Ligiri ran. She ran with all her might away from the Dama on the third and last day. She dropped to the ground and wept for what seemed hours. The last of the family that cared for her had passed away. Her grandfather had died when she was just a baby, and her grandmother, ten years ago. Now her mother, a Yasigne, which was why a Dama was even held for her death. Ligiri was now left to her sister Koro, who bossed Ligiri around. Ligiri tried to love her, for she was a kind soul, but she just couldn’t love her cold-hearted sister, who was a favorite with her father and had a way of making him believe whatever she said. The stars were barely beginning to fade, when Ligiri was up. As quickly as a mouse she arose from the hard bed she was given by her sister and put on the only clothes she managed to sew before Koro forbade her to make herself clothes, a torn wrap-around skirt and a slightly damaged top. Ligiri’s back was stiff and sore from sleeping in her bed, but that didn’t matter. “Chores must be done,” she’d say to herself, as she climbed up to the roof of the house where her father and sister were sleeping during the dry season, from the stuffy and irritating inside where Ligiri had to spend her nights whether she liked it or not. A cool breeze hit her in the face the moment she stepped outside and she felt good to be outside once more. Nevertheless, she was grateful. “I have food and I have a roof over my head, that’s all that matters,” she’d say to herself, though deep down inside she knew she longed to be treated like she was when her mother was alive. And with that she took out the most beautiful beads Ligiri had ever seen Ligiri fed and milked the goats and collected the eggs and gave water and some seeds to the chickens, when she realized that Koro wasn’t working by her side like she was supposed to. She climbed back onto the rooftop. Careful not to wake her father, Ligiri whispered, “Koro, time to wake up.” She got a reply, “Huh? Oh, it’s you! Ligiri, you stupid girl! How dare you wake me so early?” “But, elder one, it’s work time.” “Ha! I laugh in your face! I’ll make you a deal. I took your place on the roof, and you can take my chores! Ha, ha, ha!” And Koro’s roaring laughter could be heard far and wide at that moment. Poor Ligiri made her way down from the rooftop where the family was sleeping during the dry season, picking up a clay pot, later filling it at the well and balancing it on her head. And so, it continued. Ligiri did Koro’s and her own work every day, hoeing and weeding in the fields, cooking, and other jobs, though she was the age to be playing and making string figures, while their father, coming back from the Hogon with a usually good fortune, praised Koro, thinking she did all the work. Ligiri’s only comfort was a fifty-foot baobab tree, which reminded Ligiri of her kind grandfather as it loomed overhead. The years passed until Koro was old enough to marry. “I don’t care for marriage. If I did, everyone would want to marry me,” she’d brag, though deep down inside she knew that nobody liked her. One morning Ligiri awoke to the cry of a young boy. “The Griot has arrived! The Griot is here!” Ligiri looked forward to this time. Not because she could listen to exciting stories through poems and songs. No. Koro forbade her to do that. It was because she had free time. Of course she still did all the work, but Koro was not there to make up something else for her to do. And so, when the day’s work was finally done, Ligiri quietly made her way down to the baobab tree. She took out a cleverly hidden piece of pretty beadwork. Call it a secret hobby of which nobody knew, but Ligiri was working on it for over a year. Quickly and happily she finished it that day, and when she did, she burst into tears. “I know I should be happy for life, and glad that I at least have a roof over my head, but I just can’t stand it! I wish Mother were here. Or maybe Grandfather!” “Oh, but wishes do come true sometimes. Now, don’t cry Ligiri!” Ligiri looked up. “Who said that?” “Why, I did. I’m your grandfather. My spirit is in this baobab. I know how Koro treats you, and I want to help you. Tomorrow is market day. Go there and expect somebody special. Now run along.” “Oh, thank you!” and with that she ran back to the village. The next day Ligiri awoke even earlier than usual. She did all she was supposed to and packed up her goods for trading and selling during market day. She had not forgotten her grandfather’s words. Ligiri had taken along a newly started piece of beadwork to work on when nobody was looking. Ligiri joined a group of women and girls going to the marketplace, and when they got there, Ligiri looked around at the familiar market-day sights: men were sitting under a big silk-cotton tree, drinking millet beer and discussing the latest news, among them her own father, the children playing together making string figures. Ligiri hoped that the “special person” would arrive soon. She expected to see someone young and pretty, so you can imagine how surprised Ligiri was when an old, feeble, yet kind-looking woman appeared in front of her, with a look which told Ligiri that she wasn’t there to trade for goods. “I see you like beading,” said the woman with a smile. “Yes. Yes, I do.” “Then I have a little something for you.” And
November/December 2001
A View to Kill
When my dad came home he was not my father, but a king an emperor he had not a gun but a scepter in his hand. It had the power to start or stop my adulthood. He said, “I’m home.” We were in the woods out back. I had spent my whole life looking forward to this, I would spend the rest dreading it. Then suddenly out of the early morning mist came the deer in its entirety. I saw it The deer I leveled the gun Like dense lead in my hands. As soon as I fired the gun I collapsed into an endless space. I remember my last view as if it were a movie frame (cut to black) I saw the deer fall. We both went at the same time. I still recall that fateful day, when I traded a deer’s life for my own pride. Bradley Culley, 11Portland, Maine
The Christmas Realization
Ben rolled his eyes as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. His robe was too hot, and the sheet he was forced to wear on his head was too tight. As you can probably guess, Ben was in the Christmas play for his Sunday school. As a sixth-grader, he had been in it for the past seven years, and was absolutely sick of it! He was so ready to be in the youth group next year. “Shepherds, you are in the wrong spot—again,” the distant voice of the play director droned. “Ben! Get with them. As the eldest, you should be responsible in getting the others to the correct place. I’m ashamed of you!” Ben jolted out of his daze at his name, but he tuned the rest of the reprimand out. The director seemed to be waiting for him to apologize. When he made no effort to do so, she went on. Wh000000, Ben thought to himself, survived another one. This happened every practice. Old Mrs. Bruster, though he preferred calling her The Brute, would pick on him. “Don’t do that” and “Benjamin, get with it.” “Haven’t you been practicing?” It was all “Yadda, yadda, yadda!” He dreaded that two hours every Saturday. “Shepherds, you are in the wrong spot—again” Ben heard his cue, “So the shepherds left their flocks . . .” He and the other two kids in rags dragged their feet to the cardboard box to stare at the plastic baby doll. He never got that part. Poor shepherds would leave their sheep, with no one to watch them, to see a baby. Big whoop! To him, it would not be worth the risk. Ben glanced at the clock, relieved to see that it was almost time to go. * * * Ben marked the calendar. One week until Christmas, which meant five days till his birthday! He called some of his friends to make last-minute arrangements for his party on his birthday. After that, he helped his mom make the cake. Their next-door neighbor was a good friend of Ben’s, whom he often visited. That sunny afternoon he ran over to pay the old man a visit. Ben waited for a long time after knocking before the door creaked open. “Oh, hi, Ben. Come in out of the cold.” “Thank you, Mister Jack. I was concerned that you were hurt, when you didn’t answer,” Ben said gently. “Oh. I’m fine. It’s just the cold; it gets into my bones. Slows me down a little. Enough about me, how’s the play coming?” With a roll of his eyes, Ben made sure that his old friend was coming to see it. “Now don’t you roll your eyes. It is a very important happening and story. You know, without the shepherds, who would know what had happened.” It was more of a statement than question, so Ben just shrugged. “One day I’ll find a way to make you believe me.” Jack had no way of knowing how soon that would be. An hour later, Ben left the old man in happy spirits. When he got home, his mom wanted know how it went. “Just fine. We looked around his attic while he told me stories from the war.” He sampled the leftover frosting. Satisfied, he went outside to go sledding. * * * It was ten o’clock. Ben lay awake thinking about his birthday party the next day. He jumped at the sound of the phone. His mother’s muffled words, then steps, reached his ears. She stuck her head into his room. “Hey, buddy, you awake?” she whispered. He lay still, pretending to be sleeping. But curiosity finally overcame him. He turned toward her expectantly. She came closer and sat on the edge of his bed. “That was the hospital.” Ben sat up straight in the bed. “Jack slipped in his driveway a few hours ago. He has a broken rib and arm.” The boy was shocked into silence. His mother gently said, “And he wants you to visit him.” The first thing that went through Ben’s mind was his party. On the other hand, if ol’ Jack died in the hospital, he could never forgive himself. “It is important that I go, for Jack’s sake. Tomorrow I’ll call everyone to rearrange the party for after Christmas.” “I’m glad to hear you say that. Good night.” Ben lay awake a little while longer. Oh well, the hospital could be an adventure after all, he thought. * * * “Happy birthday, Ben!” came the frail voice of the shriveled lump in the hospital bed. Ben gulped at the form of his pal. “Come over here so I can get a look at my favorite boy.” He slid beside the bed and put a fake smile on. The smile quickly melted when Jack had a coughing spell for some time. A nurse rushed in to do whatever they do to stop coughs. Ben thought she stuffed a cork down Jack’s throat, but he couldn’t be sure. He and Jack talked and laughed, and coughed. They walked down to the cafeteria, just to do something other than sit. After resting and eating in the room they went to the gift shop. There, Jack bought Ben a birthday balloon, while Ben got Jack a get-well balloon. He also bought the old man a rubber-band gun to shoot at the balloon to pass the time. Back in the room they tried it out. They were having a great time when the nurse came in without knocking. She poked her head in just as her elderly patient pulled the trigger of the rubber-band gun. The two chums held their breath as the oblivious nurse was snapped in the forehead with the band. Her eyes flew open wide when she saw it coming; when it hit her she fell backwards on the floor. Ben and Jack crowded over her till her eyes fluttered open. “I will be right back to help you, sir,”
