If the question is why, what is the answer?
If the question is why, there is always an answer, so far as I have seen; however there is no guarantee that this ‘answer’ has any substance whatsoever.
It was after a long hard day of trekking across an arid plain. I had been concentrating on putting one dry, cracked foot in front of the other and watching the sand and dust erupt around them like a halo from hell. My mind wandering first from my feet, then to the my companion and then all around me until focusing on our target destination which was a small bare tree with a dusting of grey green leaves. There was a shimmer behind it and although looking around, it seemed to be one of many glassy looking surfaces of water we had been assured that this one was not a mirage.
As we drew nearer, the idyllic image became clearer, you could distinguish many different shrubs surrounding the spring and one or two looked like they might possibly provide some shade. The mirages we had seen had faded away leaving this solitary patch to become even clearer and persuaded us to start believing it was real. My mouth was so dry it felt as though the sand on the floor would run off my tongue just as it did our hands. Alif’s strides quickened and I struggled to keep up with him. I had come across him in a town near the port and after talking for a night he had decided that he too was to attempt crossing the desert and so we had come to an agreement. If I were to share my belongings with him then he would carry the majority of them. It had seemed a fair bargain and I could use the company. I had tried to impress upon him the importance of particular items for example the tarpaulin for our shade and the gallon water container, which now hung empty on his rucksack swinging leisurely two and fro. He assured me that he would show particular care to these valuable items and so we had carried on.
We were now so close to the oasis that I could taste the moisture in the air. I could smell the freshness emitted from the green leaves and hear the sound of something splashing in the water. I froze, my mind racing as to what could be there. I signalled to Alif as I readied the rifle, knowing that this could be our only chance of fresh meet for over a weak. We headed quietly and carefully closer, Alif gingerly holding the firearm I had lent him. At the first bush I crouched down and Alif followed suit. We got closer and I could make out the form of an animal at the springs edge. We were close enough now, not even 40 yards and I readied my rifle waiting patiently for the animal to lift its head and give an opportunity for a shot. My stare was so constant that I thought I might bore holes into the animals hide or at the very least that it would sense my hunger and it’s imminent danger. It didn’t, indeed it did not really do anything. It must have been at least 5 minutes and it hadn’t taken a step. But I knew patience would pay off and I didn’t risk moving, just waited longer, staring, waiting, expecting. It was so quiet that I could hear the animal drink; I could hear the splashes of water dripping from its muzzle and back into the spring. It still hadn’t moved, barely a muscle had twitched and now it must have been nearing an hour. The animal’s tail swished and the sound cut through the air and then again quiet. The silence was not deafening, merely irritating I waited tirelessly for it to take just a step forward to make the shot but no footstep was heard. From my right a crack splintered the silence, and shattered the tranquillity and with it my hopes of food. As I came back to my senses I saw the back end of a large oryx as it disappeared into the desert. I turned to Alif in disbelief and he stood, still holding the gun, staring at his trigger as smoke swirledmaliciously out of the end of the barrel.
We both just stood there in silence, neither knowing what was going through the others mind or believing what had happened, the concoction of hunger, thirst, weariness and disappointment had become too much for us and so we stood half in a nightmare, half deaddeliriously trying to comprehend our situation. Finally, after an age I turned to Alif and asked, “why?”
I had told him previously that he was, under no circumstances, to fire until I had fired at least two shots. Alif slowly lifted his head and looked at my with seeping eyes, “It was an accident”, he said avoiding my stare. “My finger slipped” he exclaimed but there was no real meaning in what he said. He barely seemed to want to disguise his falseness but gave me this answer anyway. I shook my head, looked at him again and repeated myself, “why?” He took a breath and again faced me, “it had moved a bit and I had a clear shot at the chest”, he said but barely finished his sentence, the word, ‘chest’, was almost a whisper. These interactions had wakened me enough from my stupor to remind me of my thirst and I dived towards the water taking great gulps like a grouper swimming in a reef. Alif cautiously followed and squatted tentatively on the edge, cupping his hands and sipping at the dripping water. He was still ashamed and anxious of his interrogation to come. After I had drunk my fill and Alif had slowed down and become more relaxed I told him, for a third time, “why?” I said it very slowly and very deliberately and the look on my face showed clearly that I wanted the real answer.
Alif looked down and then up, he stared straight at me and then away again. He breathed in, as if to say something but breathed out again slowly. Finally he spoke, very quietly. I leant forward to assure that I heard everything. His English, which was previously, almost flawless become infused with a rich African accent. He added in words that I had never heard before which must have been from his native tongue. “It wos when I wos a vury little boy, I had left my village in search of food for my kijiji but became lost. I had ventured too far in to the jangwa and wherever I looked, looked the same”, he leant back on his heels and carried on. “I fell asleep alongside a small rock and dreamt wild dreams. I was awoken by the howls of a pack of mbwa mwitu and sat up. I could see nothing, but through the cloak of darkness I saw movement and a flash of white teeth. Then I saw another, and another until I could see mwitu in every direction. I shouted and clapped my hands but they would not leave. They crept closer and closer until I could look no more and closed my eyes and wailed. I braced myself for teeth but heard thundering footprints instead, I looked up and saw an Oryx charge into the pack of dogs, kicking one with its front hoof and another with its back. The dogs fled and the Oryx chased after them without looking back once.” Alif stood up again and looked embarrassed he said, “I have been indebted to them ever since and now I have returned the favour.”
I was feeling somber at the thought of the anger I had against him and was ready to apologise and agree that he was just in his actions but just as I looked up I saw him hide a smile…
I had asked him the question, “why?” and had been given three answers, all of which were relevant but none of them could be counted upon.
