A reminder from Part 9

Quote
Lois put her plate on the rock next to her and turned to face him. "Romaric had an older brother called Rufin," she said. "Rufin had the sort of upbeat personality that made everyone around him feel good. But he was small and sickly, right from when he was a young child."

Rufin was dead, Clark realised. He searched Lois's face for signs of grief, but found only a wispy film of sadness.

"The Bangala have a custom they call the 'mobembo'," she said, "which as far as I can figure means the 'journey'. A man can decide he wants to make a mobembo before embarking on a major change in his life - before getting married or as a means of marking the end of his childhood and the beginning of adulthood."

"It is something only men do?"

"It's usually men. However, there is nothing to stop a woman if she wanted to make a mobembo. Just as there is nothing to compel a man to do it."

"What does it involve?"

"Basically, it involves leaving Bangala land," Lois said. "Which is a huge thing for them. They really do see the world as two distinct entities - Bangala land and non-Bangala land. They know every inch of the former and almost nothing of the latter. When a man makes a mobembo, he ventures into the unknown. He stays away for three days, facing all the dangers of unfamiliar territory by himself."

"Then he returns?"

"Assuming he survives and doesn't get lost, yes." Lois shuffled forward on the rock, moving closer to Clark. "I don't think you can possibly realise how daunting this is for the Bangala," she said. "For them, entering the world outside evokes similar feelings to migrants leaving their homes and moving to a new and unknown country. Or astronauts venturing into the vastness of space. But the Bangala do it alone, which is contrary to every other significant life experience."

"Is that what happened to Rufin?" Clark asked. "He went on a journey and didn't return?"

"Yes," Lois said. "He had never made a mobembo before, but with impending fatherhood, he felt he wanted to go."

"Do you know for sure that he died?" Perhaps there was hope. Perhaps he would return.

"Yes. Romaric went against Matymbou's counsel and left Bangala land in search of his brother. He found his body."

"I'm sorry," Clark said. "Do you know how Rufin died?"

"Not exactly. Sylva believes his heart was weak. Perhaps he suffered a heart attack. Perhaps he became prey for animals. Perhaps he fell and suffered fatal injuries."

"That would have been a traumatic time for Romaric," Clark said. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a brother. To lose a brother would be heartbreaking.

Lois nodded, her eyes glimmering with tears. "Yes. He wrapped up Rufin's body and brought him home to be buried."
From Part 28 ...

It was as if a cloak of silence had fallen over the village as the news of Rolle's labour spread through the Bangala people. In the carpentry hut, Clyde demonstrated the skills of carving, using only occasional softly spoken words as explanation.

"You … now?" he said, handing Clark a chunk of wood and a small chisel.

"Thanks," Clark whispered.

Clyde continued with his carving, his skilful hands creating the image with breath-taking clarity.

Clark positioned his piece of wood in the brace and awaited inspiration.

What was happening in Rolle's hut? Was the labour progressing well? Or were there already worrying developments?

How was Lois feeling?

Was Sylva there to help her?

How long had Rolle been in labour? Would the baby be born today?

He wished he could go to Lois, to see her, just for a moment. To hold her. To tell her he had the utmost confidence in her abilities.

The memories of last night still seeped through his heart like a river of melted chocolate. Lois had said she loved him. She'd known 'Kent' had been a cover, but she hadn't been offended by his evasiveness.

An image formed in his mind - an image of something he could make for Lois. Hoping his abilities would be enough to do justice to his idea, he began gently whittling away in the corner of his wood.

As he worked, Clark discovered he was listening for the footsteps that would bring news. Or the sound of a baby's cry.

The footsteps came late in the afternoon, but it wasn't the light twinkling steps of Lioli; it was the slow measured steps of Romaric. He greeted Clyde and continued on to Clark. "You will come to my hut for dinner?" he asked.

"Ah … yes," Clark said. "Thank you."

"Diddi will show you where." Romaric turned and walked out.


Part 29

After washing away the grime and sawdust from his day spent working with wood, Clark emerged from the amenities hut and looked for Diddi.

The unnatural pall of noiselessness hovered over the village as if all were holding their collective breaths in anticipation of the arrival of Rolle's baby. Only a few people could be seen outside their huts; there was no chatter, no quick or unnecessary movements. Life had stalled.

Clark's thoughts had been with Lois all day. Mentally, he'd reached out to her a thousand times, hoping she would feel the essence of his support.

"Kent?"

He turned at Diddi's lowered voice.

"Romaric said to come and get you," Diddi said. "We're eating in his hut tonight."

"Thanks, Diddi. I wasn't sure where to go."

"Come on. I'll show you."

Diddi led Clark past Lois's empty hut and towards a dwelling situated ten yards closer to the boundary fence. As they approached, a delicious aroma burrowed into Clark's stomach, reminding him that it was several hours since he had eaten.

"Enter," Romaric said, looking up from the low table where he was setting out plates and cups. "Sit down. We will eat."

Diddi parked his truck next to one squat wooden seat, and Clark took the other. Romaric ladled thick stew from the large pot in the centre of the table and handed them a bowl each.

"Hog tagine," Romaric said. "It is hot."

Steam was rising from Clark's bowl, but he sensed that wasn't Romaric's meaning. "Did you make it?" he asked, trying to infuse appreciation into his tone.

"Yes. I cook differently from Gislane. She cooks as Matymbou likes. I cook for me." Romaric pushed a cup and a pitcher of water towards Clark.

"Thanks," Clark said. He dug his spoon into the liquid and raised it to his nose. It was an intense combination of competing aromas.

"Try it," Diddi said. "I love Romaric's food."

Clark slid the spoon into his mouth, and the fiery liquid spread over his tongue. The sensation of heat abated quickly, leaving a delicious and fulsome taste. "Wow," he said. "That's good."

"Told you," Diddi said. He handed Clark a large piece of flat bread. "Dunk it in your tagine," he said. "Maman doesn't like me dunking much, but Romaric doesn't mind."

Clark dipped the bread into the stew and took it to his mouth. A bit dripped off, landing on Clark's leg.

Diddi laughed quietly. "Romaric doesn't mind mess, either."

Clark looked at Romaric; their eyes met, and Clark saw friendship there. Acceptance, too. "Thank you," he said.

Romaric nodded. "I believe an American would say, 'You're welcome'."

Their shared laughter hummed through the hushed atmosphere.

The three males spoke little as they ate, devouring large quantities of bread soaked in the spicy tagine. Even Diddi's usual chatter was subdued, although Clark wasn't sure if that was out of respect for the food or Rolle's labour.

When the men had finished eating, Romaric asked Clark if he would like tea.

"Yes," Clark replied. "Thank you."

"The water pot is getting hot on the fire."

"Can I go and play with Zephyrin when I'm done here?" Diddi asked. "We've just discovered a new planet and we need to go and 'splore it."

Romaric considered for a moment. "In Gislane's hut?" he asked.

"Yes. It's a long way from Rolle's hut. And we invented quieteners for our rockets, so there won't be any noise. I promise."

"OK," Romaric said. "But go past Nlandu's hut so you won't disrupt Rolle. And don't say anything until you're in the hut. If I hear any noise, I'll come and get you and you'll have to go to bed."

Diddi nodded. "Do you think the baby will come tonight?" he asked.

"I don't know," Romaric said.

"It can't be much longer," Diddi said.

"It can be a long time," Romaric said. "The baby might not be born until tomorrow."

Diddi's mouth fell open with surprise. "Tomorrow? Babies can take a whole day to come?"

"Yes."

"Saasita's baby only took one afternoon."

"It was Saasita's third baby. This is Rolle's first."

"How's it going to get out?" Diddi asked. "Is Maman going to cut it out?"

Romaric shot Clark a plea for help.

"Ah … no," Clark provided.

"Then how's it going to get out?" Diddi asked.

"Women are different from men," Clark said.

"I know that," Diddi said.

Romaric cleared his throat. "They have …"

"They have what?" Diddi said.

"They have parts," Clark said. "Woman parts."

Diddi cupped his hands in front of his chest. "You mean like these things?"

"Ah … yes," Romaric said, shuffling in his seat.

"Babies drink from them," Diddi said knowingly.

"Yes," Clark said.

"But how does it get out?"

Romaric stacked the empty bowls. "Perhaps you should ask your maman," he said.

"Don't you know how Rolle's baby will get out?" Diddi said.

"I'm not a medicine man," Romaric said.

Diddi swung his attention to Clark. "Do you know, Kent?"

"Ah … yes. I know," Clark said. He heard Romaric's sharp intake of breath, but continued anyway. "Women have a … a tube … a large tube … from where the baby is to the outside of her body."

Diddi's face puckered in an effort to understand. "Like a hole?"

"Yes," Romaric said, sounding relieved.

"I've never seen a hole on a woman," Diddi said.

"That's because it's covered by their clothes," Clark said.

Diddi's mouth formed a circle. "And the baby comes out from there?"

"Yes."

"Why doesn't it fall out?"

"The hole is usually closed," Clark said. "It only opens when the baby is ready to be born."

"Why does it take so long?"

"Because it's a big job," Romaric said.

Seeing Diddi's questioning look, Clark added, "And it can't be hurried."

Diddi rose from the seat. "Can I sleep in Zephyrin's hut?"

"No," Romaric answered. "You and Zephyrin are to come back and sleep here."

"OK." Diddi picked up his truck and moved quietly away.

Clark and Romaric shared a look of two who had escaped from the jaws of great tribulation. "Well done," Romaric said. "I didn't know what to say."

"Me, either," Clark admitted. "I've never had a kid ask me those sorts of questions before."

"I was worried he would move on from how the baby gets out to how it gets in," Romaric said with a deep chuckle. "Then we would have been in much trouble, my friend."

Clark grinned as he ate the last portion of bread. "I think I would have said nothing and left it to you."

"I would have told him to ask Lois," Romaric said. "That is a maman's task. Not mine."

Romaric went outside the hut and brought in a pan of steaming water to make tea. After it had brewed for a few minutes, he poured Clark a cup and handed it to him.

Clark inhaled, not recognising the slightly pungent aroma. "What is it?"

"Men's tea."

"Men's tea?"

"It's a mix Sylva makes. She gives it to all the men."

Clark sniffed suspiciously.

Romaric's muted laughter whirred through the air. "She gives it to all men, not just the married ones."

"Oh," Clark said, feeling his face heat.

"I've been drinking it for years," Romaric said. "It helps build strong muscle. His eyes slid down Clark's body. "Perhaps you had it in your old tribe."

"Ahh …"

"You look strong … fit …"

"Yeah," Clark said guardedly.

"I know Clyde wants to make you a wood worker, but have you thought about hunting?"

"With you?"

"My father was the chief Bangala hunter. I went hunting with him from being young. My brother …" There was a pause as Romaric stared at the ground. "My brother wasn't able to hunt. So now, there's just me."

Lois had said that Romaric's brother had died. "Do you need help?" Clark asked.

"I like to hunt alone. I like …" Romaric lifted his right arm as if poised to throw. "Man and spear against the animal." His arm dropped. "But if I died, the people would be hungry."

"There's no one else who hunts?"

"There are three groups of two. Each brothers. They hunt close to the village … river animals, fish, birds."

"Do they hunt with you? For larger animals?"

"Not much. They hunt in two, a group. I hunt, just me."

"You think I could hunt with you?" Clark asked, surprise infiltrating his question.

"I … I feel something about you." Romaric placed his cup on the table and clenched two fists, knocking them together. "Friends." He looked up with a wry grin. "Despite Lois."

"You love her?"

"Yes. But she does not love me. I know that."

"She cares about you. She told me what a wonderful friend you have been to her."

Romaric reached across the table to refill Clark's cup. "Would you think about hunting with me?"

"I'm not sure …"

"Are you not comfortable killing animals?"

"No. No, it's not that. I was raised on a farm."

"A farm?"

"Where people grow food and keep animals. For food," he added in explanation.

Romaric chuckled. "Do you worry that I'll feed your white carcass to the hungry African lions?"

"No," Clark said hurriedly. Then, he joined in Romaric's quiet laughter. "Would you?" he challenged.

"No. I will face any animal, but I am not enough brave to face Lois if I have let her man get hurt."

"I'm not … I'm not her man."

Romaric's gaze lingered for a moment. "As soon as we hear news of the baby, I will go and hunt," he said. "We will have a marriage feast for Matymbou and Gislane. We hope it will be a double celebration."

"The feast is for their laka-marriage?"

"No. They want to commit for life. It will be a bomoi-marriage."

"They have been together a short time," Clark said carefully.

"Some laka-marriages only last a few hours," Romaric said. "Others last for years. The bomoi celebration would have been this evening, except we cannot celebrate while Rolle is bringing her child into the world.

"I noticed the village is very quiet. Is that to help Rolle?"

"The old traditions say that a child might be scared by loud noise and shrink back. We stay quiet so mother and baby know we are thinking in welcome."

"That's nice."

Romaric grinned. "And it's easier to hear the first cry of the baby if everyone else is quiet."

"It's more than quiet," Clark said. "I sense tension. As if everyone is anxious."

"We are anxious," Romaric said. "Only young children will sleep tonight. Everyone is praying that Rolle and her baby will be safe. But when we hear news, there will be much joy and celebration, even if the baby is born during the night. There will be singing and dancing. And people will bring food from their huts, and we will share."

"That sounds wonderful," Clark said.

"New life is wonderful," Romaric said. "It means the Bangala live on."

~|^|~

Darkness fell heavily on the village, accentuating the eerie sense of time being held in suspension. The silence from within the boundary fence allowed the nocturnal birds and animals to take centre stage, and their noises and movement dominated the soundscape.

After they'd finished their tea, Clark made a move to leave, standing and thanking Romaric for his hospitality. Romaric invited him to stay, saying he wouldn't be going to bed until he heard news of Rolle and her baby.

Sometime later, Diddi and Zephyrin wandered back into the hut and collapsed onto mattresses at the back. Clark thought Lois would have told her son to wash up if she'd been here, but he said nothing, figuring the details of routine could be disregarded tonight.

The boys slept. Romaric made more tea.

The silence dragged on. After a few hours, restlessness crept through Clark's body. "Is it all right if I go for a walk?" he asked.

"It is best that you don't leave the village," Romaric said.

"I won't."

"Bangala tradition says that the child will be blessed in life if all of the village is there to greet him or her."

Apparently, that included Clark. "I'll be quiet," he promised. "And I won't leave the village."

Romaric nodded.

Clark stood and went from the hut.

A few fires flickered in the darkness and lights glimmered in the doorways of most huts. The stillness felt like a giant blanket squeezing around the village, suffocating him. Clark stretched, rubbing his arms and expanding his lungs with a breath of smoke-tinged night air. He tried to focus his hearing, wondering if he would be able to pick up anything from Rolle's hut … perhaps Lois's voice as she encouraged her patient.

He heard nothing, so, moving stealthily, he headed to Lois's hut, succumbing to his irresistible need to bond with her. He entered her empty hut and stood there, his mind and heart filling with memories of her.

If only he could do something to help her.

A footstep fell softly behind him, and he swung around.

Lois was there, her cheeks pale, her eyes red, her posture withered with exhaustion and despair.

She ran forward and lunged into his arms, clinging to him.

Clark held her close, fitting her against his body, his hand cupping her head.

He had questions - lots of them - but for now, nothing was as important as holding her.

After a few minutes, she sighed. Fearing the answer, he asked tentatively, "Is Rolle all right?"

Lois eased away a few inches and looked up at him. "She's tired. She's in a lot of pain. The baby isn't in a good position, and progress is very slow. Sylva's with her. She told me to take a break."

Clark didn't know how to enquire if the situation was potentially fatal or would just delay the birth. Then, he realised he didn't need to ask. He could feel the trepidation oozing through her veins.

He slid his palms down the silkiness of her hair, stopping at the curve of her shoulders as he looked down into her face. "You are a wonderful medicine woman," he said. "Rolle is lucky you're here."

Her head fell forward, resting on his chin.

"I wish I could do something," Clark said. "I feel so useless."

"I needed you," she said. "I just wanted to be with you for a few minutes. Hold me close?" She sank back into his chest.

Clark tightened his arms and kissed the top of her head. "You and Rolle can do this."

"It's going to be a long night. I worry that when the time comes, they will both be too exhausted. When I go back in there, Rolle has to see that I believe. I have to give her hope. But my hope is almost gone."

Clark searched his mind for words that would strengthen her hope. "Lois," he said. "I should have died. I wanted to die. The only reason I'm here now is that an incredibly stubborn medicine woman refused to allow me to slip away. You can be that lifeline for Rolle. Just like you were for me."

"You have such strength," she mumbled from where she was huddled against his chest. "That's why you didn't die."

"Then draw on my strength now. Take it however you can, and use it to give Rolle the hope and belief she needs."

Lois snuggled closer. Clark closed his eyes and concentrated on surrounding her with his support. His strength.

His love.

A few minutes later, she slipped out from his embrace and looked up at him. "I have to go back," she said. "Would you stay here tonight? In my hut? Sleep in my bed?"

He wouldn't sleep, but Clark replied, "Sure. I'll be right here."

"I want to know where you are. I want to be able to come to you when …"

Her words trailed away.

Clark brushed the tip of his thumb along the curve of her cheek. "I'll be here for you."

Some of the fear faded from her eyes, and she stepped away.

"Take my strength," Clark said. "And my love."

Lois smiled. She lifted her hand in farewell, and then she left him to return to battlefield where death hovered.

~|^|~

The night was one of the longest Clark had ever endured.

The first rays of the new day came a long time after he had first looked to the eastern sky in expectation of dawn.

He hadn't seen Lois again. There had been no news from Rolle's hut. No shout of celebration. No wail of grief.

He could only imagine how Lois must be feeling. His lack of sleep had left him feeling drained. Lois must be exhausted from both the physical and emotional toll.

The fire in front of her door had burned down. He added a few thin sticks from the pile and prodded it back to life, noticing that others were doing the same.

He made tea, wanting to be prepared if Lois came.

He drank a cup of tea. And another. But Lois didn't come.

Clyde appeared at the door, beckoning him to follow.

Clark followed him to the carpentry hut, and without saying a word, they picked up their wood and chisels from the previous day and continued their silent endeavours.

Clark whittled away the wood, fashioning the image that had formed in his mind. Sliver after sliver of wood fell to the bench, each marking another eon of time in the quagmire of waiting.

Ines brought lunch, but no news. Clyde asked a question; she shook her head.

Clark ate, tasting nothing, every thought, every beat of his heart centred on Lois.

If she lost Rolle or the baby …

Clark couldn't bring himself to think beyond the fog of fear. Lois was relying on him to be her hope. Her strength.

The sun had dipped behind the trees, casting the first shadows across the village, and Clark was wondering how Lois was going to cope with another sleepless night, when Lioli sprinted quietly into the hut.

Clyde placed his chisel on the bench and went to meet her.

She said a few words in Bangala. Clark couldn't glean meaning from either her facial expression or her tone.

Turning to him, Lioli said, "Kent, my father has been called to Rolle's hut."

"What does that mean?" Clark asked.

"Either life has begun," she said. "Or it has ended."

She touched his arm and then ran from the hut to continue carrying her message through the Bangala people.