Growing Up
Vuka Vuka
Blister Beetle Powder
I entered a Short Story Contest with the following topic:
The fishing pier was long, and narrow. It was late and she had to hurry before someone saw her. She clutched it tight as tears streamed down her face. When she got to the end of the pier, she looked over the water and, with all of her might, she threw it in.
The beat, breath, and soul of unending wordstreams (8)
Growing up was tough. We didn’t have much, but we had love and nature and dusty streets. All the privileged kids would congregate every day, after tea, and play games. The poor would pull up weeds, wash cars, and catch Blister beetles in glass bottles. The yellow-and-black striped devils would leave large painful blisters on your skin if you touched them. They came every spring in huge undulating swarms and decimated flower gardens and vegetable patches. Not even the stalks remained where they had been. They were a bit tricky to catch. It was like they sensed you coming and then did a little squirrel jump-hop-and-skip while you flail your arms about helplessly trying to get them to fly into the bottle, without the others escaping.
Sometimes we went fishing at the local dam, Bierspruitdam, named after the many beer drinkers frequenting it. We would collect empty 2l plastic bottles from the neighbourhood, cut holes in the sides, and then tie fishing string to the bottle caps. Mamma Letta would cook up some mieliepap as bait. We suspended the bottles from the pier, until just under the surface of the water. First, the tadpoles would come, followed by Kurper and then Baber. We would put the Baber in buckets, take them home, and let them swim in clean water for a month so the mud could get out of their system. We fed them until they became big, fat, shiny, and juicy. Then we would eat them. Like the chicken, partridge and rabbits.
One year we had a terrible drought and the dam just about dried up with big, long cracks and flakes like an elephant skin. It was so dusty and dry it was like an invisible herd of elephants ran all over, all the time, with dust clouds and dust-devils prevalent. The Baber could survive in the mud and hang on until the next rains came. They knew shit we didn’t. The next year it flooded, the dam broke its walls and grew to three times its size. The Baber grew even bigger. Mother Africa was very angry. Letta said so. We took her bugs, her frogs, her fish. It was all our fault. Somehow, we had to appease her and make it all stop. Reverend Bertie said an eye for an eye. We must give what was taken. I wasn’t sure what to do. Mamma Letta said Mamma Africa was quite upset, so I had to act quickly before it was too late and something else happened. Something bad. I had to plan it just right.
One day Mother walked into my room without knocking and saw my collection. Mother shrieked and wailed and commanded me to get rid of it. I was not sure which one she meant. I was breeding frogs, dagga, and silkworms. I kept the silkworms in shoeboxes and sold the worms at school once a week. Yoh! They could eat! I would harvest fresh mulberry leaves daily and they would munch and munch and munch away. Sometimes I still hear them. Crunch-munch. Munch-crunch. Gpgh-gpgh-gpgh. They could lay thousands of tiny eggs and the silkmoth could spin a pattern over the most elaborate wire designs. Very lucrative. Then I had the Blister Beetle Powder. I would dry and crush the bugs. The old men believed this gave you powers. They called it insect Viagra.
The time has come. The birds and spiders sense change coming and act erratically. I see spiders everywhere now. It was a Sunday afternoon. Mother and father closed their bedroom door, and I knew they would be busy for a while. We were supposed to take a nap. It was time to act. It was late autumn with a chill clinging to the air. Darkness was swift on my heels as I hurried to the dam. She had to know it came from me and forgive us all. My heart was bursting with anticipation and joy as I broke into a run. The gate was locked, so I climbed through the fence. The fence bit me so hard that I landed flat on my back. Tears of pain ran down my face as I stumbled on, one leg lame and my shoulders aching from the two buckets I was carrying. I will persevere. I reached the side of the still-swollen dam. It was time to let go. I stared at the water resolutely, stretched my arm back as far as it could go, and threw with all my might. I repeated it until they were all gone. I was utterly exhausted and depleted, but I did it. Reverend Bertie also said let there be fish and wine from water if you want it. He could ramble a bit. I gave bread and wine, some frogs, one giant Baber, and some Blister Beetle Powder. I couldn’t part with my worms.
When I got back, Mamma Letta was waiting for me. She gave me a massive hiding for staying out past dark. She said Mamma Africa forgave her. I smiled secretly because I knew, it was all me. The next day, the dam started pulling back and the birds started to sing.
Ja, growing up was tough because I didn’t know life. Mamma Life says we must not tell long tales. I completely disagree, the longer the tail, the better.
Personal Note:
Vuka Vuka is derived from Shona (Zimbabwean local language) and is the name for the yellow-and-black striped Blister beetle occurring in the Southern parts of Africa. The direct translation is; Wake up, Wake up and refers to the shock of the beetle stinging you. The dried powder is also used by the indigenous people as an aphrodisiac and it wakes you up a little…. It also makes you hallucinate and you appear erratic and confused for a while.
Baber or Barbel is an African Catfish. It can become twice as large as the American version, reaching up to 59 kg.
Kurper is a generic name for small-sized fish in South Africa and has a number of varieties, including Tilapia.
Mieliepap is s stiff porridge eaten by most Africans as a staple food.
Mamma is a term used to depict African females working in a household as nannies or domestic staff. It is also a term of respect and endearment. Mamma can be used as mother.
Dumelang Bohle!!! African Greetings!!! Please support me so I can continue to do what makes my spirit feel alive and feeds my soul, and that is to express myself through words and photos every day.
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I do not currently qualify for the Medium Partner Program due to my country location; South Africa.
