Fiction-War Reverie

A dozen of bullets whizzed past Makechemu, as he lay flat on the ground. His heart pounded furiously and with the force of a sledgehammer. His body was soaked with fear-induced beads of perspiration. 

For a moment his sphincter muscles loosened. He had nothing to fire back with as his empty AK rifle lay on his side. He knew that running away was no option as it would jeopardize his chances of survival.

He lay there prostrate, hoping the firing would cease. Death was written all over his face as bullets continued to zoom past his head.

More sweat poured out of his battered body like a hot spring when it dawned on him that he could have been the only survivor among his colleagues. His friend Mashoko who was near him was battling for life after an eagle-eyed bullet caught him just below the jaw. He lay beside him, blood oozing out of his bullet-riddled body like water from an ewer.

Makechemu closed his eyes and lay still awaiting his fate. In his anguish, he heard heavy footsteps approaching from a distance. The thought that he would be killed immediately should the enemy find him still alive, brought more anguish to him.

Like a grass snake, he remained flat in his sanctuary while hatching a plan for his survival.

“They are all dead!”Somebody in the group declared triumphantly, his thundering voice tearing through the momentary silence. Makechemu guessed he was the leader.

“But this one is not dead,” another voice added and Makechemu hated this one most.

“Finish him off! We do not want to leave any soul alive. They may call for reinforcement,” the commander’s authoritative voice bellowed.

Makechemu nearly bolted from his sanctuary but his instincts held him back.

A sharp explosive sound shattered his ears and he could not resist opening his eyes shortly to see what had transpired.

They had finished Muchenje at close range. For the umpteenth time, his sphincter muscles loosened. He was afraid he would meet the same fate.

He rolled himself over Mashoko’s blood that was now flowing like spilling diesel. He quickly soaked himself, careful not to be detected.

The mixture of his waste and Mashoko’s blood attracted big, green, and noisy flies that descended in their dozens. 

He spread his arms restlessly on the ground as the enemy reached his hiding place.

Something very sharp pricked his buttocks.

"A bayonet," he thought to himself. The sensations nearly brought out a shrill cry out of him but somehow he managed to hold back and tensed his tender and delicate muscles. 

A size twelve gumboot stepped on his head and on the day, he must have thanked his ancestors for making him such a pretender. He allowed his body to yield with the flexibility of a worn-out ball joint.

“This one has soiled on himself,” one of them said, bursting into a sarcastic laugh while the rest joined in. From their discussion, Makechemu guessed they were five.

“Is he really dead?” one of them asked skeptically. Makechemu’s heart sank.

“You said you will not leave any soul alive,” the man said already coking his rifle. The sound of the bullet being fed into the firing chamber was clear and precise. Makechemu started to count the remaining seconds of his life silently.

“One-e-e, Two-o-o-o, Thre-e-e.”

“Leave him!” the commander bellowed.

“Do you think he will survive? Leave him to rot alive. Can’t you see the flies are already doing their work on him? He will be food for maggots soon.”

They left him.

Makechemu sighed inwardly. His eyes remained closed for what seemed to be an eternity until he was certain that the enemy had gone.

As he gained his sight back, a dark horrendous figure caught his eye. It was a huge elephant feeding on the leaves of a tree next to him. He was almost under its shadow. 

He watched it as it lifted its tusk, flapped its ears at the same time letting out a sharp piercing shrill, a sign the enormous mammal had sensed danger.

The elephant moved its tusk in every direction trying to detect the source of the human odor. It was obvious he would be crushed to mincemeat.

“Trouble begets more trouble. From the frying pan into the fire,” he thought to himself.

He hatched another plan.

With a scream, he woke up from his hiding place and tried to run for dear life but he could not. His legs seemed to have been tied together. The more he tried to run, the more he fell down. He watched the heavy trudge of the elephant’s feet trailing him. He let out a loud hysterical scream.

Baba Tine! Baba Tine! What is wrong?” His wife asked.

Makechemu woke up puzzled, eyes almost bulging from their sockets, rivulets beads of perspiration on his forehead, and smiled.

“Ooops, that was close,” he said with relief.

“Don’t worry Mai Tine, it was one of those war dreams,” he said to his wife before reclining back to sleep.

“What dream Baba Tine? Can’t you see you have messed yourself?” she cried.

Fiction-The Mountain Escapade

The sun had just disappeared behind the shoulder of the hill as darkness slowly crept in. It was not long before the valley below was finally swallowed by frightful shadows.

If only I had heeded uncle Mawuto’s advice to stay behind, I heard the same statement echoing at the back of my mind. “If…if…if….!”

I suddenly came to halt, sighed, and filled my chest with enough air to sustain a long, hysterical shout.

“Sekuru Mawuto-o-o!!!” I waited for the response and when there was none, I called again.

“Sekuru Mawuto-o-o!!!” Again there was no response serve for echoes of my agitated voice ricocheting from the nearby hills.

Fear

Gripped with fear, I trudged up the winding mountain path, wobbling and falling on the loose stones carpeting the narrow track.

A heavy rain cloud hung fiercely on the western horizon and a faint streak of lighting rent the sky.

Somewhere at a distance, a lion roared and I was soon soaked in fear-induced beads of perspiration all over my body. I felt a sudden coldness in the pit of my stomach and my throat ran dry.

Memories of my granny’s tales of the forest recoiled vividly in my mind.

“Many people have disappeared without a trace in this forest and some have fallen prey to wild animals,” I remembered her advising me.

The more I thought of these tales, my heart pounded furiously against my chest. Fear engulfed me as I covered the distance hopelessly trying to reach home.

Monster

As dusk fell, every tree began to look like a monster waiting to divulge me.

I crushed into a shrub and thudded on my back after a strange movement had caught my eye. It looked like a lion. I remained flat on the ground my eyes pressed on the ground while trying to discern the direction of the heavy tread of feet that was approaching. I could hear a strange roaring in my ears. But was I imagining things….

After a moment, I realized it was only a branch from a fallen tree. That was not the end of my fears though. It was just temporary relief.

I quickly woke up, broke into a trot as I resumed my seemingly wild goose chase.

Heavy rains began to fall, knocking ruthlessly on my skull. I just had to find my way home. As thunder rumbled overhead, lightning flashed as if inviting more raindrops to descend on me. 

Although it seemed to lighten my way, lighting also scared me and occasionally forced me to dive into the undergrowth for cover.

For the first time in years, I found myself haplessly on my knees, beseeching the Good Lord to come to my rescue.

Munyati River

From a distance, I heard the swoop splashes of flowing water. The sound of flowing water sounded heavier and heavier as I approached. This must have be Munyati River which we had crossed earlier in the day with Sekuru Mawuto. If it was, it meant I was still miles from home.

I trudged along the path in a trot after having removed my clothes, which were now soaked and were heavier on my body.

I when I finally reached the banks of the river, I was now in my boxer shorts while my other clothes under my armpits. I left my clothes at the banks of the river and armed myself with a stick to gauge the depth of the water so that I would cross.

I was suddenly swept off my feet and downstream I went, taking rivers of water into my lungs as I fought its tenacity. Panic seized me as I tumbled in and out of the turbulent waters. I resigned myself to imminent death as the ferocity of the water took control. I passed out.

Moments later I found myself dumped on an island, a small dwala. I was frantically gasping for breath as swoop-splashes of water hit angrily at me.

Deathbed

Heavy rain still pounded and the Mighty Munyati River was still in more water from its tributaries –Nyarupakwe, Mudzongwe, Ungwe among others. 

The small island was slowly being covered by water. I realized that in no time I would be going downstream again and this time destined for my deathbed. Besides fear of the floods, there were also known water predators in this huge river –crocs, hippos, and the poisonous serpents.

I found myself clinging on to a thorn tree the only sign of life at the small island. As levels of water increased, I made my way up the tree.

Thorns pricked my delicate skin and but I hung on.

My small island of hope was soon obliterated by water, waves hitting against the tree and shaking it violently as if reprimanding it for protecting me. I clung for dear life.

All had started when I had visited my rural area in Ganyungu in the grimy lands of Gokwe for the holidays. I found myself joining Sekuru Mawuto’s endless hunting expeditions in the forests.

Although he had warned me on several occasions to keep away from the forest, I thought I could not miss out on the adventures which would give me a lot to talk about when I get back to college.

The Chase

It was during these adventures that we encountered a duiker known for its delicate meet and Sekuru Mawuto gave chase. I could not keep up with his pace and I surrendered.

For over an hour, I had waited for him and he just could not return. I became restless and decided to follow his track and the rest is history.