Anima by Kapka Kassabova

Author:Kapka Kassabova [Kassabova, Kapka]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Graywolf Press
Published: 2024-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

LANGUAGES

While I eat porridge and Sásho smokes by the stove, we listen to the morning radio. It is only day three but it feels like we have been here a week.

In the lower world, it’s over 40 degrees, there are wildfires and citizens are advised to wear white clothes and avoid going out. The war in Ukraine scorches the earth and the soul. He turns off the radio.

‘Dearest, the world has gone insane,’ he says.

‘We just have to make sure we don’t,’ I say.

‘We’ll be fine, we have each other,’ he says. ‘And Muna, eh Monkey.’

Muna is keeping a low profile under the bed and also digging up the earth that I sweep away from the floor stones several times a day.

Mornings are cold. Our valley remains in shadow long after the sun rises behind Thunder Peak, striking a golden tuning fork for the rest of the day. A dirty white glacier in the shape of an angel sits in a dip above our valley, like a coat of arms. Every morning, the world is brand new and brilliant. The rock faces are turned towards us like spectators. Did someone say something?

Beeereee – in the pen.

Van-van-van says Balkán. Out-out-out.

‘Balkán, it’s always out-out with you,’ Sásho quips, ‘you never say in-in.’

Balkán looks at him, indignant: I’m a guardian, not a party host!

Every morning, Sásho opens the pen gate and talks to the animals.

‘Come on Breadie, I’ve got a treat for you.’

‘You’re a piece of shit, you are,’ to the aggressive ram who attacks the competition, causing havoc in the pen.

‘Kasho, why the long face today?’

‘Get lost Muno, you’re spoilt.’

‘Come on Mouse,’ to the orphaned lamb.

‘Oh, is that her majesty the Model!’

‘Hard to get you out, hard to bring you back, you’re a pain in the ass, all of you.’

‘Topi, I see you, keep away from the food sacks.’

‘Hey, 1365, stop eating the dog food!’

One-three-six-five has taken to jumping out of the pen, trotting in front of the hut and then to the small clearing with the dog troughs. They were nicely carved out from trunks by Kámen.

Every morning, we check who’s here and who’s not. The foal is with Mimi, at the far end of the valley: good. Our sheep that joined the other flock has returned on her own, but now enters the porch, breathing heavily: bad. ‘She doesn’t know what planet she’s on,’ Sásho says.

Every other day, we do a count. The only time to do this with so many animals is when they return to the pen in the evening. I stand by the gate and count the key individuals that tell us if the rest are here too: sheep with bells, nine. White ones, five. The first ones: present. The last ones like the one with the split ear and the lamb: present. The middle ones like Breadie: present. 4328 is missing, just as we feared.

Gra-gra. Crows circle, a bad sign. Let’s hope it’s one of their sheep that’s dead, not ours. The crows attract wolves and wolves are the second worst news after illness in the flock.

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