Information

Cheddar
Legacy Name: Qedar

The Nostalgic Hipottu
Owner: Pureflower

Age: 6 years, 5 months

Born: November 23rd, 2017

Adopted: 6 years, 5 months ago

Adopted: November 23rd, 2017

Pet Spotlight Winner
August 31st, 2022

Statistics

• Level: 34
   
• Strength: 30
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 34
   
• Books Read: 22
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Store Manager

He missed the broiling savannah heat and the songs the women sang as they carried the water jugs home on their heads.

He had owned a little stall in the marketplace. From it, he sold cheeses from all over the world. There were soft, crumbly cheeses that would fall apart in your hand and hard cheeses good for grating over your favorite supper dish. There were sweet dessert cheeses that paired well with fruit, savory cheeses perfect for serving as appetizers and tangy cheeses that complimented any sandwich. There wasn't a cheese in the world that hadn't rested on his shelves at some point and he always sold every cheese he imported.

The rich men of the village kept him in business. They owned monstrous houses, a stark contrast to the two-room hut Ched called home.

An old widower with no desire to change that status, he always kept a loaf of bread on the table, a chicken in the pot and a bottle of wine close at hand. He didn't need luxury though he could've had it. A simple and comfortable life was all he required. It comforted him to know that he would finish out his life in the house his father had built.

That dream was crushed by the war.

*****

It started as a chattering in the far distance, a sound no more alarming than the gossip of baboons as they scurried through the branches of the acacia trees. The little children playing in the road didn't even recognize the sound of gunfire.

Soon there were no children in sight and the women complained of blood in the water. They started going in groups to the river, often taking along a man or two. Most of the young men had fled deeper into the bush. There were ugly rumors that boys as young as twelve were being handed guns and told they belonged to the Republic now. No family was taking a chance on the lives of their most precious members.

No army would want Ched. There was more salt than pepper in his stubbly beard and when it rained he walked with a limp. That didn't make the danger any less real.

The rich families all locked up their houses in the night, riding out of the village to seek any plane still accepting civilians. Ched was very sad to think his last batch of cheese would rot away or go to fill the bellies of those men responsible for so much misery. He called together those people remaining in the village, serving them a feast of everything from buttery Baby Swiss to time-aged Parmesan.

The first soldiers to arrive were not snarling Republic mercenaries. They were scared boys with barely a beard among them. They ushered the villagers onto a helicopter. The message was obvious though they spoke in a strange tongue. Come with us or die.

Ched didn't care for that helicopter one bit. It was noisy, it stank and the constant up-and-down motion was making even the ever-formidable Mbasi look a little green.

They were brought to a place with enormous white tents. The air smelled all wrong, too damp and cold.

The tent city was crowded and rations were limited. There were only two doctors to look after nearly five hundred people. Ched found himself giving away his own meager meals to the children he encountered. His heart was too big. His mother had told him so right up until the day she died.

Every day around noon, an army man with a fat cigar would draw twenty names and send their owners on to a new home. Seven of Ched's friends and neighbors had been sent to every corner of the world by the time his turn came.

Mbasi had gone to London. Kesra and her little brother Acaci were in New York City. Ched thought it might not be so bad moving to a new place if there was at least one friend waiting there for him.

It wasn't until the lottery winners boarded their plane that their destination was announced. They were headed for North Dakota.

*****

The plains are a kind of Savannah. Such was Ched's thought, until the bitter wind struck his face. If only Father Sun would come fight off this cold, I could grow to like it here.

There was a nice woman who came once a week to deliver his groceries and help him figure out that infernal washing machine. There was the teacher of his English class who always smiled and who wore such bright colors that it tired Ched's eyes to watch her for long. He hated to take up too much of her time in class. There were so many young folk here eager to learn all the mysteries of the local language. He was learning enough words to get by. He already knew "hello" and "yes" and "no". "Where is the bathroom?" was his first full sentence. Most important to his vocabulary was the word "cheese".

Cheddar the Cheese Man, his classmates called him. It was an affectionate name from a group that saw him as something of a wise old grandfather. He smiled back at them. Anything related to cheese had to be a good thing.

His neighbors were not always so nice. Two men in a speeding truck threw a bottle of whiskey at his head. Their aim was terrible but they did manage to spray Ched with stinking droplets. The woman at the deli counter asked in a growing tone of irritation what Ched would like to buy when he spent two hours merely staring at the cheese display. She then called security.

Joan came to the store to talk to the men in blue that dragged Ched to the room with lots of TV screens. She smoothed things over with the store manager and took Ched home.

"People in America are very different than the ones back home, Ched. They get uncomfortable when you stand in one place for a long time without saying anything. They think you might be dangerous."

Ched laughed but Joan didn't join in. His smile fell away and he sighed. He couldn't even properly smell the cheeses, not when they were wrapped in that horrible shiny stuff.

"I'm going to try and place you for a job. You seem to really like food. The local pizza place is looking for someone to unload supplies. Does that sound like something you'd like to do?"

Ched had no idea what a "pizza" even was. He smiled and gave Joan thumbs-up, a trick he'd learned from one of his classmates named Raul.

*****

He soon got very good at stacking the cans based on the picture on the label.

The teenagers hired on as delivery drivers and cashiers gave him many funny looks. He not only worked his full shift without sneaking away for smoke breaks, he actually stayed his full shift and never cut out early. It was like he actually liked his job or something.

Ched excelled at learning the names of pizza ingredients though he struggled to count to ten. Before the month ended, he could tell you the name of every pizza and appetizer offered by Lozza Mozza without looking at a menu.

He looked on with longing when the big bags of cheese were emptied into their vats. The simple blend of mozzarella and cheddar was all well and fine but there were so many flavor possibilities offered by a good cheese. Sweet, salty, nutty or bold, each hand-crafted cheese he'd once pedaled had been so much more than a pretty round to fill space on a shelf.

He couldn't work up the courage to offer suggestions to the manager even though she was half his age.

One day when he was hauling out the trash, his eyes fell on the discarded supplier catalogues in the recycle bin. One was entitled "Cheeses of the World". He spent his break studying the glossy pages, awed by all the textures and colors.

His manager watched him from a distance. She caught his eye as break time ended. She pointed to the magazine, then to him. She didn't say anything but her meaning was clear enough. Ched bowed at the waist in gratitude for her kindness.

The next day, he brought her a homemade sweet bread, one sprinkled with aged cheddar infused with port wine. Despite her diet, she finished it in two days.

When the Battle of the Bakers came to town, she encouraged Ched to enter, helping him with the application. He came in second place behind a Strawberry Angel Dream Torte.

It would be another year before Ched would save up enough to open his own small deli. His custom line of blended gourmet cheeses would gain him national recognition. Among his many trophies and certificates, the frayed "Battle of the Bakers" second place ribbon would always keep its honorary central spot where customers couldn't fail to see it.

He always had a free sample ready to hand to any child that entered his shop. Their smiles took him back to that day in his native village when he had given away his entire supply of cheese to bring a little joy back into the lives of people in desperate need of a small act of kindness.

Credits:

Profile coding by Bug
Story by Pureflower
Background from pixabay
Font from Google Fonts

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