Writing by Florence Kahuhu
Illustration by Zina Graham
When I was a child, I watched a man die.
He was trying to cut down a fragile spruce and I was hiding a few feet deeper in the forest, trying to blend in with the undergrowth. He had two friends with him, and they carried large guns and scary looking knives on their gear. I had seen people like them before, trying to kill the animals in the forest and take their dead bodies. The spruce was defenseless, and as the man raised his machete, the forest shuddered, an unnatural stillness settling before the wind raged. The man was knocked off balance and his grip on the machete loosened, the momentum changing its trajectory and lodging itself in his throat. Eyes wide, I stood frozen, watching as his body fell, spurts of blood looking unnatural against the vibrant green of the moss beneath him. Not knowing if he would survive, I ran as far as I could until I tripped over an exposed root. Breathless, the image of his body, and his blood, was all I could think about. I emptied the contents of my stomach onto the forest floor, but I only felt shock, not fear nor pity.
“The forest is sacred,” Mum always said.
They were trying to selfishly end innocent life, therefore he received judgement from Mother, protector of nature. Mum and I lived a few minutes away from the forest’s edge and we would go into the greenwood every day to commune with nature.
I once broke off a branch from a sapling and when I told Mum, the slap rang in my ears before I felt it.
“We do not harm the forest, Finn!” Mum screamed, gripping crescent moons into my arms. “We do not kill Mother’s children.”
She pushed my face into the ground and as I struggled, she pressed my head down even more, imprinting the shape of the moss and bits of foliage into my cheek.
“Listen!” she hissed.
It took a few moments for me to stop moving, but when I did, I heard it. The forest was not as quiet as I thought. It spoke to me. The moss, the trees, the birds—everything. Voices so sweet and pure, tears came to my eyes and I found myself sobbing uncontrollably at what I had done. Mum wrapped her arms around me, and we wept together. The wind fanned over us, and the smell of fresh rain filled my lungs, calm washing over me. Mother’s presence was overwhelming, and I felt protected and loved in that moment.
When Mum died of an illness, I felt lost, scared, and upset. I sought comfort from Mother, going to the forest everyday but she never came. Alone and angry, I wondered if Mother was even real. She was supposed to take care of her children, so where was she in my time of need?
I made friends of course. Colleagues, mutual friends, and I tried very hard to adapt and move on. I worked hard to have a stable career, and while I learned new things and had meaningful friendships, I never felt like I could truly be myself. I felt like a shell of who I once was. What made it worse was whenever I allowed myself to go on a nature trail hike, it all came back to me, nature came to life, and it made me second guess my decision to leave every single time.
My mentor, Richard—a senior, much more accomplished chef—had invited me to go on a culinary trip with him to source fresh ingredients from different regions. The start of the trip was not so bad, but when he said we would be hunting for wild hogs, memories of the poacher filled my mind. I was completely against it. Walking through forests was one thing, I could ignore the voices of nature, but I could not harm any creature. I still believed they should be protected. The option of cancelling the entire trip was put on the table and I paused. I had worked so hard for so many years, so I thought maybe if I closed my eyes when they killed it, I would be all right.
Every step through the vegetation was painful. Ignoring nature’s children became harder and when we spied a hog running from us, we sped up, but secretly, I hoped he escaped. The voices grew in volume and I wanted to hang my head in shame, feeling like I had betrayed my kin.
Apparently, the area was a common hunting ground for hogs since about half an hour later, we found one caught in a trap.
“OK, Finn. The plan is to shoot the hog then load him up in the truck,” Richard said, pulling out a gun. “If he gets out, we’ll jump on top of the cage and wait until he goes away or we shoot him.”
Bile rose in my throat and I felt tremors all through my body. I could hear the hog cry out. It was a mix of anger and fear, but he was asking me to save him. I never should have agreed to go on this stupid trip.
Years later, I moved to the city, as far away as I could from everything that reminded me of Mum and the forest. I was twenty-five, I had a stable job as a chef, and things were going great for me, but being away from the forest left me feeling empty inside.
I could no longer hear nature. The city was not Mother’s territory, so it made sense, but the knowledge did not bring me comfort. The concrete jungle seemed to suck the life out of me.
A breeze brushed against my skin, and the fog in my mind cleared. The reality of what I was about to let happen finally registered and as we lifted the cage, a strange delicate calm grew within me. I looked directly at the hog and hummed a melody that had Richard and our guide looking at me weird at first until delirious smiles took over their faces. Opening the cage, the hog stepped out cautiously.
“I’m sorry. I almost allowed a terrible thing to happen to you. Runaway now, child.”
Huffing, the hog turned and ran into the forest. The breeze grew a bit stronger before dying away and the feeling within me fading. I blinked. What the hell had just happened? Glancing back, Richard and our guide looked at me in fear and took a few steps away.
When we got back to the city, Richard threatened to get me institutionalized because apparently, speaking to wild animals like they understand makes you look crazy. We settled on me seeing a shrink just to get him off my back.
Now, as I sat in a room full of potted plants and very earthy décor, I wonder if I should have just chosen to go to a hospital. My eyes roamed in an effort to not look at the lady who sat on the grandfather chair opposite me. She had observed me like a science project, which irritated me to no end, so the plants were the next best view. At least I felt some sense of comfort with them.
“Why do you look at them like that?” she asked.
I looked at her. Her thick silver hair left unbound tumbled past her shoulders, and glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, the glare concealing her eyes. It was my fifth visit and I hated how perfect she looked. She probably thought I was crazy, just from the way I glared at her plants.
“What?
“The plants, why do you look at them with such scorn?” she asked.
I scoffed. “It’s not the plants I have a problem with, it’s their Mother.”
“Their mother?” she asked, tilting her head.
“You know what, I won’t even bother.” I looked away. “You wouldn’t understand. You probably think I’ve lost my mind too.”
“I assure you such is not the case.” At my silence, she continued, “Let’s assume I do think you are crazy, whatever you say would just be in line with what I ‘think.’ So, speak your mind.”
I observed her. She seemed to genuinely want to hear what I had to say, unlike Richard. I still remember the pitiful look on his face when I attempted to tell him a version of the truth.
Frustrated, I stood and walked to the plants, taking a moment to calm myself. “My mother practically raised me in the forest. She always said the forest was sacred and needed to be protected, and the person to protect all was Mother. A being she never saw in her lifetime but she was fiercely loyal to.”
I turned to her. “I believed too. I mean, the forest was alive. Everything has a voice: the vegetation, the animals—sometimes Mother would come with the wind.” Tears pricked my eyes.
I turned and hovered my fingers over some seedlings. “Mother is supposed to protect and be there when her children are in distress, but she wasn’t there when Mum died. A woman who believed without ever seeing her, and she was conveniently on vacation when I felt like I had lost everything.”
“Is that why you have run away from everything that reminds you of her?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I sniffled, opening the window, and looked out on the concrete jungle. “I wonder if she looks at me and thinks what a disgrace I am.” I hesitated, feeling a swell in my throat. “Truth is, I just felt abandoned. I miss home, I miss the forest, I miss the feeling of being myself. I miss Mother and, deep down, I selfishly hope she hasn’t forgotten me.” I bit my lip, holding back a sob and discreetly wiping tears from my eyes.
It felt good to admit the truth. Even though I would probably be thrown in the looney bin after this, a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
I turned away when she placed a hand on my shoulder. A breeze caressed my face, and I closed my eyes, imagining I was still home, listening to the plants sing. The smell of fresh rain invaded my senses and Mother’s overwhelming presence weighed over me, stronger than it had ever been before.
“I did not abandon you child,” the lady said. Looking up at her, she had taken off her glasses and her emerald green eyes locked with mine, with such depth and the patterns seemed to swirl and hypnotize me. A gentle smile graced her gorgeous visage.
“Your mother did not need proof to believe in me because she followed what her mother taught her, just as you did. Her loyalty grew stronger when she had you and understood what it is like to be a mother.” She looked out the open window, tendrils of hair danced in the breeze.
“You needed me when your mother passed on and I see how my absence at that time caused you to hate me. I too grieved her loss, but I want you to know that even though you do not feel my presence, I am always there.” She touched the plant beside her, and it sang with joy. “My children live through me and, where my children are, I am there.”
My jaw went slack, I could only gaze at her. Tears flowed freely and, though there was no doubt, I needed confirmation.
“M-Mother?”
Her adoring smile widened, and the corners of her eyes crinkled, “Yes, Finn. I am here.”
I could only collapse into her embrace and wail. I felt exhilaration, but also grief and solace. I wept for Mum, for the years I wasted running away. Yet in Mother’s arms, I felt home, protected. In that moment, I received everything I had been yearning for. But I also realized, Mother had been watching me, so I had it all along.
