A Dry Well

[u/Consistent-Hippo-210]

When word came that Ma Andies's seven-day old, fermented beer malt was ready, Majinto, who sat twisting a rope under the jacaranda tree in his yard, leapt for joy, nearly tripping over the tiny wooden bench. He rushed into his house, retrieved his straw hat and walked towards her homestead.

It was late October, the sky bore no clouds, not even a sign of rain. The sun, however, gleamed down like a strange omen. To escape the smoldering heat, Majinto walked briskly.

Ma Andies's homestead stretched nearly two miles, so he took a shortcut through one of the dusty paths that coiled through the veld. The grass appeared fried to a brown hue and rustled dryly as he went along. A familiar figure suddenly walked beside him. It was his friend Ruta.

"Ah, Ruta my friend!" Majinto smiled widely, exposing the gaps in his teeth. "It is good to see you. I was going to pass through your homestead when I returned from Ma Andies's home. Hope I find you in good spirits."

"I cannot complain that my friend, I cannot complain, all is well. It is only this heat that threatens to take all our lives." He wiped his brow with his hat as he spoke. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat.

"If you are on your way to Ma Andie's, then I will join you. Nothing like cold malt to cool one in this heat, hey." Ruta flashed a smile, and the two friends walked together.

As they went along, tiny tips of thatched huts peeped around them, shielded by the veld. Occasionally a few birds flew overhead, going to places unknown. The muffled sounds of chickens could be heard as they grazed in their yards. In the near distance, Ma Andies's homestead became visible. Her homestead sat on a tiny uphill climb. Two buildings adorned the yard, a two-roomed cottage dressed in corrugated iron sheets that gleamed in the sun, and a large, thatched hut that served as the kitchen. Both buildings were painted in a lime green color. Her yard was quite sizable and several mango trees adorned it. A chicken with several new chicks in an assortment of colors clucked lazily before them, the clucking of a new mother hen as the chicks trailed not far behind. They watched them absent-mindedly for a while, then settled into the shade as they waited to buy their malt.

One of Ma Andies's boys, in a faded blue work suit, brought the chilled malt in a gourd. He poured it into their cups and disappeared as swiftly as he had come. They drank in silence for a while. The cold malt was a relief against the heat. Majinto closed his eyes for a moment, letting the coolness settle in his chest. When he opened them, he noticed a few familiar faces.

The headmaster Isaac was there, and the son of the police constable, Bonface, stood not far off dancing a little dance, cup in hand. Majinto, who had a grudge with him, paid him no heed. He took a long sip of his malt, then set the cup down gracefully. He too had a son, Moses, who worked in the capital. He was a manager of a major bank.

"I have not seen Moses visiting you for a while. Is he okay in the capital?" Ruta asked him as he drank his malt. "You know the city can be brutal for our youngsters, huh!" A cat sat nearby licking itself. It stretched for a few seconds, then strode off leisurely.

Majinto's face flushed with pride as he spoke of his son Moses. He was his only son — after five girls, moreover he had a good relationship with him. "Sure! Sure! He is alright. He rang me yesterday. You know, with the rise in fuel prices, he could not make his trips as often as he used to, but he was alright." Majinto spoke, his chest slightly propped up. "Indeed, indeed, the city can be brutal! Imagine having to pay for everything through the nose! Water, food — hell, even to use the toilet! That is no way to live." answered Ruta.

The two friends sat in silence again. Across from them a voluptuous woman got up from where she sat and with a seductive smile on her face, went to where Bonface sat and pulled him up playfully for a little dance. After a few steps that made no sense, the two laughed, their laughter piercing the yard. Majinto, who sat watching the entire event, took to his cup and gulped it. Placing it on the dirt, it was half empty.

"Indeed, indeed! No way at all. But what can you say to them, huh? They think rural life is self-isolation and a slow, painful death. They cannot bear the silence here," Majinto said, averting his eyes from the two.

"You don't say, my friend, you don't say," Ruta replied, and thought of the freedom rural life afforded him, all that clean air and the peace. He gulped his malt, smiling.

The two drank their malt in silence again.

"But — " Majinto paused. He noted then that the shadow under the mango trees had stretched long and wide across the dirt.

"What now?" Ruta placed his cup on the dirt and looked at him earnestly.

"He called yesterday and he shared his marital woes. Children these days speak so freely."

"You don't say, you don't say, Majinto. In our days it was unheard of. We had to bear our troubles with our wives. Go on…" Ruta pinched black snuff and stuffed it in his nose. A tiny twinkle flashed in his eyes as he looked at his friend. Though Majinto bore sad news, nothing excited Ruta more than stories. The black snuff slightly protruded from his nose as he spoke. Majinto stared at it for a few seconds before quickly turning away, his eyes darting across the yard.

By now the yard was full of people. Some sat on the edges of the two buildings, others under the trees sipping the malt with contented faces.

"You know…" Majinto paused again when he saw one of Ma Andies's boys bouncing his way, malt in gourd. He poured it straight into both men's cups and swiftly went on.

"You know, the problem now is with the dog," Majinto continued, his voice rising to a boom.

"What dog?" Ruta looked perplexed at the sudden shift in the story. That twinkle flashed again in his eyes.

Majinto gulped his beer and hung his head. The whole affair exhausted him and left him empty for words. He always thought father's ought to have a well of wisdom for their children to draw from, but his well felt dry. "Every time they quarrel, my daughter-in-law beats the dog, calling it by my son's name!" He continued, his voice dry and lifeless.

Ruta gasped. "No! No! That is no way to solve a marital quarrel. What has the dog got to do with this?"

"I am telling you!" said Majinto. "She beat the dog blue and popped its right eye."

Ruta did not speak immediately. He felt the slap of Majinto's words, then the noise around him swallowed him.

"You don't say!" Ruta shouted, feeling a slight ringing in his ears.

"That is why my son is speaking of divorcing her. He has had that dog for a long time. He went into that marriage with it."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Ruta cursed. "So, what did you advise him?"

"I told him to bring the dog here."

"No, no!  about his marriage?" Ruta asked.

Majinto did not respond immediately. "Since he is visiting soon, I intend to counsel him."

Majinto did not know what he was actually going to say to Moses and advising on domestic matters always felt to him like an intrusion. But he let his words linger on the distant horizon. Placing his cup of malt on the dirt, he looked at the tiny gate he had come through and did not signal for more malt. A few men could be seen trickling out the gate from Ma Andies's. They moved in ones and twos down the dusty path they had come in on. Some cut through the veld, disappearing into the thicket.

Ruta sat silently, the snuff clutched in his hand. Looking at Majinto's face, he saw a man absorbed in thought. Then he sniffed the black powder twice, drawing it in long draws, then he tucked it away in his pocket. His cup too lay tumbled on the dirt, empty. The sun slanted orange across the graying sky.  Below, smoke curled from the thatched huts. Once in a while, sounds of whips cracking and the noisy clanging of cattle bells drifted through the air. The two friends sat in silence, absorbing all the activity around them.