Part III
The traveler gazes at the landscape spread out before us that looks like the Promised Land which we read about in the Jewish Torah narratives. I could only read his mind, otherwise I couldn’t see the movement of his eyes because of the darkness. It is so hard to tell whether he’s young or old, even black or red.
Several moments of silence passed. The night was windy. The west wind, which carries the lustful breath of wholeness, cover every nook and canny of the surrounding plays with the grass and the leaves of the entire scenery like the dancing fingers playing with strings of Guitar. We heard the night as a typical soulful music. It was a music that tunes the rhythm scanned by the whole abstract breath of nature. That’s why I love the night. Because it’s not as intense as the day. It’s rather gentle, subtle and mysterious.
We let the night lure us as the dawn lurks. We were wholly given for the night to lullaby us. It grasped our sense like a shrill music. We created bond with nature. We listened the night as classical music. We heard the whole nature’s vibration like a symphony. I feel that no matter how subtle the soul may be, it is an infinitesimal ripple in the face of the entire existence. And the night manifested itself in everything. This has really made a real difference. A sort of prayer, a meditation it was and it became.
And there was ravenousness. There was repetitive yawning. Above all, there was surrendering to the utmost. I closed my eyes and sat listening the night as an enticing classical music. I received everything heartfelt through the night. I eavesdrop the vibration of nature. It is true that beauty became the candid essence of this rhythmical vibration. This eternal beauty will always touch us all at the soul. I believe this couldn’t be for everyone, except those who exert sincere effort to befriend nature.
I couldn’t estimate how long I had closed my eyes. Maybe a day and a night or two has passed. But I’m quite sure I wasn’t falling asleep. The elocution of the night spoke to the soul as a sentimental melody. The subtlety became as harmonious as the symphony. The wind blows delicately in the night’s sphere – The wind itself seems burdened with longing. It carries a wet breath that infect the whole surrounding, like a woman who kissed her relatives out of her longing until their cheeks got wet. The touch of the wind on my face felt like the touch of a child’s hand. How do I know if that childish hand caressing me wasn’t the one that resonates the eternal vibration of the entire phenomenon?
I closed my eyes for longer moment. I couldn’t estimate the longevity. Suddenly I felt a dreamy light touch on my lips. Instantly, I opened my eyes and slowly moved my head. A lone bee flew away from my lips.
Was it a sign?
A sign of receiving grace in the face of existence?
When I opened my eyes, I learnt that the stranger was no longer with me.
I had no idea when he had left or even whether he really came.
However, I noticed his rifle leaning against the stone on which he sat. He had discarded not only his rifle but also his military uniform and shoes. I wasn’t astonished. I wasn’t been astonished. It may help at least to prove that he was here for real. I carelessly picked up the rifle and looked at it, weighing it on my hand. I don’t know what type it is. I really don’t know whether it is Belgium gun (ቤልጅግ) or Kalashnikov (ክላሽንኮቭ). I don’t know anything. I just simply wished to shoot horizontally for a nanosecond. But immediately, I became ashamed of my foolish desire. I wonder why firearms suddenly amuse people for such a reckless violent wish.
The wind blows to the east. It has a strange smile. But the smile was rather welcoming. Was it saluting its new captive? Maybe, or maybe not… But, it is true that this person does not care about the meaning of his strange destiny. He simply accepted it and destined willingly to be a wanderer of the will of nature manifested through the wind. It happens in such a way when the calling chooses you. He was chosen and deployed for another superior will from a fierce battle field, at the center of a dragon’s Jaw desperate to swallow him. For the next two months, in his wandering odyssey, he rather beg for alms than simply threatening to gain his needs with his rifle.
Now perhaps he has drifted eastward following the wind’s urge as he had declared. Perhaps this would what the English author C.S. Lewis called “Sehnsucht – inconsolable longing for we know not what?” Sehnsucht is a single
word that Lewis borrowed from German language when the English lacked a word to express this strange sense of longing.
I can imagine that he would face the worst punishment trying to get something to eat. Would I be surprised if I hear that he was caught stealing bread, being beaten by the inhabitants of the city, and even arrested for in this city this morning?
I may even already have heard that. But that doesn’t really make difference.
I just wanted to leave him with his destiny.
To let him strive for his fate.
As it is said “No short cut route to the top of the palm tree.” I want to let him face his own fate alone.
How do I know whether all this was true? Whether all of this happened or not, whether this person came here, or even if I have ever met him?
But that makes no difference either.
…
It was dawning.
The dawn seemed the morning of the very first day of creation.
There was a sublime west wind constantly blowing towards the east.
I stood up prompted by an unknown desire.
Driven by that unknown urge, I followed the wind and walked a few steps towards the east…
As I strode, I mumbled a few lines from Samuel Beckett’s – The Unnamable.
‹‹Lets us go on, as I was the only one in the world. Whereas I am the only one absent from it…. You must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on… where I am, I don’t know, I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know… When speaking of others, when speaking of things, how could I know? I can’t know if I have spoken of him, I can only speak of me, no, I can’t speak of anything, and yet I speak, perhaps it is of him, I will never know, How could I know? Who could know?…››
BY YACOB BERHANOU
The Ethiopian Herald March 22/2024
