It was a time when the clouds didn’t look down on the foamy crests of the waves and a time when the sun and the moon still gazed lovingly at each other’s eyes. Then, an African king got separated from his companions while they were out hunting in the hot and dry grasslands.
Had the king strayed away while watching some small game with greedy eyes? Had his men moved on like shadows, presuming the king was following them? nobody knew. Until the king found himself alone on this side of the grassland and his men found themselves without their ruler, on the other side of the savanna. In the cool shade of the trees they were unable to spot one another, no matter how high they climbed the baobab trees.
When the king realized he was lost and alone he gasped for air. He felt his heart beating faster like he’d been running, although he hadn’t. His palms sweaty on his spear, and his shadow suddenly gone. His mouth was dry when he reached for his water – of which he had none in his keeping. This is because as a king he carried only his kingly spear, nothing else. His men carried his water and food for him, and his soft blankets to set upon the dry grass for rest with tents to make good shade. And so the king, lost and alone, stroke by hunger and thirst looked left and right, front and back; yet, all he could see was an infinity stretch of dry grass. He then realized he could not find an oasis, neither could he spot a stream. There wasn’t even a shadow anywhere.
The air was searing hot. The sun right above his head, like it was laughing at him. Lost and alone, not even with his own shadow as company. Angered, the king stomped his foot. Dust rose, red and hot and settled on his skin and into his nostrils. It tasted like dirt. How the king wished for a sip of water. He could go as far as trading his famous spear for one.
Then he noticed some movement from a distance. ‘What was that?’ thought the king. ‘His court?’ He better gets there. ‘But what IF they are lions?’ he pondered. So he used his hunting skills of approaching without being known. It took him a while, and half way through it he realized he was stalking zebras, not his men. Zebras are friendly horses with stripes, surely they will help the king. Eventually he reached the zebras, who were swishing their tails, their ears perched, grazing nearby. They knew well he’s coming and they knew he was alone.
‘Please help me,’ said the king to the zebra that looked like a chief, for it ate the most abundant spot of grass. ‘I am all lost and without my court. I want to find my men, can you lead me to them?’ But the zebra chief just munched quietly. Eventually it turned away from the king, snorted a message to its herd, then replied, ‘why should we help you, knowing you and your men have hunted and chased us from our waterhole, taking away our weak and old?’
The king sighed knowing he’d done wrong in the past, and had no answer for the zebra unless he was sorry. But by the time he opened his mouth the zebras were already far away.
When a trumpeting reached the king’s ears and a thumping shook the ground… The elephants! Surely they will carry him to his men. Or spare their shade.
The king approached the matriarch requesting for help, but she refused. ‘We do not help those who want to kill us,’ she said while touching gently with her gigantic trunk, the ivory necklace the king carried around his neck. The king gasped and lost his words, for he thought that was the end of him, but the elephant slowly moved away taking her herd with her. All she left behind was a cloud of dust, the sun, and a lost and lonely king.
Next, the king saw a herd of antelopes and, although he suspected their answer, he asked them too. Of course they refused, had he forgotten that the majestic antelopes were a king’s favorite hunting prey?
The king let himself drop to the ground, not minding the prickly grass. He even let go of his spear, for what use will he have of it? He let his head drop on his knees and shut his eyes tight. What went through his mind? Remorse? Fear? Thoughts of a final desperate plan to dig himself a hole and seek the shadows and the coolness of the earth? Become a ghost?.
The king was so lost in thought that he did not feel the shadows circling overhead, neither did he feel the flutter of the wings. He did not hear the ‘mahem-mahem-mahem’ of sudden chatter. However, just as he was dreaming he was in the gloom of his kingly tent again with his men. He felt a soft brush against his arm.
When the king looked up, he saw that he was surrounded by a flock of birds with long necks and legs. The king could not remember their names, for he felt so weak and thirsty yet he tried. He was a king skilled in fighting for survival, he tried once more and with his voice barely a whisper, he begged the big birds to help him.
Can you imagine? The birds did not turn away. The king thought he was surely dreaming.
Can you believe it? The big birds made shade for him, while a few others flew away, shortly to return with water in their strong beaks, which they gave to the king. The king was sure he was imagining.
The big birds led the king to his court. Walking by this shadow of a man, nudging him, following, pushing, tailing, and dragging him slightly to the oasis, the nearest one at that where his court was.
As soon as he saw his men, as soon as he felt safe, as soon as he drank and sat in the thick, cool, shade of his kingly tent, the grateful king ordered his personal goldsmith to make a crown of gold for each one of the crane birds. He had now remembered what they were, and had ordered a feast too. A feast fit for kings.
The following day the entire dance of cranes flew off wearing their shiny, gold crowns gleaming in the sun so bright that the king had to shade his eyes, watching until the birds disappeared into the clouds, all the time calling good-bye, ‘mahem-mahem-mahem.’
The king and his court waved good-bye and the cranes called back, ‘mahem-mahem,’ till they were out of sight. The king smiled and felt his heart filled with gratitude, wondering if he’ll ever see his savior’s again.
Sooner than he imagined, he saw them again the following day. The cranes had returned with bare heads, telling the king and his men that the other animals had become envious and angry when they saw the golden crowns on their heads. They had heard how and from whom they got them. So the animals; the zebras, the elephants, and the antelopes had ambushed the cranes and stolen the crowns. Not for themselves, but to destroy them for what they stood for.
The king bowed his head and thought. Then he gave two orders.
One that no zebras, elephants, antelopes, rhino, nor hippos… would ever be hunted again. And second, that new crowns be made not of gold like his kingly symbols, but of golden feathers as light as freedom and could not be removed. As soon as the new crowns were ready, each crane flew off wearing its gold-feathery diadem, so light that they barely cast a shadow. Never to be taken away.
Read – Nounou and his Eternal Companion – A Short Story by Ouday Prakash, Mauritius
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