Fury of the Gods

Nine-year-old Baako woke up, sat on his bed in his thatched hut rubbing his eyes, his dark brown curly locks falling all over his forehead. He looked at the clock. It was 8 a.m. He cast a glance outside. It was pitch dark. The shadowy figures of tall trees were scary, their silhouette lent an air of dread. Finding it a bit weird and scary he moved his hands here and there on the bed searching for his parents. But they were not to be.

His heart raced faster; fear enveloped him. He wondered why he could not hear the chirping of birds nor the crowing of hens–the natural alarm clocks had fallen silent. He felt something amiss. A little gleam of light shone from the lantern that sat in the corner. The door was ajar. Getting off from his bed he walked towards the door and peeped out.

He saw a huge crowd of villagers in black breechcloth, a sash around their waists and white ash on their foreheads gathered a little away from his house each holding kerosene lanterns or wick lamps. Holding a ball stick they placed their lamps over the bamboo extensions atop and sat on the grassy patch that served as a sit-out for gatherings while the senior members of the clan were seen addressing them.

Baako saw that they were deliberating over something that seemed like a serious problem. He got a glimpse of his father. There was a concerned look on everyone’s face. His mother was engaged in a discussion with the women folk. While they were smaller in number comparatively, their moist eyes showed a deep feeling of despondency clearly writ on their faces-like all was lost for the villagers of Nnongokai.

Soon their 78-year-old clan leader Kokoku, much respected and an authority on various matters, walked in slowly, gently wearing a long flowing robe and a headgear. Everyone was quiet. All eager eyes and ears turned to him. He stood there silent for a few moments gazing into the darkness, trying to make eye contact with one and all sitting there, his eyes conveying the sad news much before he could verbalize. With much grief in his voice, he said aloud, ‘The Sun is no more.’ After a slight pause he added, “There is darkness all around us because the Gods are angry!’ He emphasised loudly with both his hands in the air and tears in his eyes. ‘We have sinned!’

The news spread like wildfire. A disaster that had never happened before had befallen mankind. It seemed weird, unbelievable, unprecedented ever.

The villagers of Nnongokai were aghast. Feeling hopeless they looked at each other. “What is to be done now?” was a question on everyone’s minds. “We need to face the fury of the Gods” the leader continued.

Outside this hamlet far away in the city, news channels were known to beam images of how the world looked in the morning with no sunrise – the night seemed still young, electricity powered cities 24/7, night clubs continued to play music, ring in big bucks. The traffic continued to increase with most people taking to the streets, headlights shone bright. The highway looked like a long queue of sparkling diamonds moving gently one way and the other side had red rubies shining bright in the dark. Snooze time was almost nil. For, it was hard to differentiate between night and ‘day’.

Like zombies, city folks continued to work round the clock and doze off just anywhere, anytime. Most began to complain of extreme weakness for some reason and falling concentration levels.  Lack of sunlight affected the sleep cycle of many, the circadian rhythm having got disturbed. Cases of depression were on the rise. Besides, how long could one continue with soaring electricity bills. A queer sense of unease was all around that was hard to break away from. Long nights extended for days and there seemed no end to it.

Back in Nnongokai, the villagers were totally shaken. Many were seen interacting with one another expressing their anguish. Hours passed into days. Baako’s father, Tayi walked to his small green patch a few kilometres away from his house with a lantern in hand and a smoke in the other.

Hanging the lantern on the branch of a tree alongside his field he took a few quick puffs, casting a glance as far as his eyes could see. Acres and acres of greenery spread across the length and breadth of the village out of which he could call a small area his own.

Somewhere from a distance he could hear the sound of the swirling waters of a rivulet loud and clear. There was stillness in the air. Not a leaf moved. Not a bird chirped. Not a dog barked. The worry lines on his forehead increased followed by an icy stare into the darkness. It was getting colder. He looked up at the sky, the moon was nowhere to be seen, neither the stars. If the sun continued to be away for the third day, he thought, his crops could wilt away and die. The patch was all he had.

He had to do something. But what could he do?

He returned to his house with a heavy heart disappointed, dejected.

The temperature began to fall soon thereafter. “Baako, get that matchbox” he called out.  Gathering a few pieces of waste wood, straw, paper, a large bunch of twigs he lit a bonfire and urged Baako to join in. He sat down there staring into the fire holding Baako and rubbing both his hands vigorously. A gentle smile slipped his lips as he felt the warmth.

The neighbours joined in quietly one by one. Suddenly the siren of an ambulance began to get louder and louder. He turned to take a look and saw that it stopped at Bwana, his neighhour’s house, a few metres away. Bwana’s wife rushed out. Tayi hurried too and so did the others.

The driver got off and opened the door of the ambulance. But what all saw was shocking! It was Bwana’s only son’s body.

Bwana’s wife screamed loud, banging her head on the ambulance door. “He seemed much better sometime back. How did this happen?” She asked the accompanying doctor. He stood there face down, quiet.  She was uncontrollable. Her wailing and crying continued for hours. The villagers were stunned. Tayi asked the doctor, “How did this happen?”

“Having suffered dehydration, the child was rushed to the only hospital in the area. It was powered by solar energy”. Gosh! Now what? A disturbed Tayi returned home. He looked sleep deprived. A few hours of sleep would make him feel better but he simply could not rest. Thoughts about the turn of events, the uncertain future continued to bother him. With much effort he somehow hit his bed and was just about to get some shut eye when Baako came running, ‘Pa, they are saying something has happened to.…”.

Tayi woke up with a jolt. Without listening further, he rushed out immediately picking up the lantern from the corner. Beads of sweat were flowing down his forehead. He walked as fast as his legs could take him hoping against hope and praying that nothing should happen to his crops. Tayi reached finally, panting heavily.

His lantern had very little oil. But he could see that his crops had not wilted yet. ‘There was some hope still’ he thought in his mind.

A little far away in another village he had heard about the death of several animals, for there was hardly any grass. Tayi thought for a minute. While he had put in a lot of effort in growing his crops they would wilt and die soon anyway. “How about saving a few lives and pleasing the gods above too” he thought to himself.

Tayi walked up to meet the village headman and arranged for the cattle to graze on his farm. Feeling a sense of joy within he decided to return to his house. Not taking the usual path he took a detour through a narrow stretch that overlooked the sea. As he walked with his lantern in hand through the dark, his eyes fell far ahead on the horizon. A very thin stream of pink and yellow rays began to show up. Thrilled, excited, he stood there transfixed to soak in the moment unable to believe what he just saw.