For as long as they could remember, they hung out together, the whole seven of them. What fascinated people who had known them since they were a bunch of seemingly timid nursery school goodie two shoes was that there was no apparent leader of the bunch. In truth, if outsiders would care to admit, no one could really say they knew that bunch of seven.
One time, during their first high school year someone started calling them the 7 disciples. The nickname emanated probably that they did not dress like the rest of the children in the community. The four boys and three girls spoke politely to everyone, they volunteered to renovate the dilapidating old people’s home and would do other acts of kindness which went unnoticed and unspoken about until that senior boy saw them praying before having their lunch. He had made such a fuss about it, and one would expect that in a country such as Namibia, this should not be a surprising act, but it was because, the reality is that ninety per cent of the population is baptized, the practising Christian part is open for debate. The mean senior boy, who the group concluded during one of their private home meetings, was in need of love and prayer, such cries of attention were indications of a deeper and darker background, which they would not pay attention to.
There was more, though to these friends and they never told others: they were related. Their parents were cousins but the origins of the relationship was always difficult to understand, even though their parents had tried to explain it to them. What was interesting was that they had never been on any joint family meetings or gatherings but that was to change in December. On an unexpectedly cold day near the end of the school term, each of them discussed of the exciting news from their parents that they would be going to the coast for a family gathering. It was strange how they all knew the news at the same time. They wondered what was really going on, it had been awkward, so much so that they thought it best not to question their parents and let the events unfold.
The house by the beach was overwhelming. It had an old soul, as Wilma, the oldest of the seven said as they gawked at it in wonder. They all had light luggage, as they had been advised to, without being told how much time they were going to spend. The children had speculated from an overnight stay to three nights, the adults had not given them any details.
The families all arrived in the late morning, the mothers had worked methodically to bring lunch together, the teenagers noticed that the mothers and fathers ate separately, one group in the dining room, the other at the patio and they were told to eat outside where there was an outdoor wooden table with joint benches. There, they spoke in whispers as if using their own voices would get them into some terrible trouble.
Just as they were about to stand up to go back into the house, a strange tall woman with flowing hair that seemed to glitter in the sun came to them with an inexplicable smile. She asked them to sit down and without question, they found themselves going back to the benches.
“Children,” she began with a raspy voice. “You are probably wondering what this sudden family outing is about, why it is shrouded with a mystery that we are family and that we are only meeting together, now?” She paused as if to get a response from each of them whom she looked at one at a time, with a gentle look but no smile.
“We did not want to frighten you or scare you into resistance or to having thoughts that would otherwise make you run away. Tomorrow is what we call the day of transformation, where your awkwardness will end.”
The seven looked at each other until, Melvin, the second youngest of the group and the youngest boy said, “Shall we finally understand why we feel like fish out of water?” He giggled nervously straight after.
“Exactly, my boy. Exactly that!” She stood up and straightened her dress. “Tomorrow, four-thirty in the morning, all of you should be at the beach. Your parents will give you all you need. Do not wear any shoes.”
The boys were more puzzled than ever but this time they did not have a discussion about it. There was silence in the house for the rest of the day. Dinner was at seven o’clock, this time everyone ate together and the adults spoke of how they were relieved to be going back, at last. They were celebrating something but evidently, Wilma, Shawn, Ricky, Paulus, Jaqueline, Melvin, and Cleopatra were present but not invited.
“My lungs were growing exhausted,” Shawn’s dad exclaimed and silence filled the room before Melvin’s mother burst out and everyone else joined in.
“The worst part was using my legs!” Paulus’ mother said very gently but her joy was evident. All of them agreed, some grunting and other’s saying, “Oh yes!” with evident relief.
Jaqueline asked her mother if she was aware they were told to be at the beach at four-thirty in the morning. Her mother acted as if she had not heard her. Shawn and Wilma shook their heads to her, indicating that she should not pursue the questioning. Jaqueline wanted to but decided against it.
At bedtime, each of the seven got backpacks that looked like deep-sea diver’s packs. Their parents reminded them to be at the beach at the time they were told. They were also given strict instructions not to speak and not to question anything because it would become clear when the time was right.
Paulus was the last one to arrive, at exactly 4:30, everyone else had been earlier, to ensure they would not be late. As soon as he arrived big waves began to hit the big rocks and the woman from the day before appeared to be floating on one of the waves which seemed not to be going down.
She was riding the wave and waving to the children to come into the water. As soon as they started walking into waters by the beaches of Swakopmund their legs felt as if they were being glued together, they could not walk. A big wave swept them into the ocean and they found themselves swimming like dolphins below the surface. For the first time in their sixteen years, they all felt as if they were exactly where they were supposed to be, they could feel themselves getting deeper into the waters, but breathing better. Suddenly there was a bright blue light directing them into a tunnel where other creatures swam in styles as if to welcome them home.
Their parents were at the end of the blue tunnel clapping their fins in celebration. They were mermaids and mermen! The seven looked at each other and smiled as they twirled in the waters. The lady who had guided them came and sang a welcome song to them, which made them really feel at home.
When the festivities were done and the other sea creatures had gone to their sections of the waters, the seven held hands and Melvin said, aren’t you all glad we were really fish out of water?”
They all just smiled at each other eager to learn of the new underwater life they had come to, glad to have left life on the hot and dry land.
Read Fishbone – A Flash Fiction by Marycynthia Chinwe Okafor, Nigeria
