The Luswa River Crocodile

 

This story contains themes or references to physical violence, blood or abuse. 

 Mwelwa was a somewhat reckless but adventurous boy; he loved nothing more than swimming in the Luswa River, despite his mother's warnings about the powerful waves that could sweep him away. He thought he could handle anything that came his way. Whenever Mwelwa swam in the rivers near his village, he would stretch out his arms and look up at the sky, the water lifting him to float him and the gentle current seeming to whisper the secrets of antiquity into his submerged ears. 

One day, while he was playing with his friends with stones at the river, his mother was washing clothes a few steps away. When he got tired of playing with the stones, he decided to swim. Mwelwa felt happy to see the water still flowing  and went inside. He then turned to his friends, asking them to join him. 

"Come on cowards. Let's see which one of you can hold his breath under water longer than me," he shouted  to his friends. 

He wiped the water from his face, but his smile faded when he saw the horror on their little faces, and then he saw his mother, her expression filled with terror as she screamed. He suddenly felt a sharp, stabbing pain as large, sharp teeth sank into his shoulder. He opened his mouth to scream, but the force of the water closed it, and he watched as the sun turned to mud as the attacker dragged him down  the river. 

A shiver ran through his bones as the current washed over him,  the creature rocking him from side to side as he felt his power drain away. The violent movements finally stopped and every movement turned into a struggle, his grasping arm felt numb. The pressure built up in his stomach, spreading until his chest felt like it was burning from the lack of air. Instinctively he wanted to breathe, but he knew it would mean suffocating. He panicked and started storming wildly. 

Realizing that the child was still alive, the animal rolled to the bottom of the river, twisting it with  clenched teeth. Mwelwa felt his life drain away when he saw the water turn red and knew it was his blood. He turned to  his captor and saw the emptiness in his dark eyes; the heartless existence of a  creature of nature who did not care that he was a child. At that moment, he felt the  message of the crocodile in his mind, as if a wise man said to him: "I am the master of this river; yes to my mercy. » 

His gaze rested on the soft grass moving in the current and a school of fish passing him, oblivious to his situation. He looked at the surface that seemed so far away, a glimmer of light beyond his reach. His vision became blurry, but he still heard his mother's cries. Her beautiful voice then turned into a nightmare because it was all he could hear despite what he was going through. He imagined his pain. Quickly, he turned his face towards his captors one last time and saw their large dark eye staring  at him, cold and unchanging. Gathering all his courage, Mwelwa clenched his left fist and punched the crocodile's eye with all his strength. The creature crashed into the water, creating  clouds of swirling mud that obscured her vision, but she remained focused on her weakness. Mwelwa continued to punch repeatedly, even as the murky water engulfed him. 

He heard his mother scream once more, a sound full of fear that echoed in his heart and mind. With a surge of adrenaline, he caught the creature's eye again and pushed his thumb  into it. With a sudden movement, the crocodile let go and Mwelwa felt himself swimming towards the surface. When his head finally emerged from the water, the first breath he took was hard and hot, burning his throat and chest. He coughed violently, expelling the water that had invaded his lungs, desperate to breathe. 

The villagers, who had gathered on the shore, rushed to him and quickly pulled him out of the water  before the creature turned for a second attempt at its prey. They shook him and rushed him to the shore, and then took him to the traditional healer. Everyone was waiting to hear what the healer would say if the vice chief's son survived his ordeal. As the days passed, Mwelwa's young body was constantly shaking in a feverish haze, going in and out of consciousness, looking weak and vulnerable. Every day felt like a battle as he fought  the convulsions that had taken over him. 

When Ngo sat at Mwelwa's bedside, he felt a wave of gratitude that his cousin, who was like a brother to him, was still alive. He gently wiped the cold sweat from Mwelwa's forehead with a damp cloth, his heart heavy with worry. 

"I shouldn't have taken a dip that day," Ngo whispered, his voice shaking. 

Mwelwa, still thin and pale, nodded slowly. With a lot of effort, he answered in a labored tone: 

"No! This crocodile should not have entered my waters. Now I have a debt to collect." 

Ngo smiled, assuring him that his cousin and best friend could manage without him. On the morning of his departure, the Deputy Chief accompanied his brother and  nephew in their boat on the Mwambwa River. Chipu, who had accompanied them, took Ngo aside and calmed him down. 

"You will be happy on Chilubi Island and your brother Mwelwa will recover quickly," he said.  

Ngo nodded slowly and said, "Grandpa Chipu, do me a favor, please use your wisdom to take care of Mwelwa." 

"Your brother will be fine. The scars may remain, but he will forget this terrible day and move on," said Chipu. But Ngo had other thoughts: "This is not true. He will seek revenge until he gets what he wants," he said. 

Chipu stopped laughing when he understood Ngo's words. 

As he said goodbye to his uncle, the chief, and prepared to leave for Chilubi Island with his father, Ngo felt a sense of relief. He boarded the banana boat and began his long journey through the river channels. Chipu stood in silence, watching the father and son ride away in the small wooden boat crossing the river. The chef stood beside him, looking at him sadly. 

"Mwelwa will be devastated without his brother," said the deputy director. 

"You must prevent Mwelwa from going to the river. Keep him out of the water until your men kill this crocodile." "I hope you succeed, because if you fail, Mwelwa will look for the beast himself," suggested Chipu. 

The chef looked surprised and laughed a little. 

"My son is not that vindictive. Besides, he is only a child. I can't imagine that he would want to fight an animal four times his size." 

Chip leaned forward, his expression quite serious. "Have you forgotten what Mwelwa always says about swimming in the river?" 

The MP nodded. 

"No, he says he feels calm and free when he's in the water." 

- Exactly - replied Chipu, his voice strong. "Now, Kanabesa, imagine what a man feels when his freedom is taken away and he is defeated in a battle that leaves wounds, in his body and in his pride." 

"Mwelwa is not a man; he is still  a boy," insisted the MP, worried on his face. 

"It's true, but that guy was taken by the crocodile. The moment he escaped its jaws, he had to face his fear of turning into a man," said Chipu  firmly.  The chef stopped, disturbed by Chipu's words. Reflecting on the gravity of the situation, knowing that the crocodile that had attacked Mwelwa was large and dangerous. A feeling of fear settled in his heart when he realized the challenge that awaited him. 

"It will take time to hunt down and kill this beast," the deputy director said in a contemplative, low tone. 

He silently hoped that his men would catch and kill the crocodile before the upcoming harvest celebrations, fearing what might happen if they didn't. "Kill the crocodile quickly," Chipu ordered, concern showing in his eyes, "otherwise, Mwelwa, your only son, will try to do it himself." 

The villagers trembled with fear when they learned what had happened to Mwelwa. Something dangerous was  lurking in the waters of the Luswa River and according to the people who saw it, the animal was enormous. They had heard of crocodiles from people who had been in the area, but they had no idea how big these animals were. As the animal terrorized the villagers who approached the river, this fearsome and ferocious animal earned a name: "The Luswa River Crocodile." Three weeks after the attack, Mwelwa woke up feeling better. He slipped out of his clothes and looked at the healing wounds on his arm. He walked out of the village and towards the river in the  morning sun. He  found himself nervous, alone by the river, his gaze fixed on the sparkling surface of the water before him. The river looked deceptively calm and peaceful from afar, but Mwelwa knew better than to believe the placid facade.  Seven days ago, lying sick in his mother's hut, he had heard scary stories of other people who had been victims of the crocodile. His fears were further confirmed when two fishermen disappeared and their lifeless remains were discovered two days later in a small mud flat in the middle of the river. This terrifying discovery  sent shivers through the village and Mwelwa realized the danger that lay beneath these seemingly calm waters. 

As he carefully observed the water, he suddenly noticed a pair of animal eyes staring at him from a small group of trees located on the water's edge. He immediately realized that those eyes belonged to the crocodile, the same reptile that had sunk its sharp teeth  into his flesh, leaving him writhing in pain. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought, but he gathered all his courage and shouted loudly: 

"You made the first mistake; you hurt me and I really want to pay it back." 

The crocodile's eyes remained fixed on the young man, his pupils tightening in anticipation of a strike at any moment if he approached. 

"This is not your territory,  Luswa River Crocodile; it is mine!" shouted Mwelwa, determined to assert his dominance over the creature. 

He stood still as he watched the large crocodile hiss and slowly slide into the water. Although he felt a sense of dread settle in, he also felt a surge of confidence. He knew  he wasn't strong enough to face the new lord of the river, but he was determined to grow  and become stronger. With a fierce determination in him, he swore to himself that one day he would return to reclaim the waters that were rightfully his. 

The attack on the child was the first of many to follow. People thought that the crocodile had arrived  the day it attacked Mwelwa, but what the villagers did not know was that several nights before, it had migrated from the waters of the Lubemba Kingdom to the rivers in the higher grounds. He had marked his new territory, which was swarming with fish, and had spent days watching the man swim in the cool water. 

After the age of twenty, the crocodile had a fully developed hard skin, consisting of numerous plates and scales that blended into the aquatic environment, making it even more difficult to distinguish. The crocodile's eyes, ears and nostrils were above its head, allowing it to see, hear and breathe while completely hidden in the river water. Its elongated snout allowed it to move quickly and silently thanks to its massive, long and powerful tail. 

The animal was a perfectly crafted natural killing machine whose shape and patience allowed him to capture the  boy. He had seen the young man swim in the water every day and he seemed to swim faster than most  fish. He had waited patiently to announce his presence and  that day, he chose to attack. What he didn't expect was for the  boy to fight back and escape his powerful jaws. And after that day, the crocodile did not let any other prey escape. 

Equipped with a perfect ability to match its prey, the child's quick and intelligent movements help the crocodile prepare its next victim. One morning, a father and his son were taking the baskets of fish that they had put in the river the day before. The crocodile had watched him double for several days and could easily predict the steps the man took to retrieve his fishing baskets. He pulled the rope to feel if it was heavy,  then reached out to pull the basket out of the water. 

The sky  was black with  clouds, and as the fisherman searched for the last basket, the crocodile, which was lying below the surface, seized the opportunity. With the speed of lightning, its powerful jaws closed around the man’s torso, pulling him forcefully into the dark depths of the river. The son, exhausted and helpless, watched in disbelief as his father disappeared beneath the gurgling water. The sky rumbled ominously above, reflecting the turmoil and chaos unfolding on the river.  The once familiar routine of fishing had become a grueling struggle for survival. The boy's cries for help echoed through the deserted river without response. Suddenly, the crocodile reappeared and dragged the man into the water, indifferent to his display of violence. 

"Bye, Dad!" the  boy cried, holding out his small hand for his father to take. 

The seriously injured man tried to defend himself from the crocodile, but  it sank into the water and defeated him with a powerful twist. When the river calmed down again, a torrential rain fell from the sky. It felt like the sky was crying at the same time as the child. The air was filled with the cries of the child. The rain continued to fall mercilessly and the boy instinctively ducked into the middle of the boat. As soon as he heard the sound of thunder, his body shuddered with fear and drew even closer to himself, as if he hoped to disappear from the world. When the second thunderclap fell, he remembered his father’s death. The shock  seemed to freeze his mind, leaving his eyes wide open. 

Upon receiving the news of the fisherman’s disappearance, the deputy director immediately launched a search party to find the missing man and his son. After several hours of searching, the team finally discovered the young boy in the boat floating in the river, completely disoriented and unable to speak. Despite their  efforts to communicate with him, the boy remained silent and it soon became clear that he was traumatized by the events he had witnessed.  As they continued to search the river, the group encountered the  remains of the fisherman tangled in some weeds near the bank. It was a tragic sight and it soon became clear that the  boy had seen something truly terrible. Despite the tireless efforts of the villagers to restore his voice, he remained mute for the rest of his life, haunted by the memory of the fateful day when the  Luswa river crocodile launched its deadly attack on his father. 

The  Luswa River Crocodile had conquered its new territory and become the undisputed master. He had put fear not only in the river, but also in the muddy banks. During the cold season, the crocodile would bask in the sun in a puddle of mud, its jaws open to cool off if the sun was too hot. When the tides came in, he would swim to the side and watch his prey from a good distance. Over the years, he has been able to enjoy a varied diet in his area, feasting on fish and wild animals, as well as domestic animals and unsavory human owners who  venture too close to the edge of the water

By Omnipoten