Your Land is My Land [CLOSED, Yalkan]

The Makopa-Mansani Border

The middle of nowhere. Well, nowhere as in nobody-knows-to-where. Especially for one particular Szlavic babushka tending to her cornfields. She wants to keep it that way.

Looking up to the afternoon sky, with her hand over her eyes to actually see, it annoyed her to find there are still birds circling over the farm. Crows or not, all birds are the work of the devil. They might look cute to city folk, but no cute bird can fool Zaure Nazerova. Her lineage goes way back to near-ancient times when those menacing Hailakaid brutes enslaved and stole lands from the Szlavic people in what is now called Mansani. The mere thought of that name made her spit. That's why she had the local witch cast a curse on every scarecrow on her property.

In the dark of the night, whenever someone across the border comes here with malicious intent, the scarecrows will come alive and chase the trespassers out—or else, face the agony of getting their orifices sewn closed while fully conscious.

Though Nazerova had a weird feeling she was scammed. She found that witch's website from the town email list. It was a bit strange that the witch's emails always went straight to spam, but Nazerova thought nothing more of it since she was born in a time when typewriters were the most advanced thing in the house.

From where she is standing, Nazerova has a clear view of the pathetic border fence that fails to keep out youngsters and smugglers. It's so short, teens from both sides would sit on the posts as they drink, gossip, and hip thrust their way to become public nuisances.

Inspecting one of her scarecrows in the distance, she noticed this one was wearing cleaner clothes, natural flowing hair, and a nine o'clock shadow. This one reminds her of her strapping, grandnephew.

Wait, it is her strapping, grandnephew.

"Agaton!" Nazerova greeted, waving at him to come over.

"Aunt Zaure!" Agaton shouted back as he ran towards her. "People are looking for you!"

Nazerova didn't catch that last bit. "What?"

Agaton panted. Catching his breath before he could look at his great aunt properly. "There are people..." He wiped the dripping sweat off his lips. "People are looking for you."

"People? What people?" Nazerova asked. She gritted her teeth as she dug her brain for anything that might come up today.

"The land surveyors from Mansani." Agaton answered. "They said you moved the border fence."

Nazerova gnashed her teeth. "Yeah? So what? They put the border fence closer to my property last week."

"They adjusted several feet because it was off the official demarcated line," Agaton explained.

"Several feet?!" Nazerova shouted. "I saw them with my own two eyes! And I'm 78 years old."

"Aunt Zaure..."

"I'll show them." Nazerova rolled up her sleeves. "Go get your husband! I'll need some backup."

"Aunt Zaure! Be reasonable."

"If only you married a woman, you would've bred nice young Szlavic-Ano'an bulls to help us fight for our land-"

"Okay! Okay! I'll get Marcus."

Nearing the border, Nazerova spotted the surveyors.

"GET OUT OF MY PROPERTY!!!" She screeched in Obshchiy-Yazk.

The Makopa-Mansani Border

One could always wonder about what turn of events led a person to their current destiny. Wondering why one was assigned to a surveying team to ensure national borders were in compliance with past surveys. Maybe even wondering how such a small slip up in the art that is cartography some fifty years ago could create such a situation. Police Sergeant Hawa Sanogo had no such wonder. She knew exactly why she was where she was. All because some bureaucrat from the city was pushing an agenda and this was an easy win in the public eye. They could pound their chest and say “I fixed the disputes on the border! I am a national hero.” That and maybe because last week she told her police captain off. Sergeant Sanogo sneered at the thought.

Because of her luck she now had to babysit a bunch of government contracted surveyors. They all kept scratching their heads staring at the wired fence they had set up and mumbling about discrepancies. One of them, their team leader Badara Suso, was particularly verbal about his displeasure with the results of their hard work not lining up with their previous results from a week ago. He kept going on and on about some damned crazy old woman. Sergeant Sanogo debated bringing up the irony of a man muttering about crazy old ladies repeatedly to himself.

The peace of the day was shattered by the wailing of a banshee. Sergeant Sanogo was brought out of her thousand yard stare only to be greeted by an old szlavic woman marching down a path with surprising speed yelling in a language she didn’t understand. A perfect start to the day.

“That's her! That’s the woman! She’s ruined all my hard work! All my maths! Do something!” Badara yelled as he hid behind the towering woman that was Sergeant Sanogo. The police sergeant stood there thinking about how hard she would punch her captain. She was aiming for the record. Sergeant Sanogo slowly grabbed her radio and clicked the button to speak.

“This is Sergeant Sangogo, Unit 33, I’m gonna need a translator, there’s a szlavic woman here and I don’t speak a lick of Obshchiy-Yazk. Do you copy?” She eagerly waited for a reply. Now she didn’t feel mortally in danger, yet if her own mother was anything to go by, never underestimate a driven old woman. Dispatch was taking their sweet time. Sergeant Sanogo was getting impatient and had a suspicious inkling that something was afoot.

“Dispatch, this is Unit 33, what’s the word on the translator? Over,” she waited again for a response.

A meek voice finally came on the radio,” Unit 33 this is uh...dispatch um…” Sanogo could here muffled voices in the background and discussion occurring before the dispatcher resumed “Um, Unit 33 we can’t provide a translator at this time... uh... good luck.”

That son of a bitch. That cow loving desert turd. Sergeant Sanogo was angry. Very angry. She immediately turned to face the cowering survey team and yelled “Do any of you understand this woman, if so come here! NOW!”

A young man threw his hand up from behind a jeep the team was using. “I do,” he replied. Sergeant Sanogo gestured for the man to join her by standing at the border fence to face off the old woman.

“What’s your name,” she asked.

“It’s Andre,” he replied, looking back at his own survey team, wondering what was about to happen.

“Just tell me what the woman is saying and tell her what I’m saying, and don’t get bogged down in niceties, got it?”

Andre merely nodded along. “She’s screaming for us to get off her property. She’s also calling us, um, many expletives.”

Sergeant Sanogo sighed. This was gonna be a long day. “Tell her that we’re here on the authority of the Mansani Government, working from the Jimba administration office. That the border needs adjustment. Ask her what exactly is the problem.”

Andre did just that, and hoped for less screaming.

"I've heard the same thing from that wimpy cuck over there." Nazerova pointed at the man behind the tall policewoman. "I had to bring in a translator to deal with him. He's not even a licensed translator! He's the town grocer and I had to pay him a lot of money! A LOT. OF. MONEY!!!" She emphasized.

Nazerova looked at the new placement of the fence posts and shook her head, grumbling out something about curses and the mayor's name. She'll probably have to wait until these Mansani officials leave, and continue this war of attrition till either side gets tired of moving the fence. Right now, Nazerova nodded to herself with an air of decisiveness.

"The Jimba administration can kiss my ass." Nazerova took out the shovel she buried last week under a pile of leaves and started digging at one of the posts.

"Aunt Zaure!"

Agaton came running with a shorter, more lithe man. He is carrying a Kuhono hunting rifle.

"Where are the little bastards?" The armed man grunted and panned at the length of the fence, looking in the opposite direction of the Mansani and Nazerova's tightened brows.

"Where are you looking at, you *Imperial *mu-dak?" Nazerova slapped the back of the armed man. "Marcus, they're over there."

Marcus looked back and forth from his in-law and the Mansani authorities, scratching his head and massaging his back where it hurt. His eyes land on Agaton.

"I thought we were gonna chase out teenagers?" Marcus asked.

Agaton tried to smile. "...Aunt Zaure is upset for no good reason. She's mistaken the Mansani surveyors' work for stealing her land."

"Shut up, ungrateful nephew! Your mu-dak husband, too!" Nazerova shouted at the couple, stomping her feet on the ground.

For some reason, the birds started circling closer to the escalating situation. Marcus, too confused to take in his own husband's explanation, focused on the sky and kept nodding to pretend he's listening. Nazerova, fed up with Marcus's inaction, threw the shovel at the couple. While they're stunned, Nazerova took Marcus's gun and fired a shot.

The birds fled from the scene and the cornfields, flying away as they faded into the horizon.

A bleeding bird fell on Nazerova.

"BAD LUCK!! BAD LUCK!!!" Nazerova started screaming and running around in circles.

Marcus chased after his in-law. But Nazerova kept pushing him away at the same time.

"GET AWAY, MU-DAK!!!"

Agaton bowed in greeting at the translator. "I'm sorry for this. Aunt Zaure usually likes people-"

"NOT MANSANI!!"

"She's a nice woman. Everyone likes her in town-"

"NOT ANTON!!!"

"Anyway." Agaton pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is there anything you can do to reassure my great aunt?"

Everyone had ducked or dropped to the ground after the old woman had fired a shot into the air. Everyone except Hawa. Badara had knocked himself unconscious while attempting to dive behind a jeep. He had misjudged the trajectory and instead landed face first into a bumper. Sergeant Sanogo crossed her arms and almost laughed. Almost. Border duty was, if anything, full of unexpected incidents. She moved to pick her, would be, translator off the ground and stand him up right. He stood shaking in confusion, before Hawa gestured for him to translate what the man had just said.

Andre stuttered out the translation. She nodded along. Hawa looked past Agaton at the struggle going on behind him. How that old woman had this much energy was… a medical miracle. Admirable even. If she wasn’t such a current pain in her ass, Hawa might have even liked her.

“So she needs reassurance?” she said aloud, more to herself than to her translator or the pleading man. An idea came to her. An idea that would serve herself the best. Her near constant frown turned into a small smile. Hawa gestured for the both of them to wait a moment. She strolled over past the still cowering survey team right up to the unconscious Badara. Near him was the clipboard with necessary coordinates and markers that determined the border. It even included his signature. She decided to relieve the man of his duties. For the moment at least. She returned to the confused pair, clipboard in hand. She faced Andre with her cold stare.

“Andre, how many feet is the discrepancy?”

“I, uh, what? It’s um...It’s several feet off in our direction. It should be roughly at least a handful of yards in that direction. Closer to her property,” he sputtered out. He desperately tried to calm himself with deep breathing.

“Farther from her property you said? Twenty yard discrepancy? That’s a large mistake for the survey team to make. Imagine the scandal the Republic Government would face if it were found out. I suggest corrections. Immediately,” she replied curtly, giving the clipboard to Andre.

“W-What, no I said it’s been moved b-back in our direction. It should be-”

“Tell the man, we’re sorry to have inconvenienced his family and that the fence will be moved back twenty yards from the old lady’s place. Am I clear? Good. Tell him.”

Andre could only nod along as her icy eyes bore a hole into his soul. He gripped the clipboard as if it was a shield against the sergeant’s evil. He proceeded to tell Agaton just that. He turned to Sergeant Sanogo. He whispered in an almost half frightened, half crying tone,” Am...am I going to jail?”

Hawa actually smiled a bit before replying, “Of course not Andre. You’ve probably been the most helpful person here in the past five decades.”