Giants Big & Small
It sucks to be powerless… and hurts exponentially too. My vision has already blurred but the pain washes through me in waves like the most indescribable torture and all i can think of is my baby. My sweet Baraka. She still calls out ,even now, to our family but no one comes. They are afraid.
I may be dying but i hear their approach,those bastards… murderers… and i slip into unconsciousness once more, helpless to comfort my child’s cries. Assure her that she will live on and i won’t.
❂
Baraka was born at sunrise to an explosive welcome reverberating around us. The females surrounding us sang and laughed, their trunks raised as they thanked God for this blessing. “She’s beautiful!” “..look at her flap those ears..” “Oh! Already trying to walk. Patience just like her mother’s” “Akila, you have done well, the heaven’s be praised”...and so on. I must be glowing, honestly, i must. It feels like the sun rose in my heart. With some effort i stand and curl my trunk around her side, helping her totter forward. She stumbles but keeps on, looking up at me for approval. Her first trumpet is feeble, sweet and small. It is hope for me...for my herd.
❂
“We are majestic beasts, Baraka. Powerful and beautiful, a pride to this land. Never forget that.” “More than the lions? Or the leopards? What about the giraffes? They’re taller than we are.” She looks sincerely baffled by my declaration. “More than all the creatures of the savannah. Trust your Mama.” With a nod she rushes off to play with the other calves in the waterhole and i smile.
❂
We crash through the trees, shouts ringing behind us. There’s the obvious adrenaline of a dangerous chase. I just can’t see us living without a watermelon or two from the local farms close by. And the maize, ready to yield. The juicy fruit,mmm...the urge to turn back and brave the furious villagers for some more is near overwhelming. Immediately i shake off the absurd idea and stamp on.
For a moment sadness engulfs me. This is what our lives have come to. Stealing. Destroying. Where the villages grow, my childhood home once spread in an expanse of wild savanna. No more. We battle with those little creatures for survival. It isn’t our fault neither is it theirs. Sort of.
Fear of what the future holds for us is hazy but we can see where we stand in this battle. Sometimes i don’t understand. Like when they killed Baraka’s father for no reason other than to take his tusks.
Humans.
❂
There are times, a good handful, when there is peace. When we know not fear and only joy and happiness prevail. Times i wish were more permanent so Baraka wouldn’t experience the harsh reality of our existence. Wishful thinking but i know one day, one day the sun will rise and stay.
❂
Why are they raising my trunk? What more could they possibly want from me? They are slicing into my trunk now. This is not pain. This is hell. This is fire and ice, torturous shards spearing through me. They laugh and congratulate each other, their guns, machetes, my darling tusks held high.
With my last haggard breath i beg Baraka to run. Run and hide. Run and live on. Run but never forget, we are majestic beasts, powerful...beautiful..proud.
❂
Mama is gone. Dead. I’m afraid. I want to wake up now and stare into the star filled expanse of the night sky. Listen to the soft grunts and calm breathing of my herd as they sleep. Look at Kiara, our matriarch and see myself. Snuggle close to my mama and be safe. Thank God that it was just a terrifying stupid nightmare...but the whistling wind and my solitary footfalls as i escape the horrid scene but not the memory...it’s real.
I hate them.