Kashata

Kashata. A paradise by the shore. Beautiful and simple. Its people, one with nature, hunted and grew crops for their sustenance. They hunted both on land and in the sea. No other people would dare hunt in the sea, wary of the danger that lay within. Tales spread far and wide of its danger. Of the sinister creatures that called the sea home.

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But the Kashatans had mastered the sea. They had a platoon of well-trained hunters equipped with intelligent bots that helped them navigate the waters, avoid predators and capture their prey.

Kashata had a sea wall, more like a fence, to protect its people from the monsters, enabling them to access the beaches safely.

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The Libra protected and guided the direction the Kashatans took. Nobody really understood how they selected their members. All Kashatans knew, however was that the Libra were their light when darkness descended upon them. Very efficient and effective. They were fearless and faced any challenge head on.

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Kobo was one of them. He lived with his newly-wedded wife Lilo. Although his work was sometimes overwhelming and required him to travel often, in Lilo’s arms he felt calm, truly home and at peace.?

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They were blessed with a daughter, and they gave her the most beautiful name to match- Siji. It didn’t take them long to realise that Siji was no ordinary girl. She was inquisitive, playful and fearless, a true Kashatan.

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Kobo’s friends sometimes joked that he was blessed with a boy in a girl’s body. Once Siji hid in a hunter’s boat and those aboard realised her presence when they were long seaborne. Her curiosity triumphed over any shred of fear in her. She was stronger and more playful than her age-mates. Truly, one of a kind.

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As she grew up, she admired her father’s work. When he travelled, he would always bring her gifts but more cherished were the tales Kobo narrated of his travels to far-away lands. Some Kobo had to make up or exaggerate to satisfy Siji’s curious little mind.

Kashatans were peaceful people but peace was often a luxury. They lived as gazelles, eating vigilantly, constantly aware that danger lurking. Trust was too precious a value for them.

Kashatans had conflicted with one of their neighbours several times and it was clear they were not on good terms.

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Kashatans knew of them as the islanders. It puzzled them how an island was said to be deep in the hinterland. Some even claimed that this place was a myth created by the Libra to keep them in check. Only those whose rank demanded were privy to the details.

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The sea festival happened once a year, giving Kashatans a chance to come together and make merry. After they had danced, ate and drank, appreciating the food it provided them with every year, they sat around a bonfire at the beach. Kobo took the opportunity to entertain and educate.

Above them, the sky lit with stars and a gibbous moon created the perfect setting.

“During my travels, I was once in the hinterland and I stayed at the island for a few days while looking for my contact there…”

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‘Why do they call it the island?” a voice in the crowd asked.

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“Siji will explain it to you,” Kobo responded when he realised it was a little girl seated next to his daughter.

“I got information that they had travelled to hike to the highest peak, Lenana. I was pressed for time so I thought: why not meet them there? Eventually, after five days of travel I was at the foot of the mountain. There were guides and since it was dark, the mountain was lit mostly at its base with light emanating from the huts that occupied the area. It was like the stars had touched the earth. I was in awe.

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An old man noticed me gazing and approached. He greeted me and welcomed me to the holy site.

‘Many years ago,’ the old man explained, ‘pilgrims travelled from far just to come and pray at the mountain. And while home, they prayed facing the direction of the mountain.’

He showed me where to camp and after setting up, he invited me for dinner.

‘I have spent many years here. Many have come and gone. They say that there is a view like no other from up there,’ he said, signalling the peak. ‘Some described it as life-changing. The tales travel far and wide, but the most popular one is that it is like having a sneak peak at God’s handiwork on a canvas.

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‘And what do you think?’ I asked him.

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‘I’ll get to that,’ the old man continued. ‘It is a tough hike. Not many get to Lenana, but there are those who do. For those who give up, the desire to conquer the mountain keeps burning in their hearts. For those who get to the peak, something very interesting happens. The first group of people look around and ask: is this it?

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‘Yes, this is it,’ the guide would then reply and they would get disappointed. They would then go down and spread the bad news: there’s actually nothing up there. But like sparks on wet grass, their words never catch the ears of their listeners, their truth falls on deaf ears. Some even say that they were denied sight by God. Quoting Holy Scriptures “God hides the most important things from the wise because they cannot understand what is simple”

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The second group of those who get to Lenana wish they had listened to the first ones but decided to not carry a negative message. They were the ones who believed that the first ones were denied sight. Fearful of how they would be perceived, they spread mere hallucinations of the canvas of God.

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The third group are the opportunists. They get to the peak and revel in conquering the mountain and go on to tell stories of their conquests. Their aim, however, is to tell the stories to benefit themselves. The power-hungry are some of the emptiest people.?Always grappling for anything that they can get their hands on.

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The fourth group gets to the peak and actually experiences bliss. To them, it is the most amazing view. Like a placebo drug, the effort they put into the climb has to pay off and so they truly believe it and tell anyone who would care to listen of their otherworldly experience.

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The fifth group gets to the top and takes a deep blissful breath. They conquered. Not the mountain, but themselves.They enjoy the view and when they descend, they rarely talk about it.

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From an egg's perspective, despite its marvellous structural design, breaking is imminent. If the force that breaks it comes from outside life is lost. If it comes from inside, life begins.

Whomever looks outside dreams but dreams can sometimes disappoint but they that look within, awaken.

So, who among those will you be?’ he asked.

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‘Oh, I’m just here looking for someone,’ I responded. The old man laughed, and so did I.

‘I always teach that we should not make assumptions yet here I am. I did not even for a minute think that one could travel here for any other reason.’

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“So what did you think?’ someone from Kobo’s attentive crowd asked.

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“Well, I realised the hopes and dreams that people pegged on the mountain. Although it was just a piece of rock and earth, I realised that whatever significance we draw from it is purely from our perception. The only light at the top of the mountain is the one you carry up there.’

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Kobo was good at such quick thinking. You could not pin him to a position and Siji grew to be even better than him.

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Much later when Siji had grown into a young lady, an incident at Kobo’s work that never really got to be explained puzzled her. ?He had been dismissed and he became downcast and depressed. She really tried to inquire but he did not budge. Only speaking in parables, ‘we are poor when we cannot tell our stories,’ Kobo said.

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A while later, Siji got her calling letter. A job offer shining so bright, from the same organisation she held dear. Her admiration now mixed with fear. She went through an interview of sorts and just like that became one of the Libra. She was trained as one of their best and grew to be just that: one of the best.

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She outshone many and conquered most. As time went by, the tales of her abilities travelled far and wide.

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In time she began to understand her father’s parable. When voices are muted and courage pales, stories untold leave hearts barren, devoid of light. Power lies in sharing our tales, breaking chains and lifting veils. Through stories we dismantle barriers that silence is selling.

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In the echoes of Kobo’s poetic reply lay a message of courage, a reason to try.

She was no longer Siji. She was only known by her alias: Destiny.

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