Episode 3: The birth of a Super-Hero
“…We are yours now”
“We are yours…”
“We are…”
The words dimmed into the distance as Batunga awoke. He looked around.
God had disappeared as abruptly as he had appeared – Ta da!
But not before planting a Nano-ite deep within Batunga’s brain. The Nano-ite spun to life with a low hum. It spurted out 4 little legs and then a head popped out with a couple of feelers. It looked around and realised it was alive. How wonderful it was to be alive! It felt so lucky and grateful that it had been given this opportunity to live. It started making plans in its head as to all the wonderful things it would like to do while alive: visit this place and that, dine on various energy sources, and even perhaps meet a femme Nano-ite and do all sorts of things to her; caress her feelers, rub her abdomen, mount her and then…but before he could imagine the ‘coup de grace’, instructions in its brain switched on and told it that it had a job to perform first. Then it could do all those things.
So, it wriggled its hind quarters, flexed its legs, did a jiggle in the air and then whirred into action. It attached itself to the soft tissue of Batunga’s brain and started reprogramming it; zig zagging around at speeds you couldn’t possibly imagine and rewiring the entire neural architecture. When done, the Nano-ite simply waited, it had done its job and was free. It was happy! A long interesting life awaited it. Deep within its brain another set of instructions switched on. These however instructed the self destruct device implanted within it’s abdomen to detonate. “I knew this was too good to be true” sighed the Nano-ite (what a life eh?) and then evaporated in a microscopic puff of carbon, nitrogen and oxygen.
After the Nano-ite had done its rewiring, Batunga’s brain rebooted and switched on. That’s when he awoke. His eyes flickered like cursors. He blinked. And blinked again. [Tell me something readers]. What if you awoke and found yourself suddenly endowed with the collective memories and experiences of 10,000 people? Their thoughts and life experiences suddenly your own as if you had lived them yourself? You are Tao Sung. You are Newton. You are Bach. You are Ibn Jabeel. You are fluent in a thousand languages and cultures. You are well versed in Martial Arts. You are Sun Tzu. You are Shakespeare. You are Madame Teresa. You are the proletariat. You are the farmer tilling the fields. You are the looser in the club. You are the skinny model gracing vogue. You are the killer on death row. You are the herder tending the goats. You are the dying child and also the mother. You are …you are…one
“Did you come here for forgiveness?
Have you come to raise the dead?
Did you come here to play Jesus?
With the leopards in your head?”
Batunga stood and looked up. The stars were still blazing away; a billion thermonuclear spheres of lurid apocalyptic hues. For the first time in his life it was all clear now. His lips curled and he smiled an all knowing smile, raised his hands and scooped a bit of sky; playing with the glinting specks in his hands and letting them slip through his fingers like sand. He could see the threads binding the heavens together; and he could pluck them and feel the reverberations echo in his ears. He could navigate effortlessly through the slipstream of history; frolic like a child in the flotsam and jetsam of the Laws of Physics. He could see the equations and patterns inherent in nature. He could see ‘Pi’ in Cumulus clouds, in the veins of the trees and in the audible frequencies of insects. He could see past present and future with clarity. It was all clear now. He knew.
He looked at the silhouette of the Kapookoo tree, as it stood amidst a backdrop of fading crimson sun; its circular form vaporising into a sea of ochre. He looked at the sky again and then turned his head slowly towards Oombongo. He smiled. It was time to head back. His wife would be getting worried. Or more likely wondering where the f**k he had gotten too and whether he had finally fell in some godforsaken crevice.
In Oombongo, the mangy flea-bitten dog finally started chasing the cat that had been bothering it all day. The dog had found a piece of evil looking meat at the back of the butchers in the morning; bone and all, and had buried it. Unfortunately for the dog, the cat had seen him bury it and was not budging from where it lay in the bushes a few feet away. The dog’s snarling and toothsome expressions were not working on the cat; it was not taking the hint. The dog finally flipped and the cat darted like lightning thorough the gap in the fence, just managing to squeeze through in time, it’s skinny, furless body helping its escape somewhat. It ran towards the lazy bums swigging warm beer under the tree, rubbed itself along one of their legs and then curled up in the corner and went to sleep. It was getting dark but still light enough to make out people. The lazy bums we’re engaged in animated banter on a subject close to their hearts and pockets; the stingy Indian shopkeeper and how he had tricked them off some money; what a miser he was; and what they would like to do to him. The shopkeeper was just opposite so he could hear there constant sniping and sniggering and see their bony fingers pointing accusingly.
The fact that the shopkeeper was an Indian didn’t help matters in this country of Bantus. Raja Pindu – his family had come to this country, 50 years ago, they were resourceful, hard-working (aren’t they all) and stuck together. They had flourished in a country of lazy Africans and had done well; to the chagrin of the local population who always eyed them up with suspicion and accused them of robbing the community, having a secret stash of cash hidden under the shop boards and eating their own little children to save money. The truth as always was that they were jealous. Jealousy is perhaps the most obnoxious of human traits; for it derives solely from the insecurities of others. And Raja Pindu knew very well what it was like to be at the receiving end of irrational jealousy. Human emotions are never rational.
Batunga Knoboo knew this very well too. He approached the lazy bums under the tree, stood there for a while looking around and finally said something.
“Good evening Gentlemen?” he said in an accent that was not unlike Estuary English…
The drunken lazy bums suddenly went silent, looked at each other, and then broke into a cackle of howling laughter; slapping their thighs, wiping their damp eyes, all the while trying to stop themselves from spilling their drinks and pissing their pants. They cheekily offered him a bottle.
All the while Batunga stood still. His lips curled at the edges in an enigmatic smile; a wry and all knowing look on his face. You could almost see star trails in the folds of his skin and his eyes were as radiant and as ancient as the stars themselves…
(To be continued...)
