The Seer and The City

Just the day before as they walked round the city, their guide had pointed out landmarks related to one of the darkest times in human history. A beautiful city, it was. But one with a dark, dark past. One she wasn’t proud of, for she was a tourist city. But it was the birth place of the horror which began sweeping through the earth, nearly a century ago.

Gabby had gazed up at an “honour temple” and seen her. The tall, wispy figure of her walking through her streets weeping. Every now and then the wind would blow at her skirts, lifting them and showing the horror of the nakedness beneath. People pointed, stared, clucked their tongues. She wept, that city. Oh, how she wept in shame. The tourists gazed at her beauty, but also looked down their noses in contempt and horror at what she had done nearly a hundred years ago. And the city…. she floated by, sometimes running, sometimes walking. But always clutching at her skirts in vain.

The following morning, Chan, Marie, Joseph, Rita and Gabby were at the hotel lounge. What to do…. how to spend the day? “Let’s go to Dachau,” said Rita, quietly. Everyone looked at her, incredulous. The room fell quiet. But why not? They may never have this opportunity again. They were silent, contemplative. Then Gabby saw her again. The tall wispy figure, reaching into the lounge and beckoning.

“Yes,” said Gabby. “Let’s go. I’d like to go.”

So, they went.

The group was somber, walking on through the premises. There was no tour guide with them. So they split, each exploring by themselves, lost in thought.

As they stepped onto the grounds, Gabby’s ears popped open and she burst into tears. There they were, the audio and images of ages past. A voice barked. “Prisoner 3026728, step up!” Shots rang out. More wails and screams. “Prisoner 526839! Are you in a fashion parade? Stand straight!!”

Gabby closed her eyes, opened them. Skeletal figures in striped uniforms, gaunt faces and hollow eyes. Then she looked up into the sky and saw her again, the tall wispy figure of the city. Pulling her skirts around her to hide her shame, head bowed. Gabby shut her eyes firmly, and the images cleared.

She began moving around, walking gingerly, almost reverently. For one does not disturb the dead; when the dead sleeps fitfully. “Why am I here?” She asked inwardly. “Why did You bring me here?”

As she came to the roll call area and stepped onto the field, her eyes flew open. She saw them again. Long row upon row of prisoners. Horribly skinny figures, gaunt faces, hollow eyes. A man dropped. Then another. The voices began again. Above it all, one man’s cry drew her. A mind cry. She peered at him. The images shifted again.

A house. Wealthy people obviously lived there. Gabby walked up the front steps. Magnificent, they were, those steps. She went tentatively into the living room, though aware she could not be seen. A woman in quiet grey clothes stood in the hallway waiting, with a young woman beside her.

Gabby saw him then; the man from the roll call grounds. He was nearly unrecognizable… for here, he looked like himself. Normal, healthy. Hair all askew, he was racing through the rooms running after his wife. “Bertha! you have to pack. One small suitcase they said. Only what’s important. Take only what’s important to our lives….to start a new life, and make it quick!”

His wife ran through the rooms with a baby strapped to her chest in a cross-wrap blanket. She picked things in a flurry. The wedding picture she loved so much. Her great-grand-grandma’s pearls. She grabbed a handful of expensive jewelry. Who knows, they might come in handy if they could sell them! She stuffed the suitcase full of both necessities, and a few luxuries. Sprinted back to the living room, one hand clutching the baby to her chest and the other holding the small suitcase.

“We’re ready,” said the Abe to the woman in the hallway.

The woman in grey sighed. “You cannot take the baby with you,” she said quietly.

“But we need to save him,” Bertha cried in a shrill voice. “Yes, I know,” said the other woman quietly. If you leave him with Brigitte here, he will certainly live. But if he comes with us and anything happens, without a doubt he is sure to die.”

Bertha seemed to turn into stone. She turned slowly to the young woman. Leave the baby with her? The unspoken question hung in the air like a spectre. Bertha spoke through tears. “Will I see him again?” she whispered.

“We cannot guarantee that, ma’am. But we can assure you that your child will live. Our networks will take him far, far away from this madness. Far away to safety.”

Bertha looked at her husband. Like a woman in a trance, she unwrapped her baby from her chest. Opened the suitcase, overturned the contents. Placed the baby inside it, and tried to shut the case even as she burst into tears. “Fit your whole life in a suitcase...…. well, he’s my whole life!!”

Abe sighed. With tears in his eyes he reached out gently, picked the baby up from the suitcase and handed him to the young lady. The woman in grey held Bertha and tried to comfort her.

Bertha took great gulping breaths and tried not to scream. She knelt down and picked up the empty suitcase. Closed it firmly, clutched the handle tightly. She said woodenly, “we are ready.”

Gabby blinked again, and saw them in a wagon. Hunched down, travelling. Bertha still clutching the suitcase tightly to her chest. At every stop when ordered to open it, she did. When incredulous eyes met hers in irritation, she simply said, “it’s not empty.”

Through a wagon drive of 100 miles.

“It’s not empty.”

When they got intercepted, the female soldier tried to prise her fingers from the handle whilst beating her mercilessly with a baton.

Bertha was resolute. “IT. IS. NOT. EMPTY!!”

Gabby was back on the roll call ground, weeping. She still saw them. And this time, Gabby heard her clearly. The gaunt figure did not open her mouth for fear of the soldiers, but Gabby heard her subliminal screams.

“It is not empty. My suitcase is not empty!! Alfred Jeshaiah Shubael. 6 months old. IT. IS. NOT EMPTY!”

Gabby looked up. The tall, wispy figure of the city was still hovering above. Looking at Gabby, her eyes filled with a deep, deep shame, still grabbing at her skirts to cover her nakedness.

Gabby fell to her knees on the roll call ground. Alfred Jeshaiah Shubael…. Alfred was the first name of her grandfather. The surname was not the same. Maybe changed? But could it really be…..? She made her way slowly, to where the very spot where she could hear a woman’s mind still screaming.

“It’s not empty. My suitcase is NOT empty!”

Gabby stood in front of the gaunt, skin and bone figure with the hollow eyes and screaming mind.

“Great-grandma, I’m here. He made it out….Alfred made it, Grandma.”

She tried again. “Im here, Grandma! Your suitcase is not empty. I am proof of it!”

Gabby wept profusely. For prisoner 547834 could neither see, nor hear her.

But an unseen Hand moved. And time merged and compressed into a single moment.

The woman with the sunken eyes and screaming mind…she blinked. And saw clearly, the weeping young woman in a t-shirt and jeans standing right in front of her. She had Alfie’s eyes. She had Alfie’s eyes. She had Alfie’s eyes and forehead!

And so it was, that for a fleeting second as time morphed; prisoner 547834 became Bertha again. And Bertha began to laugh, joyfully.

And with her severely emaciated body, she danced with joy, right on the roll call ground.

Shots rang out, and prisoner 547834 dropped. Others stood still, that they might not be next.

The Unseen Hand moved again. Gabby was back in 2022. She looked up.

Up; at the wispy figure of the city, who was weeping silently. Weeping in shame, with hands still pulling at her skirts, trying desperately to cover her nakedness.

Gabby’s eyes softened and she raised a hand.

“I forgive you;” she declared to the wispy figure. The city.

“I forgive you from the bottom of my heart. And I say unto you, that out of your belly shall yet flow rivers of living water. You will yet dance again. And this time; the dance of Life, not death.”

The wispy figure smiled, bowed, and floated away.

By Olajumoke Beyioku