d I From Song of Be
by Lesley Beake

The first thing I remember... is smoke. That was the first thing. Warm, grey smoke rising from a small fire with an orange flame. The warmth was not just from the fire - hot on my feet and warm on my legs - but from behind me as well, the warmth of the people and smoky blankets. The warmth of love.

It surrounded me so that I was full and complete, with the happiness of belonging deep inside me. 'Aia was there. I remember feeling her presence, somewhere on the other side of the circle, but I didn't need my own mother close to me to have happiness. If Aia was busy, or out gathering food in the veld, or away somewhere else, there were other people to love me almost as much.

Their voices enclosed me. Deep voices of the old people and small voices of the young ones playing behind the fire-circle. Somebody was singing softly a little way off. The dogs and puppies and chickens kept getting in the way and once the old rooster ran right over old Kamha and everyone laughed - old Kamha most of all.

I remember times when we went to the veld to find food; the sound of the women calling to each other and their laughter. I remember Aia walking ahead of me and my looking up to her, walking with a straight back.

I remember coming home late, over the veld, with the warm dusty sunshine in our eyes and tsama melons in our arms and in the women's carrying bags. We could see the small smoke from the cooking fires where the old ones waited, and hear the barking of the dogs who had recognised us while we were still far away. Then the sun would be red and low in the sky and the people would come from where they had been - from hunting, or from the vegetable gardens - and they would sit together and smoke and talk.

... "Good-night child," she said, and her voice was love. "Good-night my child. Sleep now, under the stars.'

Through the opening of the hut I could see them - many, many bright and shining lights, scattered over the dark sky of Bushmanland.

I drifted into sleep, and our people were around me like a hum, like bees, soft and warm, and honey scented.


Rewrite this novel as a descriptive essay of 200-250 words ​



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