Capabilities Of Humanity

• Chloe Hope, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2015

Dust covered the tray of truck as it sped across the brown dirt, screeching from the heat of the hot sun.
“Jump!” a voice sang out behind me.
I plunged to ground gasping for air as the dirt filled my mouth.
“Good boy, Magaclaawe, I’m proud of you,” an elderly man whispered as he leaned down gently patting my shoulder.
We walked silently but quickly, intent on making our escape. We past hundreds of other people, each walking in their own directions without speaking or even glancing at one another. Here in the desert everyone’s aim was to escape the constant war within ourselves and in the places we lived to a place we called Waxbaa, that we believed to be perfect.
The man I had come to call Uncle walked surely beside me, never glancing at the suffering all around and never looking back at the destruction we left. He addressed me as Magaclaawe meaning nameless as he found me alone in a bush when I was ten days old. Surviving on your own is difficult enough here, but he sacrificed his life for me and I respected him every day for that.
I looked under one of the few trees located in the distance. Underneath was a young woman with who I assumed were her two children- a young boy who wouldn’t have been more than eight and a youthful girl, around my age, sweating profusely.
“Is she ok?” I asked slowly walking towards the family.
“She has been coughing for days, she claims every single part of her hurts and she gets so confused that she will just wonder not knowing where or who she is,” whispered the young boy.
Within hours, her health drastically deteriorated. She trembled constantly and there were moments when her breath would stop and we feared she would never breathe again. In those final hours, I laid her restfully underneath the tree and tried to fetch as much food and water as I could for her. I went without eating to ensure her survival, even if I gave her just a few minutes more.
As the sun faded from the sky, so too did the young girl’s breath from her body. She fell asleep peacefully with minimal pain, which was rare for most deaths here, but regardless, I still felt like there was something else I could have done. Something to allow her to survive until morning.
With our hands, we dug deep into the ground underneath the tree and laid her body there as her family looked at her one last time.
“You have made me more proud today than ever before. Thank-you Magaclaawe for restoring my faith in humanity.”