Little Joe had grown old. His papa had died in the early hours of this morning. Or so said everyone. He stood importantly by the doorway leaning against the flaking wall and could see his mother beating her breast. Beside mama sat his sister rocking to and fro. There was a rhythm to both their movements and it seemed to him as though Ole was swaying to mama’s beats. From where he stood, Joe could not see his father’s stilled body. But he could imagine the six feet frame wrapped in a white shroud covered in hastily strung wreaths. For a moment mama’s eyes met his and he could see that they were reduced to mere slits from all the crying. And Joe could make out the redness even from here. They scared him a little- those eyes. But he couldn’t afford to be scared- he was all grown up.

The neighbours were entering and exiting through the door beside which Joe stood. Some knelt in front of him only to ruffle his hair. Others shook him and hugged him and wept over him. The gossip mongers clucked their tongues on passing him and Joe saw their hollow eyes fill with shallow tears. However, one fact remained. Old little Joe was the only man in the family now and he deserved all the attention. And yet for many, this ‘man’ with a severed upper lip wasn’t man enough. Well, now they would know, wouldn’t they? Now they would see how well he could take care of mama and Ole.

His thoughts wandered to the early hours of today morning. Even before Joe could begin his daily ritual of brushing and cleaning and eating and trudging down the road to the red brick excuse of a building that his school was, the air was rent with screams and wails. For a few moments he thought it was a dream. But when Ole shook him and told him between her sobs that papa was no more, Joe could sense reality. He never liked papa much but death was a different kind of reality check altogether. One relief set in immediately- almost guiltily. No one would ask him to go to school today. Settling his thoughts straight, Joe clambered down his narrow bunk and made way to where his papa was laid out.

Now he could see some more women crowding around his mother. Soon there would be no place to breathe. So he slipped out of the house. And out of the garden. And down the street. And past his school. Peace settled around him. The clucking of hens and occasional chatter of birds was all he could hear. As he walked past the small houses on either side of the roads, he could hear daily life. People singing, mothers scolding, children shouting, fathers hollering, sisters cleaning, brothers fighting.

Near the pond, he saw a litter of newborn puppies huddling against their mother. They were tiny beings without eyes and Joe could hold one of them in his palms. He observed them squirm under his gaze. The mother dog lifted her head and looked inquisitively at Joe. Sensing that he was about to cause no harm, she lay down once again. The puppies continued with their squirming and the boy wondered if they would crush each other.

After a while, he continued past the pond and reached a huge tree with low branches. Two boys about his age were examining a scrap of paper. Their elbows rested against the lowest branch which nearly trailed the ground and their faces were screwed up in concentration. One of them wore a shabby pair of shorts and the other had a dirty grey vest and tattered trousers. As they had their backs turned towards him, Joe peeped over their shoulders and looked into the paper. He saw a smear of red paint. “What is it?” The bare chested boy looked up and winced at once. Consciously, Joe’s hand went up to his cleft lip and he fingered it nervously.

“What is it?” he asked again.

“Dragon blood”, said the other boy.

He could see they were scared of him. But their answer had scared him too.

“Dragon?” Joe uttered.

Almost immediately, he felt a hand on his shoulder and before long he was lifted off his feet and made to sit on a low hanging branch.

“Like you, lipless.”

An older boy was sneering at him. Joe reminded himself that he was old- old enough to handle such threats. But his instincts were making him cower. In a sudden movement, the unwelcome intruder turned upon the other two children.

“Follow me home,” he ordered and Joe watched on as the two meekly followed the bully.

It was evening and little old Joe was lost. Only he didn’t know that. At the moment he was at a construction site of some sort, crouched near a heap of sand, probably left by some workers. His tongue hung out of his mouth as he tried to give shape to a sand castle. He was building a sand castle where the sea couldn’t touch it. As he worked at it fervently, he couldn’t imagine why his castle did not look like the ones he saw in picture books. Those were neat little structures with tiny doors and tinier windows and a small red flag atop the tallest tower. His was more like an inverted ice cream cone. Someone kicked him from behind and he fell headlong into the sand. As he could not close his eyes in time, sand entered them and caused them to burn. His mouth was full of it and he spluttered. When he finally managed to recover and stand up, water from his eyes was streaming down his cheeks. There was no one in sight. The castle had flattened itself against his chest and was part of the heap once again.

Joe walked away rubbing his eyes and spitting out sand. A loud bang startled him. He stopped and looked around. Then another bang, and the skies above him exploded before his eyes into colourful sparks. Fireworks!!! There were more sparks and Joe stared open mouthed at the sky. He was beginning to shiver against the slight breeze. Then the fireworks stopped as suddenly as they had begun.

“Joe!” a loud gasp escaped his cleft lip. He turned around to see Mrs. D. “What might you be doing out here?”

She stood tall, towering over him, and cut a formidable shape against the night sky. Her hands were on her hips and he was reminded of a cartoon character- the image of a dark shape, the owner admonishing the animals who wreaked havoc on her house. “People be looking for you.” And so saying she began leading him towards some unknown destination.

When he reached home, Little Joe Old found himself chided by a weary sister. She had been worried. His mother was sleeping. There were still a few people nodding their heads out of pity. Joe yawned loudly and almost immediately wished he hadn’t. Scornful eyes pressed down upon him. His stomach screamed in hunger. But he was a grown up now, wasn’t he? He made his way to the room he shared with Ole. And settling down on his bunk, Old Joe stared into the darkness…