A noble blood sacrifice

Another life to lead

As my mother continued to pour, Shuma’s stomach expanded in size. So much so that when the vile was emptied, his stomach had grown by at least 6 centimeters. I felt a jolt of excitement as my mother stepped away to give me room to climb out the tub. The community would no longer have the opportunity of taking advantage of an innocent soul. Using him abrasively then tossing him to the side like a dirty dish rag. The local kids will no longer make fun of him and give him silly names. And most importantly, he will never go hungry again. Never again will his willing demeanor, hardworking spirit and simple minded innocence be taken advantage of. We have taken away their free labor. Thank you’s and flowery compliments never fed a hungry stomach. Who will they take advantage of now? Ungrateful bastards.
 
I washed the blood out of his mouth. Then lifted him out of the tub. My sisters already had towels wrapped around their hips. They disrobed and wiped him down. My mother was cleaning the Vile Of The Condemned in the washbasin. We then carried the corpse back to the dining room and laid it on the floor. My mother handed me the Vile Of The Condemned. I went to the backyard to bury it under a specially marked tombstone. This one sat away from the other tombstones, where all my ancestors lay. And my father lying beside them. This was the tombstone for the condemned. Farther back in the property away from my kin. I dug the hole and buried the vile. Until such a time as we find another born-again with a higher purpose. Then I will retrieve it again.
 
By the time I returned, Naledi and Lesedi were almost finished lathering the body with lotion. The lotion smelled of camphor. His skin gleamed under the candle lights. Time flies when you’re doing God’s work. We could not turn on any fluorescent lights as the brightness was too strong. It would blind him before he ever opened his eyes. Then my friend would be a zombie rather than a born-again. Zombies are made by demon worshippers and people with evil agendas. Not our thing at all. My mother had knelt down by his forehead, massaging his temple and singing. When my sisters were done, Lesedi got up and fetched some clothes from the couch. Then they began to dress him up. I was leaning against the wall, watching everything. With my hands and clothes still dirty and bloody, I didn’t want to interfere.
 
They dressed him in a scotch shirt, Brentwood pants, a fedora hat and Florsheim shoes. The exact outfit I last saw my father in before he died. My mother was praying again. I could see movement in Shuma’s chest but I wanted to be sure. I creeped closer as my sisters hummed the song my mother was singing. The closer I got, the more I could see that there was a definite breathing motion. I got close enough to see Shuma and my mother staring into each other’s eyes. My heart jumped. Once then twice. Then I smiled nervously when he noticed me. I guess I was hoping he would remember that we were friends. But his eyes didn’t show that. He showed me nothing.
 
My mother lifted his head up. Then coaxed him to stand up on his own. He fell down a couple of times before he found his orientation. “Welcome back Shuma. My beautiful child. You are my child that I love so much. Come to mommy” He stumbled closer to her before falling onto his knees again. “He’s bowing to me,” my mother said. Motioning with her hands as we joined in her laughter. “We should be bowing to you my beautiful angel. Stand up and come to me.” He stood up once again and this time made it all the way. Mother embraced him and reassured him that it was going to be all okay. “Let’s welcome the newest member of our family.” We all began to praise Shuma. My sisters ululating as I recited praise poetry in his name. My mother continued to reassure him as we jumped and shouted his name. “All that you have been through. You will feel pain no more. Our home is your sanctuary now. You will cry no more.” It was a joyous time for us all introducing him to the world. My mother led him out to the front porch. Taking a deep breath as she did. Our song and dance followed right behind them. 
 
They descended the porch and onto the yard. It had been two years since last I saw my mother come out the house completely. I had only heard rumours from my sisters that she did every now and again. I had not seen it with my own eyes. Being away at work so much and all. This really was a special day. “This yard is your playground. This land. This…” She bent down slowly. I bent down with her mentally. Guiding her movements with my strained breath. Then she stood back up with a cupped hand. “This soil. Do with it as you will. Make it a captivating garden. One that the angels will want to come and rest in. Created by one of their own.”
 
The dark brown desert they stood in did not inspire any thoughts of grandeur. Rather, I felt repulsed by it. Like I’d rather stay indoors than come outside. Walking through it was a chore. It just drained me of any motivation to get started in its reconstruction. I was fascinated to see what Shuma could possibly do with a mess of this magnitude. Mother tossed the soil to the side and took his head in her hands. I had to squint to be sure but sure enough it was that other woman again. I must be the only one that ever sees this because my sisters have never mentioned it to me before. Even at that moment I looked at them with purpose but they showed no surprise at all. There she was that strange lady. Pretending to be my mother like she always does. I saw her and I swear it was not an illusion. And why did I feel so uneasy around her? What was her secret that I needed to know? She looked Shuma stone faced in the eyes. “Be the man we need you to be. Be the man you were, and better. For all of us.” Shuma was fixated. Not that he had shown any emotions before or after becoming a born-again. But now he was just wooden. An upright plank flatter than the solid white line on the freeway during peak traffic. I could feel her energy trying to fixate me too. But my sisters were still singing together. Their voices distracted me just enough to keep my attention from her. Then just like that, she was gone. There stood my mother again. Like she had never left. I looked at her with great confusion. This was happening on plenty of occassions but the more it happened, the more bothered I became. What if this woman took my mother’s place permanently? What if my mother never came back? Who was this person we would be left with? She was not good news. Not according to the vibes I got every single time she appeared. I had to do something. I didn’t know what or where to begin. But I had to start soon. Before it was too late.
 
I looked into Shuma’s pupils as mother guided him past us. They shined. Not a lively shine. But that which one gets when they have partaken in the puffing of the chosen herb of Moses. When your eyes have been burnt repetitively by residual smoke after a hefty puff. Blood red. Irises grey when once they were chocolate brown. I knew my friend was no more. Not in the sense that I knew him before. He was a new man now. I needed to accept that. The expectations I carried into this? Getting my friendship back to what it was all those years back? I had to let that go. For the sake of my own sanity. Naledi, Lesedi, Mother. Those are my friends in good times. My companions in the dark. But theres someone else who resides in the pitch black corners. They keep me from sleeping when I’m at my apartment. Because I get that same feeling as when I see that lady. I’ve been doubling up on my education since Shuma’s birthday. I’ve just had this niggling feeling that time is not on my side.