Keeper of the World

Curse or a Blessing

I walked slowly through the thick foliage. I didnt have a machete and the only way through a rainforest without a one, was a slow process of pushing through bushes and plants.

The damp and humid air, full of new smells I've never smelled before, exotic plants like splashes of color in this green world buzzing with life. It was a huge place cramped full of plants, making if feel small and smothering. Even the trees seems to reach for the sky in a futile attempt to get a glimpse of the sun. The sunlight never really making it down to the ground, being filtered through branches and leaves. This made it impossible to tell when the sun would go down, I could be left standing blind in the dark, left in the mercy of the animals that prowls at night.

But I didn't think of that, to tired to do anything else but to step by step make my way through this green and humid place. I should have collapsed long ago, It was so long since i had something to eat, the only thing keeping me going was the fact that i was still being followed. Which I still was. I think, could not be sure, they would not give up that easy I knew that from the years of abuse, they never gave up easily.

My name is Amadi, given to me by my mother, it was the only thing left from the time with her, everything else had been taken away from me.

I've always been the "special boy" in the village, my eyes where like no one elses, bright blue like the sky, sometimes shifting to a dark mossy green. When I was born they thought I was a blessing, but this quickly changed.

They all hated me because i could learn things not even the elders knew, my Master later told me i was a genius, my learning curve being extremly quick, but I grew up in a small secluded village in the southern parts of Nigeria and everything that wasn't normal was regarded suspicious. The men felt threatened, like people sometimes do with intelligence.

As if my blue eyes wasn't enough, I started walking when I was 5 months old, and could speak when I was 1.

I learned to read and write by simply looking through the rugged excuse of a bible I found in my house. The house being made from a mix of dried clay, wood and salvaged metal sheets, but it was still home, where me and mom lived our secluded but still happy life.

I was the only one in the village being able to read, for this I was regarded like anything else but a blessing from the men of the village, and it didn't help when I learned English from a camera team quickly passing through the village in search for some wildlife footage.

So they stayed away from me and my house which by luck was in the outskirts of the village.

My mother was able to protect me at the start, but when she died it was all over.She died from a little cut.. A scrape It was nothing. But the wound festered and because of the lack of medical attention and money she died a week later, leaving me alone, my Dad long dead from HIV.

The villagers stopped talking to me, gave me no food, everyone considering me just another mouth to feed, a mouth they rather see unfed, and they all knew nature took care of the ones not cared for.

I became a beggar, living for a couple of months on the trash and throwaway that I was sometimes brave enough to try and salvage from the villagers houses at night, i knew they would beat me if caught.

But one day when the village had been starving for months and the crops had failed a long time ago because of the drought. One of the younger farmers, Foluke, convinced the village that he knew this powerful shaman able to cure the dry period and save their crops, if only given a sacrifice. It was soon decided it was me they would sacrifice, since according to the shaman it was my fault in the first place. The shaman disliking me from second we met eyes, many felt uncomfortable from me looking at them, said they thought i could see their soul.

They came looking, shouting my name saying i should come out. Eventually they found me, in the outskirts of the rain forest, a kilometer outside the village.

But when I saw the Shaman, with the bones in his nose and ears, his large belly and a a menacing grin on his face, my instincts told me to run, and I did.

I ran and so did they all, into the forest, screaming for me to stop, shaman in the front one hand clasping his old wooden staff with a skull in the top, which looked a bit to similar to that of a small child.

I pushed through the rain forest convinced that each step would be my last, panting, my lungs feeling as if the where full of fire, and both my legs and arms was scraped bloody from forcing my way through the wicked plants and bushes.

I stumbled out of the thickest bush I've ever seen, branches slapping me in the face as I pushed through, using my last ounce of power . The forest cleared into a freshwater stream, hidden deep within the rain forest. The thick and humid air let up and was replaced with the smell of wet dirt, and the sound of water making its way through the so distinctive orange soil of Africa. Despite my condition I found it absolutely beautiful, the sun reflecting of the crystal clear water stream, the trees reaching down, dipping their roots into the water as if feeling it, like I've done so many times done when following mommy to the stream close to the village, where we went to get the water.

But this stream was different it was almost perfectly straight not bending for as long as I could see, following the small slant down the hill. I noticed I was standing at the foot of a small hill, a plateau getting the trees that much closer to the sun, reaching even more desperately, standing taller then most trees in the jungle.

I waded out into the water feeling the soft and cool soil under my feet. I stopped when I was waste high, just standing there, letting the calm water clean the dirty away, refreshing my beaten body. I cant remember for how long I stood there but suddenly I heard the voices of men and the sounds of machetes, and suddenly the shaman and the 6 other villagers that had followed me came cutting their way through the same bush I not to long ago had fought my way through.

They immediately saw where I was standing and the shaman called for the other six to grab me. They where all tired, with angry looks on their faces, and I knew that look, they will beat me for sure and this time they also had machetes. Five of them stayed at the edge of the stream as one of the villagers started making his way out to me, quick and angry steps, splashing the so otherwise calm water.

I started crying, big salty tears streaming down my cheeks, falling into the water making small ripples round my feet. The villager stopped only an arms length from me, a bit shocked from the crying, but his face quickly change from surprise to anger again and he reached out to grab me.

It was as if the water protected me. It formed a wave flooding the place the villagers was standing consuming the 7 men. Before I could realize what had happened, it stopped, and went back to the beautiful place it had been once before, no trace of the villagers. But now there was a man standing at the edge of the forest. He was completely out of place standing on the muddy ground bare feet, black trousers folded to below his knees so they wouldn't get dirty. Wearing a white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up and a black tie, blazer slung over his shoulder. He was tanned with black hair, cut short which distinguished his sharp chin and nose, he could not be more then 30 years old. I could have sworn his eyes where green a second ago but now they where blue, blue like the sky, blue like mine. He stood there eyes locked with mine as he smiled and said "I'm glad I got here in time, you okay little one?"