Necrosis

Pale and sickly she lay, her grandmother applying a cold compress to her burning forehead.

“You are young, cheru” her grandmother said, “and your body is ready to fight; if we old people get sick, no, papapa…but you will be back on your feet soon.”

“I feel like I’m dying the”, the girl mumbled feebly.

“Eh! Again the same nonsense you say child! The will to live is what will speed up your recovery, so don’t say all this rubbish! Anyway, the doctor is on his way today.”

“Water, grandma.” She had been ill three days now.

“Children nowadays,” the old lady clucked as she hobbled towards the kitchen, “why, I can barely see, but with these meagre inlets of light I can fight a buffalo!”

Three days ago the young girl had woken up feeling drained. When she fainted while washing the clothes, her grandmother had put it down to the illnesses that adolescent girls suffer from, and told her to get a days rest. But the next morning when she woke up feeling worse than before and with a temperature higher than normal, her grandmother quizzed her to determine what could be ailing the girl.

“What have you been eating? When did you take a bath? How long were you in the sun?”

There was nothing in the girl’s answers that could diagnose her fever. So her grandmother decided to administer general medication. Various herbs with known healing properties were ground with a mortar and pestle and the resulting paste was included in the girl’s diet.

The next morning she could not get out of bed. Her body ached, her arms and legs were limp, her eyes sunken. She had no appetite and refused the porridge her grandmother had made for her, claiming the very sight of food would make her nauseous.

“We must call a doctor!” the old lady told her son, the girl’s father. Fourteen years ago, his wife had died giving birth to their only daughter. He had been a depressed man with a melancholy humour since that day. If it were not for his mother, obstinate in her old age, the house would have fallen apart. It was she who decided the daily routines and delegated household tasks among the three of them.

“But, it will take a whole day, ma” he groaned. They lived in a small village that was mostly self-sufficient. People were born here, lived their hard, simple lives here and eventually died comfortably when their time had come. It was a quiet and boring village where nothing eventful ever happened.

“That is why you must set off today, so that you can be back tomorrow, before the sun sets.” The old lady responded.

“But, it’s only a fever, why are you so worried? Children get sick you know.”

“And I know that as well, but I can see no reason for the child’s illness, and my usual medicines are not working. Also she looks frighteningly weak. Did you see her this morning? Her skin looks sick and wrinkled as if the flesh has gone. Poor cheru, papapa….now go! I’ve made some food for you to take also.”

What else could he do? Taking the food his mother had prepared for the arduous journey, he wrapped it in some leaves and cloth, tucked some money into his garments and headed out. If he was lucky he would find a bullock-cart or perhaps even a caravan, on the road a few miles away. If he did he wouldn’t have to walk all the way to the town.

The girl had fallen into a stupour when she had returned with the glass of water, so she dabbed some water on the child’s lips with her fingers. The girl’s lips moved slowly, taking in the moisture, or perhaps she was trying to say something, or maybe she was just dreaming.

“Don’t worry my little cheru,” the old lady said, lovingly stroking her frail granddaughter’s hair, “papa’s getting the doctor, they must be on their way right now even. They’ll be here in a few hours.”

Her grandmother looked out of the window, the sun was low in the sky, the girl’s father would return with the doctor any time now. She had been frightened by what the girl had told her the previous day. Those dreams of death and sacrifices and blood and life that her granddaughter had drowsily recounted were what had prompted her to send for a doctor. Or should she have sent for a priest? Could someone have put a curse on the child? But who would want to harm this sweet little thing? Everyone in the village looked kindly upon her – this hardworking and innocent, motherless child. But let us wait for the doctor first. Despite her old age the grandmother still had a stronger faith in tangible science than in the rituals of god.

When she came back into the room an hour later the girl was still asleep. Her fingers twitched slightly. The bones in her arms could be seen. She had been a healthy girl, never had a major medical complaint before. Now she had lost so much weight that she looked hauntingly corpse-like. Her eyes were shut in a placid sleep and the dark circles around them made her look aged and tired.

They old woman felt her forehead, the fever seemed to have come down. She would get well soon now. But where was her son and the doctor? A doctor’s wisdom is always more reassuring than one’s own medical conclusions. The girl would need lots of rest and a good diet to get her back to her earlier fitness, and the doctor would most probably prescribe some medicines to aid her progress.

The old lady went to prepare some dinner for the doctor, who would no doubt be exhausted and hungry from the journey. The sky was a deep red, the colour of blood that had coagulated.

Having finished her cooking she came back to check on her daughter, muttering about her son’s lack of motivation in anything he did. There was a strange smell in the room, she could not place it, but it had an acrid sense to it. Her heart skipped her beat – the child! Had something happened to her little cheru? She leaped towards the bed. The once pretty girl now looked old and haggard, but she was still breathing, her chest heaved slowly and sometimes jerkily.

“Oh, cheru…what is wrong with you darling?” She could detect the odour emanating from the sleeping child’s skin. It wasn’t a putrid smell, but it wasn’t fragrant either. She rubbed the girl’s neck, there was a sticky moisture that clung to her skin.

Getting up on her creaking joints, she hurried off to the kitchen and heated some water with fragrant spices. “What diseases we have nowadays and my poor, poor cheru has to get them.” She said, running back to the girl’s bedside.

With a cloth dipped in the hot water she rubbed the pale, lifeless skin of her granddaughter. The girl seemed to breathe a little better now. She undressed the girl and continued to bathe her with the damp cloth. As she moved down to the girl’s stomach she dropped the cloth with a start. There were drops of viscous, dark brown liquid just below her navel. No, it wasn’t blood. The old woman was relieved for a moment. She wiped the liquid off with the cloth to reveal a row of tiny puncture marks on the girls abdomen. What was this? She pressed her granddaughter below her belly where the marks were, a few more drops oozed out and then stopped. A watery residue followed and then nothing more came out. The old lady was sure it was not blood. She wiped off the rest of the substance and looked closely at the marks. What were they? Had something bitten her? They looked like insect bites.

She lifted the girl up with ease in spite of her age, for the child had lost so much weight that her body was very light. She checked the bed sheets for bugs! Her clothes, under the bed, the mattress - nothing!

As the night grew darker, the old lady fell into an uneasy sleep at her child’s bedside, still wondering what could possibly be wrong. She could not understand why the girl was sick, nor what the marks were or where this strange liquid had come from. And why had her son not returned? All these thoughts formed a haze around her and caused her to dream strange things.

As she slumbered her granddaughter moaned softly. The rest of the creature continued to slither in through the window even as it attached itself to the girl’s abdomen.

“Cheru? Cheru?” The old woman was still disoriented as shook the sleep from her eyes. She had felt something. Her dulled eyes could not make out what she saw, but she was sure that she had seen something move. She looked at the girl’s face, she looked peaceful in her sleep, happy almost. She felt around there was nothing. She pressed the girl’s forehead, the fever was gone, and she seemed a little cold, but she was breathing normally.

She was woken up the next morning by someone at the door. It was her son with a handsome young man.

“Oh thank god you’ve come” said the old lady. She looked disheveled and frightening. “ I don’t know what’s happened to that child, but I’m glad you made it. Come in, come in.”

The doctor examined the girl in her room, while the old lady prepared breakfast as she recounted to her son how terrible his daughter had looked the evening before and how strange the night had been.

The doctor walked into the kitchen as the old lady laid out the food on the table. “The child is perfectly fine” he announced.

“That’s great news” the man said, and to his mother “see, I told you she’d be fine.”

The doctor continued, “she doesn’t even seem like she was ever ill!”

“But what about the marks?” the old woman cried.

“What marks?” asked the doctor.

The old lady led him into the room and screamed when she saw the girl sitting comfortably on the bed.

“What happened grandma?” the girl asked smiling.

The old lady lifted up the girl’s dress to point out some marks that didn’t exist. The doctor and her son exchanged glances.

“I’m feeling fine grandma” the girl said, still smiling.

“But…but…she was almost dead last night, and there were these marks on her stomach, with a brown, sticky, bad smelling liquid…”

Later as the doctor prepared to leave he took the girl’s father aside and told him “you have a beautiful, healthy daughter, but I’d be worried about your mother – I think she’s getting senile!”