The shopkeeper in Gaborone pressed Peo around a bag of maize meal, a box of matches, and a bunch of bananas. A customer took the bag and walked out into the sun. She set it down at the market entrance and walked away. Peo waited there on the dusty ground, folded tight, wondering where she would go next.
A wind picked up and caught Peo's corner, lifting her off the ground. She tumbled into the air, the dusty earth falling away below. Her edges fluttered wildly as she rose higher. I am going somewhere, Peo thought. Somewhere new.
The wind carried Peo over the wide Botswana plains. Below, a herd of oryx paused and watched her flutter past, their long straight horns catching the light. She tried to fold herself small and steady. Maybe I can land somewhere useful, she thought. But a sudden gust sent her spinning sideways.
Peo careened toward a line of acacia trees and snagged on a low branch. Her plastic body crinkled loudly in the breeze. A hornbill landed nearby and pecked once at her edge, then flew off. I just need to hold on, Peo thought. The wind would let go eventually.
Peo slipped free and drifted again, landing softly near a children's playground. A little girl spotted her and reached down. She wrapped Peo around a toy truck like a blanket. Peo stayed there quietly, feeling useful for the first time.
A playful dog shook the truck, and Peo tumbled into the dry grass. She blew across a field, skimming over brown stems and pebbles, until she came to rest beside an old stone wall. Something was already moving inside her folded crease. A termite crawled out and blinked at the sun.
The termite returned with two more, then four, and soon a busy line of them wove through Peo's plastic folds. They built a small tunnel that held steady and strong. Peo watched them work all afternoon, her flat body now full of holes and living passages. Something good had found me, she thought.
Peo didn't blow away this time. She let the wind rest her gently against the earth. Right beside her, a tiny green shoot pushed up through the soil. It was small and fragile, reaching toward the light. I will stay here, Peo thought. I will hold still.
Weeks passed. Peo became part of the landscape. Her crinkled body hosted a termite colony that grew and shrank with the seasons. Small flowers bloomed along the edges where rain collected in her folds. A beetle made a home in one of her corners.
The wind still passed over her, but Peo no longer lifted. Rain fell and collected in her folds, feeding the tiny flowers. The termites moved in and out of their tunnels, busy and alive. Peo stayed where she was.
Seasons shifted. The termite colony thickened in the warm months and thinned again when the cold wind swept through. Small flowers came and went along Peo's edges. The beetle remained, crawling slowly from one corner to another. Everything changed except Peo's place.
The wind passed over her one more time, but Peo no longer lifted. She had found her place, and it was enough. The termites hummed inside her folds. The flowers bloomed along her edges. Peo stayed, and the land stayed with her.
