Shabela looked swollen over the rock
of his protruding stomach. Hair was matted down his strong legs. He looked very
black. We walked steadily forward towards them. The rocks and pebbles
getting closer and closer, until the
Indo’s were just a few steps away from us. Then they stopped and I slowed down.
Iskra walked straight up to his man. I couldn’t make out what they said to were
soaking, and we were sweating with weed, with food, and the heat of the sky
like a damp cloth held tightly to our foreheads.
We were with him, but one of them made a
menacing gesture as if he was going to punch him in the face. Iskra hit him
first and immediately called out for Shabela, who went over to the second one
and hit him twice with all his strength. The Indo fell face down into the water
and stayed there for a few seconds, little bubbles rose to the surface around
his head. Meanwhile, Iskra hit the other one again whose face was covered in
blood.
He turned around to me and said: “Just you watch what I’m going to do to him.’
I shouted: “Look out, he`s got a
knife!” But by then, Iskra’s arm was
already cut and his mouth slashed.
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