Daldoum 1

So, since when have you known him?

Since when do I know him? I've known him since he was born. Longer than that actually, I've known him since long before. We share a union sealed in the old ways. In a way, our bond is limitless.

I've waited for him to get to this world for a hundred moons, and I suspect he's waited for me for a while himself.

The day he was born, I was almost as close to him as his mother. His first heartbeat was the sound of my liberty. He drew breath and my lungs expanded, He cried and I listened with the utmost joy. I've been by his side for so long that there is nobody else in my mind but him. I was consumed by him, devoured, obliterated, my being annihilated by him. Those days, our relationship was a most peculiar one. 

How was your relationship with him on his first days?

It is not easy to put into words what is not meant to be described. Our relationship is not meant for words or poems. A language can not encompass us. He is the epicenter of my existence. 

I loved him so much it made my eyes dry. He despised me so much it made my heart bleed.

I would do whatever needs to be done for him. I would kill for him. I would die for him. 

What about his mother?

His mother was a gentle soul.

Like a cactus, she was hard and prickly on the outside and soft on the inside. She hated my presence and cursed my existence, but I could not bring myself to do the same. I loved her because she was his mother and she always wanted the best for him. We had that in common.

What is your most treasured memory with him? 

My memory starts and ends with him.

He was 11 months old and he came down with a dreadful flu. No one knew what to do. The village elders helplessly came and went, and the town doctors were no better. I thought that was it for him and it broke me. But at times like these, there is the story that everybody sees, and then there is what no one knows. 

One of those nights, the fever burned especially high and he came down with tremors and diarrhea. He was so small and so painfully sick you would swear he was never alive. His skin was pale and rubber-like, and his heart was so quiet I could not hear it. This was my first encounter with fear. 

The three of us. When push came to shove, it was always only the three of us. Him, his mother and I. And on that night it was no different. His mother carried him next to her bosom and pulled her breast out to nurse him. She sat down on the corner of the hut. I stood close by and watched them. She started praying and did not stop for 6 days straight. 

My most treasured memory was back then, on the third day, she was still praying, eyes closed, visibly tired and probably unconscious. She did not move for three days. No food, no toilet, nothing. She was an inanimate object whose sole purpose was to preserve this one life.  

On that day, at sunset, 60 hours into her prayer streak, and as she was sliding more and more into subconscious, I heard the faintest sound that a heart could make. A beat ever so quiet and ever so graceful, and my heart exploded. That beat was the second encounter I've had with true joy and will always be my most treasured memory.

How did you meet him? 

I don't think you quite understand. I did not "meet" him. I was made for him. It is funny how hate could give birth to such love.

What do you mean?

Please do bear with me.

His great grandmother was known as the madam, and she was a hateful woman. She made enemies of every soul in the town and was not shy about it. She had a loathsome way of hurting and demeaning others, and it was not long someone retaliated.

This retaliation was so malignant and so dreadful that she would experience its effect on herself and long afterwards, on her children and her children's children. A woman's hate is really something to behold, so cold-hearted and malevolent, much more so than men could ever imagine.

The madam was eyed by a woman in town. Heartbroken by how the madam treated her son, this woman chose to not forgive, and followed the old ways to exact her will. She made the journey to the spirit of the red river and made a pact with it. She would pay the ultimate price and give her own life and her son's happiness, in return, the madam and her lineage will be cursed for a hundred years and through 3 generations, never to own land or find joy in life. They shall spend all their lives roaming the earth looking for something they will not find. Water shall not quench their thirst and food shall taste like dust on their tongues. Those terms were accepted by the spirit and the contract was sealed with blood. townsfolk say she was found the next morning on her back in front of her door, with her son crouched next to her, weeping like a wet puppy.

Could you tell me more about the spirit of the red river?

No, I can not.

Ok, where were we?

As you see, I was conjured by hate. Inamignable hate. Hate that was so strong that it grew a life of its own. That life then metamorphosed, first into a thin bit of air that came out of a woman's lips. That air then took flight and was strong enough to cross the borders of the worlds and reach a womb. In that womb, it amplified, nurtured by everlasting hate and dread, and a soul came out. That soul then grew patiently in the womb of my mother.

But the air was still there, still nurtured and ever-so-strong. A second, a third, and a fifth soul came out. When it was all said and done, that tiny bit of air, not enough to carry a dandelion seed, was powerful enough to give birth to ten souls before bowing out. The moment she spoke out the word, that woman's will was executed.

So you have 9 brothers? 

We are not brothers, we shared an "incubator" before coming to this world, but each one of us was developed for a particular reason. We all have a duty to perform and went into it once we were released.  You might say I have a mother, in a very loose use of the word.

We are lonely creatures. We are born for a specific purpose that we can neither stray from nor add to. We are known to be very efficient and faithful to our duties. But our existence revolves solely around that. We are not free. We are, in the utmost sense of the word, slaves. Then again, I suppose we are all slaves of God.

I'm not sure we understand exactly what is this "purpose" you speak of? 

I am a directed result of a vengeful will, and my purpose in this world is to exact that will.

You see, the contract the woman made with the spirit of the red river was precise in its terms. A hundred years' worth of service was what she asked for, and it was what she got.

From that contract we all came into existence, each one of us tasked with at least one of the madam's descendence. My purpose was him.

So some of you are older than the others? 

We are all born equal. We have no age. Time works differently in different realms. We all came together.

Through the 100 years, the madam's progeny would be, in total, 15. with 3 stillbirths and 3 taken by the dreadful flu, not older than 1 year.

Yours had the flu?

Nile, oh sweet Nile. He's had the flu and, by the grace of God, he made it.

Doesn't that have implications for you? for the red river? 

An implication is only applicable if the contract is breached. The contract did not specify death from the flu. it specified lifelong misery. As long as the misery is maintained, the length of life, in itself, holds no significance.

How did he make it out?

Will. The sheer will of his mother made sure that he survived. I have never seen anything like it, and, to be honest, I don't think I ever will.

The relationship between Nile and his mother is unlike anything I can even begin to understand. I think that, beyond simple matters of love and blood, there was something deeper connecting them. From the moment he was born, I saw it in her eyes. Not only was she ready to die for him, but it was also clear that she would not let anything happen to him, while she lived and beyond. "He will live" I saw in her eyes, "He will live through it all". That is how he made it out, his mother made sure of it.

I think we've been speaking for a while now. How about we pick this up after a short break?

Sure