AUGIE'S CORNER (work in progress)

Friday, May 3, 2013

I haven't forgotten you!

No, I haven't forgotten you. I've been super busy. But, that's not a good excuse. Here's something that might tie you over. I'm working on non-fiction/fiction and the interweaving of culture. Let me know your reaction. 



Waters of Shubu

I live here now in the Americas. This was not a place that I wanted to come to. I had never heard of such a place. Where I lived there was freedom and peace, the bush. I was never concerned about what others thought or how was I to find food. I did not have to rely on anyone. There was always Buku (father) and MaMaa. They’d never let any harm come to me. And I never worried about growing up.
One day while seeking the wild boar, I witnessed the shadow of a huge monster in the waters of Shubu. Of course I knew of water movers, but nothing like this. I did not know colors at the time for everything was hectomecata—that is all the same, but different. Not many of the tribe of my father visited the waters as I. It took many days to get to the waters of Shubu, but I was fortunate (at least I believed). I was a girl who was forbidden to leave the region of the huts, but I believed in independence.
I come from a family of royalty. My mother was Princess Uknabu and my father was Prince Dukmatu. They did not know each other before they married. It was the custom. Father (Buku) was from a neighboring shore of Tamakuta and MaMaa was from the Island of Mishatu. They were young when they wed and became lovers and then friends. MaMaa was beautiful (many say I grow as she). She was the choicest of all Mishatu. She lived not as free as the others. She had to learn the ways of the people who one day she was to lead as ‘mother of all’ (so shall I someday). Buku was wise for someone so young. He was aged in knowledge and young in spirit.
Grandfathers’ Bukulati and Anaka made a bargain some years ago. Their children would marry once they were of age. Bukulati’s son reached the age of manhood at the age of seventeen and the girl considered woman at thirteen, this was Mamaa.
Their love was admired by all and from that union I, Budumatu was born. I was a maiden to the district of the land of my huts, of the tribe of my father. I was not to hunt, but I did. I was not to fish, but I did near the jungle and I caught mighty fish when near the waters of Shubu and I killed many wild boars with spear. This is where my story began and my life ended.
Many years later when I was unable to sleep, a delicate whiff of MaMaa’s essence horded my memories of white mink and pink ice fragrance of Protera Susera flowery sweetness. It filled my sensory that I was able to dream dreamless nights. MaMaa came into my bed and wrapped her massive arms and huge breast about my head and whispered sweet soothing words of peace. I held onto those memories all of the life I lived.
A ship of white sails blew in the breeze from the Land of Gibraltar. I had no idea what that meant. It landed on the shores with many men who did not look like Buku or the men of our village—their skin was as the sails and they carried a heavy load upon their backs.
I watched from the bush as they made camp and settled in. The fires blazed and the smell of Wild Boar steamed through the air. My nostrils flamed as my stomach growled. I wanted the taste of this wonderful fragrance that I never experienced before. I edged my way close to the men, they could not see me.
The day had become dark and I blended into the night. The flames rose and hissed as the fat of the Wild Boar dripped its succulent essence onto the coals. I looked into its face and it grinned at me (I had no idea Boars laughed). I crept closer to the aromatic intoxicated Nubian of the flesh as it turned into a crispy brown. I shuddered and picked my way closer. No one saw me. I felt as though I needed to run forward and grab a handful before I was detected. But I was caught.
I yelled and fought with all of my might. But there was no use. I looked at Orion with his three stars of light and I felt the waning of my energy subside. I was as the Boar, no longer wild, never to be as it or I was before. No starry nights. No moon filled sky, only black.
The hands of the men searched my ever space. I never felt such sensation. I was afraid. The pungent aroma from the burnt flesh filled my nares with clogged snot. I could not cry, no tears came, only fear. Nothingness was all that I saw, the blank faces and grasping organs captured the innocence of my womanhood.
The hole was deep and the space was minimal. I could barely breathe. There were others like me, but I did not understand. We wailed and cursed the gods above as we sailed to a new found home, which it would never be.
Puke, urine and bile filled my nostrils unlike the freedom I smelled when the Wild Boar smiled. Boils broke out on the flesh. Women, children as I, men and animals resided here—it was not as Noah’s Ark. This was my new found home. I struggled and twisted, but the chains lay heavy on my flesh. Blood gushed from many and so did death. I was alone. My home no longer existed.