Under the Hyena’s Foot

Table of Contents

• Fear and Disaster
• A Fierce Longing
• Fire in the Night
• Call of the Honey Bird
• Lion Creatures
• Escape
• The Giants’ Compound
• In the Walking Dream
• Angel Voices
• Hope of the Great
• Needles and Cloves, Dates and Silks
• At the Top of Fasil Gemb
• The Hyena’s Foot
• Wax and Gold
• Horror
• The Kosso Seller’s Son
• Spiders Unite
• Caught Between Saytan’s Teeth
• Song of the Dawn Singers
• Riding the Soulless Horse
• Then and Now: Ethiopia

Fear and Disaster

Saba stops moving. She feels her heart flapping wildly as a strange little song comes on again from through the forest. A zar. It has to be a zar because how could anything except a spirit say such haunted, honeyed sweetness?

Saba peers into the trees. Mist from the day’s rain drapes over the branches. She hears a crash in the woods and stands completely still. She can feel the skin on the back of her neck quiver. Is it a leopard? Maybe something even worse? The water and the forest are two of the places where Saytan lives, evil and black as deep darkness. Emama, her grandmother, always used to tell that to her.

“Ayezosh,” Saba whispers to herself. Have courage. Saba picks up a stone. She knows it’s not much of a weapon, but she can throw it with all of her strength. Slowly, Saba begins to move down the slope. Her feet slip on the wet clay of the ground. Saba catches herself by the stream. She sets her huge pot against some roots that jut out from the bank, and uses a gourd to scoop the cold water into the pot. Saba’s older brother, Mesfin, says, “A coward sweats even in water.” Saba knows she’s a coward.

When Saba is done filling the pot with water, she drops the rock. She hoists the pot carefully up onto her back and slips the strap over her head and onto her shoulders and chest. Slowly, on unsteady feet, she begins the climb back up the bank.

As she climbs, Saba smells something pungent in the air. She tells herself not to look, and speeds up. She trips on a root, and the heavy pot pushes her forward until she falls onto hands and knees. She tries to keep the pot in place, but she feels it sliding as the water sloshes all around her. Saba gropes at the pot, but it thuds heavily to the ground and cracks. Saba knows it’s her family’s only pot.

Saba hears something splash into the stream behind her, and she doesn’t turn around to see what it was. She slides the strap back over her head and gets to her feet, and runs to the house as fast as she can. It’s as though Saytan himself is trying to pinch her heels.

The path twists three times through the trees, revealing the fence that Saba’s grandfather, Ababba, made with dry thorn branches. Beyond that is their house. The ground beneath her feet is mostly red mud, and soon it’ll be time for Mesfin to plow the earth again and plant barley and chickpea seeds.

Saba stops and listens, but doesn’t hear anything following her. She doesn’t smell anything strange, but she can hear a hyena’s whoop in the forest. It’s odd, since hyenas rarely come out before dark. She runs the rest of the way to the house, where she throws herself at her grandmother’s feet.

Emama turns and asks if something is wrong. Her voice is silky and old, as if it’s beared much sorrow. Saba’s mother, her daughter, had died. Her daughter’s husband, Saba’s father, had also died. And now her husband, Ababba, has also died. She and Ababba had made homes for them in three different places, each one far from any village “so that no one can find us to hurt us.” Emama would often add that if anything dangerous comes their way, to just remember that Ababba was a great warrior in his time, and he’d protect them. So without Ababba, they are helpless.

Emama’s soothing words calm Saba, and Saba manages to tell her grandmother what happened. Emama says it’s possible the zar was actually a bird. Or maybe a zar in the shape of a bird. She continues on with her typical warnings. Saba should never go into the thickest part of the forest because that’s where Saytan lurks, as well as in deep water, caves, and dirty places. If Saba or her brother see strangers, they must hide in case it’s a barbarian or a buda, someone who has the power to drink their blood through the magic of the evil eye. They mustn’t eat outside because loose zar spirits can fly into their bodies, bringing sickness or seizures.

Then Emama continues, stating that no matter what, she’ll need to go into the market tomorrow to replace the pot. Saba and Mesfin will stay at the house. After all, who will protect them with their grandfather gone?

A voice behind them states he will protect them. Saba hides her face in Emama’s skirts, before she realizes it’s just Mesfin. He exclaims he’ll fight any strangers that come. He’s almost as tall as Ababba had been, but he’s not that much older than Saba is. He mimics slashing a stick through the air as if it’s a sword.

Emama shakes her head, saying that’s foolish talk. They’ll both stay at home tomorrow, for they have no understanding of how strange and fearsome the world can be. Emama turns to go outside to see if she hears anything strange before preparing their supper.

Saba turns to her brother, and in a trembling voice, says they simply must go to the market with her. What if she doesn’t come back? Mesfin responds in a saying that mimics Emama: “When spiders unite, they can tie up a lion.”

Saba faces the fire and pokes at the coals to see the alive red eyes under the gray coverings. She blows on the fire until it glows to life.

Maybe Emama can dig a clay pit near the stream and they can make a new pot. No, that’s foolish thinking. Only budas know how to make pots. Mesfin stands up, saying that Emama should be back by now. He turns to the door. Saba turns, too. Is there still light outside? When sunset gallops across the sky, it pulls darkness right behind it.

Suddenly, Emama appears in the doorway, and Saba feels relief flood over her. Emama crosses to the fire and moves the gourd filled with injera batter closer to the fire. She pours the batter into a griddle that’s perched on the stones. As Saba watches, the injera grows eyes staring up at her, and Saba covers it with the clay top. Emama loosens the injera pancake with hands so leathery they don’t seem to feel the heat. They don’t have any meat for their wat, but the injera will be fresh and delicious.

Emama and Ababba used to eat first, followed by Mesfin and Saba. Now, they all eat together. Now, Emama represents food, warmth, and comfort. Saba whispers into the void, “Don’t go. Or if you do go, take us with you.”