The following day, after restless yet adequate sleep, Flat took off by dawn. Walking for some hours in the wooded veld, she could feel the weight of the air pressing her from all sides – another thunderstorm, perhaps. Above the horizon on the other side of the road, dense clouds gathered and seemed to fill more of the sky by the hour. If there was going to be thunder, she would not seek shelter under a tree, but brace whatever rain or hail it brought head on. Towards the afternoon, the sky darkened, and it rained, and there was thunder only a great distance away. Still, she kept shy of the trees.
For two more days Flat followed the highway. As she went along the veld became all the more forested. This helped much to mitigate the onslaught of the scorching sun. It was here that she came upon a place where the ground suddenly sunk away and far below, when she looked through the vegetation, she could see sand and a river snaking along. It was too steep for her to go down there at this point, so she looked to the road to see how it navigated this terrain. As she walked closer to the road, she began to make out that the road did not descend down into the canyon whatsoever, but lay stretched over like an immense fallen tree.
While she would certainly not cross over the canyon on this bridge, she hoped that near it there was also an easier path to follow underneath. She approached the bridge. Besides the regular sounds of the road and the birds and the insects, another set of more sporadic sounds began to emerge. It greatly varied in pitch but seemed to come from the same point. Flat felt no reason yet to fear it, but kept her wariness as she approached. After walking past many trees and shrubs, Flat could begin to make out a large block of… something, swaying from side to side. It struck her suddenly that this was her. This was her friend’s wife. As Flat passed the last tree before she could clearly see the woman, the woman turned around abruptly and stared at Flat. Her face was more wrinkled than that of her husband. Her back was crooked and she looked extraordinarily frail, but on her back she carried a load of countless miscellaneous objects about four or five times the size of her own body – all kept together in a bundle with several ropes of differing color and thickness. In front of her she pushed a small cart containing more such objects. She looked at Flat coldly for a few moments until letting out an annoyed puff and turned around to continue, slowly and steadily, in her initial direction.
Flat did not know how to address her, how to start off this meeting. It was after all Flat’s initiative to seek her out, so naturally the responsibility lay with Flat to say the first words. For now though, Flat thought it prudent to keep her distance and observe a moment longer. Moreover, it seemed the woman was heading downwards towards the river, and Flat could do with some fresh water.
It became clear that the woman was collecting these mostly small bits and pieces on the side on the road and under the bridge. Flat figured that the road was the only place to find an abundance of such things. Still, she could not as yet comprehend the purpose of the woman’s toils – bending down for each little colorful piece with a strained groan. Flat continued to follow her until they were right under the bridge and the woman dropped her load on the sand, left the cart and walked to the water. Flat did the same. The woman reached for the water with her hands and threw it on her face repeatedly. Flat just took a few sips. She felt it was time now. So, gathering herself, she said to the woman “Your husband requested that I find you.”
“Why?” she responded with marked disinterest.
“He did not say.”
The woman seemed to have no intention in continuing the conversation just then. Flat felt strongly, as she did before, that she was completely out of her place. After all, it was only ever her friend’s flute that drew her to him, they never spoke much as friends. Flat was merely an audience rather than a friend. Nevertheless, Flat decided to stick around for a while longer, if only to become audience to something new.
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For several days Flat followed the woman and it so happened that the woman started initiating conversations with the buffalo. One such conversation lead as follows:
“How do your knees feel?” the woman asked Flat.
“They hurt. Especially when I’m thirsty”
“Are you thirsty often?”
“Yes”
At this the woman stopped and turned around to look into Flat’s eyes. Flat had been walking some steps behind her to avoid this kind of interaction.
“I’m also” The woman gave cough-laugh.
Hesitantly, Flat returned the gaze and raised the question “But don’t you stay close to this river?”
“The water’s bad. Makes me sick.”
A flash of a thought shot across Flat’s mind: That they are not thirsty in the same way.
In these days it was clear that the woman began to enjoy speaking openly and without hesitation about whatever crossed her mind. On one rainy day when they were back under the bridge, she began speaking frankly of her life as it has been for decades.
“Every day in this season, when there are rains somewhere on the land, new things, things I’ve never seen, come to me down the river. Many things are also thrown from the road – bottles, wrappers, debris from their crashes, but it never surprises like the river. Dolls, so often I find dolls and shoes; tree stumps embedded with metals. The bridge of course, has dropped some bodies, but that is not my trade, I let the river or the helicopters take them. If it was my trade, I would work in a different place entirely – a different river at least”
Flat barely ever gave a response, not even exclamations of any kind. She only listened, and understood little. And in this time the woman also began to make a habit of passing some of her load over to Flat. This was especially so for larger objects: car bumpers, tires, broken chairs, even a mattress. Flat gave it little thought. The woman was old and frail and Flat felt that the gorge was as good a place as any to spend a few months. Moreover, the woman seemed to gradually enjoy Flat’s company all the more. Flat thought “I might as well share some of the load”
Though she didn’t reflect on it in such precise terms, it was as though Flat felt comfort to play some crucial part in an ecosystem of sorts. Her role was clear: accompany the woman as she completes her task; share some of the load. Only later did Flat inquire more in regards to the woman’s task. The buffalo was given a curt reply: “I pick it up, I take it to people who want it”. Flat followed up “And where are they?” and instead of providing the answer Flat wanted, the woman simply murmured “Tomorrow”.
And so the next day Flat and the woman carried all they have collected over the last few weeks up to the road. Before heading down to go pick up the final load, the woman instructed Flat to wait by the road as she went down to gather the final pieces of scrap. Flat was deeply uncomfortable this close to the road, but the woman assured her she was safe. Some passing vehicles decelerated and Flat could see faces staring at her with great excitement and wonder. Several minutes after the woman left, a truck stopped by Flat. Its back was a large rusted cage with some assorted pieces of trash and scraps already inside. Two men exited. One, in a high nasal tone, exclaimed “Ah, here’s the beauty Gav mentioned he saw from the bridge. You, Buffalo, you’re a real stunner! And you’ve done great helping the old lady down there! Give us a moment to open the back and we can load all this in.” The other man maintained a kind of mindless smile.
Flat looked around nervously. Where did the woman go? Were these even the people she spoke of? In the midst of these thoughts, the first man addressed Flat again: “Come on, help us load this in, would you? Your friend would be very surprised if the work’s already finished when she comes back. She’s so old and weak, don’t you just think she’ll love it if we’re all finished up when she gets here?” Flat still hesitated, but at the end felt an inexplicable pressure, similar, but more intense, to what she felt in regards to helping the old woman in the first place. And so Flat first took the load already on her back and entered the back of the truck, unloaded, and returned to the rest of the heap. The men helped load it on Flat’s back and she entered the cage again. This time its door slammed behind her. In panic Flat stormed the door, dented it slightly, but was knocked out by the impact.