Celena's Burden (Summer 2007 release)

Celena’s Burden©9/2006
Prologue

“I won’t cry out; I will hold this pain and remember it. They can’t take it away from me, I won’t let them.” Gritting her teeth with each mountainous wave of pain she clinched her fist tighter turning her knuckles white. Blood trickled from her palms as each finger tried to close tighter, forcing her nails to cut through skin. Determined not to moan giving witness to her pain, Celena repeated the words again to herself.
“She must drink to ease the pain, make her drink.”
“I have tried but she holds her lips tight and turns her head. She want to feel it all, she enjoy the hurt.”
“Stupid child, it will go easier for her. Maybe she punishes herself for what she done.”
“The Chief waits for word, she must hurry.”
“Bring her to me.” The old woman’s voice frightened Celena; she was scared of this woman who sat watching her from a stool. The one everyone believed cured all, the one they called Awatti meaning thrown away.
“Squat at my knees child.” Celena had seen a birthing once when she was a little girl, the mother was having a difficult time and Awatti was there. She remembered how the woman sat.
“Turn her back towards me. Put your elbows on my thighs.”
Celena placed her forearms on the the large thighs of Awatti, gripping the old womans knees for support. With her legs wide and her feet firmly pressed into the soft dirt floor, she bent her knees and lowered her hips closer to the floor. Awatti placed her arms through Celena’s underarms resting both hands on the top of her protruding stomach.
“When I say push, you bare down child you hear?” As Celena’s stomach hardened with the next contraction Awatti slowly moved her hands around its fullness. Reaching the top of the mound she pressed down.
“Push now girl, bare down hard.” Celena pushed as hard as she could. The pressure gave way to searing pain radiating from the top of her navel down through the opening between her legs. Without hesitation, she was hit with another wave of pain and then another. Her young face dripped with sweat, tears of pain streamed down her face but she said nothing.
“This the last one, push hard Gurl.” Awatti pressed deep along the sides of Celena’s stomach. Coercing the one inside to let go of his home.
Unable to hold the pain any longer Celena grunted loudly. It was the only sound she made as the head of her son breech the walls of his mother’s body.
Wrapping the small body in a white cloth, the nurse maid turned to give Celena her son.
“No! bring him to me.” Standing at the entrance of the hut was the leader of the tribe, Yohance, Celena’s father. His tall dark frame towered over the room. His height gave witness to his maternal Watutsi heritage. Celena was the oldest of his children and was promised in marriage at birth to Peponi, a young prince in the neighboring village. This marriage was to bring an alliance between the two tribes. How was her father to explain his daughter’s disgrace when she refused to name the father of the child or the circumstances involved in the conception? He had not looked upon Celena for several months, moving her instead to the remote area of their land to stay with his sister.
Swiftly walking toward the door, the maid bowed her head and placed the baby in the arms of his grandfather.
Celena looked on with wide tear filled eyes trying to anticipate her father’s next move. She convinced herself that once he saw the baby and that if it were a boy, things between them would be good again. Her father adored her and doted on her more than the other children.
Looking down into the soft bundle he held in one arm, Yohance slowly covered the face of the infant with his large hand, placing the palm of his hand over his nose and mouth until all was still.