Bitten Pride

The rain fed the already filled murky, brown river that snaked around the circular, tiny island I was on.

My husband was near the bank testing to see how deep the shallow river had become, whilst I sat beside the large bunch of firewood we had collected.

“It's to deep,” My husband shouted over the rain to me.

“What are we going to do then?” He didn't reply but concentrated more on the river's flow.

He looked up to the fading blue being eaten by the opaque black shark; with worry in his eyes. I could see what he was thinking, as he took rapid glances at the river looking for any signs of the greyish-green scaly monsters they ad warned us of earlier on.

She had this bedraggled, dishevelled look that made her seem older than the years of knowledge she had gained sitting and watching others make mortifying mistakes. She sat there today, as I passed with my rusting machete in my hand and a worn-out bare basket on my head. An ascending tune buzzed through the air, hinting at the warning she was about to dictate. Her head languidly turned towards me, her eyes taking in every little detail before she unleashed her wise words.

“Young one, why all the weight in this burning sun?” She took her time to ask and I let Ma Udoka's question settle into the silence.

“Ma Udoka, my greetings. It is not weight I carry, but material I need to fetch firewood.”

“If there is firewood, how come many come back with empty baskets like yours?”

“Ma Udoka, it is not here that I fetch firewood these days but the Forest island beyond the river.”

“My dear, If you wish to see another day with your children, do not go near that island. For you know what lies in the water you cross,” She whispered faintly but enough for me to understand. How dare she think I was a fool! Her ancient dreams had finally turned her words meaningless. I dropped my machete and basket on the ground, picked some soil and threw it at her feet with fury.

“Throw as much as you want, but your own pride shall be your downfall,” She chuckled only infuriating me more. My hand tingled with the urge to meet her saggy, rotting face, instead I turned gathered my things and stormed off to find my husband.

Those word ate at my consciousness, as I watched my husband tirelessly walk back and forth across the bank in attempt to find a safe and simple way back. If only I had listened to Ma Udoka; my children would not be alone and starving, my husband would not be drained and we would not be out here in the wild.

As if noticing my edginess of the island, a rhythm of croaking ascending to a full ensemble like our young girls at our fire-nights trying to invite their mate. Branches snapped not once but several times, echoing and overshadowing the heavy rainfall's screeching with the river. The once dried and hard wood had become soggy and soft; no good for firewood now.

Wet, tired and strangled by a once comfortable dress, I rose to my tall, muscular an handsome husband's side, then it came. Slowly at first. Then it sprang out of the filthy soil, coiling round my legs as it climbed upwards. My husband still looking away, mesmerised by the river was unaware. I screamed but it was faster as it coffined my throat, leaving only my head visible as it took its time.

My legs forcefully squeezed together lost it's foothold and for moment I lay horizontal in the air, before the river opened its mouth to engulf me. I tried to free my fingers but it only embraced the movement to compress me even more. I was barely afloat, when I saw my husband speaking. He was shouting and jumping but the river zoned him out.

He turned pale like the dead. Alarmed at this, I looked everywhere I could with only my eyes able to move. In the corner of my eye I saw a tail disappear, then my leg tickled. The Python loosened its grip, I kicked hurriedly to the shore. Excruciating pain electrified my whole left leg and the Python hissed in all its mother tongues.

A glance back left me with the image of a wet, huge slab of rock chomping on my leg. Rings of darkness were dancing around my eyes. All the fear gone, it was hopeless to fight. My kids. My husband. My family. All that I would leave behind, abandoned and unable to stop grieving. Death's youthful hand was close, her mocking voice dragging me closer, closer. Close. My pride, my pride had locked me in Death's vices.

“I will not let you take her,” I faintly heard my husband roar. The rusting machete glistened in the invisible sunlight. I smiled, he had done everything he could but it was too late. My love, the father of my children had fought for my life and I would remember that. Numbness grew from my leg upwards; strangely enough the pressure had evaporated.

“Sifa, Sifa, Sifa,” He shook me. I wasn't there any more.

“Sifa wake up! Please Sifa! It's a nightmare you're safe now.” I could still hear him. He was louder, as if he was talking into my ear. My eyelids folded and my eyes were left to see my two sons holding my hands and their father; my husband seated right beside them. He lifted me up to see my children staring awkwardly at my leg - well what remained of it- I began to scream again it wasn't a nightmare I was re-living the past.