The singing grew louder and one voice in particular was slowly making its way up our front steps. “Oh, no,” Mum sighed.
I turned from sharing out supper to see the door burst open and Papa stagger in.
"You’ve been at the whisky again, haven’t you?” she placed her mending down and stood up. “Boys, help your father to bed.”
My brothers set their books aside and rose to their feet.
“No, I need to sit,” Papa said, stumbling forward. Omar grasped him around the waist as Nolen reached for a stool.
“Put him in the rocker instead,” Mum said, shaking her head.
He sat down clumsily, leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. Mum narrowed her eyes and stood over him hesitatingly. Then, she knelt at his feet and placed her hand on his knee. “It’s alright, dear, after some food and a long sleep, you’ll be good as new in the morning.”
“Oh, my love…” he said into his hands, “I have bad news.”
The spoon fell from my hands and hit the floor. No, Papa, no…please, no bad news.
A wave of silence washed over the room.
I motioned for Hana to keep Sulyn and Mia occupied, as Omar and Nolen also knelt around Papa, the fear noticeable on their faces.
“What is it, dear?” Mum whispered.
He looked into her eyes as a tear trickled down his haggard, brown cheek. “I…I lost… my place… in the mines,” he stammered.
“What?”
“They told me not to return to work…they said I wasn’t meeting my quota, that I wasn’t moving quickly enough?” His voice went up into a question, as if the decision had caught him by surprise.
Mum raised her apron to her mouth as he continued shakily, “I told them that I…I just needed to get over this cough…that I’d be back good as new, but…”
“After all your years there, they wouldn’t even…?” Her voice began to crack.
“No, they wouldn’t.” Reaching for her hands, he cupped them inside his. “But I’m only down for a little while, my love. They’ll take me back, I’m one of their best workers. I’ve been there all my life…they’ll take me back.”
“And if they don’t?”
“I’ll find other work,” he said, trying to sound convincing.
“What do we do until then…how do we live?” Omar asked. “Mum’s wages are nowhere near enough?”
Mum turned away, trying to prevent the terror growing inside her heart from showing on her face. My brothers and I stared at each other, at the floor and into the fire. Not a word was spoken as we slowly digested the situation facing us.
Papa rocked, his poor face contorted with worry. Omar paced the floor, pushing his hands back and forth through his hair; Nolen slumped against a wall, his arms folded as he gazed at the floor, while Mum remained at Papa’s feet, wringing her hands. Meanwhile, I tore at the loose flesh around my stubby fingernails and waited for someone to speak.
Papa burst into heavy sobbing, thrusting his arms upwards. “God!!” he appealed. “How much longer…how much longer do we have to suffer?”
My heart began to pound; I’d never seen a man cry before, certainly not my own father, and it frightened me. Mum and the boys immediately placed a firm grip somewhere on his body…an arm, a knee, a shoulder…anything to let him know that he wasn’t alone.
Everyone was crying…everyone but me; I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t move; I could only watch the scene that was unfolding in front of me. None of this seemed real. What’s happening to us?
***
His eyes veered towards the horizon. “Do you see the mountain in the distance?”
“Oh, Papa,” I confessed, my eyes turning toward it. “I see nothing else. I feel tied to it somehow. I have these strange thoughts about it…these dreams…”
“What kind of dreams?”
“Dreams that I have some kind of power that comes from there…I don’t understand what they are or why...”
“I do.” He took my hand within his and took a deep breath. “Did you know that about three hundred years ago, our people lived on that mountain?”
I turned to him and cocked my head to one side.
“Yes,” he reiterated. “The mountain of Maurainia was our home.”
“Our…?”
“Yes. It’s name was Mlima Mungu…God’s mountain.”
***
…never lose hope, little bud. On occasion, a merchant has singled out young men with promise, and apprenticed them. And as I said, a few of us have become merchants and found a way out of these filthy slums. That’s what your Mum and I are hoping and praying for…that’s why your brothers sneak off to school every day, to learn as much as they can. Maybe a local merchant will apprentice them, and maybe then we can lift ourselves from this misery…and the boys will avoid a life in the mines.”
“But,” I gazed at him through my thick lashes. “That might never happen!”
“That’s why we must have hope…and strength. The monarchy has exploited and oppressed us, and many spirits have been broken. I’ll admit that we’ve adopted bad habits, just to cope…I certainly have. When you tell people they’re inferior over and over, generation after generation…they believe it.”
I shook my head and looked sadly at the dry earth under my feet.
“But, as I live and breathe, it will not happen to my sons, and it will not happen to my daughters!” He wrapped his long, rough fingers tightly around my slender hand, making a fist. “Never envy anyone else, my daughter, never wish to be anyone else…and never let anyone make you feel bad because of the color of your skin.”
I paused. “Do you have any hope left, Papa?”
“It’s too late for me…”
“Don’t say that!” I pleaded.
“No, no…I mean, I do have hope…hope for you and your brothers and sisters. You come from a proud people. You must all be strong, and pave the way for the next generation, and the next, and hopefully we’ll move closer to our goal. We can’t dwell on the past…we can only strive towards the future…and we will not be subservient forever!” With that, he began to cough loudly and turned his head to spit.
“You’re very sick …aren’t you, Papa?” I asked softly.
“We’re not here to talk about me…I told you that.”
I nodded silently.
“We’re a great people, Jade. It’s not in our nature to destroy others. We’ve just been beaten down for a long time, but someday we’ll rise again. Probably not in my lifetime, but maybe in yours. Somehow, someday, we’ll rise above this injustice and our greatness will be proven again.”
“Do you really believe that, Papa?”
“Yes, I do, and you must too, because…” he stopped to clear his throat.
“Alright, I believe you, but let’s go back inside…it’s too cold for you out here.”
“Wait,” he insisted. “There’s one more thing I want to tell you. You know Miss Ramla, don’t you?”
“The old healer?”
“Yes. She scares me.”
“No, don’t be afraid of Miss Ramla. She’s a prophetess.”
“Someone who foretells the future?”
“That’s right. And when I was a young man and wanted to marry your mother, I went to see her. We sat and talked awhile, and when I finished my tea, she read the leaves that were left on the bottom of my cup.”
“Really?” I asked amusedly. “What did they say?”
“When she looked at them…I remember so well. She opened her mouth, clasped her hands together and stared at me with…it seemed to be a combination of emotions…thankfulness, disbelief…”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Papa.”
“I know…I didn’t understand it either.”
“Well? Tell me!”
“She spoke of an ancient prophecy handed down from our ancestors. It foretold that one among us would someday lead us into a new life and right the wrongs done for so long. It said all that was stolen from us would be returned,” Papa stroked his chin pensively. “But, the most interesting part of it was…the leaves said that person would come from my line.”
“What?”
“I know…I laughed when I heard it, too.” He began to chuckle hoarsely. “But now I see what your brother Omar’s doing and, I started to believe…”
“What is he doing?”
“You’ll see. He’s charting an important course, but that’s all I’m going to say for now. Just know that I see in him the strength to be that person…and he’s off to a good start.”
***
“Is your father in pain?”
“Yes, Miss Ramla,” I finally spoke up. “And Mum’s crying all the time…she can’t sleep…she’s just so tired.”
“What can I do for you?” she asked compassionately.
“Well…to begin with, can you tell us what’s wrong with him?” Omar asked.
She stopped rocking and put her tea down. “It’s his lungs…men who work in the mines often come down with this illness. Their lungs become saturated with coal particles, get inflamed, then diseased. His body’s trying to shed the blood and mucous that’s built up, but his lungs are very damaged. The ointment I gave your mother will help, but as you can see, only for short time.”
“And then?”
“Then, he’ll get worse…I’m sorry. It’s just a matter of time before he won’t be able to breathe. When it becomes unbearable or whenever he’s ready, I’ll give him something else to send him peacefully on his way.”
“Oh no!” I gasped. Omar and I exchanged solemn glances and sat silently, absorbing the weight of what we’d just heard.
Finally, he broke the silence. “Are…are you saying there’s no hope?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“I’m sorry.” Miss Ramla stood, sighed deeply, and moved to her window.
“But,” Omar placed his mug down and followed her. “The night you came, well…Jade thought you told Mum there was something else we could do, something else that could help him?”
Miss Ramla returned to her chair and leaned forward, her voice dropping just above a whisper. Our ears perked up and we leaned toward her also, focused on every word.
“There’s an herb…a miracle herb, known as the folium vitae…”
“Leaf of life?” Omar asked.
“Yes. If the leaves of this herb are boiled into a tea, it’ll ease the inflammation and regenerate your father’s lungs to normal function.”
“What? But, then why…?” I interrupted.
“Let me finish, dear.”
“The herb grows in only one place…” she paused, “…the forest on the mountain. It’s highly prized, but because it’s owned by the monarchy, we are forbidden from getting any. The story of this herb was told from generation to generation among our people. But, after they stole our mountain, the monarchy denied its existence, and their ploy worked. Over the years, many of us came to believe that it was all just myth and ancient folklore. You know our history, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, the Mlima Mungu was and still is, a sacred place. And it’s not just the folium vitae, but other plants grow there and only there…plants that are natural medicines and cures for any illness, but listen to me carefully, both of you. Picking just one leaf of this herb would be considered stealing.”
“And that would mean committing a crime,” Omar lamented.
“Yes, a crime against the monarchy.”
“But, what would happen?” I asked innocently.
“I can’t say for certain what would happen, but I imagine you’d be severely punished. Let me say this again…it is forbidden.”
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I turned from sharing out supper to see the door burst open and Papa stagger in.
"You’ve been at the whisky again, haven’t you?” she placed her mending down and stood up. “Boys, help your father to bed.”
My brothers set their books aside and rose to their feet.
“No, I need to sit,” Papa said, stumbling forward. Omar grasped him around the waist as Nolen reached for a stool.
“Put him in the rocker instead,” Mum said, shaking her head.
He sat down clumsily, leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. Mum narrowed her eyes and stood over him hesitatingly. Then, she knelt at his feet and placed her hand on his knee. “It’s alright, dear, after some food and a long sleep, you’ll be good as new in the morning.”
“Oh, my love…” he said into his hands, “I have bad news.”
The spoon fell from my hands and hit the floor. No, Papa, no…please, no bad news.
A wave of silence washed over the room.
I motioned for Hana to keep Sulyn and Mia occupied, as Omar and Nolen also knelt around Papa, the fear noticeable on their faces.
“What is it, dear?” Mum whispered.
He looked into her eyes as a tear trickled down his haggard, brown cheek. “I…I lost… my place… in the mines,” he stammered.
“What?”
“They told me not to return to work…they said I wasn’t meeting my quota, that I wasn’t moving quickly enough?” His voice went up into a question, as if the decision had caught him by surprise.
Mum raised her apron to her mouth as he continued shakily, “I told them that I…I just needed to get over this cough…that I’d be back good as new, but…”
“After all your years there, they wouldn’t even…?” Her voice began to crack.
“No, they wouldn’t.” Reaching for her hands, he cupped them inside his. “But I’m only down for a little while, my love. They’ll take me back, I’m one of their best workers. I’ve been there all my life…they’ll take me back.”
“And if they don’t?”
“I’ll find other work,” he said, trying to sound convincing.
“What do we do until then…how do we live?” Omar asked. “Mum’s wages are nowhere near enough?”
Mum turned away, trying to prevent the terror growing inside her heart from showing on her face. My brothers and I stared at each other, at the floor and into the fire. Not a word was spoken as we slowly digested the situation facing us.
Papa rocked, his poor face contorted with worry. Omar paced the floor, pushing his hands back and forth through his hair; Nolen slumped against a wall, his arms folded as he gazed at the floor, while Mum remained at Papa’s feet, wringing her hands. Meanwhile, I tore at the loose flesh around my stubby fingernails and waited for someone to speak.
Papa burst into heavy sobbing, thrusting his arms upwards. “God!!” he appealed. “How much longer…how much longer do we have to suffer?”
My heart began to pound; I’d never seen a man cry before, certainly not my own father, and it frightened me. Mum and the boys immediately placed a firm grip somewhere on his body…an arm, a knee, a shoulder…anything to let him know that he wasn’t alone.
Everyone was crying…everyone but me; I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t move; I could only watch the scene that was unfolding in front of me. None of this seemed real. What’s happening to us?
***
His eyes veered towards the horizon. “Do you see the mountain in the distance?”
“Oh, Papa,” I confessed, my eyes turning toward it. “I see nothing else. I feel tied to it somehow. I have these strange thoughts about it…these dreams…”
“What kind of dreams?”
“Dreams that I have some kind of power that comes from there…I don’t understand what they are or why...”
“I do.” He took my hand within his and took a deep breath. “Did you know that about three hundred years ago, our people lived on that mountain?”
I turned to him and cocked my head to one side.
“Yes,” he reiterated. “The mountain of Maurainia was our home.”
“Our…?”
“Yes. It’s name was Mlima Mungu…God’s mountain.”
***
…never lose hope, little bud. On occasion, a merchant has singled out young men with promise, and apprenticed them. And as I said, a few of us have become merchants and found a way out of these filthy slums. That’s what your Mum and I are hoping and praying for…that’s why your brothers sneak off to school every day, to learn as much as they can. Maybe a local merchant will apprentice them, and maybe then we can lift ourselves from this misery…and the boys will avoid a life in the mines.”
“But,” I gazed at him through my thick lashes. “That might never happen!”
“That’s why we must have hope…and strength. The monarchy has exploited and oppressed us, and many spirits have been broken. I’ll admit that we’ve adopted bad habits, just to cope…I certainly have. When you tell people they’re inferior over and over, generation after generation…they believe it.”
I shook my head and looked sadly at the dry earth under my feet.
“But, as I live and breathe, it will not happen to my sons, and it will not happen to my daughters!” He wrapped his long, rough fingers tightly around my slender hand, making a fist. “Never envy anyone else, my daughter, never wish to be anyone else…and never let anyone make you feel bad because of the color of your skin.”
I paused. “Do you have any hope left, Papa?”
“It’s too late for me…”
“Don’t say that!” I pleaded.
“No, no…I mean, I do have hope…hope for you and your brothers and sisters. You come from a proud people. You must all be strong, and pave the way for the next generation, and the next, and hopefully we’ll move closer to our goal. We can’t dwell on the past…we can only strive towards the future…and we will not be subservient forever!” With that, he began to cough loudly and turned his head to spit.
“You’re very sick …aren’t you, Papa?” I asked softly.
“We’re not here to talk about me…I told you that.”
I nodded silently.
“We’re a great people, Jade. It’s not in our nature to destroy others. We’ve just been beaten down for a long time, but someday we’ll rise again. Probably not in my lifetime, but maybe in yours. Somehow, someday, we’ll rise above this injustice and our greatness will be proven again.”
“Do you really believe that, Papa?”
“Yes, I do, and you must too, because…” he stopped to clear his throat.
“Alright, I believe you, but let’s go back inside…it’s too cold for you out here.”
“Wait,” he insisted. “There’s one more thing I want to tell you. You know Miss Ramla, don’t you?”
“The old healer?”
“Yes. She scares me.”
“No, don’t be afraid of Miss Ramla. She’s a prophetess.”
“Someone who foretells the future?”
“That’s right. And when I was a young man and wanted to marry your mother, I went to see her. We sat and talked awhile, and when I finished my tea, she read the leaves that were left on the bottom of my cup.”
“Really?” I asked amusedly. “What did they say?”
“When she looked at them…I remember so well. She opened her mouth, clasped her hands together and stared at me with…it seemed to be a combination of emotions…thankfulness, disbelief…”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Papa.”
“I know…I didn’t understand it either.”
“Well? Tell me!”
“She spoke of an ancient prophecy handed down from our ancestors. It foretold that one among us would someday lead us into a new life and right the wrongs done for so long. It said all that was stolen from us would be returned,” Papa stroked his chin pensively. “But, the most interesting part of it was…the leaves said that person would come from my line.”
“What?”
“I know…I laughed when I heard it, too.” He began to chuckle hoarsely. “But now I see what your brother Omar’s doing and, I started to believe…”
“What is he doing?”
“You’ll see. He’s charting an important course, but that’s all I’m going to say for now. Just know that I see in him the strength to be that person…and he’s off to a good start.”
***
“Is your father in pain?”
“Yes, Miss Ramla,” I finally spoke up. “And Mum’s crying all the time…she can’t sleep…she’s just so tired.”
“What can I do for you?” she asked compassionately.
“Well…to begin with, can you tell us what’s wrong with him?” Omar asked.
She stopped rocking and put her tea down. “It’s his lungs…men who work in the mines often come down with this illness. Their lungs become saturated with coal particles, get inflamed, then diseased. His body’s trying to shed the blood and mucous that’s built up, but his lungs are very damaged. The ointment I gave your mother will help, but as you can see, only for short time.”
“And then?”
“Then, he’ll get worse…I’m sorry. It’s just a matter of time before he won’t be able to breathe. When it becomes unbearable or whenever he’s ready, I’ll give him something else to send him peacefully on his way.”
“Oh no!” I gasped. Omar and I exchanged solemn glances and sat silently, absorbing the weight of what we’d just heard.
Finally, he broke the silence. “Are…are you saying there’s no hope?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“I’m sorry.” Miss Ramla stood, sighed deeply, and moved to her window.
“But,” Omar placed his mug down and followed her. “The night you came, well…Jade thought you told Mum there was something else we could do, something else that could help him?”
Miss Ramla returned to her chair and leaned forward, her voice dropping just above a whisper. Our ears perked up and we leaned toward her also, focused on every word.
“There’s an herb…a miracle herb, known as the folium vitae…”
“Leaf of life?” Omar asked.
“Yes. If the leaves of this herb are boiled into a tea, it’ll ease the inflammation and regenerate your father’s lungs to normal function.”
“What? But, then why…?” I interrupted.
“Let me finish, dear.”
“The herb grows in only one place…” she paused, “…the forest on the mountain. It’s highly prized, but because it’s owned by the monarchy, we are forbidden from getting any. The story of this herb was told from generation to generation among our people. But, after they stole our mountain, the monarchy denied its existence, and their ploy worked. Over the years, many of us came to believe that it was all just myth and ancient folklore. You know our history, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, the Mlima Mungu was and still is, a sacred place. And it’s not just the folium vitae, but other plants grow there and only there…plants that are natural medicines and cures for any illness, but listen to me carefully, both of you. Picking just one leaf of this herb would be considered stealing.”
“And that would mean committing a crime,” Omar lamented.
“Yes, a crime against the monarchy.”
“But, what would happen?” I asked innocently.
“I can’t say for certain what would happen, but I imagine you’d be severely punished. Let me say this again…it is forbidden.”
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