Page 4 of Sheltering Instinct

“Oh, Tess.”

“I watched Mama Ya making difficult choices about what went into the center of the blankets. Each got a cooking bowl, food, bottles of water, and matches. Each got a couple changes of clothes. When Abraham returned, Mama Ya was busy folding the blankets into packages and then tied them with rope. Abraham had a purple blanket packet on his head.”

Tess remembered him standing in the doorway of the dark hut, the sunlight shining behind him silhouetted there.

“I recognized that purple blanket from off my bed. That packet was mine.” Tess licked her lips and swallowed, wondering how long she would be given the respite of being out of her body. This was a familiar trick she’d used as a child when things turned from scary to terrifying. It was a useful skill for her soul to be able to sit off to the side as an observer.

But she couldn’t beckon this skill; the ability came to her at times of great necessity.

At times when she was suffering existential threat.

“We put the bundles on our heads and left the hut. The chickens clucked and pecked in the yard. The coals glowed in the fire pit with its ring of flat stones. We were walking fast. Abraham had a tight hold of my hand. As we left the village, Mama Ya took the time to tell the people we passed. They ran back to their own homes. The wind carried the news like a banshee’s cry. Danger sizzled. I remember thinking it was like bacon, the sound. I can’t tell you why I had that impression.”

Shanti sharply inhaled with the sudden illumination. “You hate it when I cook bacon.”

“I absolutely do.”

“So you got out, and you were safe,” Shanti whispered as if she was closing the book and the bad was over, the tale told.

Tess needed Shanti to understand that,Ma no, that wasn’t it. And it was because that wasn’t it that she would give up anything,doanything for Abraham.Anything.

Tess bit her lower lip, then scraped it free. “Mama Ya thought in a day or so we could go back. We hid in the forest. We ate our food. We drank our water. And we listened to the screams. When our provisions ran out, decisions needed to be made. Abraham snuck back to the village to see what was happening. The only thing left of the village was piles of ash. The chickens were gone, and so were all the vegetables in the Ya family’s patch. That night, when the screams came from pocketsof forest around us, Mama Ya said they were hunting for the people hiding. She decided to go west toward the village where she had family. We ran for days with nothing to eat. No water. We ran as the fighting spread. Huts burned. It was as though the earth heaved and threw people into the air. Then they landed to be thrown again.”

“Shit,” Shanti exhaled. She really regretted asking. It was in her voice that she wanted to backpedal to the time when she didn’t know.

“We got to Mama Ya’s cousins' village and begged for safety. They were from a neutral tribe and were afraid of retaliation for harboring the light-skinned child—me. Mom was white. They allowed me to stay in the hut but not be seen. They hid me behind their tallest baskets. It was the dry season. There was no extra food for people to share. We ate bugs from the trees and worms we dug up.”

“Oh.”

“Mama Ya treated Abraham like he was an adult and understood that he’d made a covenant when he accepted me into his arms at the market. My mother’s dying plea was that Abraham keep me safe. And he lived up to that promise no matter what happened next. He made sure that I ate first, even when it meant he would go without. Our stomachs were so pinched … When the war reached the cousin’s village, the people were heaved again. And again. And again. This went on for two years. Then came peace.”

“How … How did you get to America?”

“After the unrest quieted enough that Mama Ya felt safe to travel to Accra, we walked to the American Embassy. There at the gate, Mama Ya handed the guard two things that Abraham had the foresight to bring: my parents’ picture with their names on the back and their address book. My aunt and uncle flew to Ghana to pick me up.”

“To go home to a country you probably couldn’t remember. Your family must have been so grateful to the Ya family.”

“They were. But how do you pay back that kind of moral debt?”

“You marry Abraham?”

Tess wasn’t willing to come forward in her timeline quite yet. “My aunt gave Mama Ya some money. I know it was enough money for Mama Ya to have a small house. For her to furnish it. To buy some clothes. Some food stores. And have something in the bank for the dry seasons. That sounds like a lot of money. But in Ghana, a little money goes far. Mama Ya didn’t save me in the hopes of a reward.” Tess shook her head. “That would have been too distant a thought. We were struggling from moment to moment for survival. And yes, it would have been so much easier on her had I not been with them. She saved me because her heart was golden.”

“Yes. Yes. Obviously. But there are different kinds of love. Your love for Levi is not the same love you feel for Abraham.” Shanti argued.

“I am not a heroine in one of your novels, Shanti. My life isn't the way I would have designed it or even what I thought was bearable. I only live because of Abraham. There is no question here. There is no choice. If you watched your parents' murders, and you ran for your life, eating bugs and begging for safety, you wouldn't try to force a happily-ever-after on me. Abraham has cancer and needs Western medicine. If he dies, his children will need a mother. A mother that they met while their father was still here. A mother they believe is their family.”

“Wait. Wait. Hold on there.” Shanti shook her head and held up her hands. Every part of her body language yelled, “No, stop!”

Tess was starting to feel combative, angry that she had to explain her determination to be there for Abraham. She was back in her body again.

Pressing herself away from Shanti’s lap, Tess sat, her legs crossing in front of her. She waited for the blood in her head to settle into its normal rhythm. “Abraham didn't give up his food or shield me with his body for some distant prize. He did it because his heart is pure.”

“You’ve kept in touch since you came back to the States? Have you seen him over the years?

“I went to Mama Ya’s funeral. I met Abraham’s wife. She was pregnant with their third child. And tragically, she died in labor. Both she and the child passed.”

Shanti’s hand grasped the cloth over her heart. “My god, the tragedy of that.”

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