Wonder

My name is Marduk. But here, Marduk means death.

I lie in my nest of leaves and branches like I have done since I can remember. When I first had guinea worm, I remember dreadful pains all over my legs and feet for hours at a time. Now I've forgotten what it is to have normal legs. I've forgotten all other sounds than my screams. I've forgotten how to speak. I've forgotten everything but the leaves that cover me. I try to remember what it is like out there, but it's hard when there is nothing to remember.

Except...

I push that thought away. My dreams mean as much as the clouds mean to the animals. I have dreams though. They mean bad things in my religion. I dream of a mountain. I walk down it, getting slower and slower until I am so tired I have to stop. But I can't stop. I'm trapped on this path and every step is torture and pain. In my religion, a mountain means death. I am death. I live for death. And I am going to die.

Pain surrounds me. Everywhere I look is a snapshot of pain. A man. I think he is a man. But he is ill, like me. His skin is a strange colour, almost white, but his cheeks look burnt and are red like the fire I feel burning inside of me. The furs he wears show nothing of his power and strength; they are patchy and a murky green like the colour of the rivers that I used to play in, before I got sick. The man steps forward and sticks his hand out towards me.

A curse of death.

But his eyes show kindness. His mouth opens but all I hear is one word.

"Boy."

It sounds as weird as he looks, and I just lie there for a while rolling it around my dormant tongue and teeth. I wonder who he is and what he wants but I realise that he's my only hope so I try to sit up with eagerness. But I fail, l'm too weak to move myself. Instead of impressing this thing in front of me I hear an abnormal noise from his mouth, that sounds a bit like 'hahaha'. He lifts me up and into a metal sphere with blades on the roof. It's only then I realise what he is.

An American.

I had heard of them only in legends, but he fit the description exactly. Pale skin, different language and things that could fly or do whatever else you dreamed of. I struggled but I was too ill to care about anything. I shut my eyes and silently call to death.

I awake to silence, but then it's not silence. Beeps. Strange chatter of Americans. Weird bars in the top of this box shine light through into the box. What are they? I wonder. Suddenly a piece of wood swings away from the other pieces. This piece of wood has a word on it, i-s-o-l-a-t-i-o-n. I try hard to say it. Nothing. A girl walks in. "Millie," she speaks. "Yoursponsoriraisedmoneyforyou." She speaks fast but she uses hand actions and I think I understand. She is why I'm here. She makes a superhero action and I get it. I'm here to be saved. But I don't want to live. I want to die. I want to fulfil my name.

"Talib" I manage. She nods and smiles. She has the same disease as the first man, pale skin, but also pale hair. She must be very ill. Maybe that's why she is here. To be cured, like me. She takes a metal shiny thing out of her pocket and I reach for it. She smiles and passes it to me. I wonder about it, content with looking at it. Why would someone have a metal box with them? My finger slips over a circular button and the front part lights up. I am so surprised that I drop the box thing with shock. I tap and prod and then finally something else comes up! What is this I wonder, and how is it made.

Witchcraft.

Millie is in contact with...with them. My whole body shudders and Millie laughs before retrieving the box. No she can't be I decide. Good magic is the source of this, I believe.

"July. 4," she points to a sheet of clear stuff and I look and see black with specks of orange and white. I wonder about everything. Why me? What is here? I need to go back. I don't understand. I'm worried and I need to know. I rise in a storm of terrified grunts and screams and flail my arms everywhere at one time. Millie stops and looks scared but she strokes my back until I calm down. Then I hear a bang. She points but I saw any way. I think to my tribe. To Mali. When old Grandma Abejibe would make those sparks to pray to the gods. That one meant they were sending someone's spirit to God. It meant someone would die.

I wake up screaming and another woman comes running. I scream because there is a never ending set of confusing tubes sticking into me here and there. Millie is gone and I am alone. What is all this stuff they have here?

I don't understand why they chose me. Millions are like me in Mali. Guinea worm has ruined them. Millions waiting for death to decide it's time. But death is clever. It waits for your pain and then waits for your screams. It waits, then laughs at your pain before striking and then laughing again at your death, making it as painful as it wants. The woman tries to explain but I won't listen, I can't listen. All I've heard for years are my screams and nothing else. I don't dare to shut my eyes.

At one point it pours with water. Water from the sky, droplets of goodness and greatness as Abejibe would say, or all the women in my tribe. When it falls like that the food is good for us in Mali. But then a flash of light so bright that, for a moment, I am sure that death has come for me. I lie in the death position and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Death doesn't come and take my life. I live for at least another few seconds of time. Time is unbearable. I'm waiting for nothing and I feel myself fade away.

Millie is back, with a man who sticks a sharp piece of metal into my flesh. It hits my bone but I don't scream because Millie is looking in my eyes and I know that she can tell my pain from the hurt in my eyes. I've been hurt more than you. And yet I wonder who you are. Someone who finds me, who knows my life story. I slowly feel tired and then a bit more tired again until I drift into sleep. I have little time to think before I fall into a state of nothingness.

So this is heaven, where dead people live forever. Blue sky, white clouds and a nice sort of feeling of timelessness. I like it here, in this state of inhuman spirit. Not what I expected at all, peaceful and empty, I thought it would be crowded as lots of people have died, but it is empty. So eerily empty. Something tells me, a sign of some sort, this is not heaven and that I am still in a real world with real people. I sigh and slowly roll into consciousness.

"Hwelo," I mutter. My first word of American. So musty and senseless. But American.

"Thaumas!" says a voice. It seem so familiar but yet so distant. I wave a hand in a I don't understand gesture.

"Your name is Thaumas now. But here it means Wonder."