The
farm on the red hill was a most dangerous thirty-acre place, and,
paradoxically, because of the danger, it was farmed reasonably safely
and profitably.
The
farm was in a part of sub-tropical Africa where one of the natural
and everlasting dangers forever is and will forever be, poisonous
snakes.
Originally,
up to the end of the eighteenth century, the thirty acres were
situated far away from the nearest human community. By the time of
this story, the middle of the twentieth century, human civilization
had encroached to be contiguously on the west and south of the farm.
The
only reason civilization had come to a halt in its spread, was the
stone desert that continuously covered the surface in the west and
south. That stone desert was a veritable hell.
The
sub-tropical sun shone on it every day, weirdly, even when the rest
of the farm was being drenched in rain storms. From late morning to
nearly midnight every day and night, the temperature was in the
hundreds of degrees. In the day, the heat waves drifting up from the
stone surface, were visible; and if they were entered, they instantly
scorched the skin into burn blisters. At night, although not visible,
the heat waves were only negligibly less scalding.
There
was benefit from this naturally provided hellish heat. The stone
desert guaranteed the farm safety from the criminal-infested ghettos
that human civilization had brought to the west and south areas of
the farm.
Law
Enforcement officials removed corpses from the desert a few times a
month, of persons who had attempted to cross the desert in the heat,
from the ghettos to the farm, with, undoubtedly, criminal intent.
Such removals were executed in the early hours of dawn, because that
was when the sun's heat abated to tolerable levels.
Why
had such a forbidding place begun as a farm, in the first place?
The
British Empire occupied parts of India and Africa. In the nineteenth
century, the British authorities in India offered poverty-doomed
peasants the opportunity to serve five-year indentureships for pay in
parts of Africa. As further incentive, the offer included the options
of a free award of land in Africa after the five years to remain
permanently in Africa as a free citizen, or a paid return trip to
India, or a renewal of the five-year indentureship.
The
thirty acres on the red hill was the land grant requested at the end
of an indentureship by an Indian citizen who freely chosen to become
an African citizen.. The British authorities, fully aware of the evil
stone desert, tried to dissuade the citizen. When he persisted, they
moved to disallow the request. When he explained his reason for the
request, they felt they had no authority to deny him.
His
explanation was that he was Hindu, and that by a dream, he was led to
that stone desert where he found a clear sign the Hindu Gods had
chosen him to own those thirty acres.
The
sign was a metal rod; its one end buried deep into the stone; its
other end sticking out a few inches. The British authorities, in
their attempts at dissuasion and discouragement, tried to, either,
remove the rod, or to break it, or to bend it flat against the stone
surface. They failed in every attempt.
That
Hindu farmer believed the Gods required him to farm that red hill for
as long as that metal rod was visible above the stone surface.
The
presence of poisonous snakes in the northern and eastern quadrants of
the farm kept the farm free of human intruders spilling over from
allegedly advanced Civilizations advancing from those directions.
Rarely had snakes to go to the extent of biting intruders.
Cobras,
especially, had only to rare themselves on their tails up a few feet,
and display their spectacular hoods to maximum spread. Intruders fled
in mind-threatening fear, never to return.
The
farmer himself, in careless moments, was chased by large serpents
running upright on their minimally-bent tails. So far, he had never
been bitten. Thank the Hindu Gods!
Another
miracle of the farm on red hill, was the fresh-water spring. Only
after the farmer had taken ownership, did the spring appear. A
sinkhole formed at a far end opposite to the stone desert. A spring
gushed up water in the hole to form a small lake. From the lake
flowed a stream to the edge of the stone where the stream
disappeared, sinking into the earth.
The
stream provided water for the fruit and vegetable crops cultivated by
the farmer, for himself and for sale at the marketplaces beyond the
farm.
Why
was the soil red throughout the farm?
The
simple answer by science is that the redness comes from the
predominant presence of the iron oxide mineral, which is harmless to
life.
The
Hindu farmer's explanation was that the red was the blood that was
being shed in a war being waged in another parallel living Dimension.
The metal rod had been inserted by the Gods to safeguard our Earth
Dimension from that other warring Dimension spilling onto us. When
the battle ends in that other parallel Dimension, the Gods will
remove the rod.
My
connection to the farm on the red hill was my Grampa. His parents had
been indentured labourers from India. After their five-year contract
had expired, they returned to India. My Grampa was born in British
Africa. By the time his parents left Africa, he was married, with
children.
The
name of the Hindu farmer who owned the farm on the red hill, was
Runth. He had emigrated from India as an indentured labourer in the
company of Grampa's parents. Grampa took me to spend time on the farm
on the red hill on a few Sundays when I was a child. He cautioned me
that, because we were strangers on that farm, to never step onto any
part of that stone desert in order to remain beyond the reach of
whichever Hindu Gods owned that metal rod. Grampa did not explain why
those Hindu Gods would take an interest in a stranger; and since as a
child I was already trembling scared about being taken interest in by
Hindu Gods, about whom at that time I knew absolutely nothing, I did
not ask Grampa to explain.
Runth
had never married. He said he had thought, always, it had been his
decision. But after he was visited by the Gods in his dream, he
believed it had been the will of the Gods, from the beginning. When
Grampa was on his deathbed in 1949, Runth and I were at his bedside.
Grampa's last words were to Runth.
When
Granny asked Runth what Grampa had said to him, Runth said Grampa was
speaking a language Runth did not know.
Eighteen
years after Grampa died, I emigrated. In those eighteen years, I had
never heard about the farm on that red hill. I have not made an
attempt to know, mainly in order to remain beyond the reach of the
owners of that metal rod sticking out of that stone desert.
