The Web of Life

‘We do not weave the web of life. We are merely a strand in it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves’

*

A beautiful, dark-skinned woman with braided black hair walked past a teepee, her light brown moccasins making hardly any sound as she took careful, measured steps. Her dark brown eyes lingered upon the colourful patterns adorning the tent, her ears strained to listen to the conversation going on inside.

“So do we have an agreement, Cheveyo?” a smooth voice asked in a business-like tone.

“Yes. When will I be paid?” another deeper voice replied.

“As soon as you get your people out of this place. We want to start work on the chemical factory for Mr. Darius as soon as possible,”

Outside the tent, Catori started. What? Cheveyo was going to- to- sell the land?

Catori heard the sounds of feet shuffling and quickly straightened, pretending to be just passing by as a fair-skinned, blonde-haired man in a business suit walked out, followed by her husband-to-be, Cheveyo.

The white man gave her a thin smile. Catori gazed at him steadily. He got into a waiting car, and with a final glance and a curt nod at Cheveyo behind her, sped off into the distance.

Catori slowly turned to look at Cheveyo, her expression switching from passive to furious.  The tall man subconsciously backed away.

“You sold the land?” the young woman demanded, her brown eyes glaring at him. “You sold the land to a white who wants to pollute it?”

“Catori – “ Cheveyo started,.

“When my father betrothed me to you and named you his successor as our chief, it was because he thought that you would preserve what the land gave us, Cheveyo! This land is not for you to sell!”

“Look, Catori, I understand that this land belongs to you and your father, but – “

“The land belongs to no one! It is home to all living things, but it’s not a property to be bought and sold as you please!” the dark-haired woman rounded on him, her fists clenched. “The white have already forgotten that, and now you forget, as well? We were given the duty to protect it and the right to reap its harvests, but not to destroy it! And destroying it is exactly what that white men plan to do!”

“But the money will help us greatly!”

“There are other ways to earn money, Cheveyo! Other ways that do not offend the earth!”

The Indian chieftain opened his mouth to say something else, but Catori silenced him with a wave of her hand. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“You are our chieftain, Cheveyo. I can say nothing against your word. But just remember that whatever you do to the earth now, you are doing to us. To yourself,”

With one last glance at the stunned man’s face, Catori walked away.

*
[Ten years later…]

A man of about fifty, with greying hair and wrinkles creasing his face sat at the head of the large mahogany desk, facing a group of men and women smartly dressed in business suits, who were sitting upright with passive faces. Everyone knew that Mr. Darius was not in a good mood today – several lawsuits had been filed against him, claiming that his chemical factory was dumping toxic waste into the nearby stream and poisoning the waters.

It was true, but none of the environmentalists complaining had any solid evidence to back their claim yet.

Still, Mr. Darius was in a precarious position. His business empire would be history if he was successfully prosecuted and found guilty.

“Sir…” his secretary began nervously.

Darius slammed a fist into the desk, standing up so abruptly his chair toppled. “Whatever happens, all of you here will deal with it! And they had better not come up with enough evidence to charge us! I want no complications, understood?”

There was a murmur as the usually dignified businessman stormed out, swiftly followed by his twenty-two year old son, Bryan.

“You can’t do this anymore, father,”

Out in the corridor, the young man spoke quietly to the billionaire. The older man turned around slowly.

“Are you questioning my authority, Bryan?” his father asked, his face set.

Bryan ignored the warning message in his tone. “Your factory – it’s been polluting the water! People have died because of it, father!”

“And that concerns me because?” Mr. Darius spoke stonily.

“Remember what mother once said? ‘What we do to the web of life, we do to ourselves’. Don’t you remember?” Bryan asked slowly.

“I want you to deal with this mess, Bryan, and not give me all that rubbish of your dead mother’s! I’m trying to make money here!” with those words, Darius turned and walked off, fuming.

Bryan sighed, leaning against the wall.

*

The evening sun was in all its glory as Bryan stepped out of his blue Porsche. His father’s chemical factory, a building of cold gray steel, stood before him, looking out of place amongst the tall grass growing around it. But now, even the grass looked dead. The stream just beside it was clogged with rubbish, with a thin film of barely visible substance floating on the surface of the water.

Bryan rubbed his temples, the wind ruffling his brown hair. He hated to see all this. He didn’t even know why he worked in his father’s company, watching yet another factory being built and more pollution happening right before his eyes, day by day.

And now he had to deal with the lawsuits as well. What should he listen to, his father’s orders or his conscience? He didn’t know anymore.

Just then, something caught his eye. A figure was standing by the stream, close to the high wall surrounding the factory. Bryan squinted to see clearly, before realizing that it was a woman. She was hardly noticeable at a glance, wearing dark clothes that camouflaged her.

Cautiously, he walked towards her. When he was about five feet away from her, the woman turned around.

She was beautiful. He could tell that she was aged, perhaps almost forty. Her expression held a certain silent resignation in them and her glance occasionally fell upon the polluted stream.

For some reason, Bryan felt his stomach knotting, a guilty feeling rising within him.

“I am Catori,” the woman spoke without being asked. “I hope you do not think I am intruding,”

“No, not at all,” Bryan smiled nervously. “I’m Bryan Darius,” he held out his hand. Her expression changed, and she did not take his offered hand.

“Darius? You are the son of the man who owns this factory?” she asked, her eyes suddenly narrowed.

“Yes,” Bryan replied, his voice quiet. “Unfortunately.”

“Do you see what your father has done to the land?” Catori asked, drawing her dark blue shawl around her. “The grass, and the stream. He has killed them,”

Bryan didn’t know what to say.

“My tribe – we live down south, along this stream,” the woman spoke again, her voice soft, yet steady. “My husband-to-be was the man who sold this land to your father. Sold. Imagine that,” she let out a bitter laugh. “He wanted money, and he sold the land. He died a year after that – because of this polluted stream. Many of my tribe have died drinking this polluted water. But what choice do we have?”

“I still don’t understand why you white men never truly see what you have done. The earth has given us so much, and all we do is destroy it, destroying ourselves in the process,”

Bryan started. Weren’t those – the words his mother had said to him when he was younger?

“What will you do, young man?” Catori asked suddenly, her brown eyes glancing at him sharply. “Will you follow the footsteps of your father and regret it when whatever you have done affects you and your loved ones?”

Bryan looked at her directly, and suddenly, he understood. He saw it in her eyes.

“No,” he said suddenly. “No, I won’t,”

The cold woman suddenly smiled, rather sadly, at him. “Then I will wait – to see you make a change,”

Catori turned, walking away.

Bryan slowly walked back to his car, feeling something inexplicable within him. His father was making a big mistake. And Bryan wanted to be the one to stop him, to make him realize. He would have to give his father’s prosecutors the evidence they needed.

The young man started his car engine. Stepping on the gas pedal, he drove slowly along the road leading away from the factory, his glance falling upon the lone figure walking away along the bank of the stream, her back straight and her head held high.

‘We do not weave the web of life. We are merely a strand in it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves.’

‘I’m sorry, father.’

*