by Ginger Betzer

Created on: November 11, 2008   Last Updated: April 17, 2009

She placed the large straw basket on her scarf-wrapped head, and, stepping from her small hut, called to her children. The summers were long and hot in Sudan. Washing was done early morning, then left to dry and bake in the sun until well after sunset. She heard the buzzing of flies around her head and she swatted them from her moist forehead and face. Her children came running from a nearby hill where they had been digging in the dirt with sticks. They grabbed onto her skirt, pulling and tugging as they giggled in excitement. She started towards the river. The children loved the water. They knew every rock and every danger in the swiftly flowing stream. The only time they were allowed to be near the river was with her. Usually at wash time. Sometimes, when the heat was too much, they would visit two or three times a day. But, the river could be very dangerous. Animals roamed the banks looking for other, smaller prey. Stories were circulated throughout her village about the disappearances of small children and small pigs and chickens.

"Tigers come," her grandmother would spin, when she was a young child, "when the moon comes up. Looking for the best food of all. ....YOU!" and she would jump. And giggle, nervously. "Odonu, you stay away from river." her grandmother would warn. " It is very dark in a tigers belly."

Odonu decided never, ever to use those tactics to scare her own children, Mondo and Peter. She simply told them outright that it was a very dangerous place and they were never to go without her. As they approached the water they could see the same sight as every morning. Ten or Twelve other villagers swishing their clothing in the river, wringing them, and laying them on the shore. There was one tree. It was used to dry clothing at one time, but now it would be socially wrong to take the tree. The only tree. So all clothing was strung along the ground on the rockiest, cleanest areas available.

The children waded in with her, as she took out each article of clothing and dipped it in the cool, clear water. She rubbed the most soiled areas against a smooth rock, pressing firmly with her palm against the dirt.

"momma meta" Peter was yelling now and pointing. "momma, look!"

Odonu looked in the direction of Peters arm. In the deepest part of the flowing river was an article of clothing. Clothing bright and colorful. Vibrant shades of Orange and Pink and Green, floating and swirling as it traveled swiftly by.

"Get it, momma," Mondo yelled, "Get it for me."

Odonu started to wade into the deeper waters to grab the cloth. She stopped, backing away, she turned to her sons. "Do not look, Mondo, Peter. Go back to shore.

Floating in the stream was the body of a young woman. The rich brown tones of her skin swirling with the vibrant materials of her robe. Terrorists. "They must be upstream." and she panicked. There was no peace in Sudan. All she lived for was to do what had to be done. Simply, and consistently, she washed and cooked and raised her children. She had no ambitions but to be. To live. To survive. She quickly gathered in clothing and placed them back into the basket. the other villagers were doing the same.

"We must go back to our huts for a while, " she motioned to her sons. "We must hurry."

"why momma? Is it a tiger?" Mondo asked.

Odonu's eyes filled with tears as she grabbed the arm of her youngest and helped him onto shore. Yes, Mondo, ....it is very, very dark in the belly of a tiger" she warned. "In the belly of a tiger it is very very dark."

Learn more about this author, Ginger Betzer.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.