Saba: Under the Hyena’s Foot

Call of the Honey Bird

Unfortunately, Mesfin was wrong. The next morning, Saba wakes up coughing. Emama is already prodding the embers, waiting for her to wake up. She says there’s some roasted grain the gourd for them to eat. But now, it’s time for her to leave.

The smell of smoke in the house is thicker than usual, and it overwhelms Saba’s head. She looks down at her stinging hands. Why are all these terrible things coming upon them? First the pot, now the fire. Had a buda stumbled onto their home? A buda can make bad things happen just by thinking about them. She sits up and tells Emama to hurry back.

Emama stands, and wonders to herself what might’ve caused the fire. Mesfin responds there was no lightning. Emama wonders if she should take them with her to keep them safe. Saba’s heart hopes she says yes. But she decides to stay with her original decision. If a buda is wandering about, they’re safer inside the house.

Emama instructs Mesfin to tie the animals outside today instead of taking them to graze. They watch as Emama takes a salt bar wrapped in cloth and hides it in a corner of the basket. That’ll be their payment for the day. Saba wonders how they’ll get more salt to pay for anything else they need.

As if Emama is reading Saba’s mind, she turns and says next she’ll fix kosso flowers in a way that will cure the worms rich people get from raw meat. She can make a medicine for coughing out of honey and pressed seeds. They’ll be all right.

The three of them say their goodbyes in the traditional way of greeting and parting, lips to cheeks over and over. Saba wants to hold onto Emama tightly, but she knows she must not. Before she leaves, Emama tells Mesfin to not leave her sister alone.

Saba helps her brother take the animals outside. They gather grass for the animals to eat, and they go back inside, as they were told. Saba grinds grain in the middle of a large stone until it turns to flour and falls into a basin. Saba looks over at Emama’s spindle. A while ago, Saba used to clean seeds from the cotton Emama spun into thread. Later, she learned how to spin for herself. Now, Emama does all the spinning herself, as Saba is too busy fetching water or pulling weeds to spin. It takes Emama three or four months to fill enough spindles with thread for a shamma. Ababba would take the threads to the weavers who turn it magically into cloth.

Saba glances down at her own shamma. It has a thin border. Ababba used to say that rich people’s shammas have thick, fancy borders made of silk from India and Syria. The weavers would unravel the foreign threads to create their own patterns. Ababba said someday he’d bring a soft, beautiful shamma back for Saba. Now that day will never come.

Saba is considering doing some spinning that day when Mesfin interrupts her thoughts and says that yesterday, he heard the cry of a honey bird. Saba studies him carefully to see what he’s trying to say. They say a honey bird can guide a person to honey that wild bees had hidden in hollow trees. Saba’s mouth fills with the thought of sweet, white honey.

“Ababba will never again be able to follow the honey bird,” Mesfin continues. “But you and I could do it.” Saba responds that maybe they can when Emama gets back from the market.

Mesfin stands up and goes to get the gebeta board that Ababba made for them. Sometimes they dig rows of holes in the dirt and use pebbles to play the game, but now that they’re indoors, they can use the smooth wood board Ababba made.

Saba and Mesfin play the game for a long time, scooping up seeds and dropping them into holes. Suddenly, Mesfin speaks again. Perhaps they could fetch honey for Emama to use to make medicine. Saba wistfully responds it’d be nice to do something to make up for breaking the pot yesterday. But they’re supposed to obey and not bring shame to their relatives.

A shaft of sunlight shines through the door. Afternoon has come and the rains have not. Maybe the rainy season has been milked dry. Mesfin suggests they sit outside the door to see if it’ll be the first day with no rain. Nobody will see them. Saba considers this. It would feel good to see the sun again.

Besides, Mesfin is certain he can protect them. And Saba’s cross necklace can protect them from zar spirits and budas. Saba fingers the cross around her neck. Yes, she will show Mesfin her faith. Cautiously, Saba steps outside under the shade of the overhanging roof.

Mesfin tosses a pebble toward the chickens. Soon, it’ll be the feast day of Maskal, and it’ll be time to put the chickens into the wat. Saba says maybe Emama will return today with a sheep to put into the wat. Mesfin says maybe she’ll return with a Silver Queen to replace the cross that the branches tore from his neck last year.

It bothers Saba that Mesfin walks around without a cross. Saba wears hers on a blue cord. Years ago, Ababba had brought home two silver coins with the face of a queen of a faraway land. The next time he went out, he went to a silversmith and had them melted down and turned into silver crosses.

Saba continues Mesfin’s game. Maybe Emama will bring home a golden pin to put in her hair. Mesfin laughs—Saba was always a dreamer.

The two siblings used to sit on the platform for hours, keeping the animals away. Saba would tell her brother things she had never said to anybody else. All about the horses she sees in the clouds and how the girl in the market told her that the river snakes wrap their tails around farmers’ fences at night so they can reach up to feed on the stars. Mesfin never used to laugh at her then.

All of a sudden, Mesfin stands up. He tells Saba to listen. It’s the sound of the honey bird again. Ababba used to say that birdcalls were signs… that battles had been fought and surrendered based on the cries of birds. Mesfin says it’s an omen, and it’d be wrong to ignore what the spirits are trying to tell them.

Saba says she needs another sign if they’re to go look for honey.

They wait and wait for another sign. The rain clouds don’t fill the sky. The honey bird calls again. Chickens scratch in the sunshine. But otherwise, Saba doesn’t hear a thing. Then, Saba sees something move from the edge of the trees. She grips her brother’s arm.

But then, an antelope bounds out. It runs across the path that leads to the stream. Mesfin says that must be the sign. Ababba always said an antelope running across the path was sure to bring a person success.

Saba studies her brother who has gotten so tall and confident in the last year. Emama doesn’t know how strong they’d both become.

Saba asks Mesfin if he thinks there are zars in the woods. He says of course there are, but they must not be around as much as Emama says. After all, they’d lived there for many years with no issues. Suddenly, Saba realizes that he could indeed be her protector now that Ababba is gone.

Saba fetches a gourd and follows Mesfin down the hill, across the field, and toward the trees in the direction of the honey bird. The call of the bird gets louder as they continue on. They can see the mountain in the distance, tall and green.

Mesfin comments that he’s surprised the honey bird hasn’t flown away. It must be a friendly bird. They continue into the woods, and it didn’t take long for them to be engulfed by a green, warm world. Leaves dance and tremble over their heads. The branches seem to welcome them into the woods.

The honey bird sounds quite close now. It appears to have been waiting for them. Saba stops and bows back to the welcoming branches. Ahead of her, Mesfin cries out and bends down to study his right foot. And suddenly, the trees around them crackle with noise.

“Run!” Mesfin shouts. Immediately, Saba turns to flee. But then out of nowhere, a pair of hands grabs her. Saba twists and shrieks, trying to pull away from the hands, but the spirits, or whatever was waiting among the trees, doesn’t let go. The last thing the leaves and branches hear is the sound of Saba’s desperate screams.