Animals: “(for us)” by Jan Miles
(for us)
Once there was a land called Obodo-dike that contained everything that Chukwu’s creatures could want. There were open places to warm oneself and cool places to hide. There were tall trees and there was low brush. There were plants and insects enough that no one hungered. And, most valuable of all: there was a river.
Here the water bubbled along like a happy song played on the ọjà. It was a river just deep enough and wide enough for the largest creatures of Obodo-dike to submerge themselves and have a swim, but it was also neither so deep nor so wide as to endanger the smallest ones. Every day, so many were the creatures that greeted each other on visits to the river that nnọọ was heard on its banks from the first blink of Anyanwu until she closed her eyes for sleep.
One day, Crow came early-early to the river for a drink. So early was she that Anyanwu had barely awakened to light her way. But Crow knew the river well enough that she did not need light to find it. Or at least she thought this to be so. She landed at the edge of the river, immersed her beak, and—tuu, tuu—she came away spitting out mud. Crow wiped her beak upon the plants at her feet and squinted into the sleepy morning light. She saw that, while the river was indeed still there, it was very much farther away from its banks.
“Chim ooo!” Crow exclaimed. “Some thing is very wrong, and I must find out at once what this wrong thing is.” And with that, she took to the sky—fuaa. Crow flew upriver, far and fast, and there she found the source of the problem.
Crow saw that a huge dam had been built and also a large wall around the ones who had built it. Inside of the wall was the water of Obodo-dike’s river spread out into a lake as wide and flat and shining as Anyanwu herself and nearly as impossible for the dwellers of Obodo-dike to reach. “Chim ooo!” she said again before flying back to Obodo-dike as swiftly as her wings would carry her.
“Kaa, kaa!” Crow called to the creatures, most of whom had by now awakened and found their river newly diminished. “Kaa, kaa! We must meet at once!”
Everyone gathered hurriedly on the ilo.
“Obodo-dike kwenu!” Crow greeted them all respectfully.
“Obodo-dike ya!” came the reply. And then she described what she had seen. The high mud walls, the dam, and the settlers.
“Surely they are just not aware of the harm they have caused,” murmured the creatures among themselves. “We must send an ambassador to speak with them.”
This quickly became the agreement among the diverse clan of creatures, that one among them should go to the humans and explain the predicament that they had caused. There were murmurs then of who should make the trek. Crow would be fastest, but humans were unlikely to listen to her. Tortoise was the wisest and most diplomatic, but he was far too slow. Aardvark was swift and clever enough, but it was likely that the wall would be too high for her to address the men. Eventually, all turned their eyes to Hippo, who had wandered out with his younger brother into what remained of the river and found that it barely kissed his chin.
“This will not do O,” said Hippo, mostly to himself. He turned to the others and spoke loudly then: “I will go and speak to the men.”
“Ee-e-e!” came the reply from the others. “Hippo is the largest and the most stately among us. He will make an excellent ambassador,” many said—and all agreed.
Hippo set out at once, wading upriver—kaplaa, kaplaa—until he, too, saw what Crow had seen. The trickle of river that remained was leaking out from behind a high dam made of logs. Hippo waded out of the riverbed and walked alongside the thick mud wall for several paces before deciding upon a spot from which to introduce himself. He hoisted his massive body onto its back legs and planted his front feet atop the wall. From there, he saw a man with his back to him. This man was turning bricks out of a mold, and next to the man was a great pile of bricks that were already completed.
Hippo cleared his throat. “Son of Adam,” he said in a strong, clear voice that caused the man to turn around. “Son of Adam, abeg, I have come to speak with you about the riv—”
The reason Hippo’s address was cut short was this: the man had reached down and thrown a brick directly at Hippo’s head! Zwaa!
Shocked, Hippo flung himself away from the wall just in time to avoid the projectile. He walked over and stared at the brick then looked back at the wall. “He threw this at me!” At this Hippo grew angry and then grew angrier still at his inability to lift the projectile and hurl it back at the man. Helpless and incensed, Hippo kicked the brick at the wall—paduum!—before heading back downriver to Obodo-dike. Once there, he told the others what had happened.
No one could believe it.
“Did you tell him that you only wanted to speak with him?”
“Yes,” Hippo answered.
“Chim ooo!” the animals cried. “And you received in return a brick thrown at your head?”
Hippo nodded.
Now Hippo’s brother spoke up. “It grows late today, but tomorrow we will go again, brother—together. Surely our team will find success.”
The next day came, and the two hippos traveled upriver—kaplaa, kaplaa—and again found the wall. They reared themselves up on their back legs and put their front feet upon the wall. This time a woman was near.
“Daughter of Eve,” Hippo called, “abeg, we have come to speak with you about the river.”
The woman called out to a man who was not far away.
“Ah—this must be their leader now being summoned to address us civilly,” Hippo’s brother said to Hippo.
The man spoke into the woman’s ear, and then together they walked toward the wall. They stopped short, however, at the brick pile. There, they each picked up bricks and threw these at the hippos with all their strength. Zwaa-zwaa! Zwaa!
The hippos dropped quickly from the wall.
“Now do you see?” Hippo said to his brother.
Enraged, the brother kicked the bricks back at the wall. Paduum! Paduum!
This pilgrimage continued for days that turned to weeks. As word spread about the plight of Obodo-dike, other hippos, angered by the treatment of their kin, joined them in their quest.
“Perhaps they have not understood your words,” a female hippo ventured on the trek one day. But on this day, one of the settlers, before pummeling them all with bricks, called out, “It’s our river now,” disabusing her of this notion.
After many weeks of this, they came to be such a sizable umunna of hippopotamuses that Hippo felt his heart warmed merely by their union. “This feels like a new beginning,” he was moved to say before they set out thundering upriver together—KAPLAA, KAPLAA—on a day that found Anyanwu winking at them from behind a cloud.
The hippos reached the wall and stood back as Hippo assumed his position to address the settlers, many of whom were gathered this day.
“Sons and daughters of Adam,” Hippo spoke loudly and clearly, “abeg, I have traveled far to speak with you about the river!”
ZWAA! came the brick.
FWUMP!
The brick hit him on the side of his face.
ZWAA! Another was thrown before he could even dismount himself. ZWAA! ZWAA!
All of the men came running to the brick pile, making sport now of Hippo, emboldened by their position on the inside of the walls.
The first man to see a hippo crest the wall and leap down to the inside was stilled in disbelief. This first hippo was followed by another. And another. And another, each choosing a target and thundering forward. At this point, you must imagine the sound of being trampled by a hippopotamus. This is both a hard and a soft sound at the same time, something like KWUUSH. And the sound of being bitten by a hippo? KRAK! And the sound of being thrown through the air by a hippo? ZWOO!
Alone now, Hippo took his time climbing up the tall pile of bricks collected against the outside of the wall. At the top, he stood observing the fight before jumping down—FOOMP. When there was no more movement among the settlers, Hippo looked out over his umunna, opened his cavernous mouth, and issued forth a great bellow. From this, all understood two things: that it was time to destroy the dam and that this was, indeed, a new beginning.
(Montgomery, AL) On a routine Saturday at the Montgomery riverfront (August 5, 2023), the Harriott II Riverboat sought to return its passengers to its normal dock. However, a group of white people on their private pontoon boat was blocking the space and would not move. After 45 minutes of obscene gestures and refusals, Harriott Co-Captain Damien Pickett, a Black man, was transported to the dock to implore the private boaters to depart. His words were met with a blow to the face followed by a full-on attack of multiple parties from the pontoon. Pickett was overcome and being beaten on the ground when other Black people in the area rallied to his aid, turning the tide of the fight. Among other participants, a 16- year-old Black male from the riverboat swam across to help, and a 42-year-old Black male used a folding chair to beat off assailants in a brawl that spread across the dock. Ultimately, the Black contingent triumphed and police arrested the white people for initiating the melee. Black people across the country celebrated the most unified racial response we had seen in Montgomery—or anywhere really—since the bus boycott (1955– 56).
About Jan Miles
Jan Miles worked as a children’s book editor for several years. Her first adult title, The Post-Racial Negro Green Book, is an examination of contemporary racial bias against African Americans. She is currently working on a second volume of this book as well as a collection of short stories. Other writings of hers can be found in Blavity, The Washington Post, Oyster River Pages, and Aunt Chloe (Spelman College) as well as upcoming editions of Last Syllable Literary Journal (Point Loma Nazarene University) and Obsidian (Illinois State University).