General audience, creative writing, 608 words.

Dancers of the desert

It is said that on cool nights in the Ju’vii desert, the hyena tribesmen of the Suun’di dance wildly and beautifully below the stars. Few have heard of this event and even fewer still have seen it unfold with their own eyes, for the Suun’di are a mercurial and guarded tribe. Dr. Kesina, a lion researcher from the Balendurge institute was granted the rare privilege to witness their dance. The following is pulled from her personal memoir recounting the experience.

I sat staring off into the vibrant, fiery blazes of the sunset seated across from the two Suun’di whom had granted me unrestrained access to their fireside. The respectful, somber individual Ku’saad, was carving a small wooden figurine and humming some melody that bestowed me equal parts wonder and curiosity. Be’tiin, the younger and bouncier of the duo watched eagerly as Ku’saad moved with surgical precision across the soft wood. At times correlating with Ku’saad’s hymn, Be’tiin would stamp his paws into the red dust and beat the log they sat upon. As night fell. their chants and beats grew louder and more refined as the words trickled out from their long throats. It went something like, “Anga kubwa inasikilize. Oh kubwa ameketi mmoja tuone. Na wajulishe wana wenu na binti zetu!” As night fell and stars came out the dancing began.
They skirted one another in synchronized leaps and bounds, throwing their torsos back and forth as they did so. Raising their hands up to the stars they shouted before going into a new formation of movements, spinning and diving over one another in increasingly rapid and beautifully swooning articulations. Ku’saad pulled the completed figurine, a shape resembling a hexagon from the log. The two began to toss the figurine to one another during a new dance that involved multiple yelps and standing flips. I found myself staring off into the fire as their routine reached a crescendo. Be’tiin tossed the figurine into the blaze, startling me and causing sparking cinders to fly out in all directions towards the vast, night sky. The two finished their dance and sat down, catching their breaths between praising one another with friendly gestures.

When I asked them what the dance was for, Ku’saad asked me this in his native tongue. “Can’t you hear them?” Reasonably confused I inquired to him with some difficult speech, “Hear who Ku’saad?” He then gave me a look of bewilderment and confusion that I don’t believe I have ever seen Ku’saad gesture before, “The stars. They sing for you and for us. You must hear them? No?” I shook my head and the two looked to each other with pity and morose sadness. I looked up towards the night sky with its innumerable stars and celestial bodies and listened intently. “I still don’t hear them Ku’saad.” He sat up, walked over to me, kneeled, clasped both my hands and whispered into my ear, “Listen for them with your heart Kesina.” Once again, I listened and heard nothing. Ku’saad seemed to notice my quiet dismay and began to weep. Be’tiin wept too, and together their cries filled the cool night air of the Ju’vii desert.

On reflection after the experience, I too wept. I wept for the loss of something that had never been known to me. Something that was there in the moments between unconsciousness and consciousness when my heart thumped steadily in a cosmic dream state. Something that even in my deepest moments of tranquility that my heart will never experience. Something that the Suun’di had found and knew existed amongst the sky, the stars, and the earth. True peace.