Janna ~ Part One

Janna leaves Africa...

“ Oh Africa, Africa my lover,” I say very loudly, aware that I’m silly to any passer by�"though I know there are not a lot of them in this place. I extend my arms around me and spin on myself, feeling the hot sun on my skin. I’m bare foot, and my mother hates it when I’m out here without sandals, she’s always scared I’ll be bitten by a snake. Right now, I don’t care, I’d rather a snake bit my whole leg off and I died instead of leaving this place which will probably be forever. The sun is bright, and it hurts my eyes, but I don’t care, I stay planted, facing the western horizon. “ Africa ! I love you,” I call out, cupping my hands around my mouth. I’m conscious that I should be more mature at my age (being seventeen), but I can’t help it. This is home, this is where I belong, and I’m leaving, going someplace far, and it hurts, hurts so much. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. This is my last afternoon in the savannah. Tomorrow, I’ll be flying high up above it, crying my goodbyes on a plane. My hands skim over the tall yellow grass. The trees are some distance away. The sun cannot give me a darker tan, I’m as dark as can be, or nearly. I hear the horn in the distance, which signifies my mom is dead worried about me. I don’t want to go back, because that means I can’t go back out. She’ll tell me to shower, to prepare my suitcase, to wash my hair and comb them neatly, and I don’t want to. I want to keep them in a braid, with all the shorter strands sticking out, looking like a little girl. I don’t want to wear any jewellery that my mom wants me to wear so that I look ‘neat’ and ‘pretty’. I don’t want to wear the red dress already laid out on my bed, patiently waiting to be worn. I don’t want to wear sandals, much less high-heeled shoes. I don’t want any silver bracelet, I just want the one in leather at my wrist, made by Kevin, the kitchen boy. What is it going to be like, at my dad’s house ? I don’t even want to think about it, I haven’t been there for thirteen years, I have no memory of him or the house. Mom says it looks like here, except all green. I don’t believe her, because nothing could be like my Africa. The horn sounds again. I shake my head, as though they could see me from where I stand. I whistle a tune that the birds here have taught me as I move towards the trees. I sing it continuously until I reach their shadows and am answered by bright calls. That’s when I break down. I sink to the ground and cry, because I don’t want to leave this place, I don’t want to leave mom, I don’t want to leave my old self or Kevin. I’m afraid that if I go, Jerry the cub, and Annie the antelope will be gone, I am afraid that no one I know will be here to greet me one day; not the birds, not the cheetahs, not the lions, not the elephants, not the rhinos, not anything. And then I’m nudged by a wet nose. It’s sweet little Jerry, six month old orphan who probably escaped again from the garden. I hope they’ll be more careful of him once I’m gone, because I’m usually the one to find him if he runs away. He meows and looks into my eyes. He wants to play, that’s certain, but I don’t want to. I just want to hold him close and burry my face in his soft fur, and so that’s just what I do. At first, he squirms a bit, and then, he just purrs. After another long while, another horn blast, much longer than the other ones. That’s my mom’s way of saying ‘ Janna, if you don’t come now, I’m going to kill you’. I accept this and get to my feet, picking up Jerry. He protests. He hates being carried above ground. I ignore his tiny claws digging into my skin and start jogging towards home. I’m careful of where I step, because it’s not true: I don’t want to be bitten by a snake. I get to the reserve center, and the man behind the counter c***s an eye at me.

“ Your mum is in one of these states, she’ll get a heart attack if she sees you; and I’ll take Jerry,” he comes around and extends his arms to take Jerry. Jerry hisses, but doesn’t scratch like he would usually do.

“ My mom will just have to do with the usual. And Judson, try to keep two eyes on Jerry, I won’t be there anymore.”

“ I got that sweetheart !” He smiles broadly at me and disappears behind a door ‘ Custody Only’. I walk to the door indicating stairs, because I don’t like the elevator. I jog up until the second floor, then I take them two by two until I reach the fourth and burst through the apartment door.

“ I’m here mom,” I say, out of breath. She instantaneously appears, hands on her hips, glaring, and then she takes on an exasperated look.

“ Janna,” she complains. “ Look at you ! What is your soon-to-be step-mother going to think if you’re careless about yourself like that ? And how many times did I tell you to wear at least sandals when you go out ? You’re hopeless. Get out of those shorts and go wash yourself, I have a lot of work to do on you.” I roll my eyes, and am about to reply when she raises a finger. “ Tut tut, you go wash yourself and these filthy hair and I do the rest.”

I grumble in annoyance as I trudge to my room, and I can hear my mom sighing behind me. I shrug at that. I ignore the fact that Kevin is watching me from within the kitchen as I pass it. My room is right next to it, and that is how we often see each other. I am very careful to keep my eyes focused on ahead, on my door. There, on the bed I find the red dress, laid out on my perfect bed. I stare at it a moment, and then pick it up carefully, carrying it to the bathroom. I enjoy the cool water on my skin. I have to scrub myself perfect, otherwise, mom’s going to put me back in here and wash me herself. I stay forever under the cold water, until my mother knocks on the door. Here, the cold water is more expensive than the hot one…

“ Yeah, I’m coming out,” I reply though I couldn’t exactly hear her muffled voice through the noise of the pouring water and the barrier of the door. I dry myself, put on the dress and stare at myself in the mirror. I’m not exactly fat, but as skinny as the models in the magazines, and I think I look perfectly fine…in shorts. The dress comes down to my knees, and there is only one sleeve, and I hate it. I hope dad will only want it for the first day, and not anything else. Evidently, my mother wants me to make a great impression on my future step mother. Therefore, I have to be on my very best. That means make up, high heels, ‘cute’ dress and so on. I dislike it, and the only ones who agree with me are the animals, and sort of Kevin. My mom just walks in, doesn’t even knock. She pretends to be genuinely surprised.

“ You look adorable !”

“ Right,” I mumble. She makes me sit down a chair, and while she combs my hair, I close my eyes and sigh. Right now is not the time to cry, though I really want to. Mom doesn’t say anything, she knows what she’s putting me through, at least, I think so. She dries my hair and puts on the lipstick and makeup. She makes me stand and I look into the mirror and I cannot believe this is me because it looks like a magazine cover. I just stare at the curls hanging neatly at my side, most of those artificial curls are held up, with a rose tucked in on one side. There’s dark makeup around my eyes, which makes the green of them stand out so much more, the blush which, in my opinion adds too much color to my deeply tanned skin. And the lipstick is the worst part. Sure it looks like the magazine cover, but it’s in a faded pink color which I hate and sparkles. I really want to be back in my shorts.

“ You leave in fifteen minutes sweetheart. You might want to say goodbye to Kevin. Your luggage is already at the airport.” I nod at that, still staring in the mirror. She leaves me alone, and I wait until I can’t hear her steps to come out of the bathroom. It feels awkward walking in shiny red shoes, feeling so tall. That doesn’t matter, I’ll always be shorter than Kevin. He’s leaning in the doorway of the kitchen which is across the bathroom and smiling at me. But it’s not a smile that goes up to his eyes, it’s more like a smile of regret. I have to smile back, only, a blush rushed in, and I feel the urge to cry again. He opens his arms for me and I put my arms around his neck, leaning my forehead on his shoulder. I’m aware mom would scream at me because she has taken ages to do the makeup but I don’t care if it smears�"anyway, it says on the box that it’s makeup “forever”. Kevin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t hold me too close, and that’s what I like about him, because he knows how to measure everything, he knows how to act in a critical situation, and this is a very critical situation. My mom calls, and when I don’t answer, she comes, only to go away because she can see we don’t want to be disturbed.

“ You have to go,” Kevin says after a while, but he doesn’t move.

“ Look after Jerry,” I say, stepping away. I threaten to lose my balance but he gets hold of my shoulders.

“ I will, and after Annie too,” he says, looking deep in my eyes. His are so dark, like his skin, perhaps even more. I know I’m going to miss my best friend a lot.

“ I’ll be back soon,” I say bluntly. Before he can see the tears beginning to appear in the corners of my eyes, I turn away on my heels and go out the front door, and my mother is close behind.

 

I walk much slower in my high heels than if I was with naked feet. Everyone I know stares at me continually when I pass by, give a smile, a wave, whisper an adieu and I blush constantly. I’m near the car at present and I turn around and catch a glimpse of Kevin behind everyone. I harden my face so that no tears will drip on the dry ground. Everyone is whispering and murmuring goodbyes, all my good friends here I will not see for quite a while. I just hope they’ll be alright.

“ It’s alright baby. Get in the car.” I look at the big black thing with tinted windows. I could have well used a jeep and not minded. I look down at my dress. I look totally out of place dressed like that. I give another wave, a fake a smile and go inside. I wonder if they can see me through the windows, if they know what I’m feeling, can they see the hurt in my eyes. I turn away, I don’t want to see the little kids crying. I didn’t even know I meant that much to them, the three orphans we took care of. Black boys. Will there be any in Montana ? How will my dad’s place be anyway ? Will it be as inviting as here ? Getting married ! I scoff at the thought and my mom glances my way. I just ignore her, looking at the ground passing quickly, yellow and dusty. I’m frustrated by this. I hate mom for it, though I know it’s not her fault. The reserve has had some illegal hunters, they have to clear them out. My mom wants to protect me and cannot afford to keep me there, knowing that I’ll escape her sight at any given moment and sometimes return two days later. I frighten her too much, and besides, she’s had a cut on wages, so she can’t keep me anyway. So dear me, I’m sent off to my father’s, whom I have never seen since I was four years old. I have to leave all of my Africa to go to him. I just hate this. I could have helped out with the illegal hunters, hunted them down, found them out, I’m smart enough to do that. My mom said ‘no, darling, you can’t. It’s too dangerous and you already scare me to death when I see you haven’t slept in your bed at night’. I just hate that. She doesn’t want to admit that I can fend for myself, that I’m old enough. I always have a pocket knife with me anyway. To that she finds something to ‘but sweetie, if there’s a lion, a pocket knife isn’t very useful’. I totally disagree with that. If you can throw a knife without missing your target, you’re deadly, and that’s me. She doesn’t know, but I’ve killed a full grown lion before on my own�"she’d die if I told her. I’d seen him crouching in the grass, staring at me, and our eyes met, and I knew he wouldn’t wait. To get his heart, I had to wait for him to jump, which he did without hesitating. I threw the blade and to his heart it went, catching him in midair. I think he barely felt anything, because there was no twitching, no howling; he just fell on the ground and lay there, looking just as fierce. I go hunting all the time with the others, when we need to (out of the reserve), and just that scares my mom out of her wits. Now, telling her I killed that lion, she’d get a heart-attack. So I don’t. Really, I don’t tell much of my life to my mom, and that suits her fine. So does it me. No one should get me wrong, I do love her and trust her, but there are some things she wouldn’t understand. She can always say ‘ I was your age once’, I know very well she hasn’t lived through what I live, maybe similar, but not the same. Besides, she’s different. She’s the gentle type, all perfect and angelical, listening to others and talking about solutions peacefully. I get irritated if people talk to me about their problems. I don’t like to listen, only to my close friends and the nature around me. When I have a problem facing me, I run away, get angry and slam my knife a hundred times in a baobab tree. Now I’m staring at a well made road, all grey and unattractive. It’s ugly, seeing those tiny stones in hardened tar. I like “dirty” roads better�"the quote sign because I think these roads look dirtier, all black and grey.

When the plane takes off, I can see a dark figure standing far below, with a yellow furry ball. I know it can be only one person who came to say his final goodbyes. Kevin. I think I see a hand go up and wave. I look through the little window, not wanting to let it get out of my sight. But the plane goes too fast for my liking and too soon the figure disappears. I think my eyes a brimmed with tears and I close them, not bearing to see my beautiful Africa slipping away.

Author's Note

Tell me if there are any sort of writing mistakes. Hope you enjoyed, I'll post the second part soon.