Deshi Maal Anima

She is imagining the burden of facing this jury could have been lighter with her late husband around. Not just herself, her thirty-year old son, against the livid tribe!“Our Gods ‘ve cursed this tribe because of senseless acts like this,” says another red-lipped, fat old man.A short moment of silence ensues. The hot summer wind is blowing off pollen from surrounding mango trees onto the centrally-placed calabash containing the village totem, a medium through which Lualua spoke with the spirits. The smell of fresh beeswax smeared around its girth can be clearly discerned, while its shiny outer skin gives it a scary fetish appearance.Sitting next to her troubled new husband, Tanya looks solemnly at Emeliya with untold remorsefulness.I never imagined marrying a loving, intelligent man of colour was such contemptable to the tribe, she thinks. She remembers how merry, joyful and happy Kwame and herself were on their wedding day back in Australia, only four months ago. Yes, countable. ‘Wait, wait,’ Sam replied, shushing her, ‘Just…just don’t move for a moment. Please.’ Miranda stood there alternating between looking uncomfortable and thoroughly irritated. She had her back to the sun at the perfect angle so it didn’t blind Sam to look at her. All it did was place a halo of golden light upon her lithe body. She was radiant. ‘I wish you could see you the way I do,’ Sam said as she wiped at her eyes, ‘You’re so…perfect.’ Miranda gave her a smile and it was pure: innocence and love, and it made Sam’s heart ache to look upon it. ‘Does that mean I can come under the blankets now?’ Miranda asked, breaking the other girl out of her reverie. ‘What? Shit, sorry, yes, yes,’ she beckoned the shivering girl onto her lap and promptly wrapped the blankets around them both. ‘Is this exhibitionist streak of yours going to be an ongoing thing?’ Miranda asked wryly. Sam just smiled and smoothed the girl’s dark hair before nuzzling close in, resting her chin on the other girl’s.
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