Akida tugged his hood further over his head, trying to keep his face in the shadows. He looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact with the townspeople that shared the footpath with him. Fortunately, the adults were too busy at market to look down at the little boy weaving through the crowd. Despite that, it was still difficult to avoid attention, when the very act of avoiding it made you more noticeable. Even on such a warm day, Akida was covered from head to toe, not a single sliver of skin visible. In his arms, he clutched rolls of colourful fabrics, greens oranges and reds. He regretted not bringing a bag to safely carry the priceless silks in.

  Akida rushed along eager to get off the bustling marketplace. He was turning into his home street, when a laughing girl ran right into him; “Ooof!”

 His lungs flattened as he slammed his back into the hard pavement, arcs of colourful silk flying into the air. Gasping, Akida looked up to see the girl stumbling to her feet. A small group of boys and girls appeared behind her; “Are you okay Busara?” A boy in new looking sandals asked the girl.

Busara nodded and brushed the springy, black, curly hair out of her eyes as she turned to Akida, and extended a hand to him.

 “Samahani, Samahani!” She apologised in a rush, “We were playing chasey and...” she stopped mid sentence, and just stared at Akida, eyes wide. The other kids were looking now too.

 The sun bored down on Akida's face, and he realised his hood had fallen from its place atop his head. He lifted his hands to yank the hood back on, and Busara jerked her own towards herself, looking sickened. The other kids sneered or curled their lips at Akida as they cringed away from him. “Shetani.” Akida heard whispered, alongside “freak” and “umelaaniwa”. Akida winced at the familiar words.

The sound of a bike was heard behind the spectators, and a horn beeped demandingly.     

   Akida realised he and Busara’s gang had spilled onto the road.

The children split as they scrambled out of the vehicles way. All except Akida, who didn’t move as the motorbike brakes squealed closer. The driver yelled at him to move “nje ya njia yangu!”

The words are lost to Akida. He remained frozen to where he sat on the ground, his eyes glued to the number plate of the bike.

R19T EAR

Country Of Tanzania

East Africa

Fingers wrapped around Akida’s arms, and he was pulled out of the motorcycles way. His ankles bumped into the curb as he was half dragged back onto the sidewalk. The hands let go, and Akida was left to regain his balance on his own; however, he doesn't wait to steady his feet. Everything is a blur of colour as Akida spins, looking for his saviour. However, his eyes only find Busara’s curly hair bouncing as she ran away into the crowd.

 She saved him, despite finding him disgusting. Akida shakes his head, ever baffled by the unpredictability of humans. Out of habit, he double checks that his hood had not fallen. It remained secure. Relieved, and still slightly stunned, Akida turns and faces the street he had been turning down before Busara had crashed into him. There, on the asphalt, was his mother’s rolls of fabric. They had unfurled on the road like rivulets of coloured blood. Dirty tire marks criss crossed and twisted their brilliant colours.

 Akida was pulled out of his daze when the wheels of a jeep rolled across the materials, and added an extra layer of grime to it.

 Akida cursed silently. He lent over, and peeled the fabric from the road side. Some of it had stringy brown muck from the gutter clinging to it. Wasting no time, Akida bundled up the marred silks and cottons, and started back on his path home. A feeling of dread began to knot in the pit of his stomach, but as usual, all Akida could do was ignore it.

 Akida’s feet carried him to the front of the simple cottage he, his mother and his siblings called home. The lawn was little more than cracked dirt. A sign was nailed to the door that read ‘tailor’ and colourful prayer flags hung from the porch roof. Everything was as it normally was, besides one thing. Parked out the front, was the motorbike that had nearly run Akida over on his way here.

  The twisting feeling in Akida’s stomach began to travel up to his throat. As he approached the front door, yelling could be heard from inside. A man and a woman's voice. Their words were muffled.

 Akida’s hands shook as he opened the already unlocked door. After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit living room. His older brother and two sisters all sat silently in a row on their one couch, their faces grim. Their gazes flicked to Akida as he quietly shut the door behind him.

“Mama and papa are fighting. About you.” Ahadi accused Akida. She glared at him, her eyes narrowed.

 Azizi shushed his sister. “Don’t speak to your little brother like that.” He winced as their parents voices raised slightly, but the words were still intangible. “They are probably just fighting about who of us will stay at dads this week.”

 Atiena, Akida’s closest sibling in age shook her head, “I don’t think they are.”

The yelling turned to shouting, and the door to their mothers door slammed open, and their mother stormed out. “YOU WON’T TAKE MY SON FROM ME!” she rages, unlike anyway they have seen her rage before. Akida dropped the rolls of destroyed fabric on the floor, but his mother didn't notice. “No one is ever taking him from me again-”

 Their father strode behind her. He had a damp patch on his jacket pocket, and the sme of spirits wafted off of him. His hand lunged out and grabbed her forearm, stopping her in her tracks. “Nalah, please. You don’t understand, if I don’t get the money to them by sundown tomorrow, I’m done-”

  Akida edges away from the door, towards the shadows in the corner of the room.

“NO! You, Zane, are a sick man for even considering that I would give him to you! Now get out of my house, or I’m calling the police-”

  Zane reached for their mother shoulders, his eyes desperate, “Nalah! Listen to me, this is the difference between our children having a father or not-”

  She snarled at him, and shoved him away from her. “And is Akida not your child? You act entitled to him even though you have NEVER been there for him. You left this home as soon as you saw the colour of his skin, and now you want to sell him to some witch doctor to be carved up again-”

  Akida hid behind the couch, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. Atiena had begun to sob uncontrollably.

  Their parents didn’t notice Atiena’s distress.

“He has no future Nalah!”  

Their mother covered her face with her hands, her shoulders caving. Zane continues, “He won’t ever be employed-”

“-he can work for me-”

“-he won’t ever marry-”

“-he doesn't need to-”

“FOR GOD'S SAKE NALAH HE CAN’T EVEN TALK!”

  Nalah let out an anguished sob, “Akida has already lost a tongue to those religious fanatics. He has suffered enough already.” She spun away from Zane and strode towards the landline on the wall.

 “What are you doing woman?”

Nalah took the phone in her hand and began to dial the police.

 “Nalah stop.” she ignored him.

“I SAID STOP!” their father ripped the phone from Nalah’s hands; and without hesitation, he smashed it against the wall. Bit’s of plastic flew everywhere.

 Nalah screamed, as she recoiled into the wall and raised her arms defensively. Zane turned to his children, Azizu, Ahadi and Atiena. “Please, please listen. If I don’t take Akida back with me, I won't be able to pay off my debt in time.”  The children looked at one another, Adahi held her stomach as though she wanted to vomit. He continued; “They might… might decide to kill me instead, or take one of you.” he drops to his knees, and takes Azizu's hands in his own, “My precious, precious children.”

 Azizu stood up, trembling, and faced the desperation in his father's eyes. “B-b-but fa-father, ca-can’t you sell your b-bike?” Azizu's cheeks were pale and drawn.

  “It won't sell soon enough son.”

Adahi pipes up, “we… We could go to the police station and wait there until they go away.”

 Zane squeezed his eyes shut, and a tear ran down from the corner of one eye. “You don't understand Adahi, there is no escaping these people.”

  There is no escaping. Akida knew the only barrier between him and Zane was the couch. If he could sprint to the kitchen, perhaps he could escape through the back door.

 Nalah rises up, looking faint. “Don't take him. Please.” she saw the bolts of silk on the floor. “These bolts of silk are worth hundreds. And they're easy to re-sell. And we have a $200 saved up.”

 Zane furrowed his brow, “Yes. Yes! that may be just enough to buy me another few days to pay off the debt.”

 Akida feels relief wash over him like warm water.

 Zane took the bolts of silk from offered to him, his brows furrowed. As his hands wrapped around the bundle of oranges, greens, purples and blues, some of the fabric uncoiled and revealed the tears and tire stains maring the fabric.

Nalah gasped, and lifted her hands to her mouth.

 “what is this?” a muscle twitched in their father's cheek. He unrolled the silk further revealing more damage. And further, showing the slime from the gutter.

  The bolts of silk were worthless now.

“They're worthless!” Zane thrust the fabric to the ground, his face screwing up. “IT'S NO USE, I AM TAKING THE BOY!”

Akida didn't wait to see what would happened next. He shot to his feet, and sprinted for the the back door. He felt nothing as he used his shoulder to crash through. He stumbled into the bright backyard. His eyes burned like fire from the light. Akida didn't stop. He moved his feet as fast as he could, and veered off towards the side gate. He reached up, and used his little hands to pull his body up and over. Akida’s bone white skin almost sizzled against the hot metal.

   He tumbled over the fence and landed on his back. As he rolled to his knees, he caught a glimpse of Zane charging towards him, and mother screaming “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” over and over again. But it was Akida's siblings who stood by, doing nothing as their father jumped the gate and grabbed a scrambling Akida by the ear.

  The last thing Akida saw was his father pull a damp cloth from his pocket, and smother it over his mouth.

   “I'm sorry Akida.” Zane whispered, as the red eyed boy he had never called son slipped into a slumber.