Zulu knew his handicap could be extremely cruel at the most inopportune times.  He had learned to walk away from thoughts that caused the pain, and anger, the conflict, and tears;  too much trouble for his young mind to deal with.  That had been when he was younger, and he was older now, more assure of himself.

        "Helloooooooo?" Zulu shouted.  No response, sucking his teeth.  

        "May be it was just the wind," he told himself, slowly backing up to the mud of the embankment.  He knew how wind sounded, and he knew how trees blew in the wind.  And the waterfall had never remained quiet.  He simply said no to himself before his mind began to wander too far off into a scary situation.  After all, it was dark, and he was a young child in a big forest, and he was alone.  He had not even taken into account that he was also blind.  Backing all the way up, he felt the slight tilt of the crab bucket.  

        "Crabs," he thought excitedly to himself, turning around to face the bucket, and its contents.  Reaching out with his hand, Zulu tapped the amber staff.

        "Perfect."  His brief back, and forth walk had kept him directly on course.  He had become much better now walking to a direct point in his mind where he had placed his things.  The real test would come on his trip back home.  He would use the staff along the trail until he crossed a point that he had already traced mentally.  That way, if he did get lost or lose track of his trail, at worst he would end up at a house that knew him.  At best, he would end up somewhere in his backyard.  

        The crab shook, and scratched violently in the bottom of the bucket.  Now how would he check to see if it actually was a crab, he thought.  What if it wasn't a crab, but some type of ravenous beast that he had snared by accident, and the beast ate his finger off.  He had not thought of that.  So many responsibilities if he was to be on his own, but then that's what the while crabbing experience was for.  He just hoped that if the beast did bite his finger off, he could make it home before he died, looking down at whatever was making the noise.  

        Breathing in nervously, Zulu squatted into a comfortable position on his heels.  He noticed his boots weighed heavy to the ground, pulled down by the extra weight of the mud.  The young child allowed the baited string to hang loosely across his arm.  He was ready as he remembered he should've brought gloves, seeing the thick gloves that lay haplessly in the bottom drawer of his dresser.  He thought he was, but now he knew that he had not come prepared even to at least protect himself, gripping the rim of the bucket, and shaking its contents.  There was the sound of the baited meat sliding, but there was also the sound of something else.  

        Nervously reaching into the bottom of the bucket, his motions were slow, and steady as the scattering noise raced to a corner becoming silent.  The silence of the crab amplified the silence of the night.  Everything appeared in the mind of the young child as the his hands steadied toward the mystery at the bottom of the bucket.  The stars shined.  The moon shined.  The waterfall eased the confusion as his hands eased in motion in nervousness.  Zulu figured he might have to be bitten at least once or twice before he could handle the crab, even if it actually was a crab.  He hoped that if he was bitten, that it wouldn't hurt or that he wouldn't cry.  Maybe it would feel like a bee sting, and hopefully not like a wasp sting, having been stung by both.  A bee sting had only tickled behind the neck, but the wasp sting had been dangerously serious .  .  .  .

        Lisa eased closer to the wasp nest, no longer describing the appearance, and coloration of the giant flying soldier's habitation to her cousin.  Zulu continued to listen, concentrating, and seeing the only way he could; with his mind.  He tried to picture the shape of a wasp.  Dark, and dirty in color.  Frightening, and evil, she had said.

        "They just look frightening, and evil, Zu.  Except with wings that are tiny, like your brain."  Lisa laughed sneaky like.  Zulu didn't care when other children teased him about his blindness.  He knew before he really knew that he would have to deal with the not understanding ignorance that came with his handicap.  It hurt somewhere deep inside where he would occasionally stop, and play with the knots in his shoe strings or think or have a double scoop of ice cream or think or have a giant glass of water or think or look at the darkness of what his eyes allowed him to see or think.  He had learned to leave it alone, and to not ignore, but to be able to see the pain in their laughter.  But his mind was on equal playing grounds, and he would probably never be able to accept that someone with the same brain he had knew how to use it better than him, especially some girl.  More particularly, his loud mouth, foul mouth, always fighting, always crying, always getting in trouble, cousin Lisa.  Zulu sucked his teeth at the last comment.  Ignoring her this time, he concentrated more on the picture of the wasp, and how they looked.  Were they small like a bee?  Did they like honey?  What did their home look like?  How did their eyes look?

        "They can fly?" becoming excited.

        "Yeah, stupid."  Zulu could hear Lisa's feet sink deeper into the mudded creek.  The creek was in the middle of their neighborhood, but upon actually entering the swampy patch, passing through the brief growth of bamboo trees, down the river path, up into the head high stalks of grass, as a child imaging, one would believe they were countries away from any type of city life.  They were in the wild.  Survival.  Nature was just cool like that, the staff held firmly in his hand; the lion, the hyena, the queen.  He was in the jungle.  

        "Zu," Lisa whispered.  "You can take a few more steps forward, and watch your feet.  The mud sinks deeper as you move closer to the nest."

        "Do you see them?  Do you see them?"  First the silence, then the heavy breathing of his cousin.  Was she playing with him again?  For a brief moment in the maze of the darkness of the darkness, Zulu became lost.  Where was he?  He couldn't see.  He only heard darkness all around him.  His thoughts had become stagnant, and unfocused in his curiosity to learn something new.  His breathing picked up quicker.  He felt a panicked of thoughts.  He wanted to scream for his cousin, but he didn't know how to speak.  How words even formed to create a sound.  This was the first time this had ever happened, to be lost in the mind of thought.  Scary.  He had nothing to grab onto mentally.  Not a word.  Not a sound.  Not a sign.  Nothing.

        Zulu's eyes fluttered back, and forth rapidly as his brain reached through the madness for something, anything, solid in imagination that he knew, that he understood.  His feet remained firmly planted in the mud, but he remained free floating in his mind.  He was seriously lost; a ship not anchored in the waves of the water.  

        "Zulu!"  The voice didn't sound familiar.  Only the appearance of the name caused the easing of the breath.  The darkness moved.

        "Zulu!"  Again Lisa shouted, shaking her cousin from his trance.  

        "Wake up!"  Lisa stared at her cousin.  She teased, and picked him, but she loved him, and knew to be young, and blind was an extremely serious life to live.  She was a year older, and a couple of inches bigger, and even though they went to different schools, she still felt like she was the protector of the two.  Plus, she knew that if anything happened to either one of them, she would catch the full blame.  Grabbing him by the shoulders firmly, she shook him again.  Even in the mud, she stood atop of her cousin with the top of his head marking just below her forehead.  Lisa was not only big for a girl, but she was big for her age.  The mud sucked in sound under the pressure of her sneakers.  She knew she would be yelled at for the mud on her new shoes, but she would just have to worry about that later.  

        "Zulu!"  This time screaming in his face.  He inhaled deeply, the musk of the swamp water filling his lungs.  His face pulled up slowly showing the beauty of his eyes.  Behind the sinister of the deadly stare, the pearl discoloration laid the visions of a lifetime, but somewhere between behind the eyes and sight, the ability to see was lost.  Zulu stared blindly into the face of his cousin.  She loved it when he didn't wear his shades as if he could see.

        They just knew that one day while they were together without the shades, his sight would come to him.  Not really a fantasy, but a reality that they wanted to believe.

        "Zu, I believe the eye shades keep you from seeing, and wanting to see.  You might need that staff to walk when I'm not around, but you don't need those shades to hide the fact that you can't see."  Zulu felt the heat of the sun more directly as Lisa eased the shades from his face.  She shivered at the beauty of the pearl white pupils that laid dormant.  They had a hypnotic effect that just made one want to look into them forever.

        "You have to let the sun see your eyes to.  And I believe, Zu, without the shades, one day you are going to be walking, and poof, your eye sight will just come to you."

        "You sound just like granddaddy.  I'm not stupid, cuz.  My eyesight's not just going to come to me because the sun says so."  Lisa straightened up under the pressure of the tree house swing.  She began to stroke away the rays of heat that smoothed her face.

        "I wish I knew what my cousin looked liked," he thought to himself.  Lisa again stared with amazement at the beauty of her cousin's eyes.  

        "I believe they will come to see, Zu.  I just believe they will."

        "You really think so cuz?  I mean I want to believe.  It's just the worst with this stick, with these shades."  Zulu dropped the wooded staff out the tree house window to the ground below.  Lisa watched the thick staff strike the base of the tree before finally resting in the dirt.

        "I'm blind.  And it sucks.  It's no fun, and this is how it is for the rest of my life."  Lisa began to grow nervous at the seriousness in her cousin's voice.  She had never seen him become so destructive with his staff.  And it was from granddaddy, too.  A scared feeling began to erupt in her stomach.  Maybe she had opened a door she shouldn't have.

        "They say I'm never going to be able to see, cuz.  Never!"  With the exasperation of his last words, Lisa watched Zulu heave the eye shades out the tree top window.  The shades dropped effortlessly, striking the tree house tree, before slamming into the grass at the base of the tree's trunk.  She stared wide mouth in amazement as the glasses snapped in two, bouncing from the tree, landing next to the wooden staff.  As usual, Lisa thought to herself, turning to face the menacing stare of her cousin; the frown, the snarl, the show of teeth, the show of anger, she would be blamed for this one.  After all, he was blind, continuing her stare into the dark tint of pale fury, and blind children didn't cause trouble or create problems, from a parent's point of view, because of their handicap.  They were perfect.  Being blind was totally bad, she concluded to herself.  Both children remained quiet within the space of the tree house, Zulu's actions of frustration capturing both their thoughts.  Lisa's thoughts shifted from the broken glasses to granddaddy, and the staff.

        "Please don;t let the staff be broken too," she thought, "or he might have to take the blame for that one," trying to edge a smile into her strained complexion at the thought of Zulu actually getting in trouble for anything, especially from granddaddy.  His blindness made him safe, and careful at all times.  One mistake or several careless actions could have cousin seriously injured; difficulties in being a child.  Cautious responsibility would have to come naturally, and naturally excluded the irresponsibility of not taking a bath or the foolishness of painting the dog or fighting, and skipping school; all the things she did, and got in trouble for.  Zulu just seemed to pass by the not so memorable experiences that always kept her bottom hot from her parents; a natural at being a young adult.   

        "Cousin," Zulu sliced through the menacing stare.  "Did the staff break?"

        She smiled again, "No, but the glasses did, and I don't know how you're going to explain that one to your parents," nudging him in the side.  

        "I'll think of something though, and it has to be good or my parents will have a fit.  I'm still in hot water over painting the dog."  Zulu walked to the window of the tree house with a smile of laughter.  

        "I didn't tell you to paint the dog.  I told you I wish I knew what your dog looked like," cutting through the concern for his staff. 

        "I hope I didn't break it," he thought.  It was lack of self-control, and frustration in dealing with his blindness.  He would have to learn to discipline himself as his grandfather had told him, and if he didn't learn, then maybe a stranger would teach him.  And a stranger would teach him as a handicap.  

        "I hope it didn't break," he mumbled under the breathing of his thoughts.  He began to hear his cousin struggle down the knotted rope ladder.  The tree house rocked with each dropping sway of her figure.  "Her big tail," he thought, breaking the grip of his frustration, his laughter seeping through the tree house window.  Lisa let go of the knotted rope ladder, landing on her hands, and feet.  She grabbed the wooded staff, staring at the naked woman carved into the grain, blushing silently.  The naked queen was her or at least it looked like her when she was naked in the bathroom or in her bedroom.  But she was in the wide open backyard, the sun shining for everyone to see, and this naked carving was telling the world how she looked when she took off her clothes.  Zulu laughed louder.  Lisa eyed the tree house to her cousin's laughter.  No doubt, he was laughing that she was too big for the tree house, and one day she would make it fall, probably with him in it.  The thought held little weight as Lisa starred down at herself in the carved staff. 

        "Granddaddy might be sick," she thought, making sure her play clothes fit her properly, and completely covered her up.  

        "Maybe granddaddy, and Zulu had a secret that went beyond just his being blind."  Lisa shook off the thought, concluding that they were both crazy.  Granddaddy a little bit more than Zu.  And not a scratch on it, noticing the enticing points of the hyena claws.  It was just as hypnotic as her cousin's eyes.  The laughing continued overhead as she went to pick up the several broken pieces of sunglass, wanting to hurry to make it back up the rope to join in on the laughter even if it was at her expense.  It didn't cost that much.  Maybe a piece of candy or a pack of gum, but for Zu, at her expense was worth it.  And what was worth more than any of that was the face he was going to make when she told him that even though the staff was straight, his glasses were not.  Of course she would have to think of something to relax his nervousness.

        "Beginners blues is all it was," she would tell him.

        "Beginners blues," as the thick set young lady leaped from the base root of the tree to the  knotted rope, impressed at how stronger she was getting in her climb.

        The wobble of the tree house stopped.  Zulu stood, leaning his face out the window.  He loved how the window was built where the leaves from the branches brushed against the face when leaning out.  He often wondered what the birds thought about he, and Lisa having their treetop in the tree with them since he had been told that birds also had homes in trees that were called nests.  He often wondered what the birds called it.  The tree house began to shake again at Lisa's climb up.  Zulu shifted back slightly, catching himself with the flat of his heels, and the window opening. 

        "Cousin," he thought, blowing hot breath out the window, positioning himself, his head and back, directly under the window.

        The tree house continued to shake as Lisa continued her climb from the bottom, the staff tucked tightly down her side pants leg with the broken sun shades in her back pocket.  He would have to remember to ask granddaddy to make sure everything was safe.  

        "I doubt granddaddy had Lisa in mind when he initially started the build on the tree," he thought, breathing out heavy, slumping over on his shoulders and side, his feet in a crossed style position.  Lisa pulled herself up over the ledge of the tree house to eye the young figure slumped over on his side.  She was excited.

        "Zu, I'm getting better with this climb," sliding down the wooded wall, staff in both hands.

        "I can skip the first knots now, and I don't need the last knots to pull myself up."  Lisa stopped the twirling of the staff to place it by her side.  

        "Pretty soon, Zu, I'll be as quick as you," shifting a little in her seated position.  The broken pieces of sunglass sounded out from her back pocket.  "I got some good news, and I got some better news..  The good news is that in your brief anger of throwing your staff out the tree house window, I return it to you with not a scratch or scar .  .  .  . "  Lisa paused to study the details of the staff to continue.

        " .  .  .  . or dent or break in it."  Zulu breathed a sigh of relief.  He would have to be more responsible in his frustration, hating to have tried to lie to his granddaddy or mother or father.  

        "The better news," digging in her back pockets, pulling out the broken pieces of sun shades, "is that you no longer have to wear those stupid shades anymore because for one; your eyes look beautiful just how you are.  There is no reason to hide that, and two, and maybe more important than the first reason, even though the first reason is extremely important."  Zulu hated when she dragged details on, almost as if she was teasing.  

    "And two, because they're broken," wasting no time in continuing to chatter on.

        "Feel them, Zu."  Lisa stood up, walking over to the slumped position.  He had his eyes closed, opening them slowly at the closeness of his cousin's hand.  Lisa juggled the broken pieces.  "Its like six pieces here," weakly lifting his hand to feel the broken glasses.  

        "they really are broke," he thought having paused to stare at his cousin for some sort of explanation that would explain the damage already done.

        "You sure you didn't break them when you sat down?"  The question was more of a joke than a question, but the menacing stare of his eyes made it seem otherwise.  She was use to that by now.  It was still beautiful.

        "Come on, Zu.  You are going to have to think of a better one than that if you plan to hide this from your parents. Who gave you the glasses?"  Zulu handed the broken pieces back to his cousin.

        "Granddaddy."  She could hear the frustration in her cousin's voice.  And she knew why.  Granddaddy might get a little upset, more so of him being careful than of the damage being an accident.  Lisa slumped to the floor, rocking the tree house.  

        "I'll think of something, Zu.  I'll think of something.  You know I always do.  Maybe you can say you accidentally fell from the tree house."  There was a brief pause in thought.

        "Or we can say they smashed on the ground running from Baptist."  Baptist was the neighborhood dog that always remained loose, never got caught by the dog catcher, always turned over trash cans, no one ever fed him yet he stayed fat, and no one, the entire neighborhood included, knew who he belonged to.  He was a big, fat, sloppy, black, and white mutt with sharp teeth, and big feet.  He had got his name, Baptist, after having mysteriously broken into the Baptist butter factory, completely destroying the entire neighborhood grocery supply of butter.  That was the last time he had ever remotely been close to being captured.  

        "Baptist was caught last week."  Zulu had hated to tell Lisa about the capture of their nemesis.  They always fought each other, but whether good or bad, they never got hurt, and they never got caught.  They just stopped for a while.  But at the wrong time, on a wrong day with the wrong person, Baptist would have you looking ridiculous from running up, and down the street from being bitten.  And how could he really run from Baptist.  He had stayed up many late nights thinking about the attack of Baptist.  Not that he would even actually bite, but the look he heard the animal gave you when he trapped you, as described by his cousin.  Zulu even had the pleasure to hear the attack of Baptist with Lisa one afternoon, in the backyard.  She had just exited the back door porch, heading for the tree house.  He had made a lazy attempt to take the breakfast trash, three heavy trash bags total, to the trash cans, climbing up the rope ladder into the tree house.

        Propping the staff up against the wall, Zulu took off his shades to lay on the protection of the wood floor.  It had been a blessing that he had not been attacked first.  Maybe Baptist was blind?  Maybe the animal felt the trash bags were a better prize.  Whatever it was, he didn't know.  He figured it was just one of those blessings.  But as he lay staring blankly into the blindness of his sight, face staring intently at the ceiling, Baptist was on the ground as he listened.

        There was the rustle of the trash cans, the lids slamming loudly to the sidewalk, the trash cans turning on their sides.  Thinking back, and remembering the distinct noises as they stung his ears, the moving picture made sense in his mind.  

        At first, he thought it was Lisa emptying more trash bags, but then she entered into the sound of the picture, slamming the back porch door as usual, singing one of her girly love songs she always pestered him about.

        "So who is that at the trash can?" Zulu wondered, hearing another can flip.  There it was again.

        Her voice traveled in unison with the awkward smash of tin against concrete.  Then there was the sudden stop of the rustling of tin.  The singing continued, a sudden startle, followed by a loud scream pushing itself through the noisy pollution of the backyard concert.

        "Awwwwwwww.  Awwwwwwww."  Silence.

        "Leave me alone.  Zuluuuuuuu."  Lisa sprinted from behind the only tree that stood in the backyard amongst a neighborhood full of trees.  From directly underneath where Zulu was laying, listening inquisitively, the soft muffle of growls could be heard as quick darts in a variety of directions.

        "Awwwwwwww."  Lisa ran around the base of the tree as Baptist squared up his stance to strike again at the chubby fat girl with tears in her eyes.  Her screams turned into desperate pleas of begging to the shaggy rough looking four legged animal.  

        "Please.  Mr. Baptist, sir.  I'm sorry.  I didn't  .  .  .  ."  Baptist charged unconcerned with what the fat girl had to say.  Yet, the animal was too slow as Lisa stutter stepped, faking to the tree, spinning around the charging dog.  She was now in the open clear of the backyard.  She could possibly make it to the gated fence that she saw open or she could try to make it up the back porch steps.  Zulu rose slowly from his laid down position, stretching to is feet.  He thought he had heard his cousin scream or maybe that was a dog growling.

        Baptist, angry that his meal had been interrupted, that his initial chase of this girl had been unsuccessful, and now he had missed on his last charge, curved the corner of the tree in a sliding motion, ripping up the planted grass with his enormous feet.  In silent mode, he figured, he had her trapped against the fence, and the house.  He wasn't going to eat her.  People flesh tasted disgusting.  He just wanted to pay her back for her interrupting his first meal of the day.  And a meal it was.  Half eaten pancakes syruped, heavily soaked through the wheat.  Crisp trash soaked eggs also half eaten.  This family had actually thrown away full pieces of beef sausage links in oatmeal, and his favorite; mounds of butter on wheat bread.  The gate was open.  It's not like he broke into the backyard.  They still wrongly accuse him of breaking into the Baptist butter factory, the names the neighborhood called him.

        "There goes Baptist.  You better watch your trash."

        "There goes Baptist.  Look out, he might chase you, and eat your trash."   

        Baptist began his final charge towards the chubby fat girl in shorts, t-shirt, and corn rolls.  "I like them sneakers," he thought, gaining quickly on her sprint.

        Grabbing the rope ladder, careful not to drop his staff to the ground below, Zulu lowered himself over the entrance edge of the tree house, unaware of the scenario directly below.  His feet securely grabbed around one of the heavy tied knots.

        Lisa's initial start was quick.  She had decided to try the back porch, jumping over the first few steps, while at the same time opening the screen door.  It was going to be close.

        The first few strides seemed to place Lisa directly on top the steps.  She could see her escape, but as her thoughts continued to generate in her head, the back porch seemed to move farther away as if her, and the porch were moving at the same speed, only Baptist was moving a little faster.

        Lisa, well into her third stride, had given ground to Baptist directly on her heels.  She breathed an internal sigh of relief as she cleared the sidewalk that led directly to the back porch steps.  She imagined the musty look on the dog's face; the grimacing snarl, and show teeth.  

        It was her flight over the first two steps of the back porch that she realized she wasn't going to make it.  Her whole demeanor dropped at the terrifying thought of being bitten by Baptist, and it was probably going to hurt.  So she did the only thing she could do with her feet flying through the air, she hollered for her cousin.  "Zuuuluuuuu!"

        It would later be told that she could be heard from blocks away.  Zulu had been almost at the bottom of the rope ladder when the holler of his name caused him to lose his grip, falling the remaining distance.

        It went like this.  There was the awkward holler that sounded like a sick rooster with a bone caught in its throat, followed by a distinct pause in mid air from the lost grip of the rope ladder, followed by a quick drop to the ground; the fall hurting more his head than his body.  Lisa floated through her scream, her feet catching the second step from the back porch.  In one motion, she bounced off the brick, completely clearing the sidewalk, rolling over in the grass in stride, coming up on her feet in a running motion.  The dive, the tumble, and run had been perfect.  Through the noisy rubbing of the back of his head, Zulu could hear the heavy breathing of what sounded like a chubby fat girl being chased by a black, and white heavy haired, heavy pawed dog.  Her only choice was to head for the open gated fence that led up the side of the house into the street.  Then she could head for some high ground or maybe the dog would just give up chase.

        Baptist slid into the bottom back porch step, his paws scraping across the cement with trails of blood following close behind.  The dog watched as Lisa tumbled out of her mid air jump onto her feet, running for the entrance gate of the backyard.  

        Baptist turned through the pain to begin to chase again, positioning himself for a full stride sprint.  By the time he had completely turned around, Lisa had already breezed past the entrance gate, rounding the corner of the three story, and basement house.

        Zulu stood from his fall to catch his breath.  He knew he had heard his cousin's voice.  If she was anywhere near the fall, and had actually seen it, laughter would be next; if she wasn't already laughing, shaking again from his cousin's scream.  But this time it was her mother she was calling for.

        Clear up the side of the house she creamed, "Mommmmmyyyyyy!"  She was almost to the street, and there was a car.  She knew the car.  She would just have to ask for permission to jump on it later.

        Baptist had noticed the pitch change in the holler from the chubby fat girl.  He was used to screams, and this pitch was a little deeper than before.  She was getting away, having misjudged the charge, and chase.  She was clearly up the side of the house, and he could barely see her for the house.  Now at top speed, Baptist saw Zulu pick himself up off the ground.  For a brief second he thought to stop, but no.

        He was already in full stride, his feet hurt, and he knew, "Zulu," striking through the gate fence after the screaming of the chubby fat girl .  .  .  . 

        Lisa's ears perked to attention at the thought of Baptist being captured.  After their first confrontation; the chase, the scare, the embarrassment, she had grown to appreciate the experience.  They had a sort of different type of bond together.  Sort of like she knew he couldn't catch her, and he knew that she couldn't be caught.  So the eye contact was always from across the street.

        "Old mangy mutt," she found herself saying one day, prepared to run at the slightest movement or hint of a charge, as Baptist watched from the protective covering of a shade bush.  Only his eyes, and a spotted black, and white tail could be seen.

        So deep down inside, Lisa wasn't really happy to hear of his capture.  Breaking away from the conversation for an excuse, Lisa continued .  .  .  . page continue