The Visitor : Part One

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The child sat on the bare ground beside his mother’s stool. One thumb stuck in his mouth. The other and its adjacent finger kept twirling and folding and pinching one ear. His cheeks billowed out and sank deeply as he suckled the thumb held tight in his mouth. Every few moments or so the thumb would jerk as if it wanted to escape, the boy would utter a loud sob and jam the digit back with a force which jolted his head back.

All this time the child’s eyes stared unblinking at the visitor. They followed her hands as they rose with the cup of water his mother had just offered. They stared as the stranger’s lips opened and sipped from the cup that was always kept aside for visitors. The mother had also given her son a cup of water, but it sat neglected by his side.

The visitor ignored the boy’s stares. She ignored his intermittent sobs. The cup nestled in her hands like a long-sought treasure and she sipped the water slowly, tasting each tiny mouthful as if she had never tasted anything quite as refreshing before. In between sips she used one arm to wipe sweat from her face, ignoring the cloud of flies that seemed drawn to the sweat on her face, although none actually seemed to touch it.

“Have you come from far?” asked the mother.

There was a long pause as the visitor took another sip.

“Yes, I come from very far away.”

“Where are you going?”

“Many places. My journey is taking me all over.” She stared into the distance. Her voice sounded like a series of echoes. Her eyes seemed to shrink the longer she stared, as if they traveled into the distance with her thoughts.

The mother pulled her eyes away from those of the visitor and glanced at her son.