Without Faith by Leslie J. Sherrod

Author:Leslie J. Sherrod [Sherrod, Leslie J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2013-08-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

The flames crackled and danced around in the outdoor hearth like the ceremony we had witnessed only hours earlier. Some of the villagers had broken into spontaneous dance to celebrate Kisu’s visit—Kisu, RiChard, and me. We were there to tender the fires of revolution. Apartheid had recently ended and RiChard had convinced us we could help ensure Kisu’s home village in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa shared in the most basic of human rights being promised to all. Kisu had not been back home since leaving for his university training in London.

I’d met Kisu’s fiancé, Mbali, only once, that night of our arrival. As the oldest woman in her bustling household, she rarely seemed to stand still, was constantly at work out of view. I barely remembered her. What I did remember was that first night she came out to greet me by the fire. Sensing my discomfort at sharing plates with total strangers as part of their communal meal, she flashed me a wide smile and gave me my own plate, piled high with cabbage, yams, and corn meal porridge, or phutu, instead of the kidneys, lungs, and brains, or offal, of some livestock that had been slaughtered for the celebration.

She’d spent a short time at the London university with Kisu, so was not offended by my Western bias. In the crackle of flames, she giggled with me as I discreetly passed along the gourd filled with utshwala, or Zulu beer, without drinking from it. A lot of mouths had been on that single gourd.

Mbali, whose name meant “flower,” had a smile and a spirit that rivaled the majestic mountains that surrounded their village. I remembered feeling slightly jealous of her beauty, her will, and strength.

“The fire is alive, so it makes our traditions alive. We are nourished and fed by the foods that we prepare and share together. Come, taste, Sister Sienna. Life taste good, does it not?” She laughed and we all joined in, the men and I, as I bravely sampled amazi, or curdled milk, and took a bite of cow’s head off of RiChard’s plate.

I did not see her again, not even the night Kisu did not return, the night RiChard returned with blood on his hands, fighting, defending what he called justice. Avenging the tragedy of Kisu’s murder; a murder, RiChard claimed, that was done by some who did not appreciate their message of revolution. Kisu’s mother trembled at the news that her only son was not returning. His father had been eerily solemn and still as he gave RiChard Kisu’s ring as a gift for his action of reciprocal vengeance. Someone said Mbali had locked herself in her home, refusing to let anyone witness her grief.

But RiChard had apparently lied.

Kisu was still alive.

I wondered what other lies he’d told me, told the world.

I woke up startled, a downpour of sweat making my clothes stick to my skin, hot like I was still standing in front of Mbali’s living fire. I did not remember getting into my bed and hiding under the covers.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.