Queen of the Pigeons

The little girl waited to be sure that her mother had fully dozed off. She couldn't fathom how anyone could sleep during the afternoon when there was so much to do.

It was time to execute her plan. She sneaked into the kitchen, and tip-toed to reach the rice box. Carefully, she opened it (her mother was a light sleeper). Cupping her hand, she took a handful. Slowly, she walked to the balcony, empty hand beneath the full one, one foot in front of the other, slowly, so as not to drop a single grain.

She slid open the door of the spacious balcony of her house on the second floor. She stood at the the wide grills and threw a few grains down. Immediately a few pigeons flew down to peck at them. She carried on until she saw numbers that thrilled her little mind.

Good! I still have some more left!

This time she threw some on the balcony floor. A minute later 2 pigeons flew up and entered the balcony and started pecking. Ecstatically she threw some more. Soon her spacious balcony was filled with pigeons.

Why, I am the Queen of the Pigeons! See how easily the come to me when I call them!

Come to me Pigeons, come to your Queen. I command you!
I must get some more food for my subjects!

She looked around at the busy pigeons, grinned to herself, and quietly slipped out and dashed to the kitchen. Finding the rice box again, this time she let her fingers sink in slowly and then grabbed as much as her little hands could grab. Clutching her rice tightly she ran out to the balcony again, not noticing that the more she tightened her fists, the more the rice spilt out.

The little girl ran in, panting and then dramatically swung her hands above her head, and it rained rice. Everywhere around her pigeons cooed and fluttered their wings.
The Pigeon Queen closed her eyes and stood there, arms outstretched and wiggled her toes in pigeon shit, of which there was now copious amounts. Blissfully unaware, eyes closed, she smiled inwardly. She twirled and danced and did faux-ballerina steps.

Oh, but this was wonderful!

So blissfully unaware was she, that she didn't notice the watchman's kids sniggering at the "pikin who don go crazy". So unaware was she that she did not realise her mother had woken up and was now staring aghast at the scene in the balcony.

"Mahima! What in God's name are you doing? This place is in a mess..Oh my god, there are pigeons in the house too! Come out right now! Oh nooo you have pigeon poop on your feet too!?"

Even though her heart was thumping out of fear from the scolding she was going to get, she calmly sent out a telepathic message to her subjects.

Time for you to go..Fly...FLY!

She fluttered her hands and waved them and chased the pigeons away, trying not to skid on the colourful droppings that now dotted her floor. She looked down and saw the African children holding their tummies and laughing, and she scowled at them, hating them for making her feel something she couldn't quite put into words. Only later realising that it was called 'embarassment' and perhaps, 'shame'.

Her mother twisted her ear and marched her to the bathroom.

But she didn't care. She was now the Queen of the Pigeons.

Only she.