[piosenniel]

Families sat round their small fires, enjoying the last of the day. It was a glorious sunset over the long stretch of sandy plains that lay beyond the grasslands. The sun, caught for a moment, on the tips of a small rise of hills, blazed up, lighting the scrub that grew there like beacons set against the approaching night.

Jamílah left her family, the adults talking quietly among themselves as the children played hide and seek in the tall grass. She heard Qamar call out to hers, ‘Stay near! Where the fire lights your way!’

The other elders of the five clans had also risen, making their excuses to their families, as they hurried off to meet at a small clearing some distance away. They had all been worried about the changes they saw in the younger members, and they feared that the shadow they carried would spread to others, and bring great harm to the tribe.

In the growing darkness of oncoming night, beneath the bright, full moon they gathered – the Bush Lizard Clan, the Grey Parrot Clan, the Wild Dog clan, the Civet clan, and the Wind Scorpions. Four armed warriors stood at the cardinal points, keeping back any who would draw near.

Taking the talking stick in her hand, Jamílah rose to speak her concerns. Never one to mince her words when action was needed she began at what to her was the heart of the problem.

‘It is Jasara I wish to speak of first; Jasara and the shadow which looks out from her eyes . . .’

Jamílah recounted the first feelings of unease she had had many months ago when she threw the bones, as the day began, to augur the start of a new season. There had been dark meanings scattered on the dirt floor of her tent, shadows behind shadows. And though she had thrown them several times they had always come out in the same pattern. ‘Be wary!’ they warned her. And always, in some insidious form or another, she thought she saw a great eye, always open, always watching.

Then there had followed the incident of Jasara’s prediction and her growing number of followers among the young. Jamílah’s fears deepened as she watched them fall under the girl’s influence. She remembered when the then small group of young followers moved out of their families’ tents saying, “that they would rather ‘be eaten by the hungry beasts of the Eye than sleep in the way of the elders’.” Their casual mention, that feeling of acceptance by them, of the Eye made her look closer at them and at their actions.

The shadow has grown larger and stronger in Jasara,’ she continued, ‘and now it takes hold in the others. They are becoming ghosts to my eyes, uneasy spirits, unable to make their own decisions.’ She looked slowly and pointedly round the small circle, holding each clan leader with her gaze. ‘They are as ravenous as jackals, these shadow people. Stealing in to take the children that they can. Families can no longer let their children run free, safe among our tents. They hold them close now, their eyes are wary, their own spirits uneasy. And they are angry that this should be allowed to go on.’

Having said her piece, Jamílah stepped back to her seat, and sitting down, handed the talking-stick to the person on her right.

Ismat, of the Grey Parrot Clan, spoke next, voicing the same concerns as had been gone over by Jamílah, and listing the names of those young who had gone missing from their families. In turn, came the similar stories of what they had noted happening and which families had lost children from Asim, of the Wild Dog Clan and Hafsa, the Civet Clan leader.

Finally, the talking-stick was passed to Faruq, the oldest of the elders gathered. Hafsa leaned near him, offering her hand to him as she passed the stick, to help ease his old bones from their sitting position. He waved her off with a nod acknowledging her offer, and rose slowly to his feet.

‘I won’t go over again what each of you has said. The same complaints and the same fears have come from my clan also. There is something, though, which none of you have mentioned. And I think only because you have not visited yet with our newly arrived neighbors, The Painted Sand Tribe.’ Taking a small drink of water from the hollowed gourd offered up by Asim, he went on.

‘Late this afternoon I went to speak with Ishak ben Ishak, to set up a little trading fair between our tribes. He told me that young, ragged looking members of the Baobab had been sighted, wandering near their camp and even into it. They were dirty, he said, and gave no signs of respect to the adults they encountered. Not outwardly rude, just out of the ordinary for the sorts of behavior they have come to respect from our young ones. His wife, Briellah spoke up, too, as we talked. Saying that several of the women had told her how these ragged and dirty ones had called enticingly to their children, being even so bold as to come up to them as they stood with their parents, urging them to come with them. Disquieted, and angered at the boldness, several of the Painted Sand men drove the little group from their encampment.’

The other elders looked at him and shook their heads. Jamílah’s eyes narrowed at this news and she stood up. ‘It is bad enough that this problem eats like a canker at our own tribe. We cannot let it spread to theirs, too. One of us must speak with the shadow children and if they will not choose to come back to the tribal ways, then we must cut them off from us.’

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ismat, whose own young son had left the family tent and now slept with Jasara’s group. ‘I will speak to them,’ he offered, ‘though I cannot say it will do much good, for all I have spoken to him before.’ The others nodded their heads at him, murmuring words of support.

‘Let us consider what Jamílah, the Healer, has said,’ came the voice of Faruq, cutting through the mingled sounds of the group. ‘She would be the last to recommend the course of action she has suggested, I think – wanting instead to see how the rift could be healed. But she, like the rest of us, must put the needs of the tribe first.’ He laid down the talking-stick, saying they should meet again in two days time. ‘Talk to your friends and family, see what they are thinking, then come back on the appointed day. We will discuss it once more and make our final decision.’

The moon’s light had been obscured by a ragged passing cloud. Carefully, the Elders found their way back to their tents, their hearts heavy with what they might have to do. Jamílah lay awake a long time turning the meeting over in her mind.

‘Tomorrow,’ she thought to herself, ‘tomorrow I will gather up my herbs and medicines and seek out Briellah. There is more than one tribe at stake here. We must see what we can do.’