, drown fishermen and uproot trees. My people are known to pepper their words. No one has ever held up a picture to my face to prove these things and until then I will agree that she was simply a woman and to any man, a woman is a thing of beauty if he’s not lain beside her.
Lando was the first god to arrive in the kingdom of Kale. It was the season of the full moon where the fishermen prayed to the gods to help them catch some fish, if not a net full at least a handful so they could feed their families. They loved the sun and feared the moon. When the moon was in her full glory, all the fish would never come to the surface and the deeper they went into the lake, the less certain they were of making it back to the shore.
It was in one of such seasons, at the break of dawn when Lando appeared on the shore. The people say that they heard beautiful singing and when their ears led their legs they found themselves before this beauty whose skin glowed like the sun.
When she finished singing her song, she rose and her feet led the way to the King’s home. No one followed her that morning. Later in the evening, the King summoned the people and they feasted on the delicacies prepared by Lando as she sang into the night. For many harvests and seasons, the kingdom of Kale prospered until one evening when the skies could not help but lash out in anger and after the storm, walked in Dichol.
Whereas Lando was sunshine, Dichol was darkness. She was as dark as the night and those who picked a lump of soil from the earth claimed that even that was nothing compared to the god, Dichol. Dichol too upon arrival made her way to the King’s home and she was welcomed by the Queen. It is often said that the Queen had the heart of the Lake, wicked and wild, in everything she did. The people whisper their assumptions because rumor has it that wicked Queen’s spirit still roams the earth ready to strike down anyone who speaks ill of her. Now, they say that she was jealous of the attention the people of Kale were giving Lando and as such, she cried to the lake to send forth Lando’s rival to the land. The Lake being the mother of all souls, mortal and immortal, heard her cries and sent Dichol.
No one has ever described Dichol as they did with Lando and it pains me that they only referred to her as “dark night.”
Daughter of Dichol is a short story I submitted for the Afritondo Short Story Prize. So, since it didn’t make the cut, I thought why not share it here 🙂
I smile at how easy it is for you to liken me to seasons.
You smile, and it’s the best look you’ve had this year.
“Love, you are like Fall, you come once in a year and everyone looks forward to you, to seeing you, to being around you, because you radiate such light and love, I am jealous. How do you give your time to everyone and still have some left for yourself? Sometimes, well…most times, I feel like you slip through my fingers and settle right on my skin so I go everywhere with you…”
“You’re so cheesy…” I say and shrug. You are miles away from me.
Your voice is the home I know and now…now I miss home.
I tell you all about my travel experience and you laugh…you wish you were there to see my face and make fun of me, but you’re not…so we laugh some more.
“Hey, I’m not cheesy, you just make me say things that I never would.”
Every kingdom had a fool, someone to lift up the spirits of royalty, every kingdom except Enzi.
Enzi was the kingdom that bordered the great lake and it was surrounded by two kingdoms. Yajayo to the hand side of eating and Kiko to the side of curses. There were many more kingdoms however it is these two that come to mind when I am speaking to you.
Now, inasmuch as they did not have a fool, they did better, they had Chronicler.
I will try my very best to explain to you what role the Chronicler played, give a moment, let me light up these dry leaves and settle in my seat. It is dusk and the one I am waiting for is yet to announce her presence. I fear these times.
Call me Zuri, I am the only living Chronicler. In Enzi this position was only to be filled by women. As far as I can remember, my Great Grandmother was the first Chronicler and after that, she trained her daughter, who went on to train her daughter and in turn I was trained. Chroniclers never died in Enzi. They would instead accompany the King to the afterlife if it so happened that the ruler died before them.
As I speak to you, King Lua has been dead for three moons now. On the fifth moon, my people will bury me beside him covering me with soil as I chant praises of the dead king. It is the way of our people, taking and giving life as they please unaware of the wishes of our deity- Meichi.
Chroniclers are also the ones who are aware of the history of our people and having heard all the tales of Meichi and our people, I am yet to learn of when this deity ordered that Chroniclers be sent to the afterlife together with their King.
I don’t know what to make of these thoughts, that stir my mind, set it ablaze you’d say.
For a soul so unknown, you love fire, like the air you breathe.
It will be ten o’clock in fifty-eight minutes.
I’ve had a cup of tea for supper and you are probably watching National Geographic, stretched out like a big cat on that brown couch you have.
You’ve had a cigarette for supper, but you will fix yourself something to eat, because you know how to whip up a meal when you’re motivated, and nothing motivates you like hunger.
I keep talking to myself, my words bounce back to me, these four walls know more about my emotions than I do.
So, I’ll write you another letter before I go to bed tonight.
And it will be something like this, “Dear Stardust…silence.”
Look, I am not asking for much, it would be nice to sit down every evening and enjoy a cup of coffee with a beautiful soul.
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Is this too much to ask?
I know there are wars, chaos and other areas that you may be heeding their call right now, and that’s alright, please protect the children…for I know what it’s like trying to undo hate or a thirst for vengeance instilled in one as a child, it’s painful.
I was sitting here, sipping my coffee and watching the latest episode of Red Table Talk when I thought I’d reach out to you.
A warm heart, a gentle soul, one who is love…
I thought, what would it be like to enjoy a warm cup of coffee with a beautiful soul once in a while
Then I thought of the conversations I’ve had with friends, my Mom, my Sisters and a bit of warmth filled this empty house and suddenly, I heard you ask, “May I take your order please?”
It’s the first time we’ve faced each other and my heart’s on my sleeve, my soul frozen in a moment long gone. I do not want this. You can feel it, the tension, the angst, the shards of glass you’re standing on…yet you continue, like it’s a cigarette, once lit, it’s gotta be smoked.
You take a long drag. I fold my knees to my chest. It’s raining outside, the kettle stopped a while ago, I’ll probably spend another evening in the dark. You stretch your hand, try to grasp as many drops of rain…and then shake them off.
I do not want this.
“You are not here, Love. I know, but I had to see you. I know…no, I don’t, and truth is no matter how hard I try, I cannot shake it off. It’s like there is a part of me that is missing and when I couldn’t take it, I just got on the bus and came here. This is a nice cosy place you have.”
I do not want this.
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You shrug your shoulders and continue, “You remind me of Howard Roark. I never wanted to read that book, but you insisted, remember? I cannot shake how symmetrical the author described him, but it’s not just his sheer will or pursuit of his life, it’s how he refused to be conquered. You have refused to be conquered Love, and that scares me…it scares me how you can choose to remove yourself from a situation without a trace of emotion.
How you bleed but there is not one sign of your pain reflected to the world. See, to know you, I have to look for you in between the lines you post on your blog, how sick is that? Even then, I can never truly say that it is truly who you are, you choose which side to show and to whom and for how long…that scares me. So, yesterday, the guys and I were hanging out and Marto asks me, ‘what happened?’ and I couldn’t speak. I knew what to say ‘I messed up,’ but even those three words could not come out of my mouth. I want answers Love, but the questions are not yours to answer and yet I demand them from you, how selfish is that? How is it that I wound you but I am the one who never heals? Look, are you happy here? Have you met someone? Is he good to you? Are you happy? I just need to know, maybe then…I’ll stop going round in circles, killing my lungs hoping to smoke your existence away. I did not come here to give a speech…maybe if I wrote you all this, you would remember every word. Then…you always do, I may even read it on your blog, you are great with words, but greater with pain and I’ve caused you so much pain that in so doing I have wounded myself. I do not want this life Love. I guess, I am sick and tired of paying bills, watching everyone I know have someone to call their own while I let mine go. You don’t have to say anything…you shouldn’t.”
“The lights are back, can I make you some tea or coffee?” I ask…and you shake your head and as my feet touch the floor, I see it…glistening on your cheeks and I know it, because I have been there, not once, not twice, not thrice but seven times Stardust…seven because to count the eighth would be to admit that I let you choose the value you placed upon me.
I walk to the next room, turn the kettle on and stare outside the window. The neighbor’s brown cat saunters into her house, drenched.
I can hear you…and even though my soul is torn, my heart knows not to show mercy, I guess this is what it feels like to be broken.
What I can promise you is that you’ll never die, I guess like every good thing, you’ll live on in my words. You’ll find yourself in between lines on every post I write, because you’re on your way to healing and I will not interfere with your wholeness…for you’ve learned that when you wound the ones you love, you are not spared the pain…this is my testament of love.
Not at your wounded heart, neither your pleas nor touch would make me reconsider.
I refuse to travel back to the point where you wounded me.
Stardust, how is it that we orbit each other only to wound ourselves?
How is it that you who knows me all too well can break me when I am whole?
How is it that when I decide to leave, you draw me back?
I refuse to look back Stardust.
So, we stare at each other…I am seated directly opposite you and she is somewhere in the next room doing her best to locate her clothes.
I like her.
She’s got a warm body, beautiful smile and more so because just like me, she fell for your charms. The difference is that she let you trail your hands over her body…while I struggle to let you linger…a touch is like a prick, and you often say “these miles you’ve set between us will one day set us apart.”
I have asked her to stay. She’s not at fault. She’s as shocked and worried as you are, because she does not understand how you would drop her like hot coal for someone who is just a friend.
Stardust, you deserve the world. I lay it your feet. You win.
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How then is it that I ought to come to you as ‘yours’ when you relish everyone else? Oh, how the world is your buffet and us minions but snippets of delicacies that you may or may not relish.
I refuse to look back Stardust, so now we are at an impasse- my feet folded beneath me on this couch, my eyes, an ocean of hurt and your soul, gone…
I refuse to look back Stardust because I know in doing so, my heart may blossom at the moments you made it soar and it may just ask me to stay.
Do not ask me to stay.
Release me Stardust…I deserve the world, so curl your feet, let me pick it up and walk into the light.
It goes something like this, “once upon a time, years before the gods made man, there lived a being unlike no other. Her heart was the sun and her smile the moon. She shone brighter than every light known to the gods and in her presence there was glory.”
I know of a tale.
It goes something like this, “once upon a time, when man thought it wise to take another, he left his home and went to another being of beauty. Every day that he spent away from his home, his beloved’s heart grew cold. It grew so cold that when he’d lost everything he had; he came back to find a fortress around his home. He called a passer by and asked “who built this wall here?”
The passer by looked at him and shook his head, “don’t you know what happened? Some foolish man left his home for another and this wall right here is what remains of his wife’s heart. The poor woman died of a broken heart.”
I know of a tale.
It goes something like this, “once upon a time…”
I know of one tale right now, being of beauty, shine as bright as you can, dim the fear and doubts that try to cloud your light by saying ‘you are not good enough.’
You are a galaxy, being of beauty, in you are eons of splendor, own it!
nilichoandika 