Melissa Kay
Sparkling Water
It was a visual treat, in a place where nothing
ever happens. The vehicles collided and tipped in opposite directions; Coke
bottles spilling from the back of the commercial truck, whilst the raised safari
truck roof crumpled in on itself under the impact. It was all in slow motion. It
was all in fast forward. She had never seen anything like it.
Maisha hated this journey. Every day it was the
same: morning and evening, twenty minutes in the blazing sun, or sometimes in
torrential rain that always seemed to her to be an awful waste of water, but
that was Africa - always extremes, too much or too little. Feeling the water
sloshing as she swayed her hips, trying to emulate her mother, she reached a
hand up to the yellow plastic bucket and adjusted its position. She knew this
job needed to be done, but it was still so boring.
She had got much stronger. When she was just five
and had first begun trailing behind her brother, Abel, it had seemed desperately
far and she had only managed to carry a few sticks, leaving the water to
him.
He didn't come with her any more. He had just
graduated from school. His grades were high enough to get him to secondary
school and her mother was so proud. He wouldn't go of course. They could never
afford to send him all that way, let alone buy the uniform and books he'd need.
Besides, who would earn the money? Since her sister had married and moved out
there was no income at all and they were still repaying favours from when her
small brother had died. Maisha had been learning to weave but there wasn't time
to take what she'd made to the market.
She'd heard about houses with running water, she
reflected dully on what that must be like as she lifted the bucket off her head
and stretched her neck, before nestling it back onto to the little fold of cloth
positioned to cushion the bucket.
As she did so, there was a roaring crash and the
ground rumbled. She jerked in surprise, sloshing precious water down her face.
“Mungu” she cursed guiltily, before freezing, enthralled by the action that was
suddenly unravelling in front of her. Two vehicles, one corner, and not enough
space. She was in time to see them roll onto their sides and watch a tinkling
mass of brightly coloured, sweet cola bottles tumble around the corner.
* * *
Charlotte and Gerry were having the time of their
lives. After their beautiful wedding: the dress, the rings, the church, the huge
dinner, champagne, first dance, spectacular cake, quirky cover band and billions
of photographs (faces aching from the smiles), they had melted into their
African-dream honeymoon and had spent the last ten days 'oohing' and pointing
their cameras at stunning coastlines, rugged landscapes and hunting for the Big
Five.
"I'd forgotten about this one!" grinned Gerry. He
was on the iPad flicking through photos they'd taken so far and laughing at
himself hanging out of the open roof of the safari vehicle to get closer to the
grumpy looking buffalo which had been standing sullenly in the bush by the
road.
"Yes, I think you thought you were being tough or
something," she teased mildly, pulling him towards her for another
kiss.
Charlotte's busy PR world was suspended momentarily
and she was luxuriating in the pleasure of it all. Yes, the lead up to the
wedding had been stressful; virtually everyone had squabbled with someone, she
had not been able to find the favours she wanted and she had been so busy at
work. The day itself had cost a small fortune of course, but she smiled in
satisfaction as she revisited details of it. She considered it all very much
worth it.
Turning back to the front of the safari truck, she
basked in the feeling of the afternoon sun on her whilst also looking forward to
a shower at the hotel to wash away the dust and refresh her before another
fantastic meal under the stars.
They approached another bush-masked corner and she
opened her mouth to ask their driver about the clothing she had noticed the
local women wearing, but she never actually uttered the question, or remembered
she had intended to ask it.
It was a baby goat that stepped out into the dirt
road, though neither Charlotte nor Gerry ever knew that. The driver only swerved
a little but, on a road where there was barely any traffic, they were unlucky
enough to pull directly into the path of a truck full of sodas.
Charlotte remembered only the sounds. Screaming
breaks; crunching metal; an endless pouring of bottles released from the
protection of their crates. And she remembers the red ground, which had looked
so soft from the comfort of the vehicle, coming up hard and fast to meet them as
they rolled.
* * *
Her first thought had simply been to help herself
to a Coca Cola. She knew how sweet that magical taste was and the thought of
enjoying a whole one to herself was just too thrilling to walk away from. But as
Maisha had approached the truck she had been drawn into the scene of total
devastation and awkward stillness.
She crept up to the accident with trepidation,
curious more than anything else. She knew she couldn't really help, she was a
long way from any doctor or hospital and the concept of a phone was too alien to
even occur to her (although some of the men in the village did have them).
It wasn't until she leaned forward for a closer
look that she realised she had automatically placed her water bucket back on her
head. She nearly spilled the whole thing before she snatched it down and placed
it beside her.
The open sided safari truck lay like a wounded
animal. As Maisha studied it she became aware of a perfectly smooth, white hand;
a human hand reaching from the inhuman wreckage. She cocked her head and
crouched at a slight distance, wondering at its beauty and forgetting that there
must be a person connected to it within that scrunched up metal
belly.
The chattering of Vervet monkeys in the bush behind
finally roused her from her musings and she found that she was brave, and
curious, enough now to creep forward a little. That was when she saw it. It just
caught the sun once, a sparkle that captured her absolutely; she would never
forget it.
On the second finger of the protruding hand was a
ring with five diamonds, the centre one a little larger than the others. Maisha
was unconcerned that they were diamonds, or that this was an engagement ring,
she was simply drawn to it. She had seen diamonds before, her neighbours
occasionally found them in the ground. Finding them was called “mining” she
whispered the foreign word out loud. But the diamonds they found were tiny chips
of filthy stone, they did not thrill the way this did. There barely seemed any
connection.
She moved in, stretching towards the enchanting
ring. Her hand made contact with Charlotte's. It was warm. Why had she not
expected that? She struggled closer, and all of a sudden Maisha found herself
staring down into one swimming blue eye. The other was swollen and shut, but the
eye that looked at her with cloudy pleading that would be imprinted on her
memory forever.
Then, quick as a flash, her decision was made. She
slipped the ring from Charlotte's hand and ran, forgetting the water bucket
altogether.
* * *
"You're off to Tanzania?" Charlotte turned to the
well-dressed man next to her at the table. "Gosh it was dreadful. Did you hear
about what happened to Gerry and I? Honestly, we were so lucky to get out
alive."
"How awful," replied the young man politely. "Well,
we're not going anywhere dangerous, just a nice safari."
"Huh!" exclaimed Charlotte sarcastically. "That's
what we thought. It was our honeymoon. We were in a car accident and we were
robbed as we lay there. Can you imagine? I watched a little girl take my
engagement ring as I was trapped in the vehicle, barely conscious."
"My goodness. Terrifying," he exclaimed, clearly
intrigued, but also enjoying the self-assurance of youth that this was someone
else's story.
With his full attention secured, Charlotte resumed
her story. "Of course we were insured, but that's hardly the point. It was
almost a full half an hour before another vehicle found us, and we were two
hours from the nearest hospital. And, seriously, you should have seen the hospital. I was so relieved when the Medevac
came. Especially as Gerry was in a terrible state: broken bones, concussion. I
really thought we'd die there," she shuddered. "I'd never go back to
Africa."
"Well, I'm not sure you can tar the whole of Africa
with the same brush." The young man grinned but his body language betrayed the
beginnings of discomfort as he shifted in his chair.
"You weren't there. The police never even came and
getting official statements about the accident took literally weeks. I've heard
this is the case in most African countries; all the police are corrupt and
victims of crimes actually have to pay the police for petrol to attend the
scene! That's if they even have access to a car. I mean, really - it's
ridiculous..."
By now she was ranting and the young man was
beginning to squirm as her voice rose in pitch, and volume.
"Perhaps you're right, I'm sure you know more than
I do," he mumbled non-commitally before blurting "My glass is empty I'll just
find a top up," and making quickly for the kitchen.
* * *
When her mother had finally found the ring she had
been furious. Maisha would never forget the beating she received. But, realising
they couldn't find the rightful owners and suspecting it may be of significant -
even life-changing - value, she had taken it to an expert in the city. She had
chatted in her head with God for the entire duration of the journey in the hot
bus, with it's squeaking plastic covered seats and boiling bodies stuffed as
close as hippos in a dry season river.
By the time she arrived she was convinced that they
were meant to have the ring. It was a gift, a blessing from God and she was
determined that she would make the most of it. They would build a brick house,
Abel would go to school, maybe even university. They would have a
future.
When she had discovered the actual value she had
almost collapsed in the store. Then she had alternated between hysterical
laughter and paranoia at losing the ring all the way home. There wasn't just a
house and secondary school for Abel, there was school for Masiha, a house for
her eldest daughter and savings as well!
As Abel and Maisha had grown up and progressed
through secondary school, achieving scholarships for international schools as
they reached the higher years, the opportunities unfolded and it was soon
apparent that Abel would become a politician; one who had the potential to
change a great deal in his area and perhaps the whole country in years to come.
But for Maisha things were not as clear.
She battled for many years with her guilt and that
single blue eye haunted her dreams. She often wondered if the woman had
survived, or if she was being followed by the woman’s spirit which was surely
waiting to pounce and destroy all that the family had built.
It was careers week at school before she really
began to consider making a choice for her future. She was just beginning to
believe that perhaps the spirits would allow her to fulfil her dreams. And when
she started to think seriously she realized she had known the answer all along.
Her most fervent wish had been that she might have
helped the woman in the truck in the first place. She had a fantasy scene that
she replayed in her head frequently; she would drag the woman from the vehicle
and tend her wounds at the side of the road, saving her life. “Take this,” the
woman would whisper gratefully, handing Maisha the ring, “Thank you for saving
my life.” Like something out of a cheesey Nollywood film. That had not been the
reality. But now she could repay her misdeed.
She would become a doctor.
BIOGRAPHY
Melissa Kay
was in PR and journalism in the UK before she trained as a teacher in order to
fulfill her dream of living in Africa. As an English teacher in Kenya she began
writing articles and her first novel. Now she writes full-time from Tanzania and
is currently working on her second novel (the first is about to go out to
literary agents!).
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