He’s going Wenera, his path winds endlessly. He’s finding the path hard to follow. It’s very narrow, and it continuously twists and shifts. Sometimes when he sits down and rests, he wakes up and discovers that his path isn’t there anymore. He’s trying to understand the order of things around him, but everything seems arbitrary. Boulders, rifts and high mountains suddenly appear along the way. Now and then he has to walk over them or around them. It’s frustrating, his passage is proving to be excruciatingly exhausting.
Along its twists and shifts his path is always intersecting with the paths of others. Some of the paths are narrow like his, they wind and shift incessantly. Others are wide, unbent and paved. He sees no obstacles on them. To reach Wenera has been his sole purpose. Despite the difficulties he’s facing, he has hope. He’s certain he will reach Wenera soon.
Along the way he notices a man walking on a path adjacent to his. The man is walking at an unhurried pace. When he catches up to him, the man turns and smiles.
“It’s such a pleasant day isn’t it.” The man says cheerily, acting as if they have known each other for a while. The man’s face is warm like the morning sun.
“It is.” He says politely. In that moment, a balding and very short man, barely reaching to his knees passes by going in the opposite direction. The short man is laughing loudly.
“I have waited long for this day.” His new companion continues cheerily. “Today I will finally reach where I am going.”
He waits for the man to say where he is going but the man doesn’t. Where’s the man going? He wonders. The man continues to chatter excitedly, thinking loudly about what he’s going to do when he finally reaches his destination. They meet more people along the way, people of varying shades, build and height. Some are so tiny that he can squash them under his feet. Others are so tall, their heads can touch the clouds.
They have been walking for a while when around the bent a large boulder suddenly appears in front of his over-joyful companion’s path. The man immediately freezes and stares at the large boulder. Night descends on his face, terror clogs his eyes. A few moments later the man recovers from the initial shock and decides to walk around the boulder. This doesn’t work. Every time the man tries to walk around the boulder, it shifts and blocks him.
He tries to help the man but all his efforts are in vain. The large boulder keeps blocking the man’s path. After a while he finally sees no other option but to leave the man behind. As he resumes walking, he hears the man crying miserably behind. The distressing cry of the man haunts him. He wonders if there was more he could have done to help the man.
Ahead of him, the land suddenly deepens. Moments later, he finds himself facing a river. Though it’s quite a small river, it seems to flow all year-round. He has never seen something so pristine. The river’s water is sparkling, and beauticious wild flowers grow on its banks. He almost considers abandoning his journey to live near the picturesque river but he finally decides not to, he crosses the river and keeps walking on.
The land after the river is rich in birds, animals and vegetation. As he walks on he’s charmed by what he sees. Wild hen and antelope roam everywhere. The area has lots of trees, most of which are weighed down by lush fruits. One of the fruit trees catches his eye. It’s a young tree. Unlike many trees nearby, there aren’t fallen rotting fruits around it. With relish he picks fruits from its low branches and proceeds to lie on its shade. It’s cool and refreshing under the young tree. On one of its branches, a small greyish bird calls softly.
When he wakes up later, the birds, the wild animals and the lush vegetation have gone. He’s lying on the sand. The land is barren as far as the eye can see. In the bare sky the blistering sun towers. Its rays burn and hurt his skin. He rises and resumes walking. He’s distressed and thirsty. He wishes he could find water soon.
Looking back, things used to be much easier for him. He deeply regrets his parents’ absence. Under their guidance and watchful eyes, he’s certain his journey would have been much bearable. They used to help him up whenever he fell down. He should have known it wouldn’t last. Such seems to be the order of things. One day he woke up, and they were both gone.
A young woman suddenly appears on the horizon. She’s walking slowly, carrying a green bag on her back. He’s so happy to see the young woman, he increases his pace and catches up with her. What strikes him most about her is her young face. She looks esoteric and yet, he can sense a hint of wistfulness from her. The bag she’s carrying looks heavy but she doesn’t seem bothered by its burden. Before he can summon enough courage to engage her in conversation she draws out a bottle of water and offers it to him. He accepts the water. It’s been a while since someone has shown him such consideration, he’s exceedingly overwhelmed by her insightfulness. They walk together for a while. Moments later her path digresses from his. In a state of deep incertitude, he looks on as she gracefully walks away.
He never thought it would take him this long to reach Wenera. The place always seems to be within reach, just beyond the horizon. Somehow, no matter how much he tries he can’t seem to reach it. It’s creeping away with every step he takes. What could he be doing wrong? He wonders. Does he need to increase his pace, take another path or seek assistance from the extremely tall people? They are after all the ones who can see far, their heads touch the clouds. If there’s anyone who can help him reach where he’s going, he’s certain it’s them.
His path winds on and on. On the horizon, a huge mountain appears. It’s so huge that its summit is hidden in the clouds. He tries to avoid it but it shifts and blocks his path. After countless attempts of trying to avoid it, without any success, he finally walks towards it. It takes him a while to reach it. When he finally does, he discovers that multitudes of souls have assembled at the foot of the mountain. Very few are actually making an effort to climb it. Many just linger around, walking back and forth. Others, clustered in groups, are faithfully listening to those who claim to have ascended the mountain.
Among the few climbing up the mountain he notices a very old woman. She’s so old that she needs a walking stick to help her keep her balance. He’s so shocked to see her up there that he immediately runs after her. When he catches up with her, he’s surprised to discover that she has the same face as the young woman who offered him water a while ago. The only difference is that the face he’s looking at is mellow and full of contours, contours that to his utter surprise, exude a sense of elation and quietude.
When the old woman sees him, she smiles. “You haven’t yet reached where you are going, have you?” She says.
“It’s you!” He exclaims.
The old woman continues smiling. “Yes, it’s me. How easily you notice others’ wrinkles and yet you fail to notice yours.” She says, pointing at his hand.
He stretches his hand and carefully looks at it. He’s surprised to find that it’s now thin and shrivelled. He is baffled. How can this be? He wonders. He shifts his attention from his arm and looks at the old woman. She’s observing him. Her hand, the one holding the stick, trembles slightly.
“Did you reach where you were going?” He asks.
For a moment the old woman looks thoughtful. “Yes. A long time ago.” She finally says.
He wants to ask her how she managed to get where she was going and why she’s going up the mountain but he hesitates and his chance passes. The old woman pouts, politely bows her head and resumes walking. In his eyes, she walks as graceful as the last time he saw her. As she walks away, he sadly gazes at her. He doesn’t wish to walk on anymore. A sense of avidness he had has suddenly deserted him. He sits on a rock and looks at the multitudes assembled at the foot of the mountain. Their noise is now deafening. They stretch as far as the eye can see.
Talent Madhuku is a writer from Zimbabwe. His work has been published by Mwanaka Media and Publishing, Kalahari Review and Brittle Paper (forthcoming)