The Plastic Monster

Prologue

Before the long rainy season, a big black rock had been discovered in the middle of the Forest. No one had seen it fall, although Goko, the short, hunch-backed traditional healer and wise woman of the village claimed she had heard it.

She had set out in search of what could have caused the sound. She knew it was a message. When she had seen it, it was metallic black and it turned green, with moss in front of her eyes. Meteorites didn’t just fall and Moss didn’t grow so quickly. She knew nothing happened by chance. A greater power controlled the earth and a huge rock appearing out of nowhere meant something.

“I have to get in touch with the Green people urgently, she says to herself in a whisper. They can explain what the message means.

Goko paced up and down, wrinkling her brow every now and then. She turned to her Creator for guidance. She prayed continuously throughout the night asking God to reveal the message. Early the next morning, she heard the cock-a-doodle-do of the rooster and knew the angels had been nearby. She had seen the message in her dream of kimondo cha ajabu - a magical meteorite. The time has come. The earth needed help. The green people – the custodians of the earth - had sent a message.

Now, her job was to find the right person to go on this rescue mission. It would take a brave, young person to understand and carry this out.

Chapter One

Jasiri had heard some of the discussions the elders had.

“A silent meteorite is not a good sign!” one of the men said.

“It must be a fallen star!” said another.

“It must be a secret message!” said the elder man.

“What message could it be?” asked the young man.

The discussions intrigued Jasiri who stayed in the shadows but could hear everything clearly. What secret message were they talking about he wondered as he listened on.

“This is different from the Mbozi meteorite,” reflected a middle-aged man.

“The irregular shaped one in Mbozi came down with a bang and lots of fire!”

“This one is the shape of a flat and perfectly circular disk.”

The discussions continued the whole night of the next night. Jasiri had heard of a stone falling from the sky which the adults referred to as a meteorite. The villagers warned their families and children to stay away from it. T Jasiri’s Bibi had warned him not to go near it. “Ai, Ai, Never touch strange things. We have never seen a rock turn green so quickly” Being told not to touch it had only raised more curiosity. Jasiri’s Bibi always told him to be cautious of things, if not the rock, then the forest. There was talk of magic also. Magic is a common practice in Tanzania as it is in the whole of Africa. Jasiri’s parents have always stayed away from it as they believe it’s all evil. Although Bibi, who lived in Tanga, knew about magic, she knew it should be avoided. It was always more accepted outside of Dar es Salaam, so she was aware and had more knowledge of it.

Curiosity got the better of him. With trembling hands, Jasiri reaches out to touch the big black rock that has fallen from the sky. Why has Bibi told him not to touch it? Dark clouds form above him and deafening thunder booms. Sweat trickles down his forehead as strong winds make the tree tops dance wildly. Just as he touches the damp meteorite, lightning strikes near a tree, making him jump and sending a startling tingle down his spine and making him freeze on the spot momentarily. There had been no sign of rain when he left the house.

He looks at his hands and feet and nothing has changed. What is he expecting anyway?

He quickly turns to walk back to his Bibi’s house his pet chameleon Ajabu, whose names means ‘magical,’ tucked safely under his shirt. The rain is falling hard and Jasiri breaks into a run, his hand over his check holding Ajabu carefully. He has to tell Nyakwesi that there’s nothing magical about the rock except that it’s green. A pair of eyes watch his every move.

By the time he reaches his Bibi’s house, he is drenched to the skin. The front door has been left open and he walks in. He reaches for Ajabu, puts him in his cage, then removes his shirt and holds it whilst it drips. He quickly puts it on the sink..

He hears voices from the next room. “Where is that boy?”

Jasiri moves closer to where his grandmother and dad are standing in the kitchen, drops of water fall on the wicker mat. A flash of lightning pierces the sky, a clap of thunder shakes the ground. “Salama Bibi, I’m back,” Jasiri says as wrings his tshirt over the sink. Bibi looks through him, and scrunches her face as if contemplating something. She pauses and then walks Jasiri’s father to the door of the hut, “Go find him.” Bibi surely heard Jasiri’s voice but they walk right past him. Jasiri scrunches his face, lines appearing on his forehead.
How did they not see him?

Is it just that they were preoccupied, or had become invisible momentarily?

Chapter Two

Jasiri and his parents reside in the Mbezi area of Dar es Salaam. Mum was planning on sending Jasiri to his grandmother’s house in Tanga. She had arranged for Juma, his father to take him as the office he worked in had a branch in Tanga and this would be a good time to give each other space, to think things through.

Plastic - now officially a world crisis

Scientists have found single-use plastic bottles and bags at the bottom of the deepest known spot in the Earth's oceans. Stranger than that, tiny sea-creatures found at the deepest crevasse are not safe from the tiny bits of plastic and are eating it.

The Mariana Trench which lies under the Pacific Ocean is the deepest point in the ocean, estimated to be 36,070 feet below sea level.

Scientists found that more than 90 percent of the amphipods they collected from the Mariana Trench had plastic fibers and particles in their digestive systems.

When asked about this finding, one of the scientists responded, “No single crevice on land or the ocean is safe from plastic. Plastic litter is now officially a world crisis.”

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“I need to be alone Jasiri. You will have a great time with dad and Bibi,” Jasiri’s mum said, her eyes puffy.

“But it’s a three-month school holiday! I’ll miss you Mama!” he notices how a few strands have escaped their proper place on her otherwise neatly brushed hair. He gets distracted for a few seconds by her ponytail tied with a big brown hair elastic. When he was much younger, he would hold on to her ponytail as if it were a mane when they played horse.

“I’ll miss you too Jasiri. The Dar es Salaam sun will also miss you” she says, trying to bring a smile to his face.

“But you love nature Mama, we can walk through the forest and… and you love the smell of mud after it rains...” Jasiri struggles for the right words. His drops his head and his eyes wander for a few seconds on the kitenge designs of her loose top. He took a deep breath and his lungs filled in with the woody perfume scent she was wearing. He missed being together as a family.

“I do Jasiri. I love being with you and I love being in a place full of trees and hear the rain fall on the ground making puddles that I can walk into. But your baba and I need to spend some time apart to think over some things.” She stares down at her trimmed nails. She sat turned towards him, looking for understanding in his face

“But…”

“You’ll have Ajabu with you and Nyakwesi will also be visiting her family in Tanga,” there is sadness in her voice. Her brown almond-shaped eyes appear dull as she interrupts Jasiri.

“But it’s not the same…”

“And Jasiri, I need to attend the meeting on global warming: you know we need solutions for all the pollution out there,” her voice wavers. Jasiri is proud that his mum holds a high position in the government. She was invited to school once and she talked about global warming had been recognized as currently the biggest threat to the environment. She made the students promise that they will reduce their plastic use also.

“But Mama…”

“No 'buts' Jasiri; don’t worry, everything will be fine. You make sure you have a fabulous time with Bibi.” Her normally gentle voice was edged with firmness.

“You mean with Bibi and her thousand warnings?” Jasiri grumbles: although he loves spending time with Bibi, he can't stop feeling upset that his mother won't join him.

Mama leans forward and puts a hand over her heart. Jasiri does the same, before he reaches out and hugs her.

He stares at her face and sees that her skin is dry and splotchy. She looks tired. Jasiri senses that his mother is sending him off with a heavy heart.

Neither of them knows the adventure that awaits.

Chapter Three

A big honeybee buzzes around Jasiri who stays very still. He’s scared if he swats it away it will get angry and sting him. “Save us Jasiri,” it says. Jasiri’s mouth falls open. Has he just understood what the bee has said to him? “If the bees die, there will be no honey for you to eat,” the bee says. Jasiri asks, “How can it be? You are a talking bee and I understand you?”

The bee responds, “Sometimes when you take steps to help others, God allows for you to see some of the hidden secrets of the world.” When the bee comes too close to his face, he turns his face away from quickly closing his eyes. He remembers hearing to never swat them and rather keep calm. He puts his arm in front of his face and backs sensing a tingling on his hands and feet. He suddenly wakes up with a fluttering feeling in his stomach. “What a strange dream,” he thinks to himself. It must have been because his mother always talks about how there would be no honey in the world without bees and how she was trying to give a voice to the bees that are dying because of pollution.

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Baba, Jasiri’s dad had come to pick Jasiri up from Dar es Salaam. His mum prepared to go to a conference in Arusha, with one of her friends from the University of Dar es Salam dubbed ‘Professor zero plastic’.

Mama and Baba exchanged greetings and it gave Jasiri a spark of hope. Maybe time alone and apart from each other will make them realize that they missed each other. Jasiri looked closely at his parents' faces. Jasiri hasn’t taken his dad’s dark complexion and tight curls. He has more of his mother's lighter complexion, her wavy hair and thin nose. Dad’s oily skin shone and mum's looked too dry. The smiles on their faces seem plastered on.

Jasiri looked into his mother’s eyes and felt her warmth. The hold each other’s gaze and Jasiri rushes to embrace her. His heart feels heavy to be leaving her behind. He wishes he could have convinced her to join them. Bidding her farewell, he reluctantly gets into his dad's car.

As they drove along the narrow tarmac lanes, Baba stopped once to give priority to the blue rapid bus to pass. Jasiri fidgeted with the radio buttons, but ran out of patience with finding the right frequency. He wanted to tell his father his exact thoughts about their separation, but the words got jumbled in his head. So instead, he sighed deeply, staring outside the window letting his gaze drift him off to the past. They passed by daladalas and bajajis trying to cut in front of them. “The cars have definitely increased in the city!,” Baba said getting frustrated with the wreckless driving of the bajajis and long waits at the traffic lights. Street vendors crowded around the car window trying to sell their goods; from custard apples to belts and kitchen knives to phone vouchers. Merchant stands lined up along the side road, taking up space of the pedestrians. Flies on dumps of plastic on the sidewalks were visible behind the merchant stands. The wind sprinkled dust and plastic items messily all along the road. “Someone should clean this road,” Jasiri said to himself. His father added, “the city looked so much cleaner before all this plastic being dumped on the streets.” Jasiri turned to his father and asked, “I wonder where they throw the plastic?”

“Maybe in the oceans,” replied Baba. “If we don’t see it in front of our eyes, it doesn’t bother us,” he responds. Many arguments have risen on this topic between him and his wife. Jasiri’s father worked as a salesman at one of the big stores. His father had asked to be moved to the Tanga office for a few weeks so he could spend time with Bibi and son at the village. The big stores cared about how much profit was made and never considered how the plastic could damage the environment. This had caused many rows in Jasiri’s household.

The vendors displayed their goods and shouted special deals to buy the items. Once they left the city, Jasiri rolled down his window, relaxed in his seat, tipped his head back and closed his eyes. The air swished past his face and his filled his heart with a feeling of gratitude of that moment. It was a bit greener now, than in the city. A few trees popping in between mud huts and in the foreground, there were brick house with corrugated roofs. The houses of the rich were bigger with tiled roofs. The air felt lighter and less of car exhaust fumes.

Baba talked about his childhood and how different it was. “The air was much cleaner and there was more space to play before high rise buildings took over the city. The ride to Tanga took him back to earlier memories where he would spend hours talking and bonding with his father. He remembers the riddles they would ask each other and it brought a smile to his face.

“I look at you, you look at me I raise my right, you raise your left. What is this object?” asked Jasiri’s father. Riddles were part of Jasiri’s growing up. Mama, Baba and Jasiri would spend hours asking each other riddles. “Mirror” he responds. Jasiri remembers this riddle. He doesn’t forget the answers easily.

It’s Jasiri’s turn to ask, “I soar without wings, I see without eyes. I've traveled the universe to and fro. I've conquered the world, yet I've never been anywhere but home. Who am I?” Dad scratches his head. “Tell me the answer,” he says.

“No, Dad” laughs Jasiri. You must know the answer. “Let me give you a clue. You have a lot of it and Bibi has even more of it.” Jasiri is not sure if his dad is playing with him and if he knows the answer or not.

“It can run wild like a fire, be as violent as a tornado or as calm as a sea. It depends on how you want to see it.”

“Imagination,” responds his father.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with muddy scented air as they approached the village. “Baba,” Jasiri fumbled with the button of his shirt. He has to ask what has been bothering him.

“Yes Jasiri,” his father responded expecting another riddle, but Jasiri didn’t continue.

“What is it son?” his father asked prompting him. Juma sensed what Jasiri wanted to say.

“Baba, I miss being together with you and mama,” was all that Jasiri could say.

Baba reached out to touch his sons’ hand and comforted him by saying, “Everything will be okay. Have faith my son.”

Chapter Four

“I don’t understand why they can’t live together, Kwesi,” Jasiri says kicking a faded plastic bottle, leaving a trail of dust behind. Ajabu, his pet chameleon, clings tightly to his shoulder. Nyakwesi Rozy, his classmate and best friend, pinches her nose and shuts her mouth tight, to avoid the dust getting inside her nostrils. As classmates, they have had each other’s back and coming to Tanga to visit their grandparents strengthened their bond.

“Do you think it’s because they are angry at me?” Jasiri asks her.

“Of course not, Jasiri, adults can be silly. They fight and they don’t want to talk to each other,” Nyakwesi reasons.

The trees on either side of the path give them plenty of shade. The sun was getting merciless and they savour in the cool breeze from the tall trees and greenery. Crickets chirp and bird flutter their wings dancing to the rhythm of the wind. “This scorching sun is going to fry us alive! The rains are late again this year," Nyakwesi comments.

“Why aren’t they even talking to each other then?” Jasiri exclaims wrinkling his brow, his breath heavier.

“Adults need time. They need to think,” she explains casually. She knows too well that this conversation would go in circles.. Jasiri can’t bear to think that his parents are going to be separated. The thought of living with only one at a time makes his stomach churn.

“Dad complains that mama cares more about the environment than she does about him, and she is always away,” Jasiri grumbles then pauses.

Nyakwesi doesn’t respond.

There is a long silence.