On Sundays, mother and daughter would return together from the market. Bimbo insisted on walking with Sod even when Sod said she could go back alone.
“Mama, I’m an adult. You know that.”
“And I’m old. Did you know that?” Bimbo would reply with a playful smile, carrying the cloth basket.
As they walked through the mud houses and narrow alleys, people looked at them with restrained respect. Sod was known for her gentleness. She knew the names of the children, helped the elderly carry water jugs, and even spoke kindly to the village drunkards. But she felt like a badly assembled puzzle, as if she were missing an essential piece of her soul.
One afternoon, Bimbo found Sod sitting by the riverbank again, just as she had since she was a little girl, scribbling in her old notebook, now almost completely filled.
“You know, Mama, sometimes I feel like there’s something in this river that belongs to me.”
Bimbo stopped. The wind swirled a few dry leaves around. The sound of the water seemed louder than usual, almost like a muffled scream.
“What do you mean by that, daughter?”
“I don’t know. But when I’m here, I’m not afraid. I feel nostalgic for something I don’t even remember.”
Bimbo sat beside her, stayed silent for a long moment, and then said, “The past is like the river. Even when it looks calm on the surface, there is always a current underneath. Sometimes it is better not to dive in.”
Sod looked at her mother.
“Are you hiding something from me?”
“No,” she answered too quickly.
Sod did not insist, but her eyes said: I know you are.
The following nights became even more unsettling. The dreams returned. Sometimes the river girls were crying. Sometimes screaming.
One night, Sod woke up screaming her own name.
“Sod!”
Bimbo rushed to her.
“Are you scared?”
“No, Mama. I think… I think she is me. They are all me.”
Bimbo could not take it anymore. The pain in her throat grew like thorns.
The next morning, she went alone to the village church. She sat in the back pew and began to cry.
The pastor approached.
“Sister Bimbo?”
Leave a Comment