The Cowardly General

A gale bellows across the country, carrying with it a giant plume of dust. The plume ravages across the barren land, covering whatever it comes across with a thick layer of dust. Amidst this ravaging dust plume is a white feather. The feather floats gently in the eye of the plume, somehow untainted by all the grime and turbulence around it. In a trice, an updraft blows the feather upwards and ejects it from the plume and into the stratosphere. From this new vantage point, two villages can be spotted on the horizon. The feather slowly drifts in this direction, and soon it is possible to make out major landmarks in the region. One of the most discernible of these landmarks is a huge ditch running across the land, which appears like a jagged scar in an otherwise even landscape.

For the people living in the villages of Shaqiq and Ukhti, the ditch represents a boundary that no one dares to cross. This boundary was established by a European lawyer sixty years ago who, despite never having set foot on this land before, or having any inkling of the culture of the region, had decided that the dark-skinned Shaqiq community was quite different from the light-skinned Ukhti. He had wasted no time in cleaving the two communities into two, and vehemently crusading for everyone to keep to members of their skin tone. As he had hitherto done in many places around the world, the lawyer had left in a twinkling (probably to establish more boundaries in other exotic places), leaving turmoil in his wake. Forthwith, this boundary had spelled disaster for any Shaqiq living in Ukhti, or any Ukhti living in Shaqiq. Before this alien influence, both communities had blended, and it was not uncommon for one to completely set up their lives in the neighboring village. This radical change had caught them completely by surprise, and they soon found themselves rushing across the newly established border, stripped of all their belongings. As if desolated by the contemplation of these events, the white feather slowly dropped from the sky and inched ever closer to the ditch. This new vantage point offered a glance into the measures kept in place to ensure everyone stayed 'on their side.' Armed guards patrolled either side of the ditch, making sure that no one ever crossed it.

Suddenly, the feather was plucked from the air and found itself under scrutiny by cold and calculating eyes. The eyes were attached to a lean and hardened Shaqiq, who had been given the name Eisaba when he was born. "This must be a good omen," Eisaba thought, "Tonight's venture is going to be a success." He lifted his shirt to deposit the feather in his pouch, offering a glimpse into a sinewy body covered in ragged scars.

Earlier in the day, Eisaba had prepared a portion from the bark of the Yanam tree. He had then charged members of his squadron with ensuring that it got into the got into Ukhti's drinking water supply. Tonight every Ukhti would fall into a deep slumber, and Eisaba would be poised to strike. History bore no influence on Eisaba or most of the Shaqiq and Ukhti living in this era. The ruckus between the two communities had resulted in the burning of a few historic texts and books here and there until the story of their once united past and the cause of their animosity had devolved into obscurity. The few texts left behind were utterly useless, as classrooms had been annihilated along with the books. Everyone in this community was convinced of two things; that this war had existed since the beginning of time, and that members of the other community were violet cannibals who hunted them for sport.

As darkness set in, Eisaba found himself edging towards the ditch. When he got to the ditch's shoulder, the guard adjusted his weapon and made himself as comfortable as one could be standing ramrod straight and holding a rifle. However, in contrast to the rest of his person, his eyes were restless, relentlessly scouring Ukhti on the other side of the ditch. In the wee hours of the night, his eyes finally locked on their target. A fire was lit and extinguished six times, a signal indicating that his sleeping potion had worked. He gave a shrill whistle and held his breath. After a while, he heard echoes of the same whistle around his environ. As he set out across the ditch, he could hear the occasional snapping of a twig indicating that his squadron was following in the shadows. Tomorrow he would be a brave hero, his name cemented in legend.

When they got to Ukhti, Eisaba was first convinced that he had gotten lost and turned around to Shaqiq. What else would explain the intricately decorated calabashes and huts which eerily resembled those he saw back at home? Soon, other members of his squadron were murmuring in confusion. They couldn't even find the alleged skulls the Ukhti used as diner plates. Instead, they found the same embroidered Lawha he used. If not for the slumbering light-skinned people next to him, Eisaba could have sworn that he was back home.

A movement to his side caught his attention, and Eisaba tensed and held up his weapon. Three Ukhti women stopped short, caught in the crosshairs of his rifle. At that moment, it became evident why they were not asleep. The bundle carried by the woman at the center shifted and the cry of a baby pierced the night sky. The women must have been too preoccupied tending to the baby to fetch any water that day. Too terrified to move, none of them attempted to calm down the baby. The shrill cries offered a foreboding accompaniment to the standoff between Eisaba and the three Ukhti women. One pull of the trigger and Eisaba would be the hero he had dreamt of for as long as he can remember.

After what felt like an eternity, Eisaba holstered his weapon and reached into his pouch. He produced a white spotless feather and presented it to the baby, who quieted down sharpish and started playing with it. He gave a short shrill whistle, and his squadron melted into the darkness.

There would be no medals or glorious ululations for the cowardly general when he got back home. However, to the three women and the village he spared, he was the only one brave enough to go against years of dogma, norms, and conditioning to save the life of a child. Maybe true courage is not found in extinguishing your opponents, but in doing the right thing even when you have the power, right, and opportunity to do otherwise.