CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
I recalled a quote from my humanities class in college.
“War does not determine who is right, only who is left.” Who was right in this circumstance?
Each tribe felt justified for what they were doing.
Each saw it as something worth fighting—worth dying for.
I thought back to the Makian men who died under Greg’s care, then also thought of the Hundi children and their chief who wanted to hold onto their culture.
Who’s to say which side has more credibility in what they believe?
Wasn’t that the fundamental issue of war?
Each side fighting for what they think is right? Fighting for control?
What had Sali said? Many died in the fire. The fire, thought to have been caused by the Makia’s economic choices. But they didn’t do it on purpose. It wasn’t ill-intent that started the attacks. It was Hundi’s revenge for what those dealings caused. Wasn’t it?
Armed with this realization, I began to form a statement that I was sure would put him in his place, but when I caught him studying me with an unveiled intensity, full of the vulnerability of his loss, I let it die on my tongue.
“No,” I said simply, “This war was not like that.”
Suddenly I began to see things through his eyes, and the compassion that engulfed me dissolved the protective emotional armor I had used to keep him at a distance. No, no, no, no, no!
Scrambling, I buttoned up my emotions, “Thank you for showing it to me,” I said, with a fake smile.
Jahnu dipped his head in recognition, the air between us charged with emotion.
“Should we head back?” I pulled the invisible veil over my feelings. His intensity unnerved me and the closeness of the moment had me clawing for an exit—I cannot fall for this guy.
He cocked his head thoughtfully and stepped closer as if he wanted to say more, but I begged him with my eyes not to push further. I didn’t trust myself around him. We had a connection. He saw me. Saw through me, and I felt his yearning for contact just as strongly as I fought against my own.
He nodded slowly, seeming to understand my silent plea, and led the way back toward the village.
Neither of us spoke, seeming to need the silence to process our thoughts when ten minutes into our walk, a crackling thunder growled across the sky.
We both jumped at the noise, our eyes trained on the growing darkness we could see through the cracks between the trees.
We picked up our pace, almost running as the wind swept in.
It sent leaves and forest debris scuttling around us like confetti at a party.
Then, without preamble, the rain dropped on us. Its deafening resonance swallowed all other noise. My tunic clung to my body as rivulets of water streamed down my face. The wind continued to whip at us, making the palms overhead dance like wild paintbrushes across the sky.
“Sid-de-nee!” Jahnu took hold of my arm—his voice swallowed in the din. “We have to take shelter!” I didn’t argue, but let him lead me a few more yards, my heart-rate rapid, my feet unsteady on the terrain that was quickly transitioning to sludge.
I could barely see a few feet in front of me as the sky strobed with lightning while another violent crash of thunder rattled my chest.
We climbed up into a rocky outcropping at least twelve feet deep, its overhang offered a shallow cave. By then, we were completely soaked as the rain managed to invade our small shelter. I shivered against the wind and wet, wrapping my arms around myself.
“I will be back,” Jahnu shouted.
“What? Where are you going?”
“I need to gather more covering for us. You—stay!” He disappeared into the torrents.
I huddled down, as far back from the awning as I could get, encircling my knees as best I could. The temperature seemed to have dropped thirty degrees within minutes and lightning set the jungle ablaze, as if someone were flipping the lights on and off.
I waited a small eternity until Jahnu flashed back into the cave hauling several giant palm branches. He began to set them up around the opening of the cave, further sheltering us from the raging storm. I got up to help and we managed to cocoon ourselves into our makeshift hut.
“You ok?” He still had to shout, despite the close quarters. Water dripped from his nose.
“I’m fine.” My jaw shivered.
“We will wait out the storm. At least we will be protected from the flashes.” He looked at me and frowned. “I am sorry I do not have a way to make fire.”
“A fire? How long do you think this will last?”
I felt his shrug in the darkness. “We are near the end of our wet season. The rains can last hours or few days, but it will be night soon and we are too far from the village to walk in the dark.
I could sense the gears in his mind working in the silence. “We will stay here till morning.”
I huffed a frustrated sigh and turned back to huddle in the farthest corner of the overhang. Till morning? Gooseflesh ate up my arms and legs and I rocked back and forth just to keep myself from going mad.
How do things go from bad to worse in an instant? At least before, I had dry clothes and a bed. I made a mental note not to complain again. I hated feeling trapped, and took several deep breaths to calm my temper over this situation.
The storm didn’t stop. Jahnu made a cone-shaped cup out of a palm leaf and filled it with rain water for me to drink. “Thank you,” were the last words I spoke.
We said nothing for an hour, the tension in the small shelter building like our own electrical current. But I wouldn’t be the first to break the silence. What could I say?
He was always taking care of me, whether I realized my needs or not. Always feeding me, making sure I had plenty to drink, covering my face with clay against the sun—I hated it and I loved it— wanted to refuse his care, but knew I needed it desperately.