THEME: KNOCK YOURSELF OUT
TITLE: MEETSENG
Written by Naume Selowa
I yawned looking in my mother’s direction while she read a book.
“I am sleepy,” I said.
“Go to bed,” she replied without acknowledgement, almost dismissive. But I knew better because we had been through this before, so I pushed.
“Mama!” I nagged, pouting my lips and folding my arms on my flat chest.
She sighed, closed the book and took off her reading glasses. “Let’s go then, but I have to come finish up this chapter or I will be left behind at our next session.”
I excitedly got up the couch and followed her to my room.
My mother had joined a reading club that held sessions once a week in one of their members’ houses. She always carried a book with her and that made me love reading from a young age because children copy what adults do anyway.
I was 13 years old and had just started high school, curious and always looking to fill my head with ideas, and all the reading I had been doing helped me create mysterious fictions even I was sometimes afraid of.
Earlier that day, I had been asking my mother about her childhood. I wanted to know the kind of life she led before having her own family. Unfortunately, she never loved talking about it and I think she decided to relay tales to me so I could have something to ponder on and not bother her. I don’t think she understood my need to know if life for her at my age was the same as it was for me.
We got to my room and I hopped into bed since I had already put on my pyjamas. She made sure it was the long-sleeved warm ones so when I kicked off my blankets at night, I would still be warm.
“Once upon a time in the village of Meetseng,” she started off and I giggled at the way she embellished her voice like professional storytellers. “There was a well so clean you could see your reflection as it is when looking at it. The well served the village with a 24-hour water supply, cool during the hot seasons and warm during winter—defying nature and never running dry. Meetseng was a peaceful village; no theft thanks to the rule that stated if you steal, you and your family would be banished.”
I always interrupted her with questions, my eyes glued on her as she illustrated with her hands.
“But that’s unfair, why banish the whole family for the sins of one?”
She cleared her throat, and with her smooth voice, not once complaining of my questions, she replied, “The remaining family members would obviously want to avenge the banishing of their own and the King didn’t want that; neither did the villagers who were used to living in harmony.”
I nodded with a smile, a sign that she could proceed. It made sense.
“A river flowed above the village, split into two to surround it and further connected below to flow as one into the neighbouring villages. The King lived beneath the division, the well stood in the middle and below was the land for cultivation. They all went there during sowing season, men and women altogether; and the women would go home to prepare food while the men remained in the field. When they finished and came home after washing in the river, the women and their children would go have their turn to wash then return to eat dinner.”
I started dozing off. She sighed and got up from the chair, then tucked me in before kissing my forehead and walked out.
I would hardly see my father return from work, but it was his tradition to kiss me in my sleep and I would sometimes slightly open my eyes as he talked to me. This little act would be embedded in my mind for when I woke up and found him already gone. It was how I knew he came home the previous night.
My days at school would feel like a drag as I looked forward to being in bed and listening to my mother’s stories, but of course it was important that I get educated or I wouldn’t be able to tell this story today.
After school I would sprint home like a runner approaching the finish line and get inside the house with my shirt already unbuttoned. By the time I got to my room, I would be totally out of my uniform and ready to hop into my casual clothes immediately after opening the door. This worked well for me because I was always alone after school.
I did most of the chores and left a few for my mother so she wouldn’t take long on them and tire before bed. On the days when she did the laundry in the evening, I would help hanging the clothes on the washing line behind the house while she cooked. If there was no laundry, it would just be cooking, which she would find the pots already on the stove when she arrived.
Sometimes I did not need to yawn to alert her I was ready for the continuation of the story; she would just take my hand and lead me to my room after we had had dinner.
“To ensure safety for women and children, the King gave a rule that only women would fetch water from the well and if a man was found roaming around the well or at the river during the time when only women were washing, he would be killed,” she continued from where we stopped last night.
I gasped at the word ‘killed’. The only thing I had ever seen being killed was a chicken and my mind was trying to replace that with a human being, which was not such a good sight.
“That is awful, I think I am going to have nightmares tonight.”
My mother chuckled. “The King did this for he knew only men from outside Meetseng would try to endanger the lives of women and children of Meetseng when the Meetseng men were out to work.”
“He must have been a wise man?”
She smiled. “He was intelligent, but he was also human.”
“What does that mean?” I enquired.
“Human beings are prone to mistakes,” she calmly replied.
I yawned. “Can we pause here for tonight?” I felt tired; it must have been all the energy I used up running home.
She stood up, kissed my forehead and tucked me in. “Good night!”
That night when my father arrived home, I opened my eyes but remained under the blankets. He sat on my bed and whispered into my ears before kissing my forehead. He reminded me how of much he loved me, how I would grow to be successful and how worthy of beautiful things I was. I dozed back to sleep feeling all sorts of good.
The next morning my mother was not going to work. She looked gloomy even though she tried to hide it with a faint smile. I was still thinking of what might be wrong with her when a thought crossed my mind: if I was going to find her at home after school, then maybe she could finish up the story before we went to bed.
School hours went past in a speed of light that day I don’t even remember what happened during the lessons.
“It won’t feel the same as when I tell you during bed-time,” my mother argued when I asked her to continue the story.
“You have already done everything and I don’t have any chores. What will I be doing until then?” I cried until she finally gave in, allowing me to join her in bed because that was where I had found her when I arrived.
“The village of Meetseng had earned its name from the water bodies surrounding it. There were big rocks a few metres from the well where the women could sit while waiting for the one filling the buckets to finish. The well was quite deep and to draw water, one had to kneel on the flat stone balancing with one hand on the stones on the side of the well and reached inside with the other hand holding a calabash bowl.”
I laughed. “It must have been a real work-out for the arms.”
“It was, plus the ploughing of fields with hoes—the people of Meetseng sure had strong arms.”
She sighed and I could sense pain in her breath.
“One day a woman from the neighbouring village came into Meetseng and asked to speak to the King. She was a beautiful woman with darting eyes that seemed to have seen more than they have lived, and she smelled like flowers even though she wore dirty clothes. The King immediately took a liking to her and did not bother listening to what brought her to Meetseng, but offered her a place to stay in the village after hearing she survived a kidnapping.”
I felt sad for the woman but happy that the King did not also turn his back on her. Like the King, I did not think much of why she smelled good yet was dirty.
My mother started coughing and she got off the bed and went to the kitchen.
“Are you okay, mama?” I asked following after her, and she could only nod her head because she was still coughing. It sounded like her chest was tearing up.
We settled on the couch in the dining room after she had water and she continued.
“The woman lived happily with the Meetseng villagers but she would still leave, sometimes not returning on the same day or returning late in the evening when the men would be washing in the river. She would hide behind the thick grasses and watch until they finished, then waited for the women to come then join them as though she had just arrived. During the day she would walk around the village secretly peeking into houses such that in a week of her being there, she already knew a lot about everyone. No one ever took notice of her until the day she vanished.”
I gasped. “Did the kidnappers finally find her?” I was hoping not because I didn’t want to imagine what they would do with her.
“No! There were never kidnappers to start with, she had lied to the King. On that day it was after a heavy rainfall and the river was overflowing. No one would go to the well and her plan would work perfectly. She made her way there at noon, met with men from her village who had come for her using a secret path and then she poured a colourless liquid in the well and took off with the men.”
“She poisoned the well?”
My mother smiled, “It was only after a few days when the land was drying up that the villagers needed the water from the well, and they started getting sick. By the time they realised the problem, half of them were already dead and the other half on their way to their last resting place too.”
I sighed sadly. I had fallen in love with the well’s description and how life was like in the village. I blamed the King for allowing the woman to live in the village, but he was dying or already dead, so it was pointless.
“After a few months when everyone was gone, the neighbouring village was to come and take up the land as planned. The woman was then taken by her village King as a third wife, and they started their journey to the village of Meetseng where they would start a new life. All these actions were driven by jealousy and greed because they were not suffering. Upon arrival, they barricaded the well so no one could come into contact with the water, and they started building their houses. But the Meetseng villagers had been buried in the ground they were to cultivate, the water from the well had made contact with the soil and the poison would still be easily attainable. But of course, no one ever thought of this; they enjoyed their stay while it lasted and that is the end. What did you learn?”
“That I should not trust anyone,” I shrugged.
My mother chuckled at the uncertainty of my response. “The well is your heart, the river your guards, the village your body, the King your mind and everything else a bit of you.”
“I don’t think I understand,” I admitted honestly.
She stood up from the couch and sighed. “I should go lie down now. I feel tired. ” And on her way she went while coughing some more.
My mother passed on during my final year in high school. She had fought a good fight with the disease I only got to learn about during the last few months of her life, and on her last few days she reminded me of the Meetseng story.
I had been thinking of it for all those years and each time I replayed it in my mind, a new message was being brought forward.
She held my hands that day when I saw her for the last time and said, “Your heart, mind and intuition are the most important parts of your existence. You will not always get it right, but ensure these three work together all the time. You can always change your mind, and your heart always accepts but your intuition does not change. It is your guardian and will always keep you safe. Do not let your eyes fool you like the King of Meetseng; believe what is true and not what you see. I love you and you are going to reach your dreams with or without me.”
After all these years, I still kick my blankets off at night and my father hasn’t lost his tradition even in old age. I miss my mother, but knowing she is part of my guardians—therefore my intuition, makes me feel better.
I want to believe the village of Meetseng does exist, but I’m scared to find out because I will want to go and it might be risky. However, I am grateful for the life lessons my mother left me with, and for the confidence my father instilled in me, hence today I am able to tell this story like I own it.
I am Mapula; mother of rain, and this is the story of Meetseng as told by my beautiful late mother.
Tales always have personal messages. I got mine. What is yours?
PUBLISH’D AFRIKA Magazine Facebook Short Story Competition is funded by the National Arts Council, Department of Sport, Arts and Culture and Presidential Employment Stimulus Programme 3
PUBLISH'D AFRIKA 