Antafrican Hosptitality

The red man helped the children from the mushroom boat on to his dock. He smiled and touched their faces and hair lightly. He was not much taller than the twins, nearly a head shorter than Claire and Adolphus, and stubby of limb. When they were all assembled, he bowed again. They bowed and curtseyed back. He seemed overcome, and shook his head, speaking to Annabelle.

“He likes our manners,” she translated.

“Gracious, he says” added Mirabelle.

“Good,” Claire said. “Mother would be proud.” She bowed again for good measure. “Lead on, sir, lead on.”

“He could be leading us into a trap,” Gerhardt muttered, but no one was listening.

The stranger led them up a path that followed the river to the end of the planted field, then between fields up a hill. The path wound around a third field and crossed a grassy patch, ending in a sprawling hedge. The children followed the man until he disappeared into the hedge! They stood in the field, staring at the spot where their guide had been.

Claire took a cautious step towards it, searching for an opening, when the man reappeared with a woman behind him. She too was red-skinned and pock-marked, but wore a simple tunic of a dress and had a tangle of coarse brown hair on her head. He gestured broadly at the line of von Hedwigs, then indicated the lady. Claire took over the introductions, clearly stating the name of each child in turn. The woman bowed and waved them inside.

On approach the hedge was not the solid wall it seemed. The children passed through a narrow passage of brambly twigs above and on either side of them. This opened into a large round room furnished with benches and tables. The floor was covered with mats woven of grass. The hedge walls continued seven or eight feet above the floor, curving towards each other and the center of the room, but did not meet. The room was open to the violet sky.

The woman gestured to a table, so the children sat down on the benches surrounding it. The man stood, beaming at them while the woman busied herself at a large barrel. The barrel seemed to be carved from a tree stump. Another just like it stood at the opposite side of the room. The man spoke, still smiling at them. Mirabelle translated in a whisper.

“He’s telling her where he found us. He’s telling her about the mushroom. She says to send an arm.”

“What?” mouthed Adolphus.

“We’re doing the best we can!” Annabelle defended her sister.

The woman came to the table with a tray and cups. The tray was a large, stiffened leaf, and the cups were tiny hollowed pumpkins.

“What is it?” Adolphus murmured.

“Don’t drink it!” Gerhardt whispered. “It could be poison.”

“Who keeps a barrel of poison in their kitchen?” Claire asked. She looked at her hosts, who watched the children with great attention, he smiling, his wife with narrowed eyes.  Claire stood and raised her pumpkin. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said. “Your kindness is the first we have seen in your country. I hope we are not a burden to you, and we’ll do our best not to be. Thank you.”

“I’m not translating that,” Annabelle whispered to Mirabelle.

The children raised their glasses as Mirabelle spoke a much shorter toast. Claire sniffed at her drink furtively, then drained it and sat.

“It’s water,” she said. Her siblings sighed in relief, and drank.