The Girl and the Creek
First 3 ‘chapters’ out of a proposed 7 or 8

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The walk to the creek was a long and difficult one, but it didn’t stop young hearts from racing with excitement. Ndeye would usually have had school today – but school was cancelled, due to the political tensions in the West.

She leapt along the makeshift dirt path, kicking fallen branches out of the way and kicking up dust that flew directly into her brother’s eyes. With a smile, Amadi – her older brother – said “Don’t blind me before we reach the water, Bibou”.

Although Ndeye was her real name, almost no one in her family called her that. ‘Bibou’ meant ‘little’, and Ndeye was the youngest of the three.

“I was meant to give a presentation on Wuthering Heights in class today”, Bibou yelled backwards, hoping her brother could hear.

Amadi didn’t respond – probably because Bibou had run so far ahead that he couldn’t hear her. She was too eager to slow down.

Branches with thick dark-green leaves adorned the air beside her head. She had to duck and weave through the foliage, and be careful to not let any bugs bite her or any leeches latch on to her skin.

Bibou dashed through the path for another ten minutes – although it really didn’t feel like anything at all – until she reached a place where the foliage ended and gave way to a clearing. The clearing was a fun place to play with her friends, but that wasn’t why she was here today.

Instead, she looked to her right, at the enormous logs and vines that made a barricade which blocked her way. She looked behind her, and Amadi was nowhere in sight, so she attempted to climb the log.

With one bare foot gripping the side of the first log, she jutted a hand out to grab a hanging vine and attempted to pull herself up. As she was mid-air, the vine snapped and she thudded to the ground.

With a groan, she walked over to one of the smaller logs and sat down, holding her chin in her hands.

After a while, Amadi, breathless, finally reached the gateway. In between gasps of air, he said matter-of-factly “Bibou, I could barely read Wuthering Heights when I was 13 years of age. You are only 9. Why did you choose that godforsaken book?!”

Bibou raised her arms up towards her brother, and said “Because I’m smart”.

Amadi grabbed Bibou under the armpits and hauled her over the logs and vines, and himself jumped over.

Amadi led the way this time, occasionally moving large fallen branches so Bibou could pass. After a short time, the muddle of logs, vines and hanging branches gave way to an opening, where a large lake lay in wait – the gold at the end of their hunt. ‘

The lake was a greenish blue colour that extended to the edge of Bibou’s eyesight in all directions. Large, thick branches were scattered across the water, having being carried away by tempestuous winds in the monsoon months.

A girl of 16 sat on the edge of the lake, her feet dipped in the water. She turned around and saw the two approaching.

With a gasp, she said “Bibou, what happened to your leg?”

Touba stood up and rushed over to inspect Bibou’s leg, where blood trickled down onto the floor.

“Oh”, Bibou said. “It must have happened on the walk.”

“How many times have I told you to wait for Amadi before trying to climb over the logs?”

“He took so long! And I could nearly do it”, Bibou replied with indignation.

Amadi chuckled from the back and said “Don’t scold her, Touba. It is just her nature. Although, if you don’t let me press you over those logs, how will I become as strong as Arnold?”

“Come on”, Touba said with a wry smile, jumping into the water. “We have to get back soon to help yaye with lunch.”

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Bibou sat on the old sofa while her father braided her hair. Charlotte, a stray dog their family had taken in, lay on the floor by her feet.

“Are you excited, little Bibi?”, her father asked.

“Of course”, Bibou replied, although she was slightly nervous.

From the kitchen, her mother yelled out “Come, Bibi.”

A few minutes later, her father had finished knotting her hair and they both strolled over to the kitchen. Charlotte followed, as usual.

Bibou gasped. Her mother had prepared a feast for her. Jollof rice, ugali, sausages, bobotie and fried plantain.

And on the edge of the table, a tub of vanilla ice-cream.

Bibou beamed. She hugged her mother and whispered a thank you.

“Sit”, her mother said, gesturing to the dining table and smiling.

Bibou did, as her mother served her food.

“Will you join me?”, Bibou asked.

“We will eat later. But right now, this is for you. Enjoy”, her father said.

Bibou ate in silence, grateful. Her mother and father sat with her, discussing the upcoming day.

When Bibou finished her meal, her father began serving her ice cream.

She had not had ice cream since the party for Touba’s acceptance into nursing school, which was what – a year and a half ago?

Bibou beamed. “Oh, will you please eat this with me?”

“Oh, please, please, please, please?” she interjected, as her father began to protest.

Eventually, they relented, and all three of them ate ice cream, savouring the moment.

After letting Bibou eat, her mother put down her bowl and said “We are so proud of you, Bibou. You have worked so hard to get here.”

“You deserve all the support you can get, little one. And we are sorry that we cannot give you that”, she continued.

“That’s not true”, Bibou replied, matter-of-factly. “Baye spent weeks in the night flattening the land with just a shovel to create a running track for me. You have driven me to all my athletics meets. That’s all the support I need.”

Her mother’s voice broke a little as she replied “We wish that you had spikes, or any kind of running shoes. We wish things were different.”

“We just couldn’t afford new shoes, Bibi. But maybe beating all these other girls barefoot will make the victory all the sweeter”, her father continued.

“And we are sorry that we cannot make it to the race. We have to work, and -”, her mother’s voice seemed to break completely.

“But we got you something, something small”, her father quickly said.

He took out a plastic bag, and handed it to Bibou with a strained smile on his face as her mother wiped away tears.

Tentatively, she looked inside.

With a gasp, she pulled out a brand-new blue Nike sweatband. 

“It may not be running shoes, but you’ll look just like all the famous athletes from the photos”, her father said, with a smile.

Before Bibou had the chance to say anything, a loud honk from outside interrupted.

“It’s time to go”, her father said. “You can’t be late today.”

They walked outside, where Amadi was waiting on his motorbike, wearing jeans and with a half-lit cigarette in his mouth.

“Are you ready?”, he grinned. 

“Go on, Bibi. We will be waiting tonight to hear all about it”, her mother said, kissing her on the forehead.

She got on the back of her brother’s bike, where he handed her a faded white helmet.

“You know the rules, Bibou”, he said.

She reluctantly put it on. It was unfair that she was the only one in the family who always had to wear one.

He revved the engine twice, waved goodbye to their parents, and they were off.

An hour and a half later, they arrived at their destination. Amadi’s bike ground to a halt and the engine slowly sputtered to a stop.

They were at the opening to a large, grassy field where hundreds of scooters, bikes and even a few cars surrounded them. In the middle of the oval, a rudimentary running track had been carved out, and spectators lined the edges.

They had arrived at the Provincial Annual Athletics Meet.

The sun shone down brilliantly today – after many months of torrential rain, the transition to the warmer months was a welcome one. A calm wind blew Bibou’s hair across her face.

Amadi paid the entrance fee at the gate and they joined the crowd watching the current race. Bibou’s heart beat so hard she thought it would burst out of her chest. It wasn’t her race, but it would be, soon.

She looked to Amadi to steady herself. He towered above all the other spectators. He was so tall now, and broad, too. He was a grown man, finishing his last year of school.

Amadi puffed on his cigarette, and without looking at Bibou, said “This is going to be the last time I’m going to see you race.”

Bibou looked at the ground. “I know”, she said softly.

“When I graduate the top of my class, and I win an award for best recruit, I will come home and give you the medal so that when you go to the Olympics you don’t forget me”, he said, smiling.

Bibou recoiled at that. She wanted to mention how if he graduated at the top of his class, her brother would be shipped off to the West to fight in the war. She was so afraid for Amadi – she had heard the stories about the hell that was basic training. She wanted to beg him to stay at home, work a normal job, and stay with her and yaye and baye.

But instead, she forced a smile and said “You can’t even hit a pot from ten metres away with baye’s shotgun. How are you going to be the top of your class?”

Amadi chuckled. “They will give us real guns to practice with.”

They watched the rest of the races in silence, until they called up Bibou’s age bracket. Amadi wished her good luck, and she began walking over to the race tent. Her heart beat faster and faster, but her mind was focused. She took steady, confident strides towards the tent.

She heard a distant “Bibou!” and whipped around.

Touba, gulping air and with sweat dripping onto the grassy floor, ran up and embraced her.

“What are you doing here?”, Bibou exclaimed, grinning.

“I took the bus from university. I couldn’t miss this! Why else did I spend all that time running to the creek with you for all those years?”, Touba responded, smiling.

“Go, Bibou. I’ll be watching with Amadi”, she continued, eyes full of pride.

And just like that, Bibou was on the starting blocks. To her left and right, girls in gleaming Adidas shorts and pristine white shoes with spikes reflecting the day’s sunlight were poised, their stances honed by years of coaching.

She looked down to where her bare feet gripped the grass. She touched the sweatband on her head.

Amadi was wrong. She would not make it to the Olympics. Bibou knew that – she knew she wasn’t good enough. She would lose, one day.

But today would not be that day.

Bang!

She exploded out of the starting blocks, legs and arms slicing through air in one smooth motion.

Wind rushed past her.

A sudden roar from the crowd.

She had done it.

She had won.

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Raucous laughter erupted from the crowd.

Assane mushed a piece of cake, frosting and all, all over Touba’s face. Bibou grinned, and watched as baye cleaned her face up with the designated towel.

Lights sparkled throughout their house and patio, illuminating the chilly night. People surrounded the main table of the feast, where Touba and Assane gleefully enjoyed the festivities.

Others flowed in and out of the house, talking with relatives they hadn’t seen in a long time, or meeting cousins of cousins of friends.

This was a special day. Not just for Touba, but for all of them. Touba had returned from Nkosi, the army barracks where she was stationed as a nurse – and where she had met Assane. Amadi had come back, also, and for the first time in a long time, there were no empty rooms in their home.

Bibou looked to her left, where Amadi made conversation with a man she did not know. He was wearing his Navy uniform today, shimmering white with specks of blue.

He stood straight-backed; arms rigidly held at his sides. Amadi saw Bibou staring at him, nodded to the man, and walked over.

“It’s good to see you again, Bibi.”, he said, the creases of his eyes belying a smile. “You are nearly finished with university, yes?”

“This is my final year.”, she replied.

“So, I get one year to learn how to shoot a gun, identify a suicide bomber and survive in the wilderness and you spend five years learning how to read some papers?”, he chuckled.

“Lawyers don’t just read papers!”, she protested, albeit with a laugh. It was good to have her brother back.

Ever since he left for basic training all those years ago, Amadi only ever came back for one or two days at a time. For Touba’s wedding, though, he would be staying for two weeks. Bibou couldn’t contain her excitement.

“What is the West like?”, Bibou asked, eyes full of awe.

“It is beautiful”, Amadi replied. “It is full of jungles, and there are beaches married to the edge of each jungle. There are no monsoon seasons and there are no hot seasons, but instead a cool wind touches your face wherever you go.”

A golden circle adorned the left breast of her brother’s uniform. The Lion’s Medal, given to those who single-handedly turned the tide of a battle.

Bibou had never asked what he had done to win it.

“Do you think things will settle down soon?”, Bibou asked softly, her eyes flickering to a deep burn wound that decorated the side of his neck. 

Amadi stared directly ahead.

And then he forced a grin. “As long as I live, no one will dare attack. I am the strongest man in all of Africa, after all”, he said, referencing his younger self’s dreams to follow in the footsteps of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

“Amadi! Come, someone wants to meet you”, yaye’s voice called from inside the house.

“Probably yaye’s neighbour’s cousin’s girlfriend’s friend”, Amadi laughed, and went over to talk some more.

Bibou fluttered around for the next hour, meeting strangers who told her they used to change her diapers, talking about school, her parent’s farm, and so on.

“What do you plan on doing after you graduate?”, one of these stranger slash family members asked.

Bibou hesitated. Her parents knew she was doing well at school. What they didn’t know, was that she was ranked number one in her graduating cohort and had an early offer from a top law firm in New York.

New York, in America. Halfway across the world.

“I just want to find a good job somewhere”, she said, politely smiling.

Bibou felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned around to see her father standing there.

“Your cousin wants to take a photo”, he said, smiling.

Baye was older now. Wrinkles adorned his face and his hair had begun greying. A lifetime of manual labour had taken its toll on his joints, and he walked with a slight limp. His deep, kind eyes, however, remained a constant.

They walked over to where her cousin, the aspiring photographer, was taking a photo of two children – they were her second cousins.

Touba and Assane were already there, happily perfecting their poses. It wasn’t often they had the privilege to be photographed.

Amadi and yaye made their way over as well. They all lined up, the photographer directing their positioning and stances.

Touba and Assane were sat on two chairs that were front and centre, with baye and yaye flanking either side. Amadi and Bibou stood behind them.

“Try ease up a bit, Amadi”, the photographer called out.

Touba turned around and said “Smile, soldier man. This is a celebration, not a battlefield.” And then she looked at Bibou and said “Soon this will be you here, Bibi.”

“Alright, everyone look at the camera. In 5, 4..”, the photographer yelled.

Amadi instinctively straightened his posture and his right arm twitched, itching to salute. Touba and Assane held hands, joyfully smiling and forgetting the poses they were just practising. Baye and yaye smiled, proudly.

Bibou took it all in and cherished this moment.

“3, 2, 1.”

Click.

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(Chapter 4 sneak peek)

A drizzle washed over the streets of Manhattan. Each raindrop reflected the scattered office lights atop the skyscrapers left on by suits working late. The air smelt damp, and Bibou could taste the drops of rain blown onto her mouth by a strong wind.

She walked along the pavement, staring straight ahead. She ignored the towering buildings all around her, a remnant of the working day where the city had once been full of people. Now, only taxis with bright headlights illuminating for a split second the otherwise dark streets sped by.

A lump began to form in Bibou’s throat. She walked faster.

It was an icy Thursday night, and she had not been back to her apartment since Sunday. She had pulled three all-nighters in a row to finish her given project.

Her once-crisp suit hung limply on her exhausted frame, and caffeine jitters transformed into an intense, dull ache behind her eyes.

She was nearly at her apartment complex. Vision blurry with the hint of welling tears, Bibou forced one foot in front of the other.

(tbc)