Hokey pokey

When life is a story that has to be told, it is mumbled inaudible.

    But who is telling it? Who has fabricated it? Komfort is reciting the questions to himself while looking aside. Next to him walks a woman. She once told him her name is Jemimah.

    Her hair is as red as ladybugs are, her eyes are as inquisitive as sparrows.

    'When will we reach it?' he asks.

    'What do you want to reach?' she replies and smiles elusive.

    He shivers. From the cold? From the annoyance? They stumble for how long through this desolate land? This desert? Komfort already has forgotten.

    Time is as useful as cotton bonnets during this journey.

*  *  *

Komfort was on a holiday when he met her. It was the first time he was visiting New Zealand. He hoped he could find there some of the atmosphere had sensed by reading The hobbit and The Lord of the Ring.

    Only then he just starting to realize that atmosphere could also be a fantasy.

    In the aftermath of his letdown, he decided to buy himself an ice-cream. It was then he encountered her. She was standing in that ice cream van. Like Galadriel herself.

    'What flavour do you like?'

    He chose hokey pokey. And because it was a cloudy day and there were hardly any customers around, they start to chitchat. She reveals to him her idea that she wanted to visit the promised land. One day.

    'Israel?' he asked stunned.

    'No, no, my promised land,' she replied while taking a sip of her 7-up.

    Of course, Komfort should have said goodbye to her. And travel back to his home. To his bookshelves, his open fire, his larder full of rib eye steak and entrecôte.

    But he stayed. He got lost by following the birds in her eyes.

*  *  *

'What is your idea of a promised land?' His question slips through the hot sand like a shy viper.

    'Actually, I don't know.' Jemimah shrugs her shoulders as if his problem doesn't bother her at all.

    Komfort realizes that this point exactly is what causes his vexation. She indeed has no clue where she is going to. And he is following her.

    Like a submissive disciple goes along with a sagacious Messiah. 

*  *  *

He drops down. Exhaustion? Disappointment? Fainting?

    'You aren't leading me to the promised land,' he gasps finally.

    She sits next to him. She shakes her head. As if someone turns around brittle tableware. He stars at the horizon. All he notices. Fine sand, vibrating air.  

    'A lot of people belief that a promised land is a kind of county in which there is no sorrow, no grief, no hatred. Only peace, lots of food and an abundance of love.' Her voice sounds of someone who is declaiming poetry.

   Komfort nods. That is what he expect to find.

   'But what if the promised land is no land? What if the promised land is a philosophy? That it will only be disclosed the moment in your live you are ready for it? That it is not you looking for the bonanza, but that the road will show it to you. But in his time, his place."

    While Jemimah is speaking, he hears the murmuring of a fresh stream. He sees crows in the sky carrying bread.

    He looks again at her. She seems completely at ease when a crow comes down on her shoulder. The bird drops the food in her lap.

    'Delicious! It's my favorite ! Hokey pokey shortbread,' she cries.