Hunger

Hunger

Mummy is probably dead. She hasn’t come home for two days now. She’s never stayed out for that long. What is worse, my little sister is dying also. I have been listening to her faint moans for the past four hours. I dare not look at her, I do not want to see her like this.

We are out of food. Mummy promised that she would bring some, but she is gone now and I do not know what to do. Bugs will keep me from dying for a while, but in the long run they are not enough. And I can’t feed them to my sister, if she remains in the same state. If only mummy was here, but she isn’t. She always told me that she might be gone some day, that then I will have to take care of my sister. I will have to grow up.

I take a deep breath and go to my sister’s bed. She looks so fragile, like a blade of grass. I can count her ribs, mummy taught me how. She said that it is better to count by ribs, because they are more than your fingers and, unlike fingers, their number can never change. I whisper tender words into my sister’s ear and kiss her. I need to go, find food.

I hesitate before the door. Mummy always told me that I shouldn’t go out alone. She said that men are insane, hungry and their hunger is not only for food. How can you be hungry for something else than food? How can you ignore this razor that is always scraping the inside of his stomach? It’s time to find out. I open the door and step outside, in Bamako.

I wander the streets looking for food and coin, but they are too valuable, no one throws them away around here. I will need to get them in another way. There is a shop down the street, maybe I can ask the salesman to lend me something to eat.

On my way, I am distracted by a colourful picture. A “poster”, mummy used to call it. It has people on it and they look so plump and healthy.  So pretty and enticing. They embrace each other in a hug, happy smiles across their faces. I want to be like them, but I can’t. I sigh.

Mummy said once that the rich men give us those posters, because they hate us. They hate us so much that they want us to feel jealous and sad, because we can’t be like them. She said that they hate us so much that they have a city that they named after our country to mock us. Malibu they called it. A paradise on earth where there is no lack of food, there’s an excess. There is so much food there that people throw it away. I would give anything for something to eat, even if it’s dirty and rotten. I wouldn’t dump it like those people. I hate them, just like they hate me. I hate their bodies, the way they treat us. They are not the centre of the world. I reach towards the “poster” to tear it up.

‘Hey...’ A man yells.

I look at him. His eyes are full of anger, but as soon as he sees that I’m a girl, they change. The anger is replaced by something else – hunger. It’s not the hunger for food. I run.

He is faster, stronger. I can’t outrun him. How can you outrun hunger itself? I turn right, into a narrow alley. It is a mistake. There is a river In front of me and I can hear the breathing of the man behind, there is nowhere to run. I take a deep breath and jump into the river, “the crocodile river” my people call it. The waters open to swallow me.

‘The only salvation from hunger, dear’ my mother used to say, ‘is death.’