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Twelve: Hamabi
- University of Nevada Press
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twelve I hamabi By late afternoon, Aitatxi and I were still outlaws. I regularly searched the horizon for sunlight reflecting off approaching squad cars, but nothing broke up the wavy brown desert. As we walked, I realized the one flaw in my plan for being captured was Aitatxi's "secret trail." Did Dad know about the trail? Aitatxi said he did ... kind of-sure, no. Was there really even a trail? Maybe Aitatxi was making the whole thing up. Still, I was positive Dad would nnd us once he knew we were headed to the etxola-secret trail or not. I decided to stop worrying about Dad and start worrying about what I was going to say to Aitatxi when the police surrounded us. Confessing that I'd squealed on him was not an option. I planned on acting all disappointed, like I wanted to keep walking on and on through the desert with a bunch of stinking sheep for the rest of my life. Aitatxi didn't need to know I'd ratted him out. Even if I did it for his own good. I mean, I was looking out for him. Like Dad told me to do. Aitatxi was just too old for a sheep drive. Only right then, Aitatxi didn't look too old. He was practically running forward, and I had to quicken my pace to keep up with him. Now that Atarrabi and Mikelats had the flock thing down, all Aitatxi and I did was walk behind the sheep and keep a lookout for strays-which was usually Gaixua; he kept falling behind. My legs weren't as sore as they had been in the morning. And though I did wish I'd looked for a water fountain back at the golf course, Aitatxi let me take regular drinks from my zakua. "Tomorrow day, we nnd Oxea's iturritza," Aitatxi said. "It water so clear you see there God." Not that I knew what God was doing in water or for that matter what God looked like. To me, God was like the sun. I could feel the warmth coming from him, but he was too far away to see clearly and too bright to look at for long. Which was nne with me. I mean, God knew everything that I thought and did. EVERYTHING. For someone who had trouble "sharing " even the little things of everyday life, "everything" was just too big for me to handle. And while I couldn't picture God, right then I knew he was scowling down at me. "This good thing," Aitatxi said, "we together like this. We got good adventure, sure, no, gaixua." I kept my eyes on the ground in front of me and nodded. "Two days more," Aitatxi said, "we come at etxola." Dad was probably there right now. Clouds moved across the sky to block out the sun and gave us a little relief from the heat. And while it was still hot, I could no longer actually feel my skin cooking. Slowly the desert started to change. New bushes showed up among the creosote. They were taller and grew up over my head and were covered with red berries. 85 [3.144.202.167] Project MUSE (2024-04-17 22:49 GMT) "They small-apple bush," Aitatxi said. But when I ate one of the"small apples" it tasted like a rotten potato. "No for eat, gaixua," Aitatxi said. "Baina Oxea, he make into good drink. Like arno zuria-white wine, only no make head fuzzy." Scattered among the small-apple bushes were a few of what Aitatxi called"armored trees." "They think maybe they cactus." Aitatxi used the tip of his walking stick to touch a two-inch thorn on one of the trees. "You no want a get fight with thems." And there were other cactus, besides chollas, now. Some, like barrel cactus and saguaro, I knew from landscaped yards in Phoenix. Others I'd never seen before. There were thin cactus with tentacle-like arms reaching toward the sky and topped with orange flowers. And short cactus with flat, wide pads that looked like beavers' tails, only with spikes. To pass the time, I asked Aitatxi the name of every new cactus I saw. But unless the cactus could be eaten, Aitatxi said, "Nothing baina stickers. I try eat fruit one time, txarra da-it no so good." Lizards, some as tiny as my little finger and others as thick as...