(Originally written on 30th April, 2018.)
Somewhere across the deep, meandering river Nile, where water split the land the widest, lay little Lika’s, little village. She came to the edge of the river every morning to collect rocks. Only the less overbearing, less rugged-looking ones she chose. She was helping Dadda make a road to their fine chicken coop, after all.
On the other side of the wide, wide river was Bayo. His skin was as dark as night, and his hair stuck to his skull like small bunches of wool. Bayo and Lika saw each other every day. They never cared to smile, as it was too far for the other to see. But they always waved.
How would his village be, she wondered. What language did he speak?
Bayo, on the other side, had heard his Uncle talk about something called a brug. Made of wood and ropes. A marvelous, new invention that could let one walk across pits, rifts and valleys.
"How incredible", said Boyo. “Could we build that thing across the river some day, Uncle?”
“Don't be a dolt; it’s the Nile! No brug can cross it. And for the last time Bayo, we cannot go to the other side!”
“Never?”
“Ever.”
The next day Bayo made a paper boat for Lika. He pushed it into the river towards her, as she strained her eyes and watched.
Lika was the smart one. She understood the currents, and knew even before the boat toppled, that it would never reach her.
So, the next day, SHE made a paper boat! She put it inside a wooden box. Pleased with herself, she floated the box towards Bayo.
Bayo, the little fool, became hopeful. Nile, the big beast, turned wild. The boat never reached.
Bayo and Lika still meet each other every day, by the river. It has been 2 years now. They don't care to smile. But they always wave.
