The Game of Shepherd and Dawse (14 page)

The pregnancy would be a difficult one. Not only did Aman have to deal with the most horrendous kicking from the baby, but she also had to adjust to the fact that there wasn’t as much food to go around as they were used to. Local food sources had become more depleted than usual, partly because of the Dawse and partly because of the influx of other Shepherd peoples. It was ironic that they had all come together for safety but this very fact was putting them in more danger of famine.

Aman was suffering malnourishment, as well as horrendous stabbing pains from the unborn child. The only thing nature had to offer her in abundance was the juju seeds. The rest of the tribe had figured that if these beasts were going to strip the land of the berries, they might as well grab what they still could and so they went on a mass picking session. While doing so, they rooted up some of the bushes and planted them inside the barrier. This was to become the first form of modern farming that had ever existed.

The only down side to the juju seeds was that they were highly addictive. In normal circumstances, they would only be used during the last days of someone’s journey or when a village member had been badly wounded in a hunting accident. But these were anything but normal times, and Aisha and Sasha would do anything to ease their daughter’s pain.

The juju berries helped ease the enormous amount of guilt Aman was carrying, as if she were somehow responsible for all the things that were happening around her. The new emotions that she found herself having to deal with were the worst part for Aman, as she had no experience in dealing with emotions of this kind and she didn’t really know where to start. Today we know these emotions as guilt and depression but back then there was no understanding of such things, so no one knew really how to deal with them.

The time had finally come for Aman to give birth to whatever it was that had been growing inside her. It was with mixed feelings of anxiety and joy, at finally being able to get this thing out of her stomach, that she embraced the first of the pains. The pain was like 10 births at once. The juju berries helped some but Aman found she couldn’t rely on them too much, as she needed a clear head to focus on the job at hand. All of the female elders knew this birth was going to be a difficult one so they all gathered in the birthing hut, while the men gladly gave the womenfolk their space. Due to the lack of food, the onset of winter and the general stress of the last nine months, Aman was in a weakened state and couldn’t squat in the usual position to have the child. Instead she had to lie on her back, which didn’t make things any easier.

At first things seemed to be going well, though this made some of the elders nervous. Life in Shepherd Wood had become difficult for everyone in the last nine months, and the days of easy living peace and tranquility were long gone. They were slowly getting used to hard times yet felt a bit uneasy with the way things were going. True enough, the good times wouldn’t last in the birthing hut either: it was a breach birth.

“Come on ladies, we can do this”, Aisha said in an encouraging voice. Aman wasn’t so sure. Each time she tried to push, the pain became so unbearable she nearly blacked out. This would go on for many hours. All in the hut were starting to become concerned for Aman’s wellbeing, though Aman was in too much pain to notice their consternation.

Aman rested again to regain her strength for her next try. This was becoming a hopeless situation. Aisha knew it. The elders knew it. Aman knew it. They all knew it. By now, Aisha could see Aman hadn’t an ounce of strength left in her. In a last ditch effort, Aisha placed one hand on Aman’s face and while stroking her hair with the other hand, she whispered to her daughter with a tear rolling down her face.

“Please, Aman. Please darling, give it one more time or you’re not going to make it”.

Aisha had not shed a tear in front of Aman for many months as she wanted to remain strong for her most treasured gift. When Aman saw this it touched something deep inside her which gave her the strength to take one massive last breath, and with all her heart and soul she pushed as hard as she possibly could push. A huge scream of agony followed. At last, it was over and the half-Shepherd child who had had been kicking so hard and for so long was finally out.

The elders wasted no time in cleaning up the new born and everyone tried not to show their amazement at how different this baby looked from their usual ones. It was so strange looking; they could hardly take their eyes off of it. What the elders failed to notice was how pale and lifeless Aman had become while they were cleaning up her new born. The fact that she had been lying on her back instead of the usual squatting position had hidden the fact that she was losing blood. The head of this child was larger than the average Shepherd child and that, along with the breach birth, had caused problems. Aisha brought everyone's attention back to Aman, when she began to sob uncontrollably upon the realisation her treasured child had died.

Aisha sobbed like she had never sobbed before. It was as though nine months of pain and anguish were all gushing out at once. There was one piece of comfort for Aisha and Sasha, who now had joined his soul partner in the birthing hut, which was the peaceful and serene look that was now on Aman’s face. After so much pain and unhappiness, this memory would give both of them comfort for many years to come.

Aman was cremated in a special place on the plain, where her ashes were buried. Thereafter, the people would feel a special type of energy in this place and in years to come, a huge stone monument would be constructed around it. It took a herculean effort to build and in time it became known as Stonehenge.

The spirit of Aman lives on because after being the one to unselfishly kick start the game of Shepherd and Dawse, she could have easily enjoyed everlasting peace on the other side. But true to form, Aman has come back time and time again to give people happiness and joy at just being her. She is alive on this planet today and even you, dear reader, may have been lucky enough to have glimpsed her.

Joe slowly and carefully closed the book, at this poignant moment and sent Charlie a comforting look.

Charlie was genuinely upset about Aman’s death. “I wish she hadn’t died, Joe. I really liked Aman”, he said while wiping a small tear from his eye. “Why did the author have to kill her”? he asked in childlike protest.

“That’s just how life works, little fella. We all die. I’ll die one day, your mum will die one day and even you will die one day. No one escapes it. It’s a natural process of life”.

Charlie got up off his bean bag and went to sit next to Joe. “You’re not going to die anytime soon are you, Bampy Joe”? Charlie asked with a concerned look on his face.

“Not any time soon, my little friend”, he said, giving Charlie a warm smile and tapping him on the hand. Then Joe looked directly into Charlie’s eyes and gently said, “But we all will one day. I’m not exactly a young man any more, you know. My time will come when it’s supposed to come. I don't worry about it and neither should you. So until then, let's enjoy every day as if it’s my last, deal”?

Joe put his hand out to shake on the deal that he just made with Charlie, and Charlie gladly shook it. Joe knew he wasn’t far from his last days, though by rights he could have lived another five, 10, even 15 years. People did all the time. But Joe never sensed he would be one of them, and he wanted to at least prepare Charlie a little bit for the inevitable.

That evening Charlie sat cuddled up close to his Mum on the sofa. He didn’t like the thought of people dying, not that evening anyway. After a good night’s sleep, he woke up the next day and didn’t give it a second thought.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MR BIBBLE AND THE THREE C GANG

“
I would rather be a nice nobody than an evil somebody”. ~ Nettie Furnella

The ‘Three C’ gang was sitting on the embankment that ran down Daisy Lane, thoroughly enjoying a bag of sweets. Their unexpected lottery of confectioneries was compliments of headmaster Bibble, who had rewarded the boys for helping him carry all of the chairs from the auditorium to sports equipment room because the auditorium was about to be redecorated. In addition to satisfying their sweet tooth, all three C’s were also enjoying the fact that they’d been let out five minutes earlier than everyone else.

They could easily have chosen to go home early, if they’d wanted. Instead they chose to wait for all of their classmates to pass them first, just to let them know what it was like to be part of the elite, in the way that young boys do.

Charlie and Chris had opted for the penny sweets in the bag since they looked most inviting and Carl got lumbered with the pack of Chewits. As it happened, the Chewits turned out to be the better deal, as Carl still had plenty of Chewits left over well after Charlie and Chris had wolfed down their share of the sweets. Carl was taking pleasure from the fact that the other two had made such a rash and foolhardy decision in the heat of their excitement, while having to put up with him lecturing them about the dangers of gluttony.

Carl had gotten down to his last two Chewits and he decided to savour the fact that he had only two left. He was interested in seeing which of his friends would suck up to him the most to be his joint partner in the destruction of these last two delicacies. Yet it was then, as so often happens, that Carl made his fatal error.

“Blooming nice of Mr Bibble to give us these sweets, wasn’t it”? he remarked.

That was it! Charlie and Chris knew they had Carl cornered.

“Whoo-hoo”! Chris and Charlie said in unison. “You just said the ‘B’ word, Carl”.

Carl suddenly realized he was about to face the full force of Beelzebub himself unleashed upon him for his remaining two Chewits. There was only one thing that no C in the Three C gang ever did - which was to say the ‘B’ word. Unless they had a death wish, that is. Mr Bibble was so very touchy about how his name was pronounced.

“It’s Bibble”! He would say in his headmaster’s voice. “Not Bible. It’s Bibble. What part of Bibble are you not getting, my boy”?

He would start his favourite lecture, saying: “See here now: this is a Bible”, pointing to the little book he had once been given by the Gideon’s Society. “And I am a Bibble! There is no comparison”.

If you were unlucky enough or stupid enough to have pronounced his name wrong (that he heard anyway), then you had better settle in for the long haul because you were now his property for the next half hour, at least. Some even said it wouldn’t have mattered if the school had been burning down around him, there was no way he was going to let them go until they had grasped the pronunciation of his name in the correct manner.

This was a little unfair, really. Although he demanded that everyone pronounced his name Bibble, he had never actually changed his name officially to Bibble, so any correspondence sent to him would still always be spelled Bible.

Charlie and Chris, fully aware that Carl's remaining Chewits now belonged to them, had a triumphant air about them. It was just a case of formalities, really.

“So now, young Carl”, Charlie started. “It would appear that you have put Chris and myself in a rather awkward position".

He had now had taken over the position of lecturer. “Shall we go to Mr Bibble and inform him of your lapse of concentration, or should we allow you to bribe us into turning a blind eye to this tiny misdemeanour? Hmmm”?

Charlie paced back and forth in front of the boys, tapping a medium-sized stick in his left hand in the same manner Mr Bibble liked to do with a ruler. “By chance Carl, you do happen to have something that Chris and I both want”.

Chris agreed that on this one occasion he could agree to turn a blind eye, “for the sake of the children, if nothing else”, he said while trying hard not to giggle.

Carl knew when defeat was staring him in the face and he reluctantly handed over the last two Chewits. That was far more preferable than spending a godforsaken half hour being lectured by Mr Bibble about his name.

“I just hope it’s not too late for him to learn the error of his ways”, joked Chris to Charlie, while he very slowly started to unwrap his trophy Chewit. Carl suddenly felt like he had the raw deal again, but he was pleasantly surprised when Charlie and Chris each bit into their ill-gotten gains and gave Carl half of each of their sweets in a gesture that said ‘All’s fair in love and war’.

Sitting on the embankment, the Three C's moved on to discussing the advantages and disadvantages of being invisible. On one side, you had Carl who didn’t like the idea because he felt like his parents thought he was invisible already. On the other side you had Chris, who thought it would be great because you could watch women put on their makeup. Chris had always had a bit of a fascination with women and their makeup. They always looked so skilled when doing it and the transformation was none other than a small miracle – certainly in his grandmother’s case.