You will find part one of the story in my previous post with the title Gede Ruins – The Story (part 1) or by following the link here: https://elephantshavetherightofway.co.uk/gede-ruins/
*
One month later, Ana went to the great city.
*
The great city was surrounded by an encroaching forest filled with the rustling, secretive sounds of its unseen residents, the ceaseless cry of cicadas and the shrill, falling melancholy cadence of a bird. Beyond came the roar of breaking waves as they hit the distant reef. The air was thick with salt and humidity and heavy with wild frangipani and jasmine. Casuarina trees grew from the sandy soil and small shrubs sprouted blotchy crimson blossoms and star shaped leaves, their milky sap could cause temporary blindness. Travellers visiting the city called them ‘Fire-on-the-mountain’. White sand could be seen on the forest floor and paths criss-crossed into the interior, although only the bravest and most careful followed these for any great distance, such was the threat from the inland tribes.
Ana was in the midst of a city vibrating with energy. People were laughing and talking, vendors were shouting and children darted around, playing in the dusty streets. A baby wailed and was comforted by its mother. A sleeping dog yawned and stretched. Chickens scratched at the ground. A group of wizened, white-robed men sat together deep in the throes of an argument in rhetoric whilst a merchant roared at three naked men, shuffling along the wayside on their way to the market. Their ankles were shackled in chains and they smelt of dismay and foetid decay.
Ana heard the rhythmic, gentle swish of a short palm leaved brush on a doorstep as she passed a woman, head, body and face covered as she swept it clean. All that could be seen were bare, henna patterned feet and hands, and the curve of a pregnant belly. She stopped sweeping and called out to a child. Anna caught sight of her kohl rimmed eyes, rimmed by dark lashes, and then she saw her scarred face and cheeks were covered by water-filled blisters. The woman was tired and bloated.
“Fetch the bowl with the beads, Ayehsa.” she muttered.
Ana watched them from a distance. The mother and child sat stringing the beads together in the quivering heat. The woman shifted her weight as the baby inside her moved. And then, as if irritated, it squirmed and kicked and her waters broke, spilling onto the clean step. Calmly the woman rose,
“Call your grandmother and the midwife. Tell them to be quick!”
The child, clumsy with excitement knocked over the clay bowl scattering its contents into the sand and hastened away down a narrow alley. The beads glistened, turquoise and yellow, in the sun.
“Move!”, a loud voice disturbed Ana and she jumped back, stumbling on some rocks. A young man pushed past.
“Go away! Worthless woman,” he muttered. Ana took a small bead from the ground in her hand and brushed away the dust. This was the way of the world. Her baby, Mosi was just one month old with no foreseeable future. The other woman’s child would soon be born, brought into the world by a midwife and not an old man. She would have a boy and she was an obedient wife. He would have a home in the city with a grandmother, a sister and a father. He would be a useful child. Loved. Trained to live a good life. As what, she wondered? A ship builder, fisherman or maybe a merchant.
“I told you to go away. Do you want a beating? Worthless woman!” The man had come back, his face was very close to hers. Ana shook her head and hastened away towards a more affluent part of the city.
*
So, that is as far as I got 10 years ago. I have drafts and versions of this story tucked away in books and folders, and amongst my stuff. I remember being so excited by this work but I never progressed with it. I was probably just too busy with work and family to do any more with it.
Tell me what you think? I have never shared it with anyone, so be kind, but don’t worry – I can take healthy critique. In the past, when at uni, I was told by my fellow students my writing was ‘too descriptive’ but I don’t actually remember any lecturers telling me that. They said my writing had a really good ‘sense of place’. Putting it here, on the internet, I know that possibly no-one will ever read it but I don’t mind that. I have enjoyed finding it again and putting it here.
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