Malaika

by van Heerling

  “What about the baby and Sanura?”

  “They could go too. Sanura has dreamed of going to America. Abasi, don’t give up on your dreams for Absko. If they are his as well, there is always a way.”

  “Today we drink,” he said. “Today my boy is a man. A budding man, but a man nonetheless.”

  At the meadow The Three stood stronger, taller than ever before. Malaika’s body language was uncertain in a way I had not seen before. As they met her, she tried to pass, but the patriarch swatted her across the snout. She yelped in submission, and the females hissed while contouring their bodies into a pouncing position. Instinctively, I stepped back in fear and then took one step forward, as if I could help, but I stopped. There was nothing for me to do. She tried to pass through them again. A roar bellowed from the male’s belly. Malaika withdrew from them. She turned toward me with sadness and then moved adjacent from her kin, seemingly no longer welcome, and passed through a different path down the ravine. The others traversed back the way they had come.

  Change for the worst had come. Malaika had been staying with me days at a time now. Her coat was becoming unkempt, and her mental stability had obviously waned. I learned that she was hunting solely for herself—now that she had been ostracized from her family. Although she could hunt, her confidence was failing her, for when she’d nab a kill, her cousins would be on her heels and would fight her for the kill. Most times she’d only get a scrap, and sometimes, not even that, depending on the mood of her kinship that day. Weeks were passing, her deterioration continued. Fresh wounds accumulated on her face from continuing defense of meals. It was becoming increasingly easy for her family to fend her off. Without proper meals, it seemed her joints began to ache, as her body became more and more emaciated.

  I had asked Absko and Sanura to leave me alone for a while. They understood and relayed the message to Abasi. Only on occasion would they bring supplies, for which I was grateful. Of course, no one from the village came to assist my lioness friend. As we hunkered down for sleep one night, I tried one more time to feed her a cut of beef. I had tried several times over the last weeks, to no avail. I was relieved at what I saw next, but also deeply saddened. For this was the moment I knew she had truly lost everything, even herself. She was rolled up within herself, lying on a circle rug just off my bed. As I placed the cut of beef under her nose, she sniffed it as she usually does, and in one sorrowful moment, she opened her mouth and a discolored, infirm tongue rolled out and against the beef. She wept silently in her feline way—unseen yet felt—she wept at my charity and how far she had fallen.

  I wept too. I didn’t know what else to do. Soon after, we both slept. In my dreams, she came to me.

  “I am dying,” she told me, as we walked through a familiar golden field. She continued, “I have been cut off from my family. What I speak of is not something you are familiar with. As I can communicate with you now, I had been able to do with my kin. Only now, I have been forbidden such spiritual connection with them. I no longer have it. It is a balance within my kind. One cannot live long without it. It is a source of life that all of my kind feed from. I cannot bear the silence. I hear nothing of them. It is as though I am blindfolded. My young are so distant. I cannot sense them. I have never had such feelings of hopelessness. I am not allowed to come near them or smell them, touch them.” This was news to me. I hadn’t realized that she was a mother. But as I thought about it, of course, she would be. “I know why I have been shunned,” she continued. “They tell me that our worlds cannot blend, as I know yours has told you. But they are wrong—we know this to be true. But their ways are ancient and solid. Much like yours.”

  I woke up to her voice still in my mind. “I’m alone,” she said as I caught her silhouette in front of me. I wept, still lying in bed as I reached for her. She turned before I could feel her coat. Even in the limited light, I could see her handicapped body as she hobbled away from me and through the front door. The screen slapping the frame like a cat of nine tails against innocent flesh.

  I feared that night was going to be the last time I would see her. Like this was good-bye for the last time. Luckily, not so. We spent many more months together. Even without her spiritual connection she most avidly needed, she was getting by, somehow. She was far from optimum indeed but had recovered from her hopeless depth to something livable. Mostly, I provided for her, and she stayed within the meadow’s edges, with me. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was frightened beyond the meadow. I was too.

  Absko and Sanura—she now many months pregnant—were used to Malaika. Although Absko and the cat did not wrestle anymore, occasionally she’d throw in a head-butt or two to keep him on his toes.

  One morning in June, I sat in my chair, rolling my tobacco, sifting out stems as usual, when Malaika raised her head at once and turned her ears toward the meadow. She trotted as quickly as her legs would allow. She wasn’t much for running, for she did not have the strength. At the meadow’s edge stood The Three. I quickly made my way to our old exchange spot and found them all affectionately rubbing each other’s coats and sniffing each other’s faces. When she gazed back at me, I could see that glint again. That life! Her link was no longer severed. It appeared her sentence had been fulfilled.

  Absko had been coming over more often. I got the feeling it was mainly for my benefit, rather than his. I hadn’t seen Malaika since she had gone back, a good two months ago. I’d stopped putting out the coconut milk. I was frustrated and hurt, but past my selfishness I saw and understood the hell she had gone through—why would she want to come back? I just wished she’d at least visit me in my dreams. Even this was out of bounds apparently.

  I handed Absko a beer. He had graduated to this level of late. You’re old enough to have a baby, you can handle a beer, and it helped that his father didn’t seem to mind.

  “I have a concern,” he stated abruptly. I only looked at him, expectantly. “Sanura is very pregnant, and in about a month, she will give birth to our child.” His voice was becoming thick. Whatever he had to say, it was something he had not discussed with his father. I had become adept at when he was confiding in me and me alone. “I am worried . . .” he said quietly.

  “You are worried that what happened to your mother will happen to Sanura?” I asked compassionately. He sighed and nodded as he sipped. “Well, Absko, this is a concern, but an unlikely one. The hospital is a few miles away, and I believe it has French doctors. This is something your mother did not have access to, and medicine has come far since you were born. I would not fear such an improbable occurrence. Just enjoy your wife and family. I think you’ll be fine.”

  “What about you? Are you going to be fine?” It had been a long time since someone had asked me that.

  “I’ll survive.” After a moment, we dropped this line of conversation and gazed upon the ’geti. “Have you thought about my offer?”

  “University?” he said joyfully.

  “Yes, have you made any decisions?”

  “Yes, in two years I will take you up on your offer. I want to take Sanura and Sherri to America.”

  “That’s good, Absko. I will do everything I can to make sure you have a good start. Don’t be upset if I don’t come along. I have a feeling I’ll be here a while.”

  Like a portal to another universe I found myself dreaming for the first time in months. And there she was. Malaika was at a distance, looking right at me. Happy. Her coat had recovered, and her body was strong. “Come back,” I asked.

  “I’m far away,” she said. It felt far to me.

  “Will you come back?” I asked again.

  She hesitated a moment. “Not likely. I am too far away,” she said, and then turned away into nothingness.

  When I woke the next morning, I felt recharged. I was elated to have heard from her. I knew that she was fine.

  Another week had gone by and I still hadn’t seen her. She doubted that she could come, and I understood. One day I was with Absko at the tobacco fields.


  “You got that all right?” I asked. He looked at me like I was an idiot as he wrapped up a bundle of last season’s tobacco for me. As usual, he was shirtless—and ever more so had grown into a man. His baby was expected any day, and it showed with his bright smile shining wherever he walked. He was as big, if not bigger than some of the men around him—most of which were adjacent to us on a break from the fields. Banter and friendly insults flew around, most not understood by me.

  I walked to a cooler about thirty feet away from him as he finished up the bundle. As I lifted the lid, I felt a familiar bump against my leg. Malaika was radiant, joyful, and sweetly beautiful with her golden self, beaming with affection. I hugged her and rubbed her side. Just as Absko was about to raise the bundle, he caught her eye. Playfully, she hunched down into her pouncing stance and launched toward him. He was nearly ready for her when she pressed him to the ground. It happened so fast. In hindsight, I can’t figure out why I didn’t think this wouldn’t happen. Of course it would happen. The men on their break, seeing a jungle cat on top of a boy would react in no other way. As Absko fell to the ground, although clearly laughing, these men, unaccustomed to the subtleties of pretended aggression grabbed their machetes. Raising them high above their heads, they had begun running toward the boy.

  I couldn’t move my feet fast enough as I shouted to the men, “She’s just playing!” I shouted it again and again. The first blow hit her flank. Yelping in pain, she rolled off Absko. Fearing for her life, she prepared a formidable defensive stance against the continuing onslaught. But there were just too many men coming down on her. With each blow and slash she writhed, her body wavering and bewildered by the blades buffeting down on her.

  “NOOOOO!!” Absko yelled, but the mob could not be stopped.

  “She’s playing!” I implored, back of the mob, desperately peeling them off as I made my way to her. I weeded through them until I finally held her. With Absko at my side, the mob begged off, giving us space. Most were cheering. I wept. Her body mangled. Pierced so many times. Her blood staining my hands as I looked into her eyes. She was alive barely. Her tongue hung out as she weakly panted, blood filling her lungs. I wailed in my grief and a few in the mob too felt my loss. I could hear Absko explaining she was only playing. She was only playing. Most didn’t care.

  I felt a familiar hand upon my shoulder. As I turned, peering through tearful eyes, I found Abasi, mellowed and mournful. In his other hand was a pistol. I shrunk into myself, wailing “NO!” as I held her closer.

  “My friend,” Abasi whispered to me, “it is time. You must help her pass. Stop her suffering.” I felt him slide the cold metal into my palm as he helped me to my feet. Reluctantly, I stood above her and in her agony she stared at me. “Why?” I heard her say in my mind.

  “I am sorry, Angel.”

  BANG!

  She slumped as her body released the pain of the world. I collapsed to my knees as Abasi retrieved the pistol from my grip.

  Abasi told me that Sanura had her baby and Absko was filling the shoes of fatherhood nicely. I hadn’t seen them in some weeks. I’d asked them not to come. My supply of coconut milk was gone. I couldn’t stand the sight or smell of it anymore. I blamed myself. I asked her to come back. This I’d never be able to get over. If it weren’t for Abasi bringing me supplies, I’m not sure I could have endured the demons circling in my head.

  As I sat with Abasi one evening, I asked him why he gave me the pistol. Why he just didn’t do it himself. Why I should have to endure such a betrayal against a friend.

  “Because if I had done it,” he said, “you might never have forgiven me. And if a farmer had done it, it would have seemed like murder. Only a true friend has compassion enough to put another friend out of their terminal misery.” I thought about that for a moment, not fully understanding, but at least I understood his intention in handing me the pistol. “I must apologize to you.” I turned to look at him, wondering what he had to apologize for. “I mistook her for a demon—for the demons that have killed members of my family—but it would appear you were right. She was an angel, and we—man—were the demon.”

  That evening I heard a cry beyond my meadow. It was the cry of the patriarch. I recognized his roar. As the sun met the horizon, I trekked to the perimeter of the meadow and beyond from where I stood, just ten feet, were The Three. I felt completely vulnerable. I fell to my knees and sobbed. They held their composure, staunch and strong, as they witnessed this weaker species before them. As I looked into their eyes I felt their loss. I hoped they could feel mine, for I truly repented of the trouble I had caused. In the pit of my stomach I knew they knew what had happened, the moment it occurred. Their spiritual connection with Malaika must have been ripped from their collective consciousness, never to hear from her again.

  The magnificent beasts rose to their feet in unison. The females left with their heads tilted down but the king remained. He moved one step closer. I opened, I would not resist. He raised his head toward me in distain. He then turned slowly and caught up to the females, where, I hadn’t noticed before, there were several other lions among them—all youngsters. I assumed these could be Malaika’s offspring. One after another I received a stone-faced expression until all left me to wallow, alone.

  I sagged in my chair, cigarette in hand. I relaxed and stared into the birthing sun as it rolled into the sky. I don’t recall closing my eyes, but I must have as the sky transformed into a baby blue hue, scraped with gentle pastel fuchsia clouds. I stood in a breezy golden meadow as I have before with the high wheat tickling my palms. A jungle appeared before me where a golden light came to life from nothing. It was Malaika, showered in blissful light. Her nostrils poked at the air as she sniffed for tobacco smoke and coffee. I waved at her as her eyes deadened on mine and then softened. She turned slowly, knowingly. Her powerful hind legs gently negotiating the landscape as jungle shadows dappled her coat. I blinked, and she was gone. My hand met my side. I didn’t think she’d have anything to say to me after . . . then I heard it—“Hi Thomas!” rang in my mind. “I know—I’m better now—and Thomas . . . I forgive you. It is time you forgive yourself. Go, my friend. Your family needs you,” she said, plain as day. No aggression, no sadness, no regret, no shame, just Love, just Understanding, and most importantly and heart wrenchingly painful for me . . . Forgiveness. Maybe it was time for me to go home and do the same.

  AUTHOR BIO

  Van lives in Burbank, California with Redford- his adopted morbidly obese cat, which is more of a paperweight than a feisty feline, his wife Mary and her kitty Abigail.

  Van always enjoys hearing from his readers. If you wish to send your comments you may do so at www.vanheerlingbooks.com.

  LESSON PLAN

  1) When Absko learns that he can lie to his father and get away with it, Thomas warns Absko that deception is a wicked instrument. Have you ever been deceived? If so, how did you respond to such deception? Was it in fact an evil instrument?

  2) Discuss Thomas’ first encounter with The Three, compared to the final time he met with them. How has his relationship with The Three changed? How has Thomas evolved as a person? What have The Three learned? Have they changed?

  3) Thomas is particularly fond of Abasi. List three or four of Abasi’s individual traits that are particularly endearing to Thomas. Do you admire these characteristics in others? What are the three most important attributes that you look for in a friend, mentor, etc?

  4) List three major points of significance from the dreams between Thomas and Malaika. Discuss each as it relates to the relationship that develops between the two over time.

  5) Abasi speaks rather harshly to Thomas about the difference between American loss and African loss. Do you agree with Abasi? Compare and contrast these two types of losses.

  6) Compare and contrast Thomas’ American life verses Abasi’s African life. Who is happier? Whose life is richer? Whose life has more meaning? What are the priorities of an African family, compared to those of
an American family?

  7) Thomas presents Malaika with a fresh cut of meat but she refuses his gesture. Why might she do this? What does this say about her upbringing?

  8) When Malaika is banished from her pride she suffers both physically and mentally, to the extent that she believes she might die. Why do you think The Three banished Malaika? Do you agree with the punishment she suffered? Was Malaika asking for it? Were The Three too easy on her or do you believe the punishment was excessive. What do we do with people in our society that push the constraints of our societal boundaries? Are they praised? Are they ridiculed? What does this say about fairness? Do these people that push societal boundaries make our society better or worse?

  9) At the tobacco fields where Malaika met her demise, besides playfully pouncing on Absko, what else may have played a part in prompting the farmers to act in the way they did? What does this say about us as human beings?

  10) Abasi warns Thomas that Malaika may be a demon not yet unveiled. When Abasi apologies to Thomas he concedes that he was wrong, that indeed Malaika was an angel and Man the demon. What does this say about Man’s capacity to change? Is Man capable of change in light of new truths?

  11) When Thomas meets with The Three for the last time, he throws himself at the mercy of the patriarch. What do you think was the patriarch’s message to Thomas? What does it say about the patriarch that Thomas did not meet the lion’s claw, but was left unharmed to wallow in his own misery?