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Desta and the Winds of Washaa Umera: Volume 2
Di Getty Ambau
Azioni libro
Inizia a leggereLunghezza: 529 pagine7 ore
- Editore:
- Getty Ambau
- Pubblicato:
- Jun 11, 2013
- ISBN:
- 9781301715299
- Formato:
- Libro
Descrizione
In the second act of this unfolding epic, the shepherd boy Desta is catapulted from his remote and isolated valley into a wider world. He pursues his dream of a modern education and vows to fulfill the destiny of his family by reuniting the twin Coins of Magic and Fortune.
To accomplish this parallel quest, Desta must hold firm to his own moral compass, following a path laden with mysterious notes, spectral voices, the Cloud Man’s counsel, and the seductive urgings of the ethereal Eleni. Driven ever farther from his origins by his dreams, Desta must confront the meaning of family and physical privation. He must use his own powerful gifts if he is to see his deepest aspirations take flight.
Conjuring the sun-splashed land and a rich cultural pageantry that readers have come to love, Desta and The Winds of Washaa Umera is one boy’s endearing journey of discovery, and a wise parable on the power of faith and aspiration.
Informazioni sul libro
Desta and the Winds of Washaa Umera: Volume 2
Di Getty Ambau
Lunghezza: 529 pagine7 ore
Descrizione
In the second act of this unfolding epic, the shepherd boy Desta is catapulted from his remote and isolated valley into a wider world. He pursues his dream of a modern education and vows to fulfill the destiny of his family by reuniting the twin Coins of Magic and Fortune.
To accomplish this parallel quest, Desta must hold firm to his own moral compass, following a path laden with mysterious notes, spectral voices, the Cloud Man’s counsel, and the seductive urgings of the ethereal Eleni. Driven ever farther from his origins by his dreams, Desta must confront the meaning of family and physical privation. He must use his own powerful gifts if he is to see his deepest aspirations take flight.
Conjuring the sun-splashed land and a rich cultural pageantry that readers have come to love, Desta and The Winds of Washaa Umera is one boy’s endearing journey of discovery, and a wise parable on the power of faith and aspiration.
- Editore:
- Getty Ambau
- Pubblicato:
- Jun 11, 2013
- ISBN:
- 9781301715299
- Formato:
- Libro
Informazioni sull'autore
Getty Ambau is the author the DESTA series. Desta, the lead character in the story, is on an epic adventure to find a three-thousand year-old magic coin and unite it with the one his family owns. Prophesied since ancient time, this union is believed to benefit all mankind. . . Like Harry Potter or The Book Thief, these books can be read by all ages.The first volume, DESTA AND KING SOLOMON'S COIN OF MAGIC AND FORTUNE, was a winner of Moonbeam's Young Adult Book award and Independent Publishers Children Book award. The second volume, DESTA AND WINDS OF WAHSAA UMERA, was featured in the February 2014 issue of Kirkus Reviews magazine and their digital copy. The third volume, DESTA: TO WHOM LIONS BOW, was a winner of Moonbeam's 2014 Young Adult Book Award.
Correlati a Desta and the Winds of Washaa Umera
Anteprima del libro
Desta and the Winds of Washaa Umera - Getty Ambau
–GTA
The need to make my world believable to people who have never experienced it is part of why I write fiction.
—Dorothy Allison
Book two of the epic adventure series of an Ethiopian shepherd boy in search of his ancestral family’s twin sister Coin of Magic and Fortune.
One
Desta woke sometime between the watershed hour and the first cock’s crow. His head felt dull and bruised as if poked with a sharp object, his throat chilled and raw from the cold night air. He listened. Absent were the stomping of hoofs, his father’s nasal rattles, and his mother’s soft, deep breathing. He opened his eyes and the pitch-black face of night gazed back. He cringed. Where was he?
Once Desta reclaimed his senses, he remembered. He was in the town of Yeedib. He had come the day before to attend modern school and begin his search for the second Coin of Magic and Fortune, the identical twin to the one his family owned. He was in the home of his uncle Mekuria and his wife Tru, who were little more than strangers to Desta. His uncle he had met only twice before, the new wife never.
They lived in a circular grass-roofed house, much smaller than his parents’. The grounds were covered with tall eucalyptus trees that blocked much of the sun, sky, and fresh highland air. Bound by a head-height wooden fence, the property was accessed through a shrouded, tunnel-like path that dead-ended in a half-moon earthen courtyard before the house. Desta had winced when he first saw the ominous walkway.
The home had a large circular living room with a rickety table and two chairs in the middle, a small bedroom to one side, and a larder on the other. There were two built-in high earthen seats, one near the door, the second by the bedroom. His hosts had assigned the seat by the bedroom to be Desta’s sleeping quarters. The fireplace and kitchen were next to the larder door.
Desta turned onto his back. He still stared, but he no longer saw the night. His mind had gone out of the room to his mountain-bound country home and the strange chain of events that had led to this dark, cold room. Like a pioneer in uncharted lands seeking his bearings, Desta surveyed the events, circumstances, and fate that brought him here, to make sense of where he was going.
When he was a toddler, one evening his mother had stood outside with him in her arms, leaning on the fence, watching a gargantuan moon rise over the eastern mountains. Desta wanted to touch the silver orb. As he grew, he dreamed of touching the sky and clouds.
Some time later, while Desta tended the animals, his grandfather’s spirit, the Cloud Man, revealed himself, and in their few meetings told Desta of many wondrous things, one being his family’s ancient Coin of Magic and Fortune. It derived from the Bible’s King Solomon nearly three thousand years ago, and it was one of two identical coins the wise ruler of Israel had fashioned for his two daughters to be passed down to their descendants.
The Cloud Man had further revealed that this king had encoded on both sides of the coins important legends in each of their twenty-one visible channels. The spirit explained an ancient prediction that a boy would be born to the family who was destined to unite the two coins, for a very important purpose. He was none other than Desta. The Cloud Man invisibly tattooed the coin’s image above Desta’s heart so that he could readily access its powers.
Then, as if to set the divination in motion, Desta fulfilled his dream to climb the mountains circling his valley to reach the sky with the help of his half-sister, Saba. He couldn’t touch it, but instead discovered a land so much bigger and more enchanting than his valley. After this, Desta traveled to town on market day, where he saw modern-school students march through the crowd with a green, yellow, and red cloth on a stick. And it rekindled Desta’s desire to read and write.
He’d pleaded with his father, even recruited others to lobby on his behalf, and now here he was, finally, pursuing a modern education. He’d registered the day before and had gotten a taste of the classroom afterward.
Desta held his breath for some time, thinking of all that had happened on his journey here. His breathing hissed out slowly; he wondered what had caused the soreness in his head. He recalled his turmoil at bedtime last night.
In this cold, dark room, resting on a thin skin mat and rutted pillow, under this plaid blanket, and wrapped in his small gabi—a thick cotton blanket, Desta had examined the life he had lived at home. Many painful memories—the beatings, neglect, mistreatment—had surfaced, bringing tears. With great exertion, Desta had purged these memories, crying until his eyes stung and his brain was raw and dull. Relieved of his burden, he’d fallen deeply asleep.
How Desta wished the night instead had been a celebration! He had persuaded his father to send him to a modern school and had broken free of his isolation. How he would have loved to stand at the cliff edge on the outskirts of town and blow a big horn three times with all his might—the way those at home announced a death—and declare to the world that Desta Abraham Beshaw was now free! Free to learn his alphabet without fear or reproach, and then come to his new home and celebrate all night long to his heart’s content.
Desta shook his head. What good was celebrating his success without his beloved sister Hibist, and half-sister Saba; his devoted dog, Kooli, now gone; or the vervets, his monkey friends who had vanished from Desta’s life when their trees were cut down? Here, he had no one to share his happiness and sorrows with. He pressed his lips and stared blankly, fighting with the feelings that surged anew. He shook his head to dispatch them and let out a long, deep sigh.
There would be lots to get used to in this new place, including the tunneled, dark home of his hosts. He would have to learn to live with the hum and noise of the crowd. Step by step, this ten-year-old Desta would learn everything he needed to know about this new life.
First, Desta had to find the strength within to endure, no matter what. To focus on his education, and the ancient coin. He couldn’t afford to be emotional about his new situation. He couldn’t collapse under the weight of any hardship or trial he might face. And for his own good and his goals, he must uncouple his feelings from his birthplace and everyone at home—anyone or thing that might interfere with his efforts.
A rooster’s crow interrupted Desta’s thoughts; it sounded just like his parents’ rooster. He chided himself. With fingers on forehead and cheek, he directed his thoughts to present concerns. To make his life easier in this new world, he must study people, their eyes and expressions, and relate to them accordingly. After all, the only people he knew well were his family and the animals he once tended. He had no experience living in a world of strangers.
The rooster crowed again, and Desta pulled away from his thoughts. Strangely, he felt closer to the bird than his new hosts. Why do all roosters sound alike?
he asked aloud, surprised by his sudden kinship with an unseen animal. He didn’t know the answer.
Thoughts of home suddenly filled him with fear. For the chance to read and write, he had foregone the life of a shepherd and farmer. Now he was on a journey that no one from his valley had ever made. He had no idea how long it would take or what awaited him at its end. And there was the gold shekel, the sister coin to his family’s, that Desta sought.
He tried to visualize the size of his new world. How do I go about finding that coin? Desta’s fears shook him like a swift gust of wind. His heart raced. His temples throbbed. He gasped as if fleeing an enemy. He wanted to scream, but his voice failed him. He listened hard, hoping for a sign to save him from collapsing beneath his fears.
All he heard was the wind and his pounding heart.
Desta slipped an arm under the blanket and pressed it to his chest, trying to steady the pounding beneath his ribs. Unthinking, Desta firmly pressed his thumb against the spot where the invisible tattoo of the coin lay. Instantly his heart tamed and his nerves eased; the air felt warm and soothing.
Whew! He was relieved and surprised. What was all that? The unexpected storm inside him and its passing bewildered him.
This will remind you that you’re not alone,
said a voice from behind. Desta turned his head toward the sound, but there was no one. "The coin’s image you just touched is your protector and companion for life. Trust it!
What is more,
the voice continued, "the Coin of Magic and Fortune was tattooed on your chest to unlock the vast resources deep inside of you. These are unavailable to most humans; ordinarily it takes long and dedicated training, as with magicians, to learn how to use them. Common folk cannot tap into these magical powers.
"As you were told before you came to live here, the first step to achieving any success is to unclutter your mind of the past. With the help of the magical channels of the coin, you can align your mind and accomplish deeds that far exceed those of professional magicians. Think of the mark on your chest as what connects your conscious self to your inner magic.
"It will take discipline and concentration to perfect this connection. Unlike most who try, you will achieve the outcome you seek in a short time. Here is what you do: press on the coin’s image and concentrate on the result you desire, using all of your senses. You will realize the outcome you seek in short order.
Remember that in many respects, you’re no different from others; only you have been given this extra privilege. Be humble. Honor your gift. Don’t let anyone know about the coin or your capabilities. Lastly, be watchful of false friends with wicked motives.
Pardon?
Desta asked. False friends?
Yes, there are those who roam the earth who appear to do good, but their intention is anything but. And some will seek your friendship solely for their own gain.
How am I to know who is who?
Pay attention,
said the voice.
Who are you that gives me all this advice?
It matters not who I am. Good luck and good-bye.
Desta heard the voice no more.
Desta kept his hand over his chest, and a moment later he fell asleep.
Two
A razor-sharp sound pierced Desta’s consciousness. He opened his eyes, feeling as if his head were splitting open. He listened for the disturbing sound again but heard nothing. He pulled the blanket off his face and saw only the night, enveloping him like a fog.
A cold draft on his bare feet made Desta fold his legs and wrap the blanket around his toes. He was heavy-lidded and too confused to think. He covered his face and rolled onto his side.
I hope the door didn’t wake you, Desta,
a woman whispered, startling him.
Desta peeled off the blanket and looked toward the voice.
Tru was a seated silhouette near the open door, head bent in prayer. Beyond the doorway, the dark gray morning looked placid.
Oh, that’s what it was,
Desta muttered. The offender was only a creaking door. One more thing to get used to: a corrugated tin panel, so flimsy that one could punch through it with a fist. He would have to take it on faith that hyenas and other monsters didn’t roam about here at night, looking to eat people, as he once imagined back at home. Otherwise, his hosts would never have fitted their entrance with such a flimsy barrier.
Tru cleared her throat, taking Desta away from his thoughts. He raised his head to look at her. She wriggled a foot into one green plastic shoe, then felt for the other, but it slid away. She bent down to steady the heel with her hand and forced her foot into place. She rose, tugged down the hem of her netela—shawl—over her forehead to protect her from the morning chill, and left without closing the door.
The gray of morning had transmuted into what Desta’s mother, Ayénat, called the belly of the donkey, the pale moment just before dawn. Desta now could see clearly the leaf-strewn courtyard and the tunnel through the eucalyptus grove.
He rose to meet his morning needs and hopefully see his first real sunrise. Quickly donning jacket and shorts, he wrapped himself in his gabi and dashed out to the foreboding path. He ran through it and emerged into open ground. Wishing not to concern Mekuria and Tru, he planned to return promptly after sunrise.
He turned left onto a street that went to the outer reaches of town. He relieved himself in the trees, then continued running. Five minutes later he was standing on rock-strewn ground at the edge of the plateau behind a stone wall and a row of thorn bushes.
He gazed above the eastern mountains at the heavy, somber clouds, and he realized it would be some time before they lifted and the sun brightened the horizon. He perched on the nearest rock and waited.
In the bushes, birds chattered noisily, anticipating the day. A brisk gust of wind whistled through quivering leaves and branches, and the loose end of Desta’s gabi flapped against his back. He wrapped himself completely in the gabi, tucking its hem under his feet and his hands in its folds. His mind and eyes were now cued for the colors around the rising sun.
Where Desta was born and raised, sunrise began as a feeble glow of golden light near the summit above his home. Then came the birthing of the sun itself, seen indirectly from the activity along the western mountains. Through the cool morning hours, that dim high light tumbled downhill, chasing the shadows of the eastern peaks, the sight ever brighter and warmer, measuring time and distance. Then the sun, like a weary traveler, finally appeared high above the eastern peaks.
Sunset was the same, only in reverse. The shadows of the western peaks crawled up the flanks of the eastern mountains, trailing sunlight, which sputtered at the pinnacles, and eventually gave way to darkness. Seven months before, after Desta first climbed one such peak, he had observed the setting sun paint the sky in spectacular hues. This scene had stirred him with such joy that he had wondered ever since if the ancient star tinted the edge of heaven with the same brilliant colors when it rose. Now he finally would see what the sun did to the sky when it first broke the distant horizon.
He looked down at the panorama of farmlands, scattered clusters of villages, and a trio of churches that formed a triangle on the near-flat terrain beyond the foot of the plateau. As he scanned the land, Desta considered the prophecy to find the second Coin of Magic and Fortune. It seemed utterly ridiculous for a small boy like him to be chosen for this grand adventure. Where to begin, and which way to go?
His eyes moved eastward into the distance to the series of sharp ridges that bound his birth valley, and farther, into the charcoal-gray haze. Desta couldn’t imagine trekking through a jungle of peaks like that, its extent unknown.
He shifted his sights to the south. Here, the land looked more forgiving.
The plain below became a low-lying massif, with a broad, shallow valley spread beyond it, edged by gently sloping hills. In this direction, too, Desta had no idea how far the land continued. He sighed.
The northern terrain seemed easier and exciting to behold. Desta would enjoy taking this path to find the coin. It would also give him a chance to see Kuakura, his father’s birthplace, and the famed town of Dangila, where the woman with the yellow hair and milk-white skin lived.
Desta remembered what his grandpa’s spirit had said. To look for the person who owned the second coin, he must follow the sun: the Fourth Way. He couldn’t see that way from where he sat; the stone wall and tall trees blocked his view to the west. But Desta vaguely recalled from the day before that the land was nearly flat, except for a craggy outcropping beyond the Gish Abayi Church. If the western lands were mostly like this, Desta thought, he could probably go in that direction.
Also, the Cloud Man had said that the owner of the second Coin of Magic and Fortune lived near a large body of water. This might narrow his search, but he still would need a donkey or mule or horse to ride when he tired of walking.
He had another thought, fleeting and wishful, to outfit himself with wings, like the man on the wall of his parents’ church. How great, Desta reasoned, to fly like a bird and let the wind carry me, however far I must go. In his mind’s eye he saw himself airborne, gliding across the firmament.
His mind returned to what had brought him here. Desta let his eyes climb the inky eastern mountains and settle on the dark clouds above those riotous peaks.
A feeble red ray pierced a crack in the clouds, sister to many Desta had seen drive the shadows down from the ridges behind his home each morning. The red light came from the sun. Desta nearly jumped with excitement. He was watching his first true daybreak. He covered his mouth, fingertips pressing his nose. Rapt, he gazed at the red sliver above the far mountain. He wouldn’t miss a moment.
The orb inched above the horizon. The clouds were thickest there, and most of the sun’s rays emerged through a gauzy layer farther up. The dark shades gave way to tints of pink and purple as the red light intensified. New colors burst near the sun: saffron and purple and rose pink. Farther afield, the milieu took on dark earthen shades, rippled with skidding rouges and amethyst and scarlet red.
The sun rose past the heavy clouds and peeked through more translucent windows, a combustion of bright red, then cadmium orange, and finally gold.
Desta’s hands fell away and he slowly breathed. Wow. This is what I have missed all my life! His throat prickled. In his new world he no longer would settle for crawling mountain shadows as the sun rose and set.
The clouds’ many colors vanished as the golden disc thrust upward. Once fully round, its face looked bathed in a tincture of blood, quickly fading, which left a brilliant, shimmering white light.
Unthinking, Desta whispered to the sun, Welcome to my new world!
A MAMMOTH GOLD-INLAYED alabaster door slowly opened in the sky. Through the portal emerged a figure with a vaguely human aspect, shrouded in mist from head to toe. It leaned against a dense cloud and looked down on the ascending sun. The creature then extended a hand as if plucking the sun from the sky but quickly snapped it back, seemingly singed by fire. It stood straight up and turned west to look at Desta with deep-set black eyes, each the size of a human skull. The colossal figure dropped into a horizontal position, extended its puffy arms like wings, and pushed off the cloud ledge. It flew toward Desta, leaving a white trail.
Scared and thrilled, Desta slid down from his perch, kept an eye on the strange creature, and prepared to flee. To his amazement, the cloud-cloak and the giant eyes disappeared as the figure came nearer and nearer. Once it was just above him, the flier had a clearly human aspect. It was draped in a voluminous white garment, the loose fabric streaming all around in the wind.
Desta’s mind and body braced for flight, but his knees buckled. He tried again and again, but his feet felt glued to the ground. He watched wide-eyed as the visitor swiftly but gracefully landed a few yards away.
Arms firmly bracing his chest, Desta surveyed the stranger. It was a woman, her dainty face partly veiled, with only cheeks, nose, and eyes exposed. Slender and delicate forearms extended from the sheer garment.
She cast a soft, pained look at Desta. "Good morning, young man!
Welcome to your new world! She took a few paces toward him.
Did you enjoy the colors of the sun?"
Who are you?
Desta asked guardedly.
I am Eleni, originally from the land of Nogero, and a member of the International Order of Zarrhs and Winds. For many years, I have been a near-constant resident of the valley where you were born and raised, but I normally live far from here. Although we have never met, I’ve known about you since before you were born.
Desta winced. Before I was born?
Indeed! I know all about your ancestors and more. I can share with you all these things if you accept me as a friend.
Desta, transfixed by the woman’s looks and thin, gentle voice, considered her words.
What do you say?
She extended her hand in greeting.
Nothing,
Desta said, uncrossing his arms and crossing them again. I am sorry, but I don’t shake hands with strangers who drop out of the sky.
Eleni smiled, radiant and sweet. I think you should. And you should get to know me. I have a lot of information about the second coin and the person who possesses it. You will find it interesting.
Desta perked up, still quiet and ill at ease.
All right, then. It is good to have met you in person. I have faith we’ll get to know each other and become friends over time. I hope so, anyway,
she said, grinning. Good-bye for now.
She took little hopping steps, extended her draped arms, and became airborne. With her baggy clothes billowing and the long material from her arms flowing on the air, she soared above the eucalyptus trees and vanished into the western sky.
Desta stared after her for a long time, baffled and afraid.
He heard a thin, reedy voice say, The only friend you have is the coin and its image on your chest. Its power enabled you to witness your first real sunrise. Don’t let aliens trick you. Regrettably, they are part of your story. Remember to follow the sun. The reason you lay on your back as a little boy and watched it travel across the sky was to acquaint you with your life’s true path. You will ultimately get to where you are destined to go if you heed this advice.
Desta covered his face, confused and scared by these strange occurrences. He took to his feet. When he reached the tunnel to Uncle Mekuria’s home, he stopped to catch his breath, then briskly walked through it. The courtyard was still shadowed, as if the sun had to climb over the trees to fully illuminate it. Mekuria was still asleep, and Tru was not at home. Desta sighed with relief. He threw the blanket over his shoulders to warm himself and lay down on his mat, wondering where Tru had gone.
Three
Tru returned with dry eucalyptus stems and walked to the fireplace at the far end of the living room. She raked and pushed aside old ashes with a stick, piling them against the three nearest gulichas—cooking stones. She snapped the twigs into pieces and placed them in the cavity she had created. From a pile of firewood, she picked out a few slender sticks, arranged them into a cone over the cavity, and stuffed other leaves and twigs through the gaps between the sticks. She lit a match, held it until it fully flamed, and gingerly inserted it into the kindling. The dried leaves caught fire first, followed by the twigs and the sticks. Their light obliterated the remains of the night, illuminating the room.
Tru’s fire grew as she added more sticks. As Desta was about to warm himself beside it, she stood and came to him.
Good morning! Did you sleep well?
she asked. Sorry I was gone so long. I had to wait for the old man to open his kiosk so I could buy a box of matches.
It’s fine. . . . I slept very well,
Desta said.
Good. . . . Sleeping in a new bed can be hard.
The bedding was very comfortable,
Desta said, aiming to please.
"Let me know when you are ready to go out so I can show you the shint bet—toilet," Tru said.
Desta was puzzled. Is there a special place where people here go to pee?
He rose from his high earthen bed and wrapped his gabi around his shoulders. Then he sat and waited for Tru, curious to see the shint bet.
He watched as she washed a round-bellied, wide-mouthed clay pot and set it aside. Then she fidgeted with the three tapered gulichas in the fire pit, pushing them one way and then the other, and finally setting the pot on them.
Once ready to add her ingredients, she fed more sticks into the fire between the stones for even heating. She placed two peeled red onions on a wooden cutting board, sliced them in half, and worked them into a fine dice, which piled up to rival an anthill, it seemed to Desta. She threw a spoonful of spiced butter in the pot, and then swept in the minced onions on the flat of her knife. The mixture sizzled. Tru pulled a long wooden spoon from a clay canister and stirred the pot for a long while, as if the blistery hissing gave her pleasure.
Next she scooped some awazay—red-pepper paste—to add to the stewing blend and worked the mixture for a few more minutes. She then covered the pot with its conical clay lid, and the simmering sauce hummed like a swarm of bees.
Tru retrieved four eggs and a platter of injera—spongy, flat bread—from the back room. She placed the platter on the floor, squatted on her heels, and busied her hands breaking the injera into crumbs and gathering them in a mound. She removed the lid from the pot and threw in two handfuls of breadcrumbs. After she cracked and added the eggs, she turned the mixture over and over with her spoon until the contents were uniformly mixed.
She covered the pot once again, then rose and walked over to Desta. A dew of perspiration veiled her brow, and her eyes glistened with onion tears.
Sorry for the delay,
she said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. Let’s go.
Desta followed her out the door and around the house to a closed room attached to the outer wall. Here is the shint bet,
Tru said, pushing open the door. Close it after you’re done.
She turned to go but lingered when she noticed Desta grimace.
Desta now realized the source of the penetrating odor that hit him when they came around the house. He held his breath and studied the dark enclosure.
In the bare earth was a hole, spanned by two planks of wood to support one’s feet. The periphery of the opening was wet, no doubt from a series of misfires. Tru pointed to the scraps of paper under a palm-sized stone and told him to clean himself with them. These scraps looked to be from a whole paper that once carried stories.
I know,
Tru said with a smile. "You probably are used to going in the woods.
Some people in town do that, too, but we use this shed. You’ll get used to it."
Desta let out the air from his chest, drew in and held a fresh breath, and walked into the odorous room. He tugged the door closed and carefully placed his feet on the planks. He felt like he would die of asphyxiation. His body ached for fresh air. He exhaled, relieving his lungs, and took in the smell in exchange. Yes, I will get used to this, too, he thought. How he would miss the open space and clean fresh air of the country at such moments!
Returning from the shint bet, Desta stopped to study the tunnel through the trees, wondering why it looked so foreboding. Finding no reason, he turned to go inside. Tru came to the door with a tin can of warm water in her hand.
Here, wash your hands and face,
she said, handing it to him. "You need to be ready for school. Sayfu and Fenta, the boys you met there yesterday, will come for you soon. Sayfu and Fenta were also shepherd boys who live with our good friends, Ato—Mr. Bizuneh, and Senayit. Tru studied Desta’s face.
Are you missing your family already?" she finally asked.
No. . . . Why?
I see these tear tracks,
she said, running her fingers along his cheeks. You must have been crying last night.
Embarrassed, Desta rubbed his cheeks. Oh, I sometimes cry in my dreams when I am happy. That must be why,
he said.
He took the can from Tru and carried it to the side of the house.
You will get used to living in town,
Tru said, as Desta ambled away. But don’t just cry when you feel homesick. Come talk to us.
Desta was thankful for Tru’s thoughtfulness.
For breakfast, she gave him a portion of the steaming firfir—minced injera, onion, butter, and egg—a dish he’d never had at home. Uncle Mekuria, who had gone outside while Desta washed up, returned and sat on the high earthen seat behind him.
Halfway through breakfast, Tru brought a hot brown liquid in a glass cup. He could not tell what it was. He noticed at the bottom what appeared to be three large crystals of salt, like pebbles in a murky river. His mother had always added small bits of salt to the coffee pot; Desta couldn’t imagine drinking the brown liquid with that much of it.
He took the cup and set it down on the table.
A little later Tru returned. "Aren’t you going to drink your shahee—tea?" Desta knotted his face and picked up the cup.
You have never drunk shahee before? Try it,
she urged. Most students drink shahee with their loaf or injera. Let me mix the sugar for you.
Desta watched Tru stir the russet drink with a spoon until the white cubes completely disappeared. Reluctantly, he brought the cup to his lips and drew a tiny sip.
His face relaxed as he smacked his lips, savoring the taste. It tastes like honey,
he said with a grin. He took a more substantial sip.
It’s sugar—sweet like honey.
Tru smiled, and Mekuria chuckled under his breath.
Sayfu and Fenta appeared at the open door.
C’mon in, boys,
Mekuria said. Desta will be ready in a few minutes.
Thank you,
Fenta said quietly. We must run to school. I heard the bell ring.
Sayfu appeared anxious; his eyes probed Desta.
Okay, Desta,
Mekuria said. Finish your shahee and go with them.
Desta drank the last drop of his tea, set the cup on the tray, and dashed to his sleeping spot. He quickly folded the blanket and placed it on the pillow. He fixed to go to the door but lingered to hear Tru whisper to his uncle.
I don’t think he is going to make it till the end of the school year.
Why do you say that?
Mekuria asked, louder than his wife.
He looked unhappy this morning, and I think he was crying last night.
Mekuria pressed his lips, crinkled his brow, and glanced at Desta. That was not the impression I got when we registered him yesterday. Abraham said it was Desta who pushed them to put him through modern school.
Time will tell.
Desta wished he could tell Tru how happy he was. With the warm food, hot tea, and her caring ways, he already felt contented in their home.
Desta joined his friends and they walked quietly through the wide, tree-shaded path. Dappled in morning light, it seemed not so threatening to Desta now.
He glanced between Sayfu and Fenta, wondering what they were thinking. Sayfu, his long, narrow face to the ground and his darting, twinkling eyes on the path, his lips parted in a smile—he appeared eager to say something. Fenta was the opposite, lips clamped and soft eyes steady; his face conveyed nothing of his thoughts.
After they cleared the trees, Sayfu asked, How old are you, Desta?
A little over ten,
Desta said, just as his father had told the registrar.
Sayfu shot a glance at Fenta and continued. Fenta and I wondered how it can be that you’ve never seen a sunset,
he asked, recalling what Desta had said yesterday on their walk home from school. Desta had stayed behind to see the sun go down.
Fenta added, "What Sayfu means is, did you live in a washaa—cave?"
Desta decided to play up his companions’ wild ideas. Actually, worse than a washaa,
he said, looking from one to the other. "We lived in a gedel—a hole."
What?!
cried Sayfu.
You’re trying to be funny with us. Tell the truth,
Fenta said gently.
This is the truth. That’s what people call my valley,
Desta said gravely.
Sayfu’s small eyes were slits. Yesterday was the first time you saw a sunset?
He seemed to have forgotten what Desta had already told them.
No, that was my third time. The first time, I went with my sister to the top of the mountain, hoping to touch the sky.
Desta thought of that sad and thrilling day. The second, we were returning home on market day.
Fenta and Sayfu stared at him in awe. You climbed a mountain to touch the sky?
Sayfu asked.
Yes, that was my dream since I was little.
Who said you could really touch the sky?
Fenta wondered.
Nobody. But my sister Saba thinks there may be a mountain tall enough to do that.
Your sister must not be much older or smarter than you to think like that,
Sayfu sneered.
The boys had gone past the market plaza on their left and a row of grass-roofed homes and corrugated tin-topped shops on their right when a man approached from a side street and stopped them.
Good morning, boys!
the man boomed. Is your uncle home?
Yes,
said Fenta and Sayfu in unison.
I have some court matters to discuss with him before he leaves for the office.
The man hurried past.
The mention of court reminded Desta of his father’s trips to the firdbet—courthouse—with the papers from his straw box, to have a scribe read or record them for him. For a moment Desta imagined doing the same for his father, once he’d learned to read and write well enough.
Sayfu cleared his throat as if to speak, bringing Desta back to the present. To head off more questions, Desta asked, What do you have in your hand?
"My debters—notebooks. You’ve probably never seen one," mocked Sayfu.
Fenta said, They’re specially bound papers we write in for the lessons our teachers give us. I’ll show you.
The boy unlocked his pouch’s three horn buttons, took out a notebook, and handed it to Desta.
On the light blue cover were four stamp-sized images of three men and a woman. They looked straight at Desta except for an older mustachioed man gazing into space, face turned right. From his neatly pressed jacket dangled four small round gold objects, and a woven cord of the same color looped across his chest. With his clean and fair skin, sharp nose, and halo of groomed black hair, the man appeared to have nothing to do all day but take care of himself.
The woman had silky hair. It was wrapped above her head and secured with a glittering half-moon crown. She had dreamy eyes, as if just awakened from a long sleep. She had pendant earrings and a large silver cross on her plump chest. She looked unlike any woman Desta had ever seen. He stared at her, wondering if she might open her eyes wider and look deeply into his. When she didn’t, he shifted his gaze to the other figures. The two young men had chubby cheeks and big brilliant eyes. They, too, wore neatly pressed jackets with looping cords and small round gold pieces.
Desta wondered who these people were, but he was more anxious to see what was inside the notebook, its folded sheets fastened in the center with wire staples.
The first three or four pages contained writing, mostly in pencil. Desta paged ahead to the unmarked sheets. He studied their printed lines; they were narrower than those in his father’s court papers. He ran his fingers over the paper in slow circular motions. It felt smoother and glossier than his father’s.
The pages smelled different, too. His father’s were musty, whereas these had an unfamiliar, pleasant scent. Desta brought the book to his nose, closed his eyes, and took three quick sniffs. He exhaled and lowered his nose to the page again to fill his lungs with the smell. He held his breath as long as he could and then slowly let it out. He looked up to find Fenta and Sayfu gazing at him, amazed.
Is what I just did strange?
he asked.
Never seen anyone who likes to smell plain paper,
Fenta replied. Now we have no doubt about your past.
Where do you get these notebooks?
Your teacher will give you one, once you can recite the alphabet without any mistakes,
Fenta said.
Desta could hardly wait to relearn his letters and get a notebook to feel and touch and write in every day.
A
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