The Light
A Woman-Angel
Comes to Me
Light flickers
before my eyes. I feel trapped, like a prisoner in
shackles. Invisible chains but mighty heavy. Can’t
move an ant’s
step.
The light is blurry and dancing, attracting me to come
closer as if it was the most interesting thing in the
world.
Bright yellow stains, enclosed in orange halo, fading
to brown and then to black. The light stains jumped
and danced in a strange, almost steady tempo, but each
dance move was different than its former.
Big brown figures with white eyes appear before me,
watch me momentarily and go away. Once more they
appear, try to tell me something, try and make me
answer. I knew they were trying to tell me something
but I didn’t understand what it was, especially
because I didn’t care and didn’t feel like answering.
I wanted to dance with the yellow stains.
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The
yellow stains approached me near while
also waving from side to side in that
strange rhythm that only they understood.
They went further away and then came
closer again, nearer and bigger. As they
came closer they were more energetic,
brighter, and started sending me heat
waves. Pleasant heat? I don’t know, more
like ‘heat’ without pleasant or
unpleasant. They came near and went away
like a big pulse, at times approaching me
from the right and other times from the
left, sometimes coming high and sometimes
coming low.
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“She’s too hot,” said the stains, their voices echoing
from behind me, from my sides and inside me, “Must
cool her off before we lose her.”
The light stains kept on dancing, friendlier than
ever.
A cold wave
flooded me all of a sudden, shortly freezing me.
The
flickering stains became cold, distant. They still
danced but were very small and stopped the wide trip
right-left and up-down like they did before.
What is this
cold and where do I feel it? Where am I anyway? One
of the brown figures, wearing a brown gown cloaking
her head, asks me: “You want water?” and brings a
small jug before me.
“No,” I
answer her but the voice doesn’t come out of my
throat. My lips don’t move, if I even have lips. I
look at the brown figure, trying to describe my
plight. But she already got me; a skinny face comes
near with an affectionate smile: “It’s alright,
don’t battle to speak. If you want water just signal
me with your eyes.”
 It’s a woman’s
face. Her cheek bones high. Eyes narrow and smiling,
black eyeliner all around them. Her hair is black
and curly, shining under the capuchin of her gown.
Her expression pleasant, very relaxing, like a good
mother. Her cracked lips barely move when she
speaks. You can see no effort in her lightweight,
rounded motions.
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To
my right and to my left big torches
burn, installed on rock walls decorated
with leathers.
“You lost a lot of blood and it will
take a long time until you fill up the
_________” (here she said a word in an
unfamiliar language, that sounded like
‘well’ or ‘fountain’).
She looks like those messengers from the
Cave Tribe that I saw once by the
bonfires. But back then, their sour
faces made me believe that all of the
Cave Tribe was as serious as they were.
She’s different. Actually this is the
first time I see a woman of their tribe.
Their discrimination of women
must be as bad as ours.
“I know you can hardly feel your body
right now, we’ll take care of that
later. First of all I want you to see
your body. Don’t panic, it is badly
wounded. The green stains you will see
are medicinal herbs that I placed on
every wound.”
She removed a wet cloth that was
covering me – must be the cold thing
that woke me up. The woman put her hand
under my head and raised it slowly and
gently until I could see my body.
Lucky I was that she has prepared me.
My body laid there shrunk and
naked, seemed like it got cleaned
from the dust and blood but many dark
green stains “decorated” its almost
every part. Especially on the left side
of the body, all along. Most of my
wounds must have been caused not by the
arrows and the knife, but from
convulsing on the broken rocks when I
fell on my left side.
I frowned: “Looks like it would take a
whole year to heal this body. And who
knows if one can ever walk with such
shrunken wrecks, after severe torture by
the vicious gland,” so I thought to
myself without a voice, my eyes scanning
sadly up and down the body.
Apparently, the woman-angel in brown
gown got my every word.
“First of all do not worry. I’m here to
help you out of this trouble. The body
will not heal well by itself, you’re
right. We’ll have to help it. We
collected for you special desert plants
and some very unique cave moss that will
make you strong quickly. Also our
Hand-Laying can… What? Yes, it is a
healing technique that our tribe has
been using for thousands of years [interestingly
she says ‘years’ like me rather than
‘light-years’]. I will
give you Hand-Laying daily until you can
walk again, maybe even dance. Do you
like dancing?”
An angel with a license from God, this
woman. Her words lifted me so much that
the future is smiling at me once more.
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7 
Liberty stayed
with the Cave Tribe almost three and a half years
until she was sixteen, healthier than ever, pretty and
confident. Her goals for the rest of her life
converged near the beginning of her stay and she
absorbed with thirst every piece of knowledge, wisdom
and experience to support her fight for freedom. 
