MOTHER RIVER – Short Story from History
Photo credit: mantasmagorical from morguefile.com
The sunset caste a brilliant silhouette over the tropic foliage and rugged mountains. But the lush green of the forest across the gentle slopes whispered softly…still alive from the sweet sounds of the birds. Yet the winds blew a strange whippoorwill fresh and clean from the ocean many miles away. There in the hills four young lion hearts raged so to conquer as they raced with the storm.
Earlier that rainy day the four young villagers had ventured into the deep forest towards the mountainous slopes fifty miles from the village called home. The quest was in search of food sufficient to last a few days in anticipation of a whole week of rain, flood waters and hurricane. Now, almost six hours later as they hustled along the narrow track on their return home their ordeal was without a doubt unfolded. In a single file they trotted like young warriors at half-pace. Each stride, breath and systole in unison with the other. None being hindered by the extra weight of provisions wrapped in crocus bags on their heads.
The leader Brutus, kept a steady pace at the front. His best friend Marcus followed immediately behind him marching his strides. Luke who was Brutus’s younger brother was enveloped in the middle as Spear the tallest of the four held steadfast on to the rear.
The rain poured down mercilessly and the wind howled like a wounded beast. The leaves of the trees were scattered about and occasionally a tree branch cracked under pressure. Small tributaries and streams emerged amongst the roots of the trees from all fronts pouring down hill and across the valley at a steady speed towards the main river. The genesis of the streams unknown but strong enough to affect the pace of the young missionaries.
The hurricane season was upon the island again and there had been the alert on national radio the previous day. The hurricane was called Bewla and had been packing winds of eighty knots an hour. On this faithful morning it started with a light pouring of scattered showers. But by midday there were relentless out pours… although by mid-afternoon there hung a very strange overcast. Thunder roared and lightening blazed the skies. There were signs of fresh landslides and heavy timber came down with the mud rush. The wild life creatures scampered to the heart of the forest seeking higher ground, but in a short space of time the green foliage appeared defiled and desecrated.
The raindrops bit into their faces as they run and the winds tore their lips away from their teeth. It became increasingly more difficult to maneuver against the gust and occasionally someone fell, stumbled or willed out of control especially when the run was down a sharp incline or gentle slope. The tears welded Brutus’s eyes as he pursued his run and for a moment he drifted into his own illusion and wonderment: Why do some people suffer so? His trend of thought was immediately shattered by the thunder of the skies and the blaze of the lightening. Upon reaching the savanna which stretched about a mile before the river…endless running streams, the shrubs, debris and mud dragged the four to a slow pace until the winds permitted the abated foxtrot. They struggled, moaned, groaned and grimaced but never once considering the option of abandoning the provision bags.
The roar of thunder, the patter of rain, the howling winds and the crack of lightening shattered the forest sanctuary and cut into the silence of their thoughts. The mud slips, tampered twigs, broken branches became obvious obstacles to the small human convoy. Fear crept in as Brutus felt the stitches ached in his stomach as the pangs of hunger lingered. His toes bled in his soft canvas shoes because of the hard run and the sole of his feet felt blistered. Perhaps, it would be of best interest to dispose of the sacks.Thus, everyone would be allowed the liberty to move faster. Even a short cut would be of a great relief at that point. If only to reach the river on time… before dark.However, when they crossed the savanna and descended the hills that lead to the river… they then came to a small plateau of rocks approximately fifty feet above. With the winds still tearing at them and thunder rolling. There it was… beheld…majestic…awesome… what everyone called: Mother River.
The boys all gazed in amazement and wounder.For up to almost one mile upstream they could saw: timber, tree stumps, branches and roof tops in a cascade of debris as they rumble downstream. It was clear that the water levels had arisen four times above its mark and from all indications to venture crossing would be dangerous.They argued in contemplation as to the most appropriate option open to them. Brutus was very clear in his mind that together they would have to brave the waters. The other option was to spend the night perched on the high rocks until the next day or return from whence they came and walk twenty miles towards the north and the main highway where they could access transport to take them home. The sad truth about this was that…time would not permit. It was already turning dark. The time was five thirty in the evening.
After some arguments the decision was unanimous. They had all agreed to cross the river. After this the highway was only ten minutes walk and home…only a mile away. Brutus busied himself with a long cattle rope that he carried in the crocus bag. He suggested that the bags be tied together with a shorter rope whilst he dived into the stream and swam across to tie his rope to a heavy tree trunk. His friends and brother watched whilst he took off his shirt and shoes, tied one end of his rope to a rock, wrapped the rest neatly over his shoulder, stood majestically on the rock and dived into the water. For a brief moment it appeared as if Brutus was suspended in mid air as the lightening lit the sky and the thunder roared. Then like an Olympiad making a final desperate dive for gold, his body whistled through the air and disappeared under the surface of the turbulent waters. For almost five minutes the other boys thought this was the end. Then with an element of surprise Brutus emerged from the other side. Swam to the river bank and tied the rope to the massive tree trunk there…and so enabled the others to swim across the river to safety.
With both ends of the rope now secured the others were assisted by Brutus to swim across using the rope as leverage. Luke was allowed to cross first, but they all had to climb down to the water level to get to the rope whilst Brutus came half way to meet each one. In less than twenty minutes all four were across the river on the bank safe and secured.
After walking briskly for twenty minutes the team came to the main highway where other family members were waiting and expecting them .Everyone was so excited that they had braved the storm and the angry river and reached safe grounds. As they walked away it’s as if they heard the roar of Mother River as she crushed the contents of her bowels, devoured and disfigured to be disposed and excreted into the bay of the ocean in the quiet aftermaths of a tropical storm.
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