Tukuli

We left immediately. August was strapped to one of the men’s back, while I endured the basket. I busied myself, weaving the lengths of August’s earlier sawed off hair in a long braid, which I weaved into my own hair. It was busy work, so that I wouldn’t have to sit and stare, but too, it forced him to be close to me. I don’t even know if I understood what I was doing at the time, just that I needed to do.. something, and this was the best I could come up with.

We were headed into the jungle, where none of us knew what would happen. When we finally arrived, the birds were set down in a clearing. My sense of direction, was off from being in the basket and I wasn’t sure in which direction we’d be going. That wouldn’t be a problem though, because instead of us finding a man named Tukuli, the natives would find us.

I’ve been to Schendi. It’s where Charm was born. I’ve walked in its sands and met the locals. None of that.. was like this. These men were primal, not that far up the food chain from an animal. I’d heard talk of cannibalism, but I never thought that I would meet it face to face.

Jonah was the first to try and make nice. I had taken a step back, only to find that I had traded one type of confinement for another. One dark skinned man pulled me back, while another lifted the a bright red strand of auburn to study it. Then they started to strip me, not only me, but when I looked up, Silas and Jonah were in s similar state of undress. I tried to hide myself with the aid of hands and hair. I was starting to realize that this was becoming less of an adventure, and more of a fight for me life.

Finally, someone had gotten the man’s name who we’d come to see right and we were jerked up and on our way, I hoped, to meet him. August was carried between two of the natives, the only one left of us who was still clothed.

The village consisted of grass huts, which I had expected. The villagers, were all black skinned or dark brown. There were no lighter colored people in the village that I could see, save us. The women all wore grass skirts and there hair was cropped short. To say I stuck out like a sore thumb, with my too white skin and bright red hair was an understatement.

Children ran around the village, naked, and the men wore loin cloths and they looked every hort the savages that I had heard about. Their hair was fashioned into snakelike coils and their bodies had dark markings on them, which I could only assume boosted of their achievements.

We were tethered to thick posts at one side of the camp, while this.. Tukuli.. was sent for. I was the albino bosk of our little party. I was prodded and poked, my hair pulled, and several strands were actually pulled from my head by the women who were inspecting me, then held up for the others to see, signifying their prize. Even as I write this, days later, my hand shakes. It was a terrifying experience.

When the elder arrived, August was the first of his he moved to. There was something taped to my companion’s chest, an idol that he had found in his travels, and one that he had hoped to barter his life against. The man circled him before pulling off August’s blindfold. Too, the tape was removed in such a fashion, he took several of his eyelashes with it when he pulled. August’s eyes open, and I found that I was holding my breath.

He drew a scratch down his cheek with his ring, and to my relief, it bled. He was still alive.

The idol was taken from his chest and fixed atop the staff he held. Back in its rightful place, one long ago stolen. I silently prayed it would be enough.

Only then did Silas speak, asking if he could heal August. Tukuli laughed I knew he understood. He spoke our language.

His accent was thick and rumbled with disuse. The way he worded his sentences with the added emphasis on the wrong syllable, or sometimes the wrong word altogether made it sound like he was speaking a completely different language then what we spoke. His message, however, could not have been clearer. August was dying, and Tukuli did not seem to want to help him. We were non believers in his eyes. No, not we. I.. believed.

And just like that, as if he’d heard my thoughts, he turned to me, wanting to know if I was a gift. It was made clear to him by one of the guards that I was the mate of the man near death, and this man, this dark skinned man that boosted of beads and power, leaned in to sniff me. “Then I should wake him.” I think my heart skipped a beat… or three.

Tukuli said that a man who dies.. and returns, is not the same as the man who died. I could see the logic in this. How could one ever be the same after such a significant happening?

In the end, it was the return of the idol that had swayed the village elder to help him. August was lifted and carried off. We three were allowed to remain in the village. I use the word allowed here liberally, because I’m not sure any of his would have been given our leave, should we have wanted it. He told me in his rough dialogue that my hair was beautiful.. and yet, offensive, and that he wasn’t sure if I would be allowed to keep it, or if he would shave it off. I kept my silence.

We were given clothing and expected to work. Frankly, I was glad for any reason to not think about what was to come. I was given one of the grass skirts that the native women wore and it constantly itched, though I did not dare to complain. The men were given loin cloths. I worked as hard as any of the natives. I grinding grain and cleaning tarsk pens. I did whatever was bid of me. And when the work day was over, I was given food that I dare not eat, unless it was fruit that I could identify.

A boy had drawn my attention to a man, one who.. was alive, but not. Files buzzed about his head and he stood staring at a post. He was emaciated, as if he was slowly starving to death. I didn’t know if it was a lack of will to survive, or something else completely. This, if I understood the child well enough, could be August.

It wouldn’t be long before we found out.