The Night Whisperer
The Night Whisperer
By Mwebe Morgan
The whisperer walks under the silver moon,
He inhales lightly in the night breeze.
The dim stars glisten his dark path,
He stares at a myriad of fireflies,
As they leap through a synchronized ring,
They irradiate the quiet and dewy meadows with their emerald energy.
The whisperer has been on this solitary journey decades ago.
He pauses at the crossroads, and listens attentively,
He looks at his luminous watch,
The witching hour was near.
He halts and waits patiently.
A bright shooting star darts like a bullet and flashes for a few seconds,
It disappears into the starry horizon.
A faint drumming sound throbs in the distance,
Out of the black shadows, ashen and ghostly figures appear and surround him.
The whisperer stands firmly in the centre. He shakes its shepherd’s staff in the still air.
A coarse, angry voice erupts in the darkness. “What have you got for us?”
Their leader’s dry cough resounds in the terraced valley.
The whisperer strikes the ground repeatedly and demands silence.
Next, he recognizes his peers and bows in respect.
He begins: “A few years ago, you gave me a mongrel puppy to raise, educate and protect!”
Everyone in the circle taps their sticks in agreement.
“What has happened now?” asks the youngest shadow.
“The mongrel puppy has become a tyrant and bites anyone who crosses his path,” the whisperer said solemnly.
“Is that all?” Another croaky voice echoes behind the whisperer.
He glances at another shadow sitting on a savannah anthill.
“No, there is more!” Many innocent passers-by have been bitten, mauled, and left for dead. The whisperer continues quietly.
The leader of the shades squeals again, “Then, you didn’t teach the mongrel better. It was your task!”
The whisperer was calm but sorrowful, he mentioned,
“In the beginning, the mongrel was the best hunter I had on my homestead.”
However, as he grew bigger, his fastidious ego flared up.
The mongrel became more greedy, and selfish.
He eats every bushmeat to the detriment of other hunting dogs and his master!
One shadow reaches for the whisperer’s hand and warns him,
“The valley has ears and the mongrel has spies everywhere”, a gentle female voice speaks for the first time in the calm air.
Speckled owls fly stealthily and nest in the nearby bottle-brush trees.
“Go slow now!” The leader warns the whisperer, but he also urges him to give the soulless mongrel another chance.
“Death comes to us all! Keep exercising due diligence, as you have in the past” The leader tries to calm down the whisperer.
The shadows dissolve and fade into the early light.
The whisperer blows a soft whistle, and seven puppies emerge from the tall, cold elephant grass and sit at his feet.
He fondles them lovingly. Kate was the biggest puppy, followed by Karen and Kevin.
The whisperer yawns as he pulls out his rustic gourd and sips some fermented banana beer.
He burps loudly and pours beer on the ground to calm the shadows of his forefathers.
He picks his stick and gives a final whistle, and begins the long trip home, followed by his loving puppies.
Likewise, he will never raise other people’s mongrels except his own.
It’s about time he moved on!
As for the shadows, he had defied them and left fate to determine the next battle.
On the horizon, the first light had infiltrated the dark world, bathing it in silvery wisps.
He turns around and watches his puppies follow in his footsteps.
It will be a worthwhile investment of his expertise and time.
To the night whisperer, time was a luxury!
