cirlces in ash

KUTEISA:

CIRCLES IN ASH
hillary kuteisa

Never hoard for the morrow,

Material wealth is mere dust of earth

It was late in the night. Men had already left the funeral vigil fire. There were only boys, sleeping on straw mats lain around the fire. Those nearer to the blaze writhed unconsciously, recoiling from the heat, while those farther away wriggled in their sleep to extend into the nearer warmer mass. It was a big fire, that. It was not to be put off soon, not until eight days after the burial. 

Apart from the low hum of women who sang from inside the house and the constant crackling of the fire, the night was silent. Kato was drawing circles in the ash with his big toe. We two were the only people awake around the fire. We had abandoned our bed in the house where we had tried to sleep. We were seated on a bench, near the fire.

“It’s a good fire, man.” Kato said.      

“It’s good.” I replied. 

We were scared, as if death itself lurked in the air around us. That was why we had left the house. We had failed to sleep.  However, it had mostly been the song which had haunted us, the song the women in the room where the dead body was were singing. Its sad monotone had troubled us. None of us had even spoken to the other. We had just lain close to each other, fidgeting restlessly in the bed.

Whenever I would be scared, I would not love to be talked to. Then I would ponder on my own fear secretly. In most cases, I would rehearse the multiplication tables in my head. Then my mind would be busy, I would forget my fear. However, I would also like company, but silent company. That is why I had strolled with Kato. He was not talkative. He had become chatty, though, when we had come to the fire. It appeared that he sought composure from his own fear by conversing. I could understand, but I too was scared. I just did not want to be talked to.

“Man, it’s a big fire.” He said.

“I thought you said that before.”

“No man, Previously, I said it’s a good fire.”

I did not speak. I wished so much that he could understand that I did not want him to talk to me. After some time, he spoke again.

“Man, I saw the dead body today.”

“But can’t you be just silent!” I shouted, having become unable to sustain his interruption any longer, “The next time you speak, I will walk away.” 

I saw his face flush in anguish. I felt pitiful. I did not wish tot speak to him, however. He moved away from me on the bench and continued to move his big toe in the ash involuntarily, drawing circles. I did not want to look at him. I did not want to look anywhere either; I did not want to see anything, yet I also did not want to close my eyes. I only wanted to look at the fire, at the flames dancing lazily upon the crackling logs of eucalyptus. Whenever I would look anywhere else or close my eyes, I would see apparitions of the dead body in the house.  I tried to concentrate and by and by, I caught up with the multiplication tables. Soon Kato moved nearer again, however.

  “Man,” he said, “But why do they sing that song?” 

I did not say anything, But I too wished so much that the women could stop singing. Their wailing was like the sound of death itself. 

“It’s a bad song, Man.” He said, yet again.

I was angry. I had just started to catch up with the multiplication tables in my head!  I did not know what to do.

“Please do not talk to me again, okay?” I said.

After a few seconds, however, he spoke.

“No Man, I am so scared!” 

I could not sustain his interruption any longer. I believed that I was even more scared than he was. Could not he understand? The world seemed inhabited by unseen mystic presences. Leaving him on the bench alone, I followed the pathway that led towards the road and branched off into the garden. It was dark, but calm. I found a clear spot where I could not hear the dreadful song and settled there. I was better off in the darkness and coldness of the garden, than in the warmth of the fireside when the hum of that song still rang in my ears, with Kato constantly interrupting me. I would be more peaceful there, provided I rehearsed my multiplication tables without interruption. Thus I settled in the dark and only focused on the tables in my head. I looked back to the fire only once. I saw him still seated on the bench, head in hands. Probably he even was still drawing the circles in the ash…

For long, I was preoccupied by the tables. I was peaceful. Then suddenly, a gusty wind blew from the direction of the house, and flung the dismal song into my ears again. The sound was so vivid. It flushed the multiplications out of my head.  A dreadful snake wriggled down my spine. I looked all around me, but all I could see were apparitions of the dead body coming haphazardly towards me. I was very scared. Suddenly, I wanted Kato to be with me. I wanted to hear him speak—to hear him say, ‘it’s a good fire, man!’ I rushed to the fire, panting, calling to him, but I did not see him anywhere. I looked in all directions but he was nowhere. He had gone! I moved around the house calling to him, but I could not see him anywhere. The words of the song were ringing like hammers in my head. When I could not find him, I sat on the bench and tried to concentrate on the tables again. The song ran persistently in my head, however, that not even when I pressed fingers hard on my ears could I stop it.  I could still hear its dire monotone in my brain. It was a grim song, a death song:

‘Omanyire ng’omuzigu Rufu ataayayiir’eka?

Otabiikira nyensya,

Ebyensi byoona n’omucuucu.’

‘Have you known tyrant death visited the house?

Never hoard for the morrow,

Material wealth is mere dust of earth…’

Upon the bench, I sat restlessly, regarding the circles Kato had drawn in the dust. They were restless circles. They seemed to cling to each other seeking comfort. Unconsciously, my own big toe twitched, and drew more restless circles in the ash.

Hillary Kuteisa