The first thing that caught my attention was the heavenly melody. There must have been a thousand birds and countless insects weaving their sublime melodies into the mysterious whispers of the trees. It was an orchestra so out of this world that for a long time I stood, lost and bewildered. And then gathering my thoughts about me, I perceived an indescribable sight. I saw a bevy of souls as I have never imagined. Birds, praying mantis and all these wonderful insects were about their business on or about the trees and down below, I could see the souls of ants, creepers and crawlers on the ground. Butterflies drifted between the tree trunks, dancing and bursting into incandescent colours, sapphire lights glinting off their wings. The souls of the trees were so pure and homely without a hint of evil about them. All these souls, so pure, so clean, so many and not one stained by anger, malice or envy. No treachery, no guilt but innocence and I began then to question man’s moral justification to lord over all these beautiful, innocent souls. The contrast from the world I came from was so vivid and somehow, I felt at home among all those pure souls. I felt safe and relaxed. I found a fallen tree trunk and sat on it. The spirit of The Whispering Trees absorbed my soul and at last, I found such peace as I have never known and quickly forgot time.

 And much later, a gentle breeze wafted through the trees leaves and made them rustle. It was as if they were whispering words meant for their ears alone and one could so easily feel the sense of expectancy, knowing something was about to happen but not knowing what it was. I waited a long time and then I saw it. It was the soul of a young boy, just about fifteen. As it came towards me I could discern that it was different because it was not white like all the others but rather an emerald green. I hardly had time to marvel over the strangeness of that soul when I recognised it. It was Hamza, my childhood friend, who had perished in The Whispering Trees some twelve years ago. He approached me, not betraying any sign that he had recognised me. My shock paralysed me and I could not move.

He said, “You have returned at last. I was afraid you might never come.” He sat down beside me on the tree trunk.

I said at last, “Hamza, is this really you?”

He sighed.

I rose. “But this can’t be. You are dead.  You died twelve years ago. I saw you!”

He said, “Has it been twelve years already?” He shrugged and then looked at me and I saw that his eyes were hollow. “You look all so grown up, Salim, what happened to you?”

“I had an accident,” I managed to say.

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“But…what happened to you? I mean…you died, down there, in the stream.”

He sighed. “You remember the day we came here, all of us with Tanimu, Audu, Bala, you know…all of us. You remember I had taken my mother’s wrist watch and that was why we had come here, to hide…”

I remembered. I could still see that watch in my mind; a beautiful wrist watch coated in gold. His mother had always treasured it because it had been a gift from her husband. It was the last thing he had given her before he died in an armed robbery attack. Hamza took it to show off and we ran all the way to The Whispering Trees in excitement. We examined it as it glistened in the sun. Then we got tired of it and decided to play hide and seek. Hamza had put on the watch. I made the call and they all ran to hide. He and Tanimu ran towards the stream and hid but while hiding, Tanimu had demanded to see the watch once more and Hamza had refused. They struggled and Tanimu had tripped him and he fell over. Tanimu had tried to hold on to him but his hand was clasped over the watch and it came off. Hamza rolled over on his neck and landed, face down in the stream, breaking his neck in the process.

“…when Tanimu saw that I had died already, he panicked and fled,” Hamza concluded.

I remembered that when we found Hamza dead, Tanimu was no where to be seen and none of us thought anything of it because we were overcome by the tragedy and the rumour that Hamza had been killed by the spirits of The Whispering Trees.

Everything changed. Our little group broke up and we were forced to grow up. We could hardly look into each others eyes. Tanimu was worse off for he seemed to have lost his mind. He looked miserable and none of us seemed to be able to get through to him even though we rarely tried. He merely drifted along with life and to us, he grew into a stranger.

We talked some more until he rose and said, “I must leave now. Now that you are here, I can leave. But see how beautiful this place is, see how pure and full of life and yet someday, the living will come and destroy everything.” He started off. “Man destroys that which he claims to love.”

I did not know what to say.

“You know, Salim,” he said again, “if you had been a doctor you could only have treated the ailments of the body but now you can treat ailments of the soul. You can understand that which most men do not understand. I go now, my friend.” He waved me goodbye and I watched the final curtain fall on his short life.

Tears streamed down my eyes and I was amazed at how easily he seemed to have accepted his fate. In a way, I think, he seemed glad that his death had helped protect The Whispering Trees by mystifying it. Men feared the spirits and stayed away, beauty and innocence thrived. But for twelve, long years, Hamza had lingered in those woods, waiting for someone to bear his message and it was such a message that I took to Tanimu.

His soul was in such turmoil that I immediately felt sorry for him. His heart was framed by the yellow hue of guilt – the guilt he had lived with for the last twelve years. I gave him Hamza’s message. That he should not feel guilty for it had been an accident. His intention was not to harm him but nature had played a trick on all. I told him that Hamza does not hold him responsible and that he had forgiven him.

Deeply moved as he was, Tanimu was sceptical. “How can the dead speak?” He queried.

I said to him, “He also told me to ask you to please give back the watch you keep in your ceiling, the one you had taken from him. He says his mother would want to have it back.”

He wept.

He gave back the watch and freed his mind. He became a new man. But the joy of Hamza’s mother upon receiving the watch was such that I cannot describe. Finally, it seemed, she had overcome the lost of her husband and her son.

The elation I felt at seeing all these troubled souls liberated remains the most magnificent feeling I have ever felt. To see people in anguish and at least, give them comfort, to free minds bound by desire, anger or guilt, to guide souls that are lost to their destinies, to reconcile souls alienated by misunderstandings – that is my life, that is my purpose; that is what gives me joy.

I rediscovered my purpose in life; I rediscovered life in serving and I discovered heavenly peace in The Whispering Trees where I spend hours listening to the melodies of nature and to the dead, who come once in a while, seeking to reach out to loved ones before taking their final leave.

I lost my sight to find my vision, I lost my life to find my soul and I lost my vanity to find my purpose. And now, sitting here, in The Whispering Trees, amidst all these beauty and innocent souls, listening to this heavenly orchestra, I realise that happiness is not getting what you want but wanting what you’ve got. I AM ALIVE AND HAPPY.

THE END