Ukungu Unajifunga Nyuma Yake

Katika alasiri yake ya mwisho, Polly aliruka juu ya pwani tena. Chini yake yalikuwa mashamba ya chai, kreta yenye maziwa yake mawili, na msitu tulivu ambapo priolo bado anaishi. Kutoka huko juu, kisiwa kilionekana kama kilivyo: mnyororo wa volkano kongwe, bado zikipoa polepole na kuwa kijani.

On her last afternoon, Polly flew high above the coast again. Below her lay the tea fields, the crater with its two lakes, and the quiet forest where the priolo still lives. From up there, the island looked like what it is: a chain of old volcanoes, still slowly cooling into green.

Mashua za wavuvi zilikuwa zikirudi bandarini, zikiacha mistari myembamba myeupe juu ya bahari inayotia giza. Taa ziliwaka moja baada ya nyingine kando ya barabara ya pwani. Harufu ya moshi ilipanda kutoka ufuoni.

Fishing boats were heading back to the harbor, leaving thin white lines on the darkening sea. Lights came on one by one along the coast road. The smell of smoke drifted up from the shore.

Ukungu uliingia kutoka baharini, kama ulivyofanya wiki nzima. Ulifunika kreta, kisha mashamba ya chai, kisha bandari, ukikificha kisiwa taratibu. Polly alikuwa ameuona ukifanya hivi awali.

Fog rolled in from the ocean, just as it had all week. It covered the crater, then the tea fields, then the harbor, hiding the island slowly from view. Polly had seen it do this before.

Aliruka kuelekea maji ya wazi wakati mwanga wa mwisho ulipofifia. Nyuma yake, kisiwa kiliendelea kupika chakula chake cha jioni chini ya ardhi, kuotesha chai yake jani baada ya jani, na kumlinda ndege mdogo wa kijivu msituni mwake.

She flew out over open water as the last light faded. Behind her, the island kept cooking its dinner underground, growing its tea leaf by leaf, and keeping a small grey bird safe in its forest.