There were a lot of tanks on the street and people were screaming and yelling and crying out in horror. Then the bombs started falling with everyone running for their lives, the city was thrown into utter confusion.
In the chaos, 9-year-old Busisiwe was separated from her family. Wounded and weak, she crawled into an abandoned drainage tunnel on the outskirts of the war-torn village. Her dress was tattered and her breath was fast fading, she thought of her parents and her little brother in the dim light and prayed that they would always be kept safe. she closed her tear-stained eyes, shivering and waiting for the cold to take her.
She was numb and freezing cold, her stomach tightened from starvation and her voice croaked from crying for her family.
A soft scurrying noise broke the silence.
Busiswe opened her eyes slightly.
“Who's there?” She asked, her voice dry and fearful.
From the shadows, a little mouse emerged, thin but quick, bright eyes and twitching whiskers. In its mouth, was a torn piece of bread.
Busiswe blinked severally. “Are… are you real?” she stammered.
The mouse dropped the bread and sniffed at her.
A weak laugh escaped from her throat, tears stinging her eyes.
"You brought me food?" She couldn't believe it.
The mouse squeaked in response.
With trembling fingers, Busisiwe took the bread, and bit into it. It was dry and hard like stone but she was too hungry to care. She gnawed on desperately.
"Thank you," she whispered, crumbs sticking to her dry cracked lips. "What's your name, dear one?"
The mouse only twitched its nose.
Busiswe smiled faintly. “I’ll call you… Ubulele. It means ‘the compassionate one’, just like you.
Ubulele squeaked again and disappeared into the dark shadows.
By the next dawn, Ubulele returned with fresh vegetables and some dried roots—her eyes lighted up, this was Kigelia roots, famed for its healing and antimicrobial activities. Tears came to her eyes.
"You're not only feeding me, you are healing me too?" She asked in a stronger voice. "Do you have food stashed away somewhere?"
She nibbled on the root and sighed.
“You're smarter than humans give you credit for. I stayed out there when the bombs were falling I should have hidden.”
Ubulele climbed up a rock and stared at her.
Busiswe narrowed her eyes. “You watch everything, you are very vigilant, aren't you? That’s how you stay alive.”
Then suddenly the mouse darted away at the sound of distant thuds.
Her heart pounded as she listened, they were faint booms from a far distance, far but steady.
"Tanks," she whispered. "You heard 'em before I did."
As soon as everywhere was calm again, Ubulele returned and climbed on the rock.
Busiswe leaned back against the tunnel wall and looked at the tiny savior, she was now stronger than when she first arrived.
"Teach me," she whispered. "How to survive
like you."
As the days passed, Busiswe grew stronger even when the hunger still hadn't left her. She observed how Ubulele suddenly freezes before she would, ears twitching at distant vibrations, picking up sounds of danger from the cold earth.
"You feel the ground, huh?" One day, she said with her palm on the cold ground."When it shakes, it means danger."
She learned from her small companion to cling to walls, moving about only when shadows were long and silence reigned.
When she had the courage to crawl out of the tunnel, Ubulele came along, pausing after every few steps, leading the way.
She walked when the mouse walked and stopped when it did. She watched and learnt from its every move.
Soon after, several patrols passed by, leather boots clanking, guns slung over shoulders. Her heart pounded as she stopped, always taking a cue from Ubulele.
One evening, when the sky turned orange from distant fires, Busiswe sat with Ubulele curled in her lap.
“Before the war, I had a brother, his name was Amani. He loved to chase mice around but he wouldn’t hurt them, he was their friend and was gentle.... now I understand why.”
Her throat tightened. “I pray everyday that him and Papa and Mama are safe.”
Ubulele nuzzled her hand. It understood her pain.
"I can't stay here forever, I need to go and search for my family."
The mouse watched her with unblinking eyes and another.....akin to sadness.
"It's been weeks since the war has been raging on, but I've grown lean and sharp-eyed and smart. You have taught me how to listen, how to move like a shadow, and to find food where no one else dared to look."
“But I want to find my family, I know they are safe and are worried sick about me.”
The mouse flicked its tail.
Busiswe smiled sadly. “I know you can't come with me, because this is where you belong, this is where your story stays."
The next morning, Busiswe was set to leave. She had found a battered coat, stuffed her pockets with scavenged food. She turned to Ubulele.
"It's Time to go, my little friend.”
But the mouse remained near its nest, blinking slowly, sadly.
Busiswe's chest tightened as tears welled in her eyes.
“Don't worry about me, I’ll survive,” she whispered. “Like you showed me.” And she kissed its tiny head.
She straightened, wiped her tears, and stepped into the world beyond the tunnel—a child no longer fearful but who has learnt to endure the darkest of times.
The sky was gray, the air bitter, but she no longer trembled nor fretted. She was going to be just fine.
All images are AI generated.
Thank you for reading.
