waekina | birth of a nation

Long long ago, in a place called Oramun, was a people so lovely, so determined. So beautiful were their villages that songs were written about them. A mighty river nourished its lands and the majestic peaks protected its children. Its natural opulence was well-known, even as far east as Lansia.

Now it so happened that the Chief was expecting his first son in the season of dread. Of course, there were murmurs and hushes of the danger that awaited the heir. Why did he have to come now? What did it mean to be born in the season of dread? Did Chief dare the gods?

The gods and the women of fortune were on his side though for in that season, so bountiful was the harvest, that the granaries could hold them not. Such a shame the fog was already reborn and they could no longer trade with the wanderers from Lansia.

It is time.

“Great Chief, the heir is finally impatient,” a woman beckons. 

She is the sister of the chief’s wife.

Now frantic, Chief drops his staff and runs toward the wife’s hut. He is scared, afraid even. He paces left, then right, listening in to hear his son’s wail but it is not coming. Impatient, he rushes in and demands to be by his wife.

“One last push Ajei, I can see his head…”

“Never again,” Ajei yells in agony as she masters whatever strength is left in her.

A girl. The chief is happy. He is elated.

“What a beautiful baby,” he whispers reaching out to hold her. 

It is love at first sight. The tension in the room subsides a little. A girl is not so bad a consequence of the season of dread. It could have been so much worse.

“Arghh!” Ajei screams.

“There’s another,” the midwife exclaims as her countenance droops.

The other midwife pulls back, unsure of what to do. She hesitates amidst the screams of the woman in labor and the yelling from the chief. Half-heartedly she stoops down and grabs the demon’s head as she screams. 

“I am dead! I am dead!” She screams repeatedly almost dropping the baby.

Never in over two cycles of dread had there been born demons in Oramun. Twins were daughters of Achina himself, Achina the evil from beyond the mountains. Oh Great Chief, why did you have to dare the gods? Why did you decide to bring us an heir this season?

At once must they be thrown to the fog. 

This was beyond the Chief. He had to appease the gods, and this, this was the reasonable price.

An old woman walks in amidst the chaos and the weeping. She yanks the demon from the Chief and the other she picks by its leg from the bedding. She hands them over to the men outside waiting on their horses.

“It must be done my son,” she says entering into undiscernible prayers.

On the bed, a weeping and tired Ajei. Beside her, a lost man unable to control his trembling. On the horseback, two beautiful daughters of Achina himself oblivious of the disruption in their wake. A black curtain blocks the sun today, Oramun weeps.