Lesson 1 How Others See Me

stabbed the eye of my dog. I was stunned. For a long time I sat motionless, staring at Biryuk. Then I felt
hate crouch; its paws dug hard into the floor of its cage; it bunched muscles tensed; it held itself for a
minute and then it sprang and the door of the cage crashed open and hate clawed wildly my brain. I
screamed. Biryuk, frightened, yelped and fled, rattling the dead bush that sheltered him. I did not run after
him.
A large hawk wheeled gracefully above a group of birds. It flew in a tightening spiral above the
birds.
On my way back to the house, I passed the woodshed. I saw Berto in the shade of a tree, splitting
wood. He was splitting the wood he had stacked last year. A mound of bone-white slats was piled near
his chopping block. When he saw me, he stopped and called me.
His head was drenched with sweat. He brushed away the sweat and hair from his eyes and said
to me: ―I‘ve got something for you.‖
He dropped his ax and walked into the woodshed. I followed him. Berto went to a corner of the
shed. I saw a jute sack spread on the ground. Berto stopped and picked up the sack.
―Look,‖ he said.
I approached. Pinned to the ground by a piece of wood, was a big centipede. Its malignantly red
body twitched back and forth.
―It‘s large,‖ I said.
―I found him under the stack I chopped.‖ Berto smiled happily; he looked at me with his muddy
eyes.
―You know,‖ he said. ―That son of a devil nearly frightened me to death‖
I stiffened. ―Did it, really?‖ I said trying to control my rising voice. Berto was still grinning and I felt
hot all over.
―I didn‘t expect to find any centipede here,‖ he said. ―It nearly bit me. Who wouldn‘t get shocked?‖
He bent and picked up a piece of wood.
―This wood was here,‖ he said and put down the block. ―Then I picked it up, like this. And this
centipede was coiled here. Right here. I nearly touched it with my hand. What do you think you would
feel?‖
I did not answer. I squatted to look at the reptile. Its antennae quivered searching the tense
afternoon air. I picked up a sliver of wood and prodded the centipede. It uncoiled viciously. Its pinchers
slashed at the tiny spear.
―I could carry it dead,‖ I said half-aloud.
―Yes,‖ Berto said. ―I did not kill him because I knew you would like it.‖
―Yes, you‘re right.‖
―That‘s bigger than the one you found last year, isn‘t it?‖
―Yes, it‘s very much bigger.‖
I stuck the sliver into the carapace of the centipede. It went through the flesh under the red armor;
a whitish liquid oozed out. Then I made sure it was dead by brushing its antennae. The centipede did not
move. I wrapped it in a handkerchief.
My sister was enthroned in a large chair in the porch of the house. Her back was turned away
from the door; she sat facing the window. She was embroidering a strip of white cloth. I went near, I stood
behind her chair. She was not aware of my presence. I unwrapped the centipede. I threw it on her lap.
My sister shrieked and the strip of white sheet flew off like an unhanded hawk. She shot up from
her chair, turned around and she saw me but she collapsed again to her chair clutching her breast,
doubled up with pain The centipede had fallen to the floor.
―You did it,‖ she gasped. ―You tried to kill me. You‘ve health… life… you tried…‖ Her voice
dragged off into a pain-stricken moan.
I was engulfed by a sudden feeling of pity and guilt.
―But it‘s dead!‖ I cried kneeling before her. ―It‘s dead! Look! Look!‖ I snatched up the centipede
and crushed its head between my fingers. ―It‘s dead!‖
My sister did not move. I held the centipede before her like a hunter displaying the tail of a deer,
save that the centipede felt thorny in my hand.
Grade 7 English Learning Package 4