Finding the Shepherd

A letter finally came, but this time from the police.

During the building of the dam, there had been some problems caused by a higher than usual rainfall in the mountains resulting in erosion around the dam site despite the diversion channels. It had been decided to build an interim smaller dam upstream from the village to reduce the water flow, the plan being to demolish this temporary structure with high explosives when the main dam was completed. These amongst other unforeseen difficulties had delayed completion of the dam by nearly two years. The prospect of seeing such a spectacle was too much for some to miss, among them my father and mother. Even so, they had long planned to return for the ceremony to mark the opening of the dam and flooding of the valley. Many former residents had gathered to watch The Flood as they called it, to see their town, family homes and a lifetime of memories entombed forever beneath the waters of the lake.

The politicians were there telling even the displaced how the dam would benefit them so much, proudly recounting the millions of the community’s money that was spent on their behalf, and ignoring entirely the grief that they had caused in the name of progress. They gave speeches, long, loud, and boring, and mainly about themselves. Stentorian music was playing as the local member pushed up his sleeves and took hold a large red lever set on the rostrum. At a nod from the Chief Engineer, he pushed down with all his might, setting off the charges that would release the pent up waters into the valley floor. An enormous thundering echoed through the valley drowning out all other sounds, a fitting herald to the drowning of the valley itself. It was a sight to behold, or so I was later told, the water roaring forth with rainbows dancing in the spray on a warm sunny day.

A torrent surged into the valley consuming everything in its path, knocking down trees and the few structures that were not worth removing. There was a collective sigh as the cemetery went under water, for nobody had the money to disinter their forebears and remove them to higher ground. Some people sobbed and others prayed, and no doubt many did both. Mother and father were some ways from the temporary dam itself, perhaps to continue sight of their beloved valley for as long as they could, although knowing father, he was probably distancing himself from the bureaucrats whom he hated so much. From out of nowhere, a frisky colt bolted down the hillside heading into the path of the oncoming tide, unaware that it was standing into danger. Father must have calculated that he could get to it in time for he gave chase, measuring the distance between himself and the horse, and between the horse and the maelstrom that threatened to devour them both.

It was close, and then mother panicked. Fearful for her husband, she began running to him, shouting for him to come back to safe ground. Father hesitated, and then it was too late. Seeing the water swirling around him, mother raced to save him but the unforgiving, insatiable torrent took her as well. They tumbled in the raging stream, their life’s breath beaten from their bodies, until they were seen no more, the torrent surging against the base of the main dam wall. The crowd enjoying the festivities caught but a glimpse of the drama, but one young girl had seen it all, the tragedy unfolding before her eyes. She yelled for her mother, screaming with fright and terror, and as she calmed a little she was able to tell of what she had witnessed. Friends checked for friends and before long, the missing were identified.

Brother Principal related this tale to me, and held me tight as he said how proud I should be to have a father as courageous as mine. No word of how foolish he had been risking his life when he still had a wife and son to care for, and no answer to the question in my mind: what was to become of me?

I went to bed that night, more alone than usual, but grateful that this was another term break and there was no-one there to hear my sobbing. I was heart-broken, anguished, and entirely inconsolable. Had I really been that bad as to deserve this? Was this to be the pattern of my life forever more, displaced and rejected, all alone to face whatever the fates held for me? As I drifted off to sleep, more disturbed than restless, I saw the colt running down the hill toward the advancing flood. I looked over my shoulder and there was mother further up, and between us father running as fast as he could, his mouth opening and closing but no words reached my ears. I stumbled as the grasping torrent clutched at my feet and facing forward again, I saw nothing but endless waves of churning muddied water. The horse had gone, or so I thought, then realised that the colt was me and it was my life that father had been attempting to save. I tumbled and tumbled, smothered and choking as the cold took hold and the water entered my lungs. It went on and on, I was panicked and dying, and then there was only darkness.