Blessing

Chapter 8

91 8 hree weeks after Makam’s death and one week before Easter, Fatti was on her way to the farm when she ran into Fr. Maxworth Cain. ‘Fatti, come my daughter,’ he called out. ‘No, Father, I am going to the farm.’ She spoke as though for the attention of someone other than the priest. Nchumuluh was a small village, one in which community unity had precedence over all else, a place where unseen eyes followed, scrutinising and reporting if only to preserve that spirit of harmony. ‘I hear your father says that you should not come to church again?’ By the time the last words tumbled out of Fr. Max’s mouth, Fatti had tripled her pace, running as though her life depended on the distance she put between the priest and herself. She ran like a police officer, the only innocent person who runs on the street. She ran all the way to the farm. Five hours later, as she was trudging into the compound, tired and hungry, Totso greeted her with the news that their father had asked to see her the minute she returned from the farm. Fatti froze. ‘What did you do?’ Totso asked in a concerned voice. ‘You see, he came back very early from his workshop and immediately sent Mosa to go and bring you from the farm. When Mosa came back with news that he had not seen you, Papa just started shouting at everybody and everything, the chair and the weather. After every five minutes, he sends his head through his window to ask if you have not yet returned. You know that when he does that it means anger is cooking inside him. Tell me, what did you do?’ Thawed enough to move her lips Fatti mumbled, ‘I did nothing wrong. I am innocent.’ She tossed aside the small bundle of dry tree branches which had been resting on her head. ‘I tell you the truth: I did nothing.’ Tears were now rolling down her face. ‘Father wanted to speak with me, but I refused to listen to him. I tell you the truth: I did not talk with him. I did not even look at him.’ T 92 ‘Which Father?’ ‘Father in the Mission – Fr. Max. But I did not talk with him. I did not even listen to him. I did not stop running until I reached the farm.’ Totso picked up the bundle of firewood, took the hoe from Fatti and said, ‘Do not cry. If you cry he will say that you are guilty, and he will beat you very well. Just wipe your eyes and go to him. When he starts whipping you open your mouth wide, shout aloud and then run outside. You hear?’ ‘He is going to beat me when I have done nothing wrong? I tell you that I did nothing wrong. I did not talk with Fr. Max.’ ‘I know that you are saying the truth but you know how Papa is. Just do as I have told you. When he starts whipping you shout and run outside. You hear?’ Fatti nodded. ‘Wipe your eyes and go to him.’ ‘Ey, Eh, I beg. Ey, Eh, I will not do it again. I beg,’ Fatti screamed as her father slashed the cypress stem all over her body. When she tried to dash for the door, he caught her wrist and imprisoned it in his hand until he was satisfied he had beaten the lesson into her. Her body a bed of welts, her eyes dripping, she emerged from her father’s hut fifteen minutes after she had stepped inside. ‘Come, Fatti.’ Totso was waiting for her at the corner. She saw him but moved on as though he were a shadow. ‘Come, Fatti.’ He looked over his shoulder towards their father’s hut before following her. Once out of eyeshot of their father’s hut, he pulled her into his arms and gently rocked her sore body. The following day Fatti did not take the road to the farm that passed through the Mission. She followed a longer track with a hanging bridge and grass blades which tunnelled around her. As long as she was sure to avoid her new worst enemy, she proved ready to reconcile with some former foes. Easter came and went with Fatti and her mother remaining indifferent towards this very important Christian feast. After participating in all Holy Week activities since the advent of [3.144...