1991 Kwa Moyo
Zania crushed a piece of fragrant resin and scattered the powder over a bowl of burning embers.
‘It will clear the air,’ he said, ‘of things you cannot see.’
Sunlight streamed in through the open doorway onto Annah’s bed. She’d been shifted there, when she’d grown too weak to be moved in the litter, so that as she lay resting she could see and hear all that was happening outside – the everyday life of her people carrying on.
Gifts lined one wall of the hut. Wreaths, carvings, stones, pouches of dried herbs – symbols of love, prayer, magic. Among them were some of Annah’s own things, brought back from Melbourne. The microscope stood beside the old record player. Nearby was the battered suitcase with the pillow case Sarah had embroidered for Annah laid out on top. Then there was the much-read novel Out of Africa, now missing its front cover as well as the title page. On a low table by Annah’s bed stood Sister Mercy’s communion chalice, and the rolled cloth that bore the words of the medieval nun …
I am the rain, rising from the dew
That causes the grass to laugh
with the pleasure of life.
The people of Kwa Moyo came and went all day along with others from Langali, but several figures always remained at Annah’s side. Stanley. Kate. Zania. Ordena. And a woman called Lela, who’d learned her healer’s craft from Alice. She brewed powerful painkillers which Kate poured between Annah’s dry lips. And she massaged the woman’s tired body, easing away the aches, while her own apprentice chanted healing songs.
It was Zania who told Stanley when the time of death was near.
‘She is ready to be free,’ he said. ‘We must be prepared to let her go.’
Stanley smoothed Annah’s face, his lips moving as he spoke to her quietly. Zania leaned over the woman and gently removed Mtemi’s amber beads and his own ivory bracelet. As Annah had arranged, he handed them to Kate.
‘I will wear them for you,’ Kate said to Annah, though she could not tell if her words were heard. She took a sheaf of flamingo feathers from among the gifts and placed them over Annah’s heart.
The day drew near to its close. Outside the hut, the sky above the heads of the waiting crowd was a wash of pale pink.
Finally, Annah opened her eyes for the last time. With the remains of her strength, she raised her head so that she could see them all. Then she breathed out, long and slow. The gentle sigh of her spirit, spreading its wings. Flying free – away, into the land.
Stillness, silence filled the hut.
Outside, it began to rain.