Shushing the whispers: Sunday mid-day

They gave me a mango which they had stuffed in their pockets before our abrupt fleet. When they gave me the mango, I realized that I was actually quite hungry. We each enjoyed a mango and got our hands nice and sticky with the juice.

I started to look around just to examine the potential for finding more food. In our tiny maize field, there were indeed some mature ears, given that it was harvest season. Also, the tree above us looked to hold some small guava-type fruits. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to seem over-excited or to be wrong about the fruits, but I felt confident that we weren’t going to starve…not today anyways! After all, we were in a large mosaic of agricultural fields and fallows, and this was war! Who could withhold from us an ear of maize if we desperately needed it? Or some papaya?

Somewhat satiated, I laid down to rest at mid-day as we had woken up at dawn with the shooting. Crispin and Baraka did also and we all dozed for a little while. I’m not sure how much I actually slept or if I just kind of spaced out. Lying on my back, I would look straight up into the trees, and just think. Then I’d peek at my companions and see that Baraka and Crispin were doing the same thing. We were all dwelling on our current situation and had no desire to really discuss it. We were just thinking.

To distract himself, Baraka started to read some of the Watchtower reading material that he had stuffed in his pockets along with the mangoes before we fled. Crispin allowed him to read for only a few minutes before asking also to read. Then he became ultra-concentrated on the reading and it seemed like he read for an hour straight, totally consumed with Isaiah or whichever prophet had the fortune to be in forced exile with us. Meanwhile, not having any reading material, nor being too interested in stealing WatchTower from a locked-in Crispin, I continued to space out, but also got up to stretch my legs, and Baraka and I got to chatting a little bit. We asked ourselves how we could have gotten into this situation. And how would we get ourselves out? These were questions which we would ask ourselves every few minutes throughout the entire ordeal. Baraka shared my despair but was also resolute that we would get out soon. I agreed and wanted to believe it, but I didn’t know what risks we’d still have to take to get out.

After a little while, Crispin and Baraka got up and chatted. They held a long conversation about the article which Crispin had been reading. Crispin was in the mood of philosophizing, and practically preached to Baraka or posed him question after question about the article which he had just read intently. I tried to listen to them sometimes, catching some of what they were saying but let my mind wander off to do my own philosophizing, but it didn’t really come. All I wanted to do was get out of there, but I knew that was the last thing that I could do. It was not the first time where I would have to exercise patience despite it not coming at all naturally.

Crispin has kind of a deep voice that carries, so when he wasn’t “whispering”, Baraka and I chided him to. We sat together and whispered, and he continued chatting, so we continued to rebuke him. Eventually he adopted quite a nice whisper but sometimes we’d have to remind him. I felt like all my senses were on high alert and kept an eye out on paths and even regularly gazed into the bushes to make sure that my imagination wasn’t playing games with me.

Sporadic gunshots continued, spread out, and at one point grew closer to us. We knew the rebels were in our concession and even entering into the agricultural zone, but they still had a long ways to come to reach us. However, we took the precaution of being as quiet as possible. Crispin, who was convalescent and still had quite some phlegm in his throat, would sometimes clear it and make quite a lot of noise. I tried to imagine how far would it carry through the bush? 20 meters? 100 meters? 300 meters? Baraka and I would both glare at him and tell him that if we were going to be caught, it would be his fault!

Baraka remarked that these guys were very proud now. We imagined that they were strutting around the deserted village and shooting in the air to announce their victory and their continued presence to the thousands of hidden souls. I could imagine the rebels had a spike of testosterone from the battle that they had just won. They had undoubtedly killed many and were all alone with no one in pursuit. They were at the top of the rebel world! Now they would celebrate, intimidate, shoot, and start collecting their booty.

I shivered at the thought of some hideous persons wreaking havoc on the most peaceful little village that I have ever known. How could I now disappear into that jungle by myself to discover birds which I didn’t know existed? How could I now stumble home in pitch darkness from the village bar to my humble little house knowing that I’d arrive just fine? How could I now make a carefree jaunt with my friends through the forest that time had forgotten? How could I now explore the most remote regions of this forest with my trusted and sure-footed pygmy guides? How could I now continue the endless search for the crown jewel of this forest, the silent and elusive okapi? How could I now bring my girlfriend for a romantic getaway which I was so certain would seal her love for me forever?