The plains of Bizoga are green again. Two years after the intercine economic wars, the peoples still have minimal intercourse. Even as resolution of the conflict seems imminent, the manifest relic of the shenanigans that characterized the vile years would confound even the most charitable. Not least to condemn the intrigues that then held sway are its very perpetrators. Now reformed, as they profess, they are presumably, more astute and likelier to align with rather than discount the feat of those seemingly buoyed by definitive change headwinds behind which most rally.
Oloja is going to attend an important meeting set up by representatives of all communities at an earlier meeting. He is now quite optimistic that an agreement is close, that is, on his own terms. Yet, there is in fact much to show for the invalidity of his approach, which many on his side still do not endorse.
They argue that happenstance could not account for the changes. This is despite the lack of scientific proof of the alleged correction by the fish of the havoc the established practice wrecks. He tells his friend, Amana, who plans to observe the deliberations from the town hall gallery, to expect verbal fireworks before the ballot, apparently to stress the futility working things out with the highlanders. She says she expects reason to prevail.
When it turns out that there would not even be a debate as the chair announces the meeting’s annulment due to lack of quorum, the prospects of harmony amongst the communities appear elusive as ever.
“We were both wrong.” Oloja laments on their way back. Amana simply chortles. He lauds the scheme that Amana formulates about which though he and his deputy have reservation. With their reason based on the dream Amana claims is ample legitimacy being for them fancy, that the scheme now seems to work, explains his contrition.
“You did not understand perhaps is more apt.” Amana, her brand modesty on display, diffuses the tension her friend effuses. “It’s really sad, Amana.” Oloja is a long-term proponent of what he argues is the answer to the rampant tinkering with nature by the other communities in the plains. He blames this for everything from the perennial poor harvests to periodic pervasive strange ailments. Yet, he privately admits his part in it.
Amana on the other hand believes the dam is necessary for all the communities to thrive let alone prosper even though she is from Oloja’s. Known for her professed séances, for which many consider her eccentric, she refuses to reveal which spirit tells her to follow her dream, except to insist on the esteem it enjoyed when alive, which earns her proposal instant tribute by even some of her fiercest critics.
Now that the plains are fertile once more, the highlanders loathe that they are regressing, and apparently Amana. They openly yearn for the lush terrain they behold below. They admit that their savage plundering of lumber from the lowland over the years in cross-communal trade changed its ecology. They argue that the dam makes up for all that. But they do not buy the idea that an army of tiny fish only seen in the river since Amana talks about her dream is their salvation. They contend that their problem is flooding, not jellyfish.
For years, the plains and hills languished steadily depleted of whatever they offered to outsiders, both communities avowed to disengage from each other in every respect.
“I’m sorry I gave in then, but we needed them. We made money from the lumber.” Oloja’s downcast bearing is instructive.
“We did but they need us now.”
“You are not going to convince them about it, Amana.”
“That their communities could be gone in a decade?”
“No, but not that the fish would save them.”
“But they devour the jellies.”
“You worry too much, Amana. We are ok now. Our farms are flourishing once again. We also have some fish now.”
Amana takes a sideways peep at her friend and smiles. “But they have no fish to sell, or even eat, and no farms. We’ll all go down together, eventually,” she says, moments later, apparently to move Oloja’s view toward hers.
Jellyfish abound in the river, ever more as they exterminate other fish in large numbers. Amana travels to a secret place to import the tiny fish revealed in her dream that seem as an army able to stand up to the jellies, enveloping and gobbling them. She fought for the dam, and wants to do the same for the fish, although no one in authority seems to be listening this time.
Some highlanders even accuse her of introducing the jellyfish into the river that floods villages and farms, compounding their problems. However, many villagers have asked her for help since fish began thriving in parts of the highland again. The authorities remain adamant. They seem keener to re-channel the river upstream to stop flooding, but with reduced flow through the dam, crops would again fail downstream most lowlanders contend.
Oloja is not convinced resolute his people would survive even with the reduced output from the dam. Just a mile away from their village, he suddenly slows.
“Are you ok?”
“No, I feel faint.” Moments later, he slumps, moaning. Help soon arrives. They take him home. Amana finds a spot on his left heel. It is red and blood-tinged.
“You were stung, Oloja.”
“Stung?”
“Yes, by the jellies.”
Oloja recovers over time. With the jellies now evidently in the lowland ravine they waded through a half hour earlier on their way home, he is likely to now know why both communities need each other, and Amana. Indeed, not long after, an emissary brings notice of the rescheduled meeting, Amana’s invitation to which he apparently does not need to decide to attend as he promptly signs up. So does Amana.
