Tevun-Krus #119 - AfroFuturism 2

Cradle of Stars - A Short Story by @johnnedwill

Cradle of Stars

By johnnedwill

"Grandmother! He's here again!"

Eshe looked up from the fire she had been tending and peered through smoke-filled eyes at the girl in front of her. "What do you mean, Chasiku? Who is 'he'?"

The girl hopped from one foot to the other. "It is the Ghost Man, grandmother. He has come back and he's shouting at people."

The Ghost Man. Eshe nodded. She remembered the Ghost Man from his last visit. He was a European; a missionary. The village had called him the Ghost Man for three reasons. First was his white skin - totally unsuited to a life under the African sun. Second was because he worshipped three ghosts, or so he claimed in his badly accented Swahili, and was always speaking of them. Finally, nobody in the village could be bothered to remember his name. So, he was now and forever the Ghost Man.

"Alright, child." Eshe pointed to a staff of polished wood that rested against the wall of her dwelling. "Bring me my stick, and I shall go to talk with him. See if he can be persuaded to go away, hmm?" The girl did as she was told, then helped the old woman to her feet. "Thank you," Eshe said. "Now, where is the Ghost Man? Take me to him."

"Yes, grandmother." The pair stepped out into the afternoon sunlight. Eshe's eyes took a moment to adjust and cleanse themselves of soot. "This way, grandmother." The sky above them was blue. Streaks of white cloud ran through the sky, high enough that they did not obscure the peak of the Great Mountain to the north. From the far side of the village, Eshe could hear someone speaking out loud, declaiming the glories of foreign gods.

"I may not be able to see him, but I can hear him," Eshe said, and tottered towards the source of the disturbance.

A European man, his face red with sunburn and sweat, was standing between a trio of dwellings. He was holding up a book bound in black leather with gold -coloured writing on its spine. The man was calling out, loud enough for almost the whole village to hear him: "Listen to the Word of God! All those who turn to God will be saved! All those who refuse will burn forever!" Many of the villagers had gathered to hear the Ghost Man's tirade. His rantings were a welcome diversion from the chores of everyday life.

Eshe waited for the Ghost Man to draw breath. "Burn forever? There is not enough dung or wood in the world for that." There was a ripple of laughter from the villagers. "But all one has to do to avoid this fate is listen to you? It seems like a fair bargain to me."

The Ghost Man glared at Eshe, angry because she had made him look foolish in front of the villagers. "You must not just listen. You must hear and obey the Word." He brandished his book. "The Word that I have come here to spread, so you can all be saved."

"Why?" Eshe asked. It was a simple question, that the Ghost Man was prepared for.

"Why? Because my God has told me to."

Eshe smiled at him as she would smile at a child. "And how does your god speak to you? Through dreams? Through visions?"

The Ghost Man strode through the crowd of onlookers and held up his book for Eshe to see. "Through this."

"Thank you." Eshe did not wait for the Ghost Man to give her permission, but snatched his book from him. The book's binding was soft and dark; its pages were edged in gold and whispered as Eshe turned them. "Your god is quieter than you are," she said.

"Give me!" The Ghost Man grabbed at his book, prising it out of Eshe's hand. "How dare you mock my God." He turned the book over and over, examining it closely for any signs of damage. Then, satisfied that nothing had been torn, creased or otherwise defaced, the Ghost Man clutched the book to his chest and sighed in relief.