Trouble Tomorrow by Terry Whitebeach & Sarafino Wani Enadio

Author:Terry Whitebeach & Sarafino Wani Enadio
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2016-12-21T05:00:00+00:00

16

‘OBULEJO!’ SOMEONE IS calling his name.

He spins round, ready to fight, but sees three young Ma’di men beckoning to him. They are going into the bush, they tell him, to collect firewood and look for food. He is welcome to come with them if he wishes.

Limp with relief, Obulejo agrees. He could sell firewood and thus fill his empty belly.

Then his relief turns to doubt.

‘Do you have permission to leave the camp?’

The young men laugh uproariously.

‘Do you have permission to starve?’ they counter.

Obulejo hangs his head. He is still the same good law-abiding boy at heart, in spite of the crimes he has perpetrated, and he knows both the UNHCR and the chairman of the Ma’di sector have forbidden people to go beyond the camp’s perimeters.

‘But it’s dangerous out there!’ he protests.

The native people collect firewood and bring it on horseback to sell in the camp. They are quick to attack people venturing out to collect wood for themselves. Many have been killed.

The young men show Obulejo the bows and arrows they have concealed in their clothes.

‘We can protect you with these,’ they tell him.

This assurance and Obulejo’s growling stomach decide the matter for him.

As they approach the thornbush perimeter fence, an elder stops them, concern written clearly on his face.

‘Where are you boys going?’

The boys cross their legs, mimicking an urgent need to relieve themselves.

‘To help ourselves.’

‘Airport.’

Obulejo knows that the area surrounding the camp where people go to relieve themselves has been dubbed ‘airport’ because it is so flat and open. People go in families or groups, to ‘help themselves’, squatting to gain what little privacy they can, while others stand guard.

The elder nods. ‘Be careful. Make sure you stay together.’

Once outside the fence, Obulejo and his new friends search for wood, glancing around them constantly. They also look for edible leaves and roots.

‘What about making snares?’ Obulejo suggests. ‘We might get a bird.’

The others are keen. They search for cow hairs to plait into a loop. In his old life, now a fast-fading dream, Obulejo’s skills were considered excellent. His older brothers taught him well. It is time to see if he still has the knack.

He ties the first snare with a small length of nylon thread he has in his pocket. For the next, he uses the cattle hairs. One of the boys offers a few scraps of maize, which Obulejo places inside the loops. From behind a tree, he watches and waits silently, till an unsuspecting wood dove stretches its beak towards the grain. In the blink of an eye it is trapped. Success!

The bird that approaches his second snare is more wary. It snatches the grain and escapes before the snare can do its work. Obulejo reloads the snare and waits an agonisingly long time before catching a second dove.

The boys are jubilant.

‘Make sure we save some of our firewood, so we can grill the birds when we get back,’ one boy says.

‘If we make it back,’ another of the hunters laughs.

‘So far so good,’ the third boy adds.

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