Left foot, right foot,
left foot, right foot he continued. Ruthlessly hot and unrelenting, the
African sun beat down upon him. It hung
in the sky surrounded by infinite blue, a fiery and shimmering red orb that no
cloud dared challenge. It seemed now matter how many steps he took he never
moved and the sun stayed directly overhead beating him down a constant reminder
of his place in the world.
Endlessly the land
stretched out before him, behind him and next to him. Golden and green
grasses as far as the eye could see. In
the distance the flat gave way to rolling hills that were dark and
calming. Large trees dotted the
land. Proudly defiant of the sun their
long branches stretched high into the sky until spreading in all directions
creating the only source of shade. He
walked and he continued to walk, a small and insignificant peon in the realm of
boundless sky and endless earth.
His tattered sandals
were covered in earth, both dust and mud caked his feet. His pants, long out grown had become capris
while his shirt was several sizes to large and resembled a short dress. It was lonely walking alone so he pretended
and day dreamed. The trees were old men
just waking from a nap, they creaked and they stretched. The hills were woman offering him snacks and
relief from the heat but they were just out of reach.
“No thank you,” he said to them in the distance. “I’ve
got to keep going!”
Far off in the distance
he could barely hear a hum but as the moments continued it became more audible
until it was undeniably the sound of a truck.
He moved far to the side of the road not bothering to turn and see
it. He continued walking even as the
truck slowed down and drove next to him. The loud and unmistakably diesel
engine proudly bustled, drowning out the sounds of birds and wind.
“Hey. Hey there.
You. Boy!” Shouted a man from the driver side. “Where ya
be goin out here all alone?”
The boy stopped and
turned to the truck. It was green mostly
but also it was gray, yellow and brown covered in the same dust that he was so
familiar with. It hummed and shook with
somewhat violent idle until the man in the truck shut it off. It lurched forward and gave a shake as the
engine quit.
“What are you deaf? I said, ‘what are you doing.” The man continued to shout despite the
absence of the motor.
The boy looked the man
in the eye while he whipped his forehead with the back of his right hand. He looked timidly at the man and took in a
deep breath to help give him the courage to speak.
“America.” He said. “I
am going to America.”
The man in the truck
looked at the boy with a smirk of doubt before scoffing,
“You can’t walk to
America boy. It’s too far and besides
your too small.”
“I’ve got to go and I
will go. I have been going and I am
going. I am going to America.” Interrupted the boy. The boy continued to
defiantly stare in the man’s eyes before continuing, “I’ve got to go and I am
going! I am going to America!” He said
proudly.
“Boy, what’s your name
boy?” The driver said as he opened his door and stepped out of the truck. He
spat into the dirt and stood over the boy before slamming his door shut. For a moment the only sounds were the
diminishing echo of the door, the wind and the ever present buzz of
insects.
The boy cleared his
throat and whipped his forehead again.
“Barack, my name is
Barack.” He said.
“Well Barack, its nice
to meet you. I’m Abasi.” Said the man
while he extended his large right hand.
The two hands met and shook while Abasi said.
“How old are you
Barack?”
“I’m seven.”
“Seven? Well that’s too
young to be out here all alone. It’s
dangerous and besides that its hot. Get
in I’ll give you a lift. I am only going
as far as Nairobi but let me take you there.
I can’t have you dying out here from the sun or a lion.” Abasi said with
lighthearted tone. “Are you really going to America?”
“Yes,” responded
Barack. “I’ve got to go to America.”
“Well Kenya is a long
way from America boy,” Abasi paused while he spat into the dirt once more, “but
hop in.”
The doors of the truck
gave a loud and somewhat angry creak, as they were swung open and then a
violent and sharp clang, as they were slammed shut. The cab shook and the truck
gave a shutter before it rattled to life.
Abasi slapped the dash twice before he shook the long shift lever and
finally with a loud clunk placed the truck into gear. Slowly yet infinitely faster than Barack had
walked the landscape moved towards them.
The windows allowed for a pleasant breeze and the roof of the truck
helped keep the sun at bay. Finally
Barack felt like he was moving and America became that much closer.
