A Dangerous Voyage

A deadly virus has found a home in the country of Kenya. A native of the country, A man named Baraka is found to be immune to the virus. The secret to a cure could lie within him, but at what cost?

My country was once a lively place, a home for many, but was treated as a sanctuary by the ancestors that walked this land before us.  And up until the decision was made by the modern government of today to utilize foreign exports, we have treated the land just as such; Maintaining all traditions and expressing our gratitude to the land for what it provides to my people. Even the air that we inhaled and exhaled was praised, it seemed to always carry the laughter of the children throughout the land, what a joyful noise. Those are distant memories to me now, the epidemic that's at hand is threatening to eradicate all of those who dwell in this land, my entire family, gone in an instance.

 

My mother always told me I was special, she named me Baracka, which means "Blessing". But now I wonder and doubt that me being a blessing is anywhere near the truth. My people are being infected and killed off by this foreign sickness, but I still stand strong, the only one in the land immune to this mysterious virus. Many of my own fear that I am some sort of demon, despite the fact that I built my life around the people who now ridicule me. The whispers in the land grow louder each day, the people believe that my blood carries the key to a cure, and the discussion of taking my life for that chance is slowly evolving into a plan, it won't be long before action follows. I decided it was time for me to go.

 

As I began my voyage, the realization of my people being eradicated by that virus lodges itself within my heart. I walked wearily across the plains, into the valleys, and up the mountains, exhaustion overwhelmed me, I collapsed on a path within the mountains. I was awakened by the bark of a dog, children's laughter, and the smell of stew that was simmering on the fire outside the hut I was lying in. " Well good afternoon sir, my name is Professor McCloud. I found you passed out in the mountains a little ways from here. I didn't want you to be a meal for the hyenas, so I brought you here. You must be hungry, eat up." Why would he help me I thought, being a professor he must be aware that I could have been or could be infected with the virus. I was starving so I saved the questions until after the meal.

 

"That was delicious professor, you have my gratitude." He looked at me, but did not smile, and did not acknowledge my thanks to him. Instead he sat next to me on the cot, twiddling his fingers, pondering deeply. He then cleared his throat and turned his attention towards me. "Mr. Baracka, I am well aware of who you are and why you abandoned your people when their survival is contingent on your death. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the meaning of that name, "Blessing"? My blood boiled in my veins at the old man's words, but the guilt he indirectly formed within me was much stronger. I stood and paced for a moment, sweat trickling down my face and onto my lips, I could taste the salt. I walked over and knelt down beside McCloud, "Let me tell you something old man, I love my people, without them I am nothing, I might as well be dead!" When I spoke those words, the answer became very clear to me, I am the blessing that my people need. My mother was right.

 

Tears ran down my cheeks and was followed by my uncontrollable sobbing. Professor McCloud embraced me and said, " I know that you love your people, but you were blind to the objective that has been bestowed upon you. Now you just said that without your people you are nothing, well the correct words should have been without you, your people will be nothing, and at that moment your existence will be meaningless. So tell me Baracka, will you sacrifice yourself for the sake of you're people?" His eyes burned into mine, I fell to my knees, " I am ready. I now know that my ancestors chose me to save the people from this plague. Professor McCloud, words alone can't express how thankful I am for your guidance and wise words. Now please, take my life so my people can survive, and tell my story across the land of how you came across a lost blessing and delivered it to the people deserving of it."

 

 I did just that... "Baracka! Baracka! Baracka!" The crowd chants his name as I tell the story of the man who gave his life so that the generations that are standing before me today can indulge in the joyful bliss of a blessing. "At his end he asked that I'd tell his story across the land, and I continue to do that to this very day. You all are here due to the sacrifice of one of your own. But one thing I know without a doubt, is that he loves every one of you, and I bet he is very proud as he looks down upon you all, surrounded and joined by your ancestors. A lost blessing who finally made his way home, and a hero to all who is a product of his sacrifice, we will be forever thankful."

 

"Baracka! Baracka! Baracka!" The sound of his name is now carried gently by the wind throughout this land, a blessing that will never be forgotten.