They say that in the life of the animator, we don’t truly begin living till the day we are chosen. I’ll begin my story around then, then. I lived in the small village called Tamikere, a tiny speck in the country then called Liberal Leonce. I had recently turned twelve, just a few days - perhaps a week - back. That one year between being a child and being an adolescent. In truth, there was hardly such a thing as childhood in our nation, and if there is, it ends at three years old when we are taken from our parents.
I lay flat on my belly in the forest that surrounds the village of Babametu, three villages down from our own. Uncle Moba, not much taller than me, and with the fit body of a man whose practiced hard labor for the last thirty years …show more content…
I don’t quite know the relation, I only know that at the age of three I was given in to his possession along with many of my cousins before, and many that will come after me. And I also know that I’ve come to call him Uncle Moba as he instructed me to from an early age.
Many more of our villagers lay low in the forest with spears and sharpened machetes in hand watching the village of Babametu very carefully.
We had not reached our village quota for mining the ground stones the Swuls demanded of us as regular payment, and so we had to turn to our only other recourse, taking from the other villages so that they may face the consequences for our …show more content…
In the flow of his run, he reached down into the hard village ground and pulled out a large shaft, newly-formed and at the end of that shaft came a hammer’s head. No one else in the village saw, Moba was always careful, always vigilant, always aware as to who was watching him. Even if they could see him, they wouldn’t understand. Moba was the only animator within our village for all animators lived in the military capital, Gomb, with very few exceptions. Moba was one of those exceptions, the only difference between him and the others was that the Swuls did not know he was an
I lay flat on my belly in the forest that surrounds the village of Babametu, three villages down from our own. Uncle Moba, not much taller than me, and with the fit body of a man whose practiced hard labor for the last thirty years …show more content…
I don’t quite know the relation, I only know that at the age of three I was given in to his possession along with many of my cousins before, and many that will come after me. And I also know that I’ve come to call him Uncle Moba as he instructed me to from an early age.
Many more of our villagers lay low in the forest with spears and sharpened machetes in hand watching the village of Babametu very carefully.
We had not reached our village quota for mining the ground stones the Swuls demanded of us as regular payment, and so we had to turn to our only other recourse, taking from the other villages so that they may face the consequences for our …show more content…
In the flow of his run, he reached down into the hard village ground and pulled out a large shaft, newly-formed and at the end of that shaft came a hammer’s head. No one else in the village saw, Moba was always careful, always vigilant, always aware as to who was watching him. Even if they could see him, they wouldn’t understand. Moba was the only animator within our village for all animators lived in the military capital, Gomb, with very few exceptions. Moba was one of those exceptions, the only difference between him and the others was that the Swuls did not know he was an