Ben Okri - The Famished Road

One night she appeared to me in my sleep and begged me to give her some of my youth.

‘Why?’ I asked.

And she replied:

‘I amtwo hundred years old and unless I get your youngblood I willdiesoon.’

Her enormous spirit lowered over me. Her spirit was about to swallow me up completely, when agreat lion roared fromabove, quakingthehouse, and drivingher spirit away. Then I realised that new forces werebeingborn to match thedemands of the age. Leopards and lions of the spirit world, dragons of justice, winged tigers of truth, fierce animals of the divine, forces that swirl in the midst of inexorable hurricanes, they too restore balances and feed on the chimeras and vile intentions of the open air; and with every monstrous breath exhaled, for every blast of wind from evil wings, and for every power on the sides of those that feed on the earth’s blood, a fabulousangelisborn;andIsawanangelflyingoverourroofonthethirdday of Dad’s sleep. It went past and the wind quietened and strange trees cracked in the forestandinthemorningtherainstopped,thefloodsofwatersankmysteriously into thesecretsoftheabsorbentearth.Mumwentup anddownthestreetshawkingand sold off allher provisions and shekept findingpound notes floatingon thedazzling waters and it seemed that the air had been cleared. But that morning I saw the first intimations; they were not intimations of a new season of calm, but of a cycle coming to an end. And how was I to know that it would be the beggars who would represent thefirst sign, with their expectancy, their air of peopleawaitingtheword of a Messiah’s birth, when in fact all they were waiting for was an omen to inform them that the time for their departure had arrived.

For in the evenings, as Mum prepared food, the fevers of the rally and its whispers of alongcurfew weregathering. Then oneevening, under thespellof incenseand prayers and mosquito-coil smoke, under the holes of our roof, with the multiplied bugs on the floor, and with the room invaded by the green moths that understood the transformativeproperties of fire, offeringthemselves as willingsacrificialvictims, Dad woke suddenly, he awoke powerfully, he rose from the bed as from death. His wounds had healed, his spirit had sharpened, his despair was deeper, he was a bigger man with a bigger madness. He got up and sat on his chair. And while the candles fluttered and burned brighter for the air that his sleep no longer deprived them of, Dad with his new deep sad voice began to speak to us. He spoke as if he hadn’t been away. He spoke as if he hadn’t made great journeys in spirit. And he spoke with the great enthusiasticinnocenceof arecuperatingman.

‘My wife and my son, listen to me. In my sleep I saw many wonderful things. Our ancestors taught me many philosophies. My father, Priest of Roads, appeared to me and said I should keep my door open. My heart must be open. My life must be open. Our road must be open. A road that is open is never hungry. Strange times are coming.’

‘What about thieves?’ I asked.

‘Shut up, Azaro. We are protected, you hear. We are fortified against invaders and wicked people. Nothingevilwillenter our lives.’

He paused, creaked his bones, and continued.

‘A single thought of ours could change the universe. We human beings are small things. Life is a great thing. As I am talking now they are holding elections in heaven and under the sea. We have entered a new age. We must be prepared. There are strangebombs in theworld. Great powers in spacearefightingto controlour destiny. Machines and poisons and selfish dreams will eat us up. I entered a space ship and found myself on another planet. People who look like human beings are not human beings. Strange people are amongst us. We must be careful. Our lives are changing. Our gods are silent. Our ancestors are silent. A great something is going to come from the sky and change the face of the earth. We must take an interest in politics. We must becomespies on behalf of justice. Human beings aredreamingof wipingout their fellow human beings from this earth. Rats and frogs understand their destiny. Why not man, eh? My wife, my son, where are we going? There is no rest for the soul. God is hungry for us to grow. When you look around and you see empty spaces, beware. In thosespaces arecities, invisiblecivilisations, futurehistories, everythingis HERE. We must look at the world with new eyes. We must look at ourselves differently. We are freer than we think. We haven’t begun to live yet. The man whose light has come on in his head, in his dormant sun, can never be kept down or defeated. We can redream this world and make the dream real. Human beings are gods hidden from themselves. My son, our hunger can change the world, make it better, sweeter. People who use only their eyes do not SEE. People who use only their ears do not HEAR. It is more difficult to love than to die. It is not death that human beings are most afraid of, it is love. The heart is bigger than a mountain. One human life is deeper than the ocean. Strange fishes and sea-monsters and mighty plants live in the rock-bed of our spirits. The whole of human history is an undiscovered continent deep in our souls. There are dolphins, plants that dream, magic birds inside us. The sky is inside us. The earth is in us. The trees of the forest, the animals of the bushes, tortoises, birds, and flowers know our future. The world that we see and the world that is there are two different things. Wars are not fought on battlegrounds but in a space smaller than the head of a needle. We need a new language to talk to one another. Inside a cat there are many histories, many books. When you look into the eyes of dogs strange fishes swim in your mind. All roads lead to death, but some roads lead to things which can never be finished. Wonderful things. There are human beings who are small but if you can SEE you will notice that their spirits are ten thousand feet wide. In my dream I met a child sittingon acloud and his spirit covered half theearth. Angels and demons are amongst us; they take many forms. They can enter us and dwell there for one second or half a lifetime. Sometimes both of them dwell in us together. Before everything was born there was first the spirit. It is the spirit which invites things in, good things, or bad. Invite only good things, my son. Listen to the spirit of things. To your own spirit. Follow it. Master it. So longas wearealive, so longas wefeel, so longas we love,everythinginusisanenergy wecanuse.Thereisastillnesswhichmakesyou travel faster. There is a silence which makes you fly. If your heart is a friend of Time nothingcandestroy you.Deathhastaughtmethereligionofliving -Iamconverted

– Iamblinded-Iambeginningtosee-Iamdrunkonsleep -My wordsarethe words of a stranger – Wear a smile on your faces – Pour me some wine and buy me some cigarettes, my son, for your father has returned to his true home.’

There was a long silence as we swam around in the strange currents of Dad’s words.AfteralongwhileMumgavemesomemoney andIrushedouttobuy himthe ogogoro and cigarettes. The beggars followed me half-way back on my return journey. There were spaces full of green moths in the air. The lights over our lives had changed. A deeper tint of indigo had coloured the clouds. I passed through a floating island of sepia midges. When I got to our room a lizard with a lavender tail scurried in after me. I was about to chase it out when Dad said:

‘All creatures must be treated with respect from now on. If you want the lizard out command it to go and it will go. We must use our powers wisely. We must not become tyrants, you hear?’

I nodded. Then Dad got up from his chair and in a high-pitched, almost comical, voice, he said:

‘Mr. Lizard, where are you? Out! Leave this room and go somewhere else. Now!’

We watched the floor. There was no movement. Mum sighed. Dad didn’t repeat his order. He sat back down on the chair. We sat in silence. Then, after a while, the lizard came out from under the cupboard, nodded three times, and fled from the room. There was a very long silence. Dad did not acknowledge the event. He reached out his hands and I gave him the cigarettes and the bottle of ogogoro, transparent with its bubbling acrid dreams. Dad drank in peace. He smoked quietly. We watched him in silent wonderment, as if an alien had entered his body.