Afoot in The Grave

WESUTSA JUST
O’WAKWABI
A P.O. Box 15825,

NAKURU,
KENYA.
FOOTTel:
+254720444027
IN
THE
GRAVE
PROLOGUE
IN THE BEGINNING, he didn’t realise it

was the end.
She came to him in his sleep. It was in the
wee hours of the morning. He turned in his bed
and she was there. Seated on the armchair
looking over at him. He knew he ought to fret,
but for some reason, he felt a certain warmth
in her presence. It put him at ease.
He could make out her smile in the dim
light of the moonlight. But that was all he saw
of her face. She kept well hidden from him, her
eyes.
But he didn’t frown upon this for long. When
she started speaking and he heard the warmth
in her voice, he felt himself drawn to her.
They settled into an easy camaraderie as
they conversed. Their colloquy as unlikely as it
was, was lively. Before long, he was laughing
along with her at one thing or the other. But
2
Just A Foot In The Grave by Wesutsa O’wakwabi
even as she laughed, she managed to keep her
eyes well hidden from him. But he brushed
that aside. The important thing was that they
could talk again.
Soon, she stood up and went over to the
door. Don’t go yet! He thought desperately.
But she just smiled at him and beckoned to
him – come.
Without a second thought, he got off the
bed in his quaint pyjamas and went over to
her. She opened the door and stepped out.
In the manner of dreams, the door opened
into the outside of his house instead of the
corridor. They were in some moor of some
kind. The grass was green and soft on his bare
feet. The sun was out and comfortably bright.
Not too hot.
He felt as light-hearted as the day itself and
chattered away like a primate as he followed
her into the woods a few yards off. She was
3
walking ahead as he followed her. He couldn’t
explain it, but he was drawn to her like a moth
to a flame. The little ganglia narrowed to that
unary sense.
Momentarily, they were into the forest
proper. The ground grew damp the further
they went. The undergrowth was no longer soft
tufts of grass. Needless to say, the feeling on
his feet was no longer soothing. But still, she
went on. And he followed her. The moth to the
flame – being led to sure demise.
He called to her uncertainly, as he noticed
the gap that had grown between them. She
just beckoned to him to follow. He quickened
his stride the feeling of unease just slightly
pinching him.
As they went deeper into the forest, it got
dimmer as the canopy screened the sunlight.
And as the trees grew closer and closer, so did
the feeling of enclosure.
4
Above, heavy poignant, seemingly from no
where, nimbostratus converged further
obscuring the sun. The forest was now dim and
dank. A putrid smell of a dead animal wafted to
him offending his nostrils. He called to her
shakily as the sense of claustrophobia plagued
him.
But miraculously, she was even further
ahead of him. Without a backward glance, she
implored him to hurry. His heart now assumed
slow very thick thuds, as he tasted the acrid
tang of fear. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be in
this dank place any longer.
He looked back. He wished fervently that he
had not. As his heart lurched dangerously and
then picked a fast erratic beat. He turned
desperately looking for her. She was gone!
Disappeared into thin air! He started running.
5
Feverishly calling to her, he ran knowing
intuitively that if he didn’t, he would never get
out of this forest. Not alive; not dead.
The trees merged into a blur as he raced
past searching fervently for her. His heart was
pounding and his lungs ached desperately. He
was fast running out of breath. But he could
not stop! He had to outrun what was at his
back, coming closer every second. What had
almost stopped his heart when he had seen it –
nothing.
And it was advancing. The forest and
everything in it would soon dissolve, get
swallowed into nothing. Annihilated. Erased
from existence the way an artist places an
eraser on a doodle – with single-minded
mercilessness. He ran faster.
Suddenly, he came upon a river. Firmly, he
schooled the urge to look behind. But now,
how would oh8e ford the river? It was wide and
6
the waters flowed by ferociously with a furious
roar. He heard the distant rumble of thunder. It
would rain soon.
In his bed, he twitched and jerked. Doing
desperate battle to get out of the grip of the
dream. His subconscious was aware that he
was mortified, but try as he did, he could not
come into wakefulness.
Suddenly, he saw her. She stood on the
opposite bank of the roaring river. She was
facing him, but still her eyes remained averted.
He stopped fighting to wake. He was safe now
she was back. Everything would be fine. She
would know what to do.
She beckoned to him. Come. He took a step
closer to the water. And another one…
But then suddenly, a moment of hesitation
visited him. The water in the young river
roared too loud. Looking down at his feet, the
water rushed so fast that a sense of vertigo
7
gripped him so, that he almost fell in! Scared,
he looked toward her. The rain started falling
then, in thick drops. She beckoned to him with
urgency. Still she did not meet his eyes. He
shook his head, taking a tentative step back.
And then another. His eyes never left her
wraithlike form.
But all of a sudden, she lost her urgency.
‘Come to me.’ She said soothingly, her voice
carrying over the roar of the river to him.
‘Come, it will be all right. Just cross…’ and like
an automaton, his feet moved forward once
more. It was raining torrentially now. His feet
trudged on the wet bank slowly.
Out of no where, the thunder clapped so
sharply he slipped on the wet surface landing
unceremoniously on his butt. His feet were just
touching the water. The feel of the cold water
on his bare soles jarred him and panicky, he
crawled from the water on his hands and feet.
8
At the back of his mind was the grim reality
that he couldn’t go back into nothing. But just
the same, there was no way he could go into
that water. There had to be another way…
He stood himself up on wobbly legs. His
whole body was shivering badly. Eyes glued on
her, he ignored her gentle summons and took
small steps back.
She looked at him! Right then, she raised
her face and looked him in the eyes. He looked
into the black orbs and forgot to breathe.
Those eyes were dead!
‘Cross the river.’ She spoke calmly. And
when she raised her arm and beckoned, he
couldn’t control his feet. He knew he should
turn tail and run. But he didn’t seem to control
his feet. Slowly, he moved forward. Closer to
the raging waters.
In his bed, the thrashed about desperate to
exit the realm of his dream that was
9
constipating him. All the warmth had drained
from him…
But he moved forward still… His eyes
locked onto her unseeing ones as the cold
putrid water reached his waist. He called
frantically to her as the water reached his
chest. But the apparition that was her, grew
dimmer and dimmer still and finally
disappeared… desperately, he tried to swim.
He had to get to the other shore. But the water
was too strong. The undertow was pulling him
into the deep waters. He was drowning! He
struggled willing his limbs to keep moving. But
the lethargy in them was growing and the
water gained more power as his strength
ebbed away. Her name was a hopeless whisper
on his lips as he swallowed water…
He saw nothing swallow the forest. It moved
towards him determinedly. It was needless. He
10
was already going down in the dark smelly
waters. Down, down, down…
In his bed, he stopped thrashing about,
settling into a peaceful quiet.
BOOK ONE
THE WITCH
AND
THE WITCH HUNTER...
"All I desire for my own burial is not to be buried

alive".
Lord Chesterfield. Letter to his daughter-in-law,

March 16, 1769.
11
GIDEON MAINA sat ruminatively in the
bus. He stared outside the window, his mind
not registering the rushing trees and shrub. He
was bound for the countryside.
Home. The home of his father and the
father before him. He wondered how he would
be received. It had been five years now since
the last time he was there. The burial of his
brother; when he had deceived everyone…
He shut his eyes tightly, running the pads of
his fingers on the lids. He forced the image of
his brother out of his mind.
Gideon Maina was a writer. He had a long
way to go. A very long way to go, according to
him. This trip in fact was necessitated by the
fact that he had not written a sentence in
eleven months. He just couldn’t concentrate.
The words that had come so effortlessly before,
now evaded him. He had always felt a certain
ease in the countryside. On the land of his
12
ancestors. He needed to feel that way again –
at ease and unencumbered. Until five years
ago, not a year had ever passed before he
went home. Now, he wondered. Was he doing
the right thing? Were the ghosts that he ran
from daily going to finally catch up with him?
Gideon Maina had been born to Thomas and

Sera Maina. He was the second born of three
children. As a young boy he had been
introverted. He had not been the kind of child
that encouraged fussing over. That had been
his young sister. And from an early age, he had
learned to keep his own counsel.
He had an almost indecent urge to run away
from his life. He detested the forces that had
forced him to be born to his family. But as he
was a quiet child, no one could have ever
guessed at this.
13
And since one of the most remarkable traits
that a child can have anyway is silence, he was
tolerated.
He found the need to escape to another
world. A world that was predictable, yet still
exciting. A world he could control. A world
where he was loved. Where he was brave and
where he didn’t cry himself to sleep at night.
So he sat down and stared into space. He
was a prince of a mediaeval royal family, and
he would be so wise that people would travel
from all over the world to seek his sage advice.
At ten years, he discovered books. These he
devoured hungrily as he discovered to his glee
that they fuelled his imagination immensely.
As he grew, so did his sojourns into these
fictitious worlds he created for himself. At
thirteen he wrote his first story. He had never
looked back. Creating his own world, where he
was master. Where he could grant life or take it
14
away with a stroke of pen, where he carved out
destinies in his mind implementing them on
paper, such a world where he was god.
He thought he knew the feeling that went
with the words ‘after he had finished, he
thought it was good.’
Gideon smiled. The first smile since four
hours before, when he’d come to the
impromptu decision to go up country.
He wondered how his grandfather looked
like now. Then he lost the smile. The old man
had been devastated at the burial. Solomon
Maina, his elder brother, had been named after
his grandfather.
He had been born to the young couple in
complicated circumstances. His mother had
been in her last stages of gravidity – two weeks
to the due date, when labour had started. His
father had been off to the local club drinking
15
with his friends, at twelve noon. By the time he
was called, Sera had already passed out.
They had rushed her to the hospital and
immediately she was on the gurney, she had
delivered. The child was healthy. The mother
was healthy. It was to be two years later before
they discovered that he had a problem.
It was when Gideon in fact, born two years
after his brother had started talking that they
discovered that he had an impediment. He
hadn’t spoken a word in the four and a half
years of his life.
Solomon Maina had a mental impediment.
The doctors suggested that due to the
condition of his birth, he had been without
oxygen for sometime when he was still in the
womb before delivery. This affected his speech
and his reasoning ability.
Solomon Maina was a beautiful boy. But his
condition made him a trial to live with. He
16
threw tantrums of such enormity, that his
mother started avoiding him. By this time,
Thomas was never to be found far from the
bar. His ubiquitous pipe on his lips.
The decision to get a third child to counter
the first was reached at rather easily. So
Katherine was born. She was a pretty child with
doleful large brown eyes and when they grew,
neat even white teeth. A darling baby girl. And
the family breathed a collective sigh of relief
when she first cried out ‘Mama! Mama!’ when
Solo made away with her shaker.
Growing up in the Maina home had been
trying at best, but it had had its light moments.
Thomas for all his drinking problems had been
a very attentive father. But his drinking had
made his work deteriorate. At forty-five, he had
been dishonourably declared redundant in the
Planning ministry where he had worked as a
17
Chief Engineer. Technological obsolescence the
euphemism they’d used for ‘get the hell lost!’
The family had had to move back to the
country, Sera having only been a housewife.
Gideon then had been in high school - a quiet
introverted but unquestionably bright
sophomore. He hadn’t been affected much as
he had been in boarding school.
Life in the countryside hadn’t improved for
the Mainas. Thomas had turned to illicit brews
and the learned man had died of mysterious
circumstances in a drinking parlour at fifty.
They said he drunk too much, or that he had a
weak heart. Some said he was bewitched by a
jealous witch. After all, he had been a very
successful man – difficult though it had been to
spot seeing him dressed in his aged suits
staggering; the ever present pipe dangling
precariously on his lips explaining theories of
physics at the top of his voice.
18
His father, Solomon, had wept at his burial.
Gideon recalled hearing his grandfather say, it
was not wrong to cry for someone you love
when he passed away…
Gideon had tried to cry at his brother’s
burial. He recalled seeing the coffin descend
into the gaping hole. His eyes glazing but not a
tear dropping. His grandfather had wept
pitifully. So had his sister and mother. ‘A man
should never have to bury his grandson…’
Closing his eyes even tighter, Gideon willed
away the thoughts of five years ago. He was
glad when the swaying of the bus finally lulled
him into a dark dreamless slumber.
19
20
2
THE NINE-YEAR-OLD GIRL got off her

bed in the wee hours of the morning. The din
coming from her parents’ room had woken her
up. She hated it when they argued. And lately,
they did it so much.
Her little feet trudged on to the oak door.
She meant to stop them from shouting at each
other. But when she pushed the heavy door
open to a crack, she froze.
‘It’s all your fault!’ she heard her dad yell in
a drunken slur.
‘She’s your daughter too John…’
‘Well sometimes I wonder.’ He retorted. She
heard her mother gasp.
21
‘Don’t speak like that John. I have never
cheated on you,’ and as if to convince him, she
went on further. ‘You think I don’t regret giving
birth to her too? You think I don’t look at her
and ask God why he couldn’t have given me a
normal child?’
‘Do you look at her?’ he yelled. ’Jesus you
can’t even look at her she’s, she’s… She’ll
probably stay with us forever.’ He said in
defeat.
‘I know darling I know. But yelling won’t
help.’
‘I wish we had another child.’
‘Me too John. Me too…’
The little girl didn’t wait to hear the rest of
it. Her eyes were glazed with unshed tears. Her
throat burned with emotion.
They didn’t want her. They hated her. They
couldn’t look at her. Well she was the one who
had to look at herself each and everyday. How
22
did they think she felt each day turning the
mirror away so she wouldn’t have to see
herself?
They hated her? Didn’t they know she
hated herself more? She rubbed at her wet
eyes frantically. She wouldn’t cry. She had to
stay strong. She wouldn’t cry. She would help
them. Daddy was wrong. She wouldn’t stay
with them forever…
She would do what they couldn’t bring
themselves to do. Maybe when she went
Mommy would weep. Maybe she’d miss her a
little? She doubted Daddy would mind at all.
But Mommy… oh Mommy you are going to love
me for being so brave. So strong. Maybe they
would have another child. She’d always
wondered why they hadn’t before.
In her dreams, she always saw herself in a
family where they loved her. Where she was
23
the same as everyone else. Where she didn’t
have to shun the mirror in the mornings...
Mechanically, in her bathroom, she opened
the tap of the tub after stopering the drain.
She was clever; she would show them. She
knew things. She would rid them of her
presence forever. Perhaps they would stop
yelling and arguing so much and laugh…
perhaps Mommy would miss her – she wiped at
her eyes sniffing. She wouldn’t cry.
She reached into the cabinet and got out a
razor blade. She had seen this in a movie… her
escape. She just wanted to join her new family.
Be able to look in the mirror…
The bathtub was now halfway full. She
stepped into it and sat carefully in the cool
water. Gritting her teeth, she sliced her left
wrist deep. The blood gushed out in a tepid
fountain of red. For a moment, she was
24
fascinated with the image; almost hypnotised.
She was beyond pain now.
Remembering herself, she turned her other
wrist and put her bloody razor to it. She didn’t
cut this as deep as the other as she was using
her weaker hand. She was dreading that she’d
have to do it again, when she saw the blood
spurt out of the wound.
She lay back in the tub and placed her
hands in the rising water. She winced at the
sudden sharp pain but gritted her teeth. Am
strong, have to stay strong… it was like a
mantra she breathed to herself. Her parents
would be happy finally. And so would she.
She closed her eyes and pictured her new
Mommy and Daddy. They would laugh with her
cuddling her and tickling her with love shining
in their eyes…
Her parents’ hateful words reached her
once more and disturbed her peaceful visage.
25
She tightened her little eyes to force them out
of her mind.
But she hoped fervently that Mommy would
miss her. But maybe she wouldn’t. Why should
she? But she knew she would miss Mommy…
She struggled hard to see her new family. But
the tears sipped between her tightly shut lids
and she cried and cried…
* *
*
The bus conductor shook Gideon awake.

‘We’ve arrived sir.’
He mumbled something then got off with
his bag. He looked around and it was like he
had never left. The red soil at his feet the warm
people at the bus station…
‘Giddie?’ he turned to look at the girl who’d
called his name. She looked to be in her teens.
She was getting up from one of the stalls at the
26
station and was running towards him a bright
smile on her warm face. But for the life of him,
he couldn’t seem to remember her.
‘Giddie, you’ve just arrived?’ she rattled on
breathlessly gripping his hand in both of hers.
‘Grandpa will be so happy. Come I’ll get you
transport.’ And she pulled him taking his bag.
‘Hey you! Kefa!’ she called. Gideon saw the
called man turn in response then turn his
bicycle towards them.
‘Take him home.’ She commanded. Then
smiling at him, ‘Tell Grandpa I’ll be home soon
after I finish selling the wares.’
Gideon smiled back at the girl-woman
thinking his memory had never before failed
him this way. But still five years was a long
time. He perched onto the padded carrier of
the bicycle taxi and Kefa peddled off.
Kefa, his ‘driver’, was loquacious.
27
‘Old man Maina will sure be glad to see
you.’ He stated reiterating the girl’s earlier
words. ‘Nancy has been waiting for your arrival
the whole day.’ And so Gideon gleaned that the
waif girl’s name was Nancy. He had written to
his Grandfather informing him of his imminent
arrival a week ago. He refused to think that it
was perhaps to give the old man time to refuse
him.
He had no reason to resent his arrival
surely? He hoped so with more feeling than he
liked…
‘Oh the weather has been erratic this
season.’ Kefa was rattling on. He was a dapper
little fellow of no little energy though, if his
cycling pace was anything to go by. ‘It may
rain three days without stop, then stay dry for
weeks… it’s very distressing for the farmers.’
Then as if realising that his passenger was not
28
participating in the colloquy, ‘How was your
trip?’
‘Fine.’ He said laconically. Hannah had
always told him that he was an easy person to
talk to, but not a good listener. Hannah…
‘Last time I was in the city, I didn’t like it
much. The buildings are so tall they made the
roads look like corridors. And the cars? I mean
they were so fast and noisy I tell you…’
Gideon tuned off the rest of his words. He
wondered how the homestead looked like after
five years. His eyes roamed around the
plantations noticing that apart from an
occasional mill where none had been before,
nothing had changed much in this quaint place
in five years. Kefa maintained his patter up to
and including the common village gossip.
Someone hang himself. Another’s cow was
sick. Another’s was doing well so it was safe to
assume that he had visited a witch and placed
29
a curse on his neighbour. Yes even the number
of fowl that Nancy – who he knew now was the
first daughter of his cousin, had managed to
husband!
‘Son of Thomas Maina!’ he heard the sharp
shrill voice so sudden that he jerked in his seat.
It seemed to have come from no where. Much
as he looked around, he couldn’t make out
who’d called him.
It was evening and the light was a dim
orange. But even then there wasn’t any place
obvious for any one to hide. Sugar plantations
covered both sides of the road. Plus that voice,
there was just something about it…
‘Stop.’ He told the energetic boy.
‘No.’ he spoke breathlessly, with what
Gideon suspected was fear. ‘That’s Chumo, the
evil old witch.’
He heard the shrill voice call to him again.
‘Stop now boy or I’ll jump.’ The boy didn’t like
30
it, but he heeded to the authoritative
command. He braked sharply.
Gideon stood off the seat looking around
him. The stretch of road was relatively
deserted. The sugarcane stretched for yards on
either side of the road. It was deathly quiet.
‘L_Let’s go now.’ Kefa urged him still on the
bicycle.
‘Chumo!’ Gideon called obstinately.
‘No man! Don’t call-’
‘Come to me my son,’ came the shrill voice
again from no where.
‘Show yourself.’ He yelled back refusing to
recognise the slight chill that settled in his
bowels.
‘Sure?’ the voice seemed to taunt him now.
Kefa was shaking his head his eyes wide.
‘Yes.’ He said then repeated it out aloud.
‘Show yourself.’
31
He heard maniacal laughter. Then the
sugarcane on his left started shaking indeed as
if someone was moving within the plantation. A
very big someone! It was as though an
elephant was making its way within the cane.
Then, behind him, the cane also started
shaking. The maniacal laughter seemed to
elevate. Kefa was visibly shaking.
‘Look what you’ve done! Let’s go! Now!’
Gideon hesitated. But then a cold draught
crossed over the road chilling him to his bones.
He got back onto the already moving bicycle
without word. The maniacal laughter went on
ceaselessly.
‘Come see me, son of Maina!’ he heard and
Kefa peddled even faster.
‘You must not go to her.’ He spoke after
they were no less than three hundred yards
away. When Gideon just kept silent, he felt a
need to convince him further.
32
‘She’s a witch. A very evil witch.’
‘How was she able to see us when we
couldn’t?’
Kefa shrugged then said, ‘She’s a witch.
How do you think she knew you’d come?
Please don’t go see her.’
‘Why?’
‘She’s a witch.’ He said shrugging again. His
passenger was an ornery man. Taking a deep
breath, he whispered as if afraid the very wind
would hear. ’She killed her husband.’
He took Gideon’s silence as further
refractory. ‘And your grandmother.’ This was
almost less than a whisper.
‘You are not serious!’ Gideon said
incredulously.
‘Ask anyone. But please, don’t go see her.’
Gideon would have liked to question the boy
further, but they were presently arriving at the
homestead.
33
‘Gideon.’ His grandfather spoke engulfing
him in a bear hug. It was better than all his
expectations, and he gladly hugged the old
man back.
Solomon Maina at 75, had a full mop of
grey-white hair. No balding for him. His smile
was warm as he embraced his grandson.
‘Come in come in.’ he said leading him into the
house with an arm round Gideon’s shoulder.
‘Kefa come and have a meal with us.’
‘Not today grandfather. My mother fell ill
and I have to get home early.’
‘We’ll pray for her to get well soon. Go well
old boy, and have yourself a pleasant night.’
‘Thank you.’ He said turning to leave but
not before giving Gideon a stare that told it all.
‘Come on in old boy. Tell me what you’ve
been up to all this time.’
Gideon turned to his grandfather and smiled
following him into the house.
34
* *
*
Her mother was the first to find her. She thought she
heard a faint noise from her daughter’s room. It was as
though water was pouring out on to the floor…
She left her husband still lamenting but in a

quieter tone now. John was really a trial when
drunk. She could not have thought that her
little girl heard what they had been arguing
about. After all it was well past three in the
morning.
Pushing her daughter’s door, she quietly
entered the room. It was now obvious that the
strange noise she’d heard emanated from her
baby’s room.
If only John could be more accepting. It was
hard enough without his having to compound it
35
all by being so angry. It wasn’t her fault she
had given birth to…
‘Baby?’ she called quietly putting on the
lights. She was shocked to find her girl’s bed
empty. Her heart starting to pound, she made
to the slightly open bathroom door.
‘Baby? Are you in there?’ she called pushing
the door wide open. She stepped into the
water at her feet and cursed. What was this?
She switched on the light.
Her bloodcurdling scream was heard
throughout the neighbourhood.
36
GIDEON AND HIS GRANDFATHER settled
into an easy routine. They spent everyday of
the next week working in the fields assisting
the work hands. While Solo stuck to a more
supervisory role, Gideon got a hoe and plunged
into the sweaty labour with the rank and file.
He was a tall man at six feet three – four
inches taller than his grandfather was. He had
a slender frame that bordered on the thin. A
condition that the vociferous Nancy was wont
to take advantage of cooking him food enough
to feed armies.
Gideon liked hard labour. The feel of his
sinewy muscles stressing and straining helped
to get rid of the endless thoughts that plagued
his mind. It was a calming influence on him,
strenuous labour was.
He worked himself so hard each day he fell
into his bed into a dreamless slumber at the
dusk of each day.
37
The homestead was relatively empty as all
his five uncles’ families were in the city. It was
just his grandfather and Nancy. She was the
youngest daughter of his aunt who had come
to live with his grandfather to take care of him.
She had just been thirteen the last he had been
there. The last time he had been with his
family really.
His mother was somewhere. She had
stopped being a mother to them long before
their father had passed away. When he died,
she had just compounded it by moving in with
some man half her age who lived at the coast.
Gideon thought of her rarely and with neither
fondness nor ill will.
But his sister… that grated on him
everyday. She had always been his favourite.
Everyone’s really, but they had had a tight
bond. The last time they had talked, five years
almost. It had all changed when Solo had died.
38
He still saw her hurt eyes as she’d looked at
him. He had tried to call on her a few times
after the burial. But after several failed
attempts, he had come to the hurting
conclusion that his sister was avoiding him. So
he had stopped trying, and retreated into his
cocoon further.
And Hannah…
‘Are you digging a grave?’ Nancy’s ebullient
voice cut into his reverie. And he saw that
indeed he had been striking the ground rather
forcefully, at the same spot digging up a hole
rather than tilling the soil as he was supposed
to.
He smiled at her. ‘What are you doing back
here?’ it was rare to find her around at this
hour.
‘I finished selling early today. Besides,
someone has to take care of you; you have to
eat Giddie. You’re too thin.’
39
‘You know it’s considered bad taste to tell a
man that.’ He spoke allowing himself to get
drawn out by this exuberant youthful woman.
She laughed a rich natural ensemble
flashing her neat white teeth at him. She
batted her eyes coquettishly and he had to
laugh. ‘I don’t want to have bad taste where
you’re concerned cousin. I just want to take
care of you.’
It was evident she had a crush on him. And
while it wasn’t something he would wish to
take any further, it sure put him in a good
mood.
‘Can’t argue with a woman after my own
heart,’ said he placing the hoe over his
shoulder and walking to her. Laughing at his
silly jokes, they walked together towards the
hut that served as a kitchen, where Nancy
promptly went about ‘fattening’ him up.
40
Gideon was more than happy at they way
his grandfather had accepted him all things
considered. And Nancy, well if there ever was
anyone who could change him into an
extrovert, then it was the ever-happy girl-
woman.
But still, he wasn’t at total peace. Seating
alone with his grandfather made him even
more restive. Their conversation wasn’t stilted
and the silent periods weren’t awkward. Quite
the contrary; actually old man Solomon was as
talkative as Nancy and at 75, it was obvious
who had the more original and exciting tales.
The problem lay within his stories though.
He told so many of them in what to Gideon was
a bid to avoid mentioning things he thought
would hurt his grandson. They talked and
talked but Solomon studiously avoided
mentioning or asking after his mother or his
sister. He steered clear of the circumstances
41
that had lead Gideon to leave and which had
kept him away for five years. And he very
much avoided the subject of Hannah…
He spoke instead of his other sons and his
daughters, bringing Gideon up to date with his
extended families’ lives. But these mostly just
passed right over his head. He didn’t dwell
much on his broader family – never had before.
It’s not that you don’t have a capacity for love. It’s
rather that you love too much…you fear being
disappointed again…
He struggled to get Hannah’s words out of

his head. It was disconcerting the way she
never seemed to leave his thoughts. And ever
since coming back to the country side, sleeping
in his old bed, walking the roads they had
walked together, it seemed she had taken
stake of his mind and lived presently in it. Oh
Hannah.
42
But that wasn’t the reason he’d come all the
way here. He hadn’t placed his pen on paper in
the two weeks he had now been here. He had
to start writing soon. Then, and only then, did
the thoughts, the ghosts, leave him alone.
And then there was the old witch, Chumo.
She still haunted him and he heard her
maniacal laughter in his sleep as if she knew of
his inner turmoil and mocked him for his war
against himself. Or as if she challenged him…
‘Tell me about Chumo.’ He asked Nancy one
day as he sat to partake of her overblown idea
of breakfast. They were alone in the kitchen as
Solomon had risen early to go to an elders’
meeting. Of course Nancy had again ‘finished
selling early’ today.
‘Chumo?’
‘The witch.’ Somehow, he had felt that his
grandfather would not take kindly to discussing
43
this any more than his estranged nuclear
family.
Nancy wasn’t speaking. She looked like she
had swallowed a very large chunk of the
gigantic arrowroots she’d made. Her mouth
hang open as if she were choking. She was
choking!
Quickly, he stood up and rushed to her
back. He stood behind her and slapped her
between the shoulder blades. The blow,
sudden and with the right amount of force, saw
the starchy vegetable leave her mouth like a
projectile. It hit the mud wall where it
collapsed.
There were tears in her eyes as she gripped
her neck. Gideon hated seeing her ubiquitous
smile erased. Making soothing sounds, he sat
her back on the low stool and went to the pot
at the corner to get her some water.
44
‘Are you OK?’ he asked giving her the
tumbler.
She didn’t respond as she accepted the
water and drunk it in gulps. She handed him
the empty tumbler shaking her head when he
inquired if she needed more.
‘You shocked me.’ She spoke softly when he
sat back on his stool. She rubbed at her eyes
and gave him a watery smile.
‘Nancy. Am sorry, but I would really like to
hear what you can tell me about Chumo and…’
‘Shhh!’ she said sharply. ‘You mustn’t say
the name out aloud.’
‘Not in here!’ she added urgently when she
saw his incredulous expression.
‘Then where?’
‘Go to your house. I’ll come to you after I
finish cleaning up the utensils.’ She told him in
a tone that brooked no argument. He was fast
45
coming to realise that she had many facets to
her demeanour.
He sat at the escritoire at the corner of his

bedroom in his house. He looked at the writing
pad before him. The ghosts wouldn’t leave him.
He was plagued by bittersweet memories of
Solomon. He remembered when they were still
children, when he would be overcome by his
tantrums, sometimes so vicious he would start
pounding his own head on the wall with manic
determination. It was as though he had spirits
in there that had to be exorcised only be
crushing his skull open.
Once, in the grip of his tantrums, Solo had
picked up a coat hanger and proceeded to beat
up Gideon with it screaming his head off.
He had stood there shaking but refusing to
cry or to defend himself. In a way, he felt it was
his punishment for being born ‘normal’.
46
It’s your guilt. Hannah had once told him.
You feel too much…
The beatings hadn’t stopped. And Gideon
had never at one time run from them or
defended himself against the raining blows of
his elder brother.
One time Solo had received such a
thrashing from their mother because of him…
He refused to think about that now. Gritting his
teeth, he picked up his pencil in a tight grip
and placed it on the clean white paper.
He had to concentrate. The ghosts would
go. They had to. All he needed to do was to
concentrate and write. Then they would leave
him.
So thinking, he started moving the pencil.
He wrote: In the beginning, he didn’t realise it
was the end.
‘Am here.’ Nancy announced walking into
the room, still wiping wet hands on the seat of
47
her large dress. The train of his thoughts was
no more. He placed the pencil down and
schooled the rage he felt boiling in him.
‘Nancy,’ he spoke quietly, slowly. ‘Don’t
ever interrupt me when am writing. OK?’
‘But Giddie - ’
‘OK?’ he insisted refusing to succumb to her
hurt expression. She nodded mutely looking
down at the floor.
‘Am sorry,’ she whispered. He relented
then.
‘It’s OK. Now what’s this about the old witch
that we couldn’t talk about in the kitchen?’
He saw her eyes swell into huge round orbs.
‘I didn’t want her to hear us mention that
name.’ She said pointing a finger up.
Gideon frowned. ‘You didn’t want who to
hear.’
‘Grandma.’ She said pointing upwards
again.
48
‘Nancy,’ he spoke as if to a retarded child.
‘Grandma died a long time ago.’
‘She still hovers around her kitchen.’ She
said obstinately. ‘What are you laughing at?
You think am lying?’
‘It’s not that I think you’re lying Nancy,’ he
told her gently when he’d stopped chuckling.
God help him from superstitious folk. So this
was what this was all about. He should have
known.
‘Am not lying.’ Nancy insisted. ‘Some
mornings I wake up early and hear utensils
clanging in the kitchen. Then when I come to
the kitchen,’ she hurried on when she saw the
incredulous expression on his face. ‘I find them
arranged just the way she used to it. I swear!’
‘Come on Nancy,’
‘You’ve lived in the city for too long.’
That grated. ‘Yeah?’ he asked intent on
putting a hole in her crazy theories. ‘Then
49
explain why she doesn’t hover around her
house where old man Solo is. Why only the
kitchen?’ he knew all about witchcraft and
most other superstitions of course. He had
been his father’s son to some extent after all,
and had heard the stories. But that was as far
as they went. He didn’t believe in things he
couldn’t see. Not any longer.
Nancy shrugged. ‘Perhaps she’s angry with
kuka.’
Gideon raised a cynical brow.
‘You know, because of his trysts.’ She
explained.
He struggled not to stammer. ‘Do you know
how old he is?’ was all he managed.
‘People say.’ She said it as if it was all the
explanation that was needed. ‘He’s with her
now.’
‘Who?’
50
‘Some widow. She’s half his age with grown
up children. They do it everyday. And then
there is another one…’
‘Whoa!’ he raised his hand. ‘How do you
know all this?’
‘People say.’ Again, her nonchalant shrug.
‘I thought he went to some elders’ meeting.’
She smiled at him cheekily then sashayed
towards him. Perching herself atop the
escritoire, she asked him with calculated
innocence. ‘They say he has a huge_’ here she
faltered and avoided his eyes beautifully.
‘Tell me about Chumo Nancy.’ He steered
them back to the matter at hand.
That put the damper on the girl. She turned
dour, ‘She is a very evil woman Giddie. You
must get her out of your mind. How did you
even hear about her?’
So he told her about their less than savoury
‘meeting’ with the witch.
51
‘And you are not seriously thinking of going
to see her?’ she spoke her face ashen. As
ashen as a dark chocolate hued skin can get
anyway.
‘And what if I am?’
‘She killed grandma Giddie. She’ll kill you
too!’
‘You are overreacting Nancy. Grandma died
in her sleep_’
‘The night after she’d come to see her!’
Nancy cut in. ‘And she killed her husband too.
Poor man was found at the back of the house
hang by the neck on a branch.’ She was
suddenly quiet as she saw the look on his face.
‘Giddie…’ she whispered weakly.
‘It’s all right Nancy.’
‘Am so sorry I forgot you_’
‘I said it’s OK girl. Jesus Christ but you are a
handful!’ she looked down chastised.
52
‘I’ll go away now.’ She got off the desk but
he held her back by the wrist.
‘First tell me where she lives.’
She looked at him quietly for a while, then
as if coming to a life altering decision, told him
calmly. ‘I’ll take you.’
‘Good.’ He said getting off his seat. ‘Let’s go
see our witch shall we?’
‘Not now.’ She shook her head smiling at his
insouciance. ‘We’ll go when it’s night.’
‘I thought that’s when the ghosts and spirits
come out to play.’ He spoke frowning.
‘It’s her animals that will be asleep Gideon.’
She turned to leave. ‘Besides,’ she spoke over
her shoulder; ‘Ghosts and spirits never sleep.’
Don’t I just know that, he thought as he
watched the superstitious girl leave his room.
53
4
SHE DIDN’T DIE. But she very nearly did.

Her mother was beside herself with worry as
she paced in the waiting area, waiting
anxiously for news from the ICU.
‘What could have made her want to do that
to herself John?’ she asked her husband for the
umpteenth time as she paced back and forth.
He just shook his head holding his face in
his hands. He was seated in the padded seat
54
clad in a sweater only and shorts. It was
around five in the morning, and he was
freezing.
‘She is in good hands.’ He said to his wife
again. ‘She’ll pull through stop worrying.’
‘Stop worrying?’ his wife rounded on him
and he tuned out the coming harangue.
He had called the ambulance immediately
he’d walked into their daughter’s bathroom
and seen the ungodly sight. She’d slit her
wrists the little idiot! Needless to say, he had
been less than calm when he had placed the
call and were it not for his name, the
ambulance would surely not have come.
But the paramedics had been
commendable, managing to resuscitate the
little girl by the time they got to the hospital.
There, they’d rushed her into the ICU with a
feeble heartbeat and now, only God knew what
was happening inside that room.
55
‘Excuse me,’ it was the voice of an
obviously harried doctor. He went to ask them
if they were the little girl’s parents but when
John turned, he immediately recognised him
and even managed to look kind and helpful.
‘We’ve done all we could_’
‘Please tell me she’s alive doctor. Please let
her not be dead…’ the girl’s mother spoke
hysterically pounding ineffectually with
clenched fists on the young man’s chest.
He held the troubled lady mumbling a few
kind words.
‘What do you have to tell us doctor.’ John
spoke impatiently.
The doctor turned from the weeping lady to
face the frowning man. ‘She’s alive.’
‘Oh she is?’ the mother sobbed. ‘Thank you
doctor!’ and then she was hugging both men
her tears refusing to end.
56
‘When,’ she sniffed. ‘When do we take her
back home?’
‘Ah, that’s going to be a problem for now.
You see_’ the doctor hesitated. These high and
mighty folks really made him uneasy.
‘Out with it young man.’ The man bellowed,
irate. ‘Why can’t we take our girl home?’
‘You see sir; your girl is in a comma.’
It was night soon. With all his anxiety, Gideon
hadn’t thought this hour would come. But finally, it was
nigh.
This day had been a day of learning new

things. He was still a little shocked at Nancy’s
tales of his grandfather’s exploits. No wonder
the old man maintained his exuberance and
spring in step! They say he has a huge…
‘I won’t go in with you by the way.’ Nancy spoke
cutting into his thoughts.
57
‘You are full of surprises,’ Gideon spoke
dryly. ‘When did you come to this particular
decision?’
They were on their way towards Chumo’s
place. It was past ten o’clock in the night. The
sky was clear and Nancy insisted that the
moon would out although there was no sign of
it yet. But he was learning to trust the 18-year-
old – at least in some things.
All through supper, Gideon had fought
against asking his grandfather questions he
really wanted answers to and instead
maintaining the discussion on mundane topics
He fought laughter when old man Solomon
began telling him how the ‘meeting’ with the
elders had gone. He was smooth, Gideon would
grant him that.
But he hadn’t been able to resist asking the
old man about Chumo.
58
Solomon had gone quiet for so long Gideon
thought he would ignore the question all
together. But then he had answered
laconically; ‘No one has ever understood her.’
And with that, he had changed the topic so
glibly Gideon had had no alternative but to
follow his lead, and the story had been buried.
But not forgotten.
Here he was now, en route to the old
woman’s place. And he would have wished for
a better guide. The girl’s exuberance was no
more. She was visibly shaking. She was scared
stiff, yet she trudged on, determined to fulfil
her promise.
‘I didn’t tell you I would take you inside,’
she said. ‘I just agreed to show you where she
lives. Come, we go this way.’ And with that,
she turned them into a sugarcane field.
59
‘Why are we walking so fast?’ Gideon
wanted to know as yet another blade of the
cane’s leaves scratched his face.
‘Her animals.’ Was the shaky answer he got.
And then Nancy managed to increase her
stride on the unstable terrain.
He followed her, not seeing where he went
but just trudging on. If a teenage girl could do
this, he’d be damned if he faltered.
Soon, they came upon a clearing right in the
middle of the large plantation. And in the dark,
saw a fenced compound in the space.
‘How does someone live right in the middle
of sugarcane?’ he asked baffled.
‘To keep away from witchcraft.’ Nancy
answered, and if she recognised the irony in
her statement, it didn’t show.
‘So where’s the gate?’ he asked as he took
in the thick kie apple fence before them.
60
‘There’s no gate.’ Nancy told him baffling
him. ‘Witches don’t have gates. They aren’t
welcoming people.’
‘Then how does she get in and out?’ enough
to go close enough to the road to spot
passengers on bicycle taxis?
Nancy shrugged. ‘I don’t know Giddie.’ Then she
became urgent. ‘I have to go now!’
Gideon was still inspecting the fence for a

way through.
‘Wait. Let’s go round till we find the gate
then you can leave.’
‘Am telling you, there’s no gate.’ She said
exasperated. But she complied and sure, when
they were back where they had started, Gideon
hadn’t spotted any portal in the thick thorny
fence. He was baffled.
‘See? I told you. Now let’s go back home.’
‘It must be the dark. There’s no way
anything can enter or leave that compound
61
without passing through a gate.’ He insisted
stubbornly.
‘Am going home Gideon.’ Nancy said again
in her loud whisper.
‘Wait_’ they heard a sudden loud hiss. It
was unmistakable even for Gideon who’d been
in the city for too long. It was a snake. He
couldn’t quite make where it was though. He
cursed the dark.
‘We woke them up.’ Nancy said horrified.
‘Her animals Gideon, they’ll surely kill us.
Please let’s go back now!’
The hiss came again. Closer this time from
behind him. Gideon turned sharply adrenaline
coursing freely through his veins now. He
heard Nancy scamper off into the night. There
goes the only person who can lead me out of
the sugarcane maze.
But nevertheless, Gideon didn’t think about
following her. He had already crossed the
62
Rubicon, so to speak. Come what may, he
would face the witch. Surely you don’t harm
the very person you’ve pressed upon to come
see you?
‘Always thought that girl had too much fear
in her.’
Gideon turned sharply towards the sound in
the dark. Unconsciously, he assumed a fighting
stance. He could hazily make out a figure a few
yards in front of him.
‘You want to put those fists down now my
boy,’ the old woman spoke in a laughing voice.
‘Simon might take umbrage.’
‘The snake.’ She explained when she saw
that she’d lost him. ‘Come,’ she spoke in her
breezy voice, the hint of light humour all but
gone. ‘We haven’t the whole night.’
‘Ah,’ Gideon struggled to find his voice.
‘Where are we going?’
63
‘To my place,’ she spoke incredulously, as if
to an exceedingly slow infuriating child. ‘Where
did you think I invited you to? Come on. Follow
me.’
‘I can’t even see you properly.’ He
complained for want of something better to
say.
‘Then you’d better hurry up son.’
His heart beating away like a jackhammer,
Gideon hurried to catch up with the crone –
who he had not quite properly seen yet. He
wondered, as they went, how she seemed to
know him – knew that he would come, how?
But he had more urgent things to worry
about now. Such as the source of the very loud
hissing that seemed to be just afoot.
‘Snakes sense fear you know.’ She spoke.
Then with the laughter back in her voice, ‘You
can never be a snake charmer.’
64
‘Thank God for that.’ He said under his
breath concentrating unwaveringly, on the
thick undergrowth underfoot.
‘How do you keep a snake?’ he asked
incredulously.
‘Oh, they haven’t told you?’ she was clearly
enjoying his discomfort. ‘I am a witch. And I
keep snakes. Simon is just one of them. He
once swallowed…’
‘Spare me the details please.’ He
interrupted dryly.
She made a laughing noise. ‘Oh but you are
a feisty one. Am going to enjoy this.’
Gideon just caught himself from asking
‘why.’ They were at a house. Her house! How
did they…
‘How did we reach here?’ he asked freezing
in his tracks.
‘I think we walked.’
65
‘But_ but,’ he stuttered. ‘The fence, where_
how did we cross it? ’
‘Am afraid I can’t tell you that my son.’
‘But why?’
‘You won’t be coming back here after

tonight.’ She told him gravely. Sternly.
She didn’t stay in the comma for long.

Considering the doctor had told them that no
one knew with these things. She could stay
under for a day or ten years, a week was
therefore not very long all things considered.
Her mother was first to be informed. She
was at her office trying to get in some
semblance of work, when the good doctor
called her.
Placing a call breathlessly to her husband,
she raced out of her office without catching his
last words. She was at the hospital after twelve
minutes of some very reckless driving.
66
‘Where’s she?’ the harried woman was lead
to the recovery room where her little girl had
been moved.
She walked in with tears swimming in her
eyes when she saw the little girl in the high
bed. The tubes had been blessedly removed
finally, and she seemed to be on a sure way to
getting better.
‘Baby,’ she whispered hoarsely her throat
tight. Her little girl pressed the hand that
clutched her palm and then the eyes at last
fluttered open.
‘Mommy…’ the little girl croaked.
‘Oh Baby don’t speak… am so glad… Oh
God if you’d gone…’ she was now crying
openly. Such was the relief and happiness in
her. Her little girl was alive.
‘Am sorry Mommy…’
‘Oh no baby. No need to be, am the one
who’s sorry. OK? We’ll talk later baby, now
67
don’t strain yourself.’ She felt a hand on her
shoulder. She turned to see the kind face of
the doctor. She wiped at her eyes. ’Am so glad
she’s alive. Thank you doctor. ‘
‘She said it wasn’t my time.’ The little girl’s
voice cut off whatever the doctor had meant to
say.
‘Who baby?’ the mother asked in concern,
turning back to the ashen faced girl.
‘The old woman,’ the girl replied her eyes
staring right through her mother as though in a
trance. She didn’t blink as she spoke in an
almost inaudible whisper, ‘The angel of death.’
68
69
5
‘FOLLOW ME INTO THE HOUSE,’ the old

woman spoke as she led Gideon towards a hut
obscured in the shadows. ’We can talk there.’
‘What makes you think I want to talk to
you?’ he asked irate. He felt that this woman
was playing with his mind and the fact that she
was succeeding didn’t serve to put him in a
‘conversing’ mood. Besides, the snakes’
presence, God knew how many they were, had
him extremely antsy. He was in a position he
hated. Weak and defenceless against what
seemed like a frail old woman. But almost like
a tantony pig – at least to his seeing, he
followed her.
‘You have many anxieties my boy.’ She
spoke laconically after a long silence not
70
bothering to spare him a glance as he walked
carefully behind her.
Gideon shrugged but didn’t find anything
cute to say so he kept quiet. Keeping quiet
after all came quite easily to him.
The house was a plaid hut with an iron
sheet roof. She warned him to be careful at the
doorway; it was quite low for his long frame.
The inside wasn’t much better, he noticed as
he looked around the tony interior of the hut.
They were in what he assumed served as her
living room. The room wasn’t large for a living
room. Six by four meters to his approximation.
The only improvement, was the relatively
more light. The instrument to blame for this
was a small kerosene lantern that burned on a
wooden table that looked as old as its owner. It
was placed right at the centre of the oblong
room like an altar. There were three reed
chairs placed in a strategy around the much
71
higher table. There wasn’t much else in the
way of furniture. The fuschia walls were bare.
Gideon walked into the house slowly,
unbending himself as he left the doorway. He
watched as his shadow was thrown on the wall
by the small flickering flame on the table. The
old woman Chumo was slowly making her way
to the seat behind the lantern. As she sat down
with the gingerliness characteristic of very old
people, he saw that she was thrown into the
shadows such that he could not make out her
face. He was glad the hissing had stopped.
Probably the ‘pets’ weren’t welcome into the
mistress’ abode.
She waved at a seat on the other side of the
lantern, but he chose the one on her side of the
flame so that he could finally make out her
face. He couldn’t explain why he felt that to be
important. He just did. He sunk into the hard
reed chair so low that the table looked like a
72
pedestal. The light perched high above it. But
at least the shadows lifted some.
‘Tell me about your mother.’ He heard the
crone speak. He turned to her angrily. But
when he saw her face, he couldn’t speak.
Her face was a mess. She had more scars
than a weak alley cat. There were cuts, scratch
marks that mingled in a hideous manner with
her wrinkles. But what caught his breath and
froze it, was her left eye. The lids had been
sewn shut. He could make out the thin leather
threads. He looked away unable to disguise his
disgust.
‘Witch-hunters my boy,’ she spoke after a
long silence.
‘Someone did that to you?’ he still couldn’t
look at her.
‘People hate witches.’ Was her answer. ‘But
am still alive…’
‘What’s that supposed to mean.’
73
She was quiet. Gideon chanced a furtive
look at her face again but avoided her eye. She
seemed to be lost in her thoughts, staring at
the corrugated iron sheets above blackened
with years of soot deposit.
‘Their work is not finished.’ she said quietly
not looking at him. ’They’ll have to come and
kill me.’
‘Why?’ he breathed his nausea still
insistent.
‘They are witch hunters,’ she said simply as
if it was something any simpleton ought to
figure out. ‘You have witches, you must have
witch hunters.’
‘But to do that…’ he spoke weakly.
‘They have their methods. We have ours.’
She turned then to look at him. Caught
unawares, he didn’t have time to avert his
eyes. ‘When I was tied on that tree and their
whips bit into my skin, their razors slicing up
74
my face, I didn’t beg them for mercy. I didn’t
once ask them to stop.’ She almost spoke with
hubris. He marvelled at this woman who could
be proud of her hideous ‘war wounds’.
‘But when they came to my eye,’ she looked
toward the lantern with such a melancholy
expression that Gideon felt like shedding tears.
‘I begged him not to blind me.’ Her lower lip
was trembling but still she went on. ‘I asked
him not to do it. That is my only regret. Chumo
should never have begged him…’
Gideon felt the unnatural urge to reach out
a comforting hand to her. But he knew
instinctively that it would not be accepted.
Neither would it be comforting.
‘Ahem! Why did you ask me to come?’ he
asked acting indifferent. It was a good act.
‘Oh!’ she spoke as if just remembering his
presence. ‘Tell me about your mother.’
75
‘Tell me about my grandmother.’ He
snapped back. Offence, he told himself. Must
maintain a strong offence.
‘You have many questions. And I have some
answers for you. Most you have inside yourself.
You just need to know where to look.’ Her odd
tone was back. She was toying with him again!
‘Well then tell me about my grandmother.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Did you kill her?’
She responded in that tone of her’s – as
though she was working extra hard not to
laugh. ‘I did.’
The little girl walked into the doctor’s office silently.
She discreetly looked around. She took in the rich décor.
The doctor must be wealthy the girl surmised.
She was seated on a thick black leather

swivel chair behind a large mahogany desk,
76
which seemed to swallow her medium frame.
There were two brown leather seats on the
little girl’s side of the Queen Anne arranged to
face each other.
The office was large and colonial. The
impressive architecture providing for air
conditioning without need for artificial
conduits. The girl’s dainty feet were almost
soaked into the richly thick dirty green carpet
at her feet.
‘Come in my girl,’ the doctor beamed at her
waving her in. She was on the phone holding a
biro in her right hand, which she waved about
erratically as she spoke to whoever it was on
the other end.
What was it her mother had said? ‘You are
going to see a good friend of mine today my
darling. She will have a nice talk with you
okay?’
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She had nodded silently at the breakfast
table. She had her face glued to her cereals,
which she toyed with more than ate.
‘A waste of time,’ she had heard her father
mumble from behind the morning paper.
‘John please…’
‘A shrink?’ he’d put the paper aside. ‘ My
daughter going to a shrink like a dratted
insane freak!’
‘It’s for her own good John! And if you…’
And the little girl had tuned out their
argument. That hadn’t ended. She had only left
the hospital last week and already things were
back as they had been. Her parents would
never love her. They didn’t even seem to love
each other.
‘…damn couch.’ She remembered hearing
her father say as he left the table in a huff.
Her mother had turned to her in a watery
smile.
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‘It’s okay baby,’ she’d said pulling the girl’s
collar out of the thick jersey and patting it with
trembly hands. ‘Doctor Marion is a good friend
of Mommy’s okay? You’ll be just fine, don’t you
worry. Now hurry and finish your breakfast
Mommy has to go to work…’
‘Come in my girl,’ the doctor beamed at her
once more. She had finished her call and was
walking towards her with outstretched arms. It
was as if she expected the girl to rush into
them.
‘You’re so big!’ she knelt to the girl’s height
and embraced her. The girl stiffened at the
unfamiliar gesture. Unperturbed, the woman
still had her smile on her face albeit less
radiant when she stood from the girl.
‘Come,’ she said taking her smaller hand.
‘Let’s seat here and have a nice talk, shall we?’
She led them over to a thick leather couch
by the draped window, and sat – this woman
79
must love leather. The girl noticed her short
skirt ride up the chocolate hued thighs when
she sunk into the comfortable cushions. She
recalled her father’s remark about a damn
couch and his other remark. She wondered…
‘My name is Marion Olang’. But please just
call me Marion okay?’
She nodded mutely. Her hands were in the
woman’s soft but unrelenting grip. The little
girl felt a little bogged in by all this closeness.
Her father’s remark came to her once more
and she wondered…
‘Do you have any questions before we start
our talk?’ Dr Olang’ – just Marion asked. The
girl hesitated and then went into an uneasy
quiet. Marion almost clamped on the small
hands and moved just a little closer towards
the girl.
Marion Olang’ was a Psychiatrist. She had
passed amongst the upper quarter of her class.
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She didn’t deal with children, but this was a
special case. She and Purity went a long way
back. They had been in the Girl Guide together
in primary school – a long way back. When she
had called her last week, Marion hadn’t even
thought of denying her. In fact the only hitch
had been when to meet her friend’s little girl.
They had settled for this day, in difference to
her extremely hectic schedule.
Besides, what could a small child have that
was so complicated? Surely it couldn’t even
begin to compare with some of the cases
Marion had had to deal with over the years in
her practice.
One of the worst, had been a suicidal man
who seemed to think the only cure to his fear
of heights, was jumping off a building. With his
son.
‘What is a shrink?’ the girl shocked the
good doctor into the present by asking.
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She laughed at the innocence. ‘Where did
you hear that my girl?’
The girl shrugged. ‘I was just wondering if it
meant…’ she faltered.
‘What my girl? Please feel free to speak
your mind.’ Marion enthused heartily moving
just the slight inch closer.
‘Am wondering if it means a feeling of being
shrinked by… ’ She looked everywhere around
her but at the doctor.
‘It’s not that.’ Marion shook her head
smiling at the girl. Then realising, ‘You feel
shrinked?’
With only the innocence of a child the little
girl spoke, ‘You are seating a little too close
doctor. I mean Marion.’
‘Oh.’ Then she smiled courageously but she
moved back from the antsy girl till she was
seated at the very end of the couch from her.
‘Much better?’
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The girl nodded. Then looked up at her
expectantly.
Marion smiled. She was a kind woman. And
she had a natural ability to listen – or appear to
be. She just didn’t have any idea how to deal
with children. She had no children of her own –
too busy with her work at the moment, and
this antsy little girl was proving very early to
be a trial.
‘You said the meaning of the word?’ she
was reminded by the small pale face.
Marion smiled. ‘Shrink is a name that
certain people use to refer to such doctors as
me,’ she spoke slowly in the manner of an
adult trying to simplify things for the much
slower child. ‘Doctors like me deal in, well
rather special patients.’ She went on seeking
to explain further.
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‘Dratted insane freaks?’ she was asked
again with insouciance that could only be the
progeny of utter innocence.
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘Not at all. I deal
with sick people just like any other doctor. It’s
as important or even more important_ ’ she
caught herself as she made to start preaching.
She hated the prejudice against psychiatrists
from the real doctors. She had made this
particular speech many times but this little girl
didn’t need to hear how all the doctors took
the Hippocratic oath and that she was just as
much a doctor as surgeons and dentists.
Besides, the clock was never a close friend in
her work. And she had spent too much of it on
impertinent issues especially seeing as she
wasn’t billing Purity for this session – it was her
lunch hour she was sacrificing. The went back
a long way but still...
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‘Let’s begin our talk now my girl.’ Marion
spoke now steering them to the crux of this
meeting. She had been briefed by Purity. The
girl was suicidal – Marion was in her element.
‘Before we start, would you like anything to
drink? Juice? A soda, tea?’ the girl shook her
head, no. ‘Are you sure? I want you to be
absolutely at home when we talk.’ She went to
take the little hands from the girl’s lap but
stopped as she saw the near repugnance in the
girl’s anxious eyes.
‘Okay that’s fine. Tell me a little about
yourself now. Anything.’ She gave her an
encouraging smile.
‘Well,’ the little girl began tentatively, her
eyes on her hands which she wringed
continuously in her lap. ‘I am nine years and
my father and mother hate me.’
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‘You killed my grandmother?’ Gideon asked
incredulously.
The old woman nodded. ‘I had a hand in it.’
Then as he went to speak, she held up her
hand to still him. ’Now tell me about your
mother.’
‘Am not telling you about my mother!’ he
almost shouted. This woman was too
incensing, God! The gall she had was
unequalled. ‘Am asking you about my
grandmother. How did you kill her and why?’
‘Why won’t you discuss your mother?’ she
asked him quietly. He was too angry though, to
notice that her mocking tone was gone.
‘Are you mad! You tell me you killed me
grandmother then calmly ask me about my
mother?’
‘I said I had a hand in Betty’s death.’
‘What’s the goddamn difference? God you
deserve to die you know that?’
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‘Leave that to the witch-hunters my boy,’
she said quietly. Sadly. For a moment, Gideon
was repentant.
‘Why did you kill her?’ he asked weakly.
‘She asked me.’ Was the laconic reply.
‘She what?’ he asked incredulously.
‘You must really love her,’ the old woman
spoke in a whisper. Gideon was still reeling
from her previous news he didn’t have an
inkling of what in the world she was talking
about now.
‘Your mother,’ the hag whispered in
explanation. He saw what had to be a smile
form on her battered lips. She was pushing his
buttons!
‘No, I don’t love my mother!’ he exploded
wishing for his legendary steely quiet control
that seemed to have deserted him.
‘Then why do you want to protect her?’
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‘Protect her? Am not protecting her. I just
don’t want to talk about her okay! Besides, we
were_ ’
‘But then she must love you. A brilliant
young man like you. Studied well, has a good
job in the city_ ’
‘She doesn’t love me okay?’ he snapped.
‘She doesn’t love anyone.’
Sera Waama Maina. It had been five years
now he hadn’t seen hide or skin of his mother.
Nor had he spoken to her in that time.
He wasn’t overly fond of her though. Hadn’t
been since he was ten years old. She was a
cold vain woman who should have been
barren. That was what he thought of his
mother in a nutshell.
At some point he thought she might have
loved his father, but not as far as he could
remember. He still remembered when he had
first discovered her cheating on his father. He
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had just turned thirteen then. He had fallen
sick and had had to be sent home from school.
Coming into the house, with his head pounding
and his throat raw from the flu that raged in his
small body, he had met the ultimate shock.
The man, who he thought he had seen in
church on the odd Sunday that he’d
accompanied his mother, had jumped off his
mother’s supine body on his parents’ bed. He
had stood at the doorway frozen in that spot.
He had watched numbly as the man had made
a hurried attempt at covering his nudity. His
mother had just looked at him, no remorse in
her eyes at all and told him. ‘Shouldn’t you be
in school Giddie?’
It had sounded funny to his ears. His mother
always referred to him as Gideon not by the
endearing nickname that most other people
called him. This was the first time she had used
it and it felt not in the slightest bit endearing.
89
He must have mumbled something because
she had told him dismissively, ’Well then go
and lie in your bed. Your mother is naked.’ And
with that, she had turned to her lover, showing
him her very naked back.
Gideon had run away. His ailment was
forgotten. He wished he had a friend he could
talk to, but even then, he had never been able
to open up to the boys his age and they didn’t
bother with him much. He was no fun. Always
serious, a nerd.
He went to Solomon. But after some
minutes of talking to his retarded older brother,
he gave up. Solo just looked at him and
laughed. Not in a derogatory manner. He was
just laughing at jokes no one but he knew. His
tantrums had greatly reduced by this time.
Except for the occasional shouts and hair
pulling, he had become a quiet boy who’d
resigned into himself.
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But on the odd night Gideon could hear him
sobbing in the bed beside his in their bedroom.
One night he had gone to his brother, his heart
heavy and shaken him awake. But then Solo’s
cries turned to a maniacal laughter that had
scared the younger boy to no ends. Solo was
like a boy demented. He had never woken him
when he cried again.
That day, Gideon had finally given up on
communicating with Solo and had finally
followed his mother’s advice. He’d lay on his
bed and slept. But he had been aware of the
footsteps, as the man left his mother’s room.
Of course he knew what he had walked into.
Boys at school were so full of such tales
between a man and a woman. And while
Gideon didn’t contribute much to the boy’s
tales, he however remembered everything that
they said almost verbatim.
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How long had this been going on? How long
had his mother taken advantage of Solo’s
disability to carry out her trysts? Cheating so
blatantly on their father?
The incensed boy had gone through supper
on eggshells. He had to tell father. Had to.
After the meal he had waited until his father
was seated by himself drinking a shot of
whiskey as he caught the prime time news.
‘Father,’ he had began quickly before either
he lost his nerve, or his mother walked in.
‘Mother was sleeping with a man in your bed
today afternoon.’
His father had looked at him, his eyes
narrowing into slits. And then he had done
something he had never done to Gideon
before. He’d reached out and slapped his
second son so hard the boy had fallen off the
sofa to the floor. He had looked toward his
father holding his cheek with both his hands as
92
the tears helplessly pooled in his eyes, rilling
down his cheeks.
And then his father had further shocked him
by admonishing him. ‘I don’t ever want to hear
that you cut school. Okay? Now go to bed! ’
‘She doesn’t love anyone,’ he repeated
himself.
‘Sera was such a beautiful girl,’ Chumo
spoke quietly.
‘She still is.’ Gideon rejoined. ‘She lives at
the coast now with some young man.’ He was
quiet a while. The old woman didn’t rush him.
She wasn’t even looking at him. He could be
talking to himself for all the hurt he was
dredging up.
‘She hurt my old man. Hurt him terribly.’
‘Thomas.’ She spoke quietly. ‘Quite a
chubby boy. Always wondered why he couldn’t
leave that woman who liked her face more
than her soul.’
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His father had woken him up the next day.
He had slept in – effects of the drugs he had
taken to fight the flu. It was now well past ten.
His father had sat down on the bed beside
him as his eyes fluttered open. Gideon thought
he had never seen his father looking older. His
normally unkempt hair was even shaggier.
There were speckles of grey here and there.
His face was wrinkled and his eyes looked sad
and tired.
He had a glass of the brown liquor he liked
already in his hand. Gideon noticed it shook
slightly. He lay on his back looking up at his
father with mixed feelings.
He loved his father. He was such a kind man
who liked laughing. He didn’t cringe when he
saw Solo – not like his mother. And when he
was younger, his father had always cuddled
him tickling him and his siblings mercilessly.
94
But these days, the laughs were getting
fewer. Limited to when he had taken a lot of his
brown liquid, or when he was with one of his
brothers or friends from work. Never with his
mother.
He had heard her yelling at him, calling him
obscene names at night sometimes. One day
she had called Solo an imbecile – just like his
father. The boy had of course smiled at her not
understanding a word she said. In a huff, she
had turned and stormed out.
Gideon now looked at his father warily. His
face didn’t sting anymore but his memory
could conjure up the pain he had felt in an
instant. The pain he had felt inside.
‘Am sorry Dad,’ he began tentatively. ‘I
didn’t mean to be out of school_ ’
‘It’s okay. Your mother showed me the
exeat.’ His father interrupted him. ‘Look son…
how are you feeling by the way?’
95
‘It’s just flu. I feel better, I can go to school
this afternoon.’
‘No,’ Thomas spoke firmly to his son. ‘You
stay one more day till you are well.’
Gideon nodded. They retreated into an
uneasy silence. His father downed the glass
down his throat then cleared his throat.
‘Look son,’ he started again. He was
obviously having a difficult time looking for the
right words to say. ‘Am sorry for hitting you.’
‘It’s okay Dad.’ Gideon spoke instinctively
feeling he had to put his father at ease.
Thomas was quiet. He ran his fingers down in
his face and into his hair. Then the ubiquitous
pipe materialised from the breast pocket of his
worn shirt. But he hesitated before lighting it.
He just stared at it for what seemed like the
longest time.
‘What you saw yesterday…’ he faltered.
Reaching into his pocket, he took out his
96
lighter. Then almost as suddenly, returned it
and also put the smoking pipe back into the
pocket.
‘Dad…’ Gideon began.
‘Your mother,’ he was cut short by his
father. ‘Has her weaknesses son. But she is still
your mother, and I want you to respect her as
such.’
‘Even when she doesn’t respect me back?’
the boy had asked. ‘She didn’t even cover
herself dad_ ’
‘Enough Gideon,’ Thomas spoke wearily. His
face was back in his hands.
Then with an uncanny wisdom that belied
his young age, he had asked, ‘It’s not the first
time is it?’
His father’s face appeared from his hands
and looked at him. He smiled weakly. ‘You
shouldn’t worry about anything else but your
books now, okay Giddie?’
97
But the boy was adamant. ‘Then why not
divorce her? We wont even notice it, she’s
never here anyway.’
Thomas had closed his eyes tightly. ‘It
would seem the answer. If only it were the
answer.’
Thomas had finally then lit his pipe. Drawing
the smoke deeply, he’d looked at his son
through the cloud of smoke that he expelled.
‘You don’t have to have good parents to be a
good parent.’
Then he’d got to his feet, walked to the door
then turned, ’Tomorrow I’ll take you to school.
Rest now.’
He hadn’t taken him to school. The trysts
hadn’t stopped. He had never caught the man
again but he had known in his gut that his
mother was a lying chit. I’ll never marry such
a woman, he had thought furiously.
98
Meanwhile, his father had retreated further
into the bottle until he had been given his
marching orders. Now, friends and family were
scarce. When they had to go live in the
countryside, Thomas’ brothers had stopped
frequenting the place as much. His marriage to
Sera was only on paper.
‘It would have become worse.’ He told
Chumo laconically. She didn’t pressure him.
After a long silence he reiterated as if himself
just certain of the fact. ‘It would have been
much worse.’
‘Do you see him sometimes?’ she asked still
looking at the soot.
‘My father?’ she nodded. ‘Do you see my
grandmother?’
‘You don’t believe Betty wanted to die.’ It
was a statement. Not a question.
‘My grandmother was a Christian_ ’
‘She wanted to go.’ She interrupted him.
99
‘Why?’
She shrugged her wafer thin shoulders. ‘You
don’t know?’ then she turned to look at him
with her battered visage. ‘I think you do.’
‘I don’t…’ then he remembered Nancy’s
reasoning. ‘You mean Grandfather?’
Chumo was quiet again. She looked back at
the ceiling. Her one eye blinked as if some of
the sooty particles had fallen into it irritating it.
He wasn’t aware that he held his breath. He
was however looking at her raptly. His
grandfather? Did his trysts cause his
grandmother’s death however indirectly?
‘Him.’ She confirmed quietly.
‘His trysts?’
She nodded. ‘One of them.’
‘Which one?’ he whispered suddenly afraid
to speak, as though there were some unseen
ears around who shouldn’t be party to the
secret.
100
‘You know which one.’ The old witch told
him her one eye burning into his face.
‘IS THAT WHAT THEY TOLD YOU

DEAR?’ Marion asked the little girl who looked
even more ashen and antsy.
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‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘They didn’t tell
me. I just knew.’
‘They don’t hate you. They love you.’
‘No they don’t! They hate me, how could
they love me?’ she asked. The kneading in her
lap was even more pronounced. She wouldn’t
even look at the doctor now.
Marion looked at the sad sight before her.
Jesus, what a mess Purity had made of her
child. She unconsciously reached for the little
hands. The girl recoiled into herself. God,
thought Marion, wasn’t she held at all at
home?
Steeling herself against the feeling of
rejection that crept up on her, she went on
softly. ‘Why do you think that my dear?’
‘Look at me!’ the little girl yelled looking up
at her. The eyes. It was the eyes. So sad. So…
Marion found herself looking away. She heard
102
the little girl say something under her breath
that sounded suspiciously like: see?
‘Is that why you wanted to kill yourself
dear?’ she asked reigning in her foolish
reaction. She was a professional. Exactly what
this child needed now. ‘Did you want to kill
yourself because you feel your Mommy and
Daddy hate you?’
The girl nodded. ‘I just wanted to make it
easy for them,’ she spoke so sadly her eyes
back to her lap that Marion felt her heart
tighten. So much sadness in one so young.
‘They would be happy again. Daddy would stop
blaming Mommy for my birth…’
‘Oh baby,’ Marion didn’t even know she had
said it. She just wanted to wrap her arms
around this sad little girl and tell her that
everything would be fine. But she had to
remain focussed. She struggled to school
herself. ‘I want you to tell me about it, okay?’
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‘About the death?’ the girl asked.
‘Of course not,’ Marion smiled in what she
thought was a motherly way. ‘You didn’t die
did you?’
The girl’s pale eyes looked right into hers.
She shook her head, ‘The old woman said it
was not yet my time.’ Marion knew then what
unsettled her about those eyes. They were
scary.
‘What old woman?’ she asked her heart
pounding in her chest. The eyes didn’t blink.
And that face…
‘The Angel of death.’ The girl whispered. ‘I
saw her when I was in the hospital.’
Marion was quiet. She was fighting the
uncanny urge that so pulled at her to get
swallowed into the depth of those eyes and
see what they had seen…
But she caught herself. She stood from the
couch, went over to her desk and poured
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herself a glass of water in a tall clear glass.
She drank three. Then feeling better, more in
control, she walked back to the couch and sat
right where she had been.
She looked at the girl. She avoided her eyes
and her face. She focused on a spot just above
the girl’s hair.
‘Tell me what she looked like.’
The little girl looked at her. She was quiet a
while as if contemplating some unseen deal.
Then coming to a decision, she opened her
mouth and started talking.
‘I don’t know anything old woman!’ Gideon

was angry. ‘You just called me here to play
around with my mind didn’t you?’
She was unfazed. ‘You know I did no such
thing my boy. You wanted to know so I told
you.’
105
‘You told me nothing.’ He snapped. ‘You_
you should stop calling me my boy.’ He
finished weakly. ‘Am not your boy. Am Gideon.’
‘You never see your father.’ Chumo went on
unperturbed. ‘Do you see your brother?’
Gideon steeled himself from the highly
incensed person he was becoming. It was what
she wanted no doubt. Well, he wouldn’t give
her the satisfaction. Offence, he reminded
himself. That was the key.
‘And how did your husband die?’ he asked
maintaining a solemn façade.
‘I killed him.’ She didn’t even falter. She
knew how to wind him in knots.
‘How? I thought they found him hung by the
neck.’
‘So you’ve heard about me.’ She sounded
almost happy about this.
‘You are avoiding my question.’ He spoke
benignly as he felt a little more in control of the
106
situations. ‘You couldn’t have hung your
husband, not when you are no more than
bones yourself.’
‘You’d be surprised my boy,’ she spoke in
her taunting tone. But then she turned serious
and grave. ‘I turned the spirits on him. They
drove him to the tree that night. Adede was a
cruel man. He told Sera everything, drove her
to her death.’
‘Drove her to you you mean. ’ Gideon spoke
gravely. Wondering what his grandfather had
to do with his grandmother’s death – if
anything. She said he knew. All he knew was
that Nancy believed they had fallen out and
that Sera’s spirit hovered in her kitchen
refusing to go near old man Solomon. What
was all this? The old woman – Chumo remained
silent in her own world.
‘He’s a dangerous man dictated by his loins
too much.’
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Gideon ignored that. ‘How did grandmother
ask for your help? Why you?’
‘Am a witch.’ She spoke shrugging. ‘She
needed a witch to die.’
‘How did you do it?’ he asked watching her
carefully. But keenly so that he’d avert his eyes
when she turned to look at him.
‘She had a weak heart my son. The rest was
easy. She wanted it enough.’ She whispered.
‘She was a Christian.’ He said for the
second time. ‘She was a kind and generous
Christian who prayed and did good everyday.
She would never have believed in witchcraft.’
‘Sera was a good woman. She accepted all
even welcomed Chumo into her kitchen,’ she
turned to look at him. She turned slowly, but
still too fast for him to avoid looking into her
Frankenstein’s face. He swallowed uneasily.
‘No other woman would have done that.’ Then
she turned to her favourite position – staring at
108
the ceiling. As though her point had been made
and she craved to be alone now.
‘He is evil.’ She said so quietly that hadn't
he had his ears preened on her very breath, he
would never have heard her. ‘Sera was a
Christian my boy, but she was born of the soil.
Her mother was of the soil and so were her
children. She became a Christian after fifty
years of living. Her beliefs had not changed my
son. They just broadened.’
‘Born in the city, I would never understand.’
He said scathingly.
‘No.’ She breathed. ‘It’s in your mind my
son. When you sit in the shade, it doesn’t mean
that the sun has gone. Closing your eyes
doesn’t mean the light isn’t there. You are just
not looking at it.’
‘So am blind? Is that it?’ he asked heatedly.
‘You aren’t blind. You just don’t see.’
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‘What a help you have been.’ He said
sarcastically. ‘I should be going now.’
‘Why don’t you?’ She refused to look at him.
He was sorely tempted to just walk out but he
didn’t. He just couldn’t get himself on to his
feet.
‘What do you want from me?’ He asked
suddenly realising that he should be sleeping.
He was tired.
‘What do you want me to want?’ the
taunting tone was back in full force.
Gideon laughed. He just let himself go and
laughed like a demented drunk. This must be
the longest night he had ever spent awake.
She didn’t interrupt his maniacal bout. He
laughed until the urge receded. His shoulders
stopped shaking. He leaned back in the reed
seat and also looked at the sooty iron sheets.
Funny how the seat he’d thought was hard
seemed suddenly so comfortable.
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‘You have to pay attention my boy,’ she
spoke after he had settled down. ‘You have to
watch out for the spirits. They are cunning and
wily. Are you listening?’ she turned to him.
Gideon turned his head towards her still resting
it on the back of the seat. He gave her what he
hoped was a bored look.
‘The spirits my boy will lead you down many
paths. You have to learn how to watch for
them. You have to learn to see when your eyes
are closed, otherwise, they will lead you down
bad paths.’
‘Why are you telling me all this?’
‘Because my son, you are marked.’
The doctor had the girl’s mother on the

phone.
111
‘No Purity, the session went on well. Your
daughter is very well behaved. Although I did
miss my lunch.’
A pause for the laughter that fell easily on
the ears, due to years and years of hearing it.
‘She seems to have an anxiety disorder…
yes Purity. She feels you and John don’t love
her… yes am sure that’s right dear. But she
needs to feel that from you. Have you tried to
go out for a trip or a retreat, just the three of
you?… yes it’s so hectic here too… I know
what you mean. But try. She needs to feel
wanted, almost desperately Purity… she
doesn’t feel it… yes well, I don’t think she’ll be
trying to kill herself again… yes Purity I don’t
honestly think she’ll need any therapy… yes
she’s so smart, she does well in school doesn’t
she?… yeah now that you mention it, that
other matter did concern me at first but not
any longer… the angel of death, the whispered
112
coded messages it was all a lie… yes Purity,
she lied about that part. She didn’t see any
such thing. ’
Purity walked into her daughter’s room that

night with mixed feelings. Her daughter didn’t
feel wanted? They gave her everything. Did
the girl know how it had been when she had
been a child? Life had been hard. And that was
why she had worked hard and made it thus far,
so that her children wouldn’t go through what
she went through.
Well she had a child. Not children. God’s
way of playing a dirty trick on her she was
sure. She had gone for the normal check ups
after five years had passed since her first and
last delivery had occurred. Five years of almost
constant trying. Trying to amend what had
gone very wrong the first time.
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She had almost died when the doctors had
told her that she had gone sterile. She had
wondered how that could be. She had
conceived before and delivered normally
without anything going awry. What did they
mean she was barren? Stuck with, with…
Oh God. She shut her eyes and ran her
fingers on her closed lids. She went and sat
beside her daughter.
‘Baby,’ she whispered waking the girl up.
It’s not her fault she told herself once more as
she told herself every day when she looked at
her daughter. But whose fault was it? Always
came after it. Was it hers? John’s? ‘Come on
baby let’s talk for a minute.’
‘Mommy?’ the eyes fluttered open. Her
mother was softly stroking her cheek.
‘Doctor Marion called me honey. I just
wanted to tell you that you don’t need to go
back to her or any other doctors.’
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‘That’s good Mommy,’ she whispered.
‘Are you all right dear? You want to go back
to school?’
‘Yes am fine Mommy.’ Say you love me. Say
you don’t care the way I am. Say you love me
and hug me.
‘Well baby, that’s good. Mommy and Daddy
were really worried…’
‘Am sorry Mommy.’ She whispered.
Purity hugged her daughter tightly. ‘No, no.’
she repeated. ‘You have nothing to be sorry
about. Okay baby?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded in her mother’s arms. Say
it now, she prayed. Say you love me.
‘But baby, you must promise Mommy never
to try that again okay?’ she drew back and
looked into the girl’s face. They both knew
what ‘that’ was.
The girl nodded. She knew then that her
mother was not going to tell her what she
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yearned to hear. Without her knowledge, a
tear sprung from her eye and rolled solemnly
down her right cheek.
‘Oh baby,’ Purity crooned rocking her child.
‘It’s going to be just fine.’ And she whispered
to her daughter’s ear every soothing word.
Everything, except what she really wanted to
hear.
‘Spirits are going to be coming for me,’

Gideon spoke injecting what he hoped was an
indifferent air of nonchalance. He felt far from
nonchalant though. He didn’t like discussing, or
even thinking about the spirit world. His heart
slowed down into a heavy pounding whenever
he thought of death or those who died.
Whether they went completely or managed
certain sojourns into the world of the living to
haunt or help or whatever – he had no time for
any of it. It scared him shitless.
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‘You just have to open your eyes for them.’
Chumo spoke agreeing.
‘But why me? Assuming of course that you
are right.’
‘You know why my son. You know what you
did. And I know it too and so do they…’
Gideon’s heart pounded heavily now. ‘I
don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘He wronged you too.’ She spoke as if she
hadn’t heard him. ’Mothers and wives…’
Gideon looked at her with a warning look.
But she just smiled her hideous face getting
even more so.
‘Now, tell me all about Hannah.’
‘She is sick.’ He spoke quietly. He never
discussed her with anyone. In fact before this
persistently infuriating old hag, Gideon had
never as much as spent twenty minutes talking
about himself or anyone in his life.
‘I don’t want to talk about Hannah.’
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Hannah had thought he wanted to murder
her. It still rankled every time he recalled that
fateful day. Oh Hannah…
118
7
HANNAH MAINA was scared. She made

her way down the dark streets making furtive
backward glances. It was so dark and she was
so afraid of the dark.
A cold lonely wind blew behind her. She
hurried ahead. Trying to stay calm. Fighting
with her fear. Needing her feet to move as fast
as they could. Yet needing not to break into
full panic and running literally out of her mind.
It was getting very difficult.
119
Crack! What was that! She shrieked
involuntarily when she looked back. The cold
wind was blowing calmly with nefarious intent
gathering smoke and dust and to her feverish
mind, forming a shape!
She strained her eyes in the dark to watch
as in the dim moonlight something was being
born out of smoke and dust by some very cold
wind she could feel caressing her face.
She shivered the cold literally in her
bones. Yet she was spellbound by the garish
horror forming right before her eyes. She
walked into a bin she wasn’t seeing and the
din that followed as the metal clanged against
the cobblestone, proved too much for her. She
ran.
But the thing had formed. And she could
feel it running along behind her. She could feel
the cold wind propelling it just behind her! It
would catch her. She wasn’t fast enough! God
120
help me, she thought. Am going to die, and
then she was in its cold, cold arms.
‘Wake up Hannah. Wake up.’ Gideon

shook his wife awake. He wiped the thin sweat
off her brow as she slowly came to
wakefulness.
‘Get off!’ she yelled. ‘Get away from me.’
And as she made to jump out of bed, he held
her and pinned her on the bed. Using not little
force.
‘Go away!’ she yelled, manic now. The
fear of her nightmare still with her in this very
real world. ‘You killer!’ her eyes were wide in
her accusations as spit formed on her mouth.
She hit at him, clawed at him, but he was too
strong for her.
‘Hannah it was a dream, Hannah please.’
Gideon held her to the bed using his body. But
in her manic state, she was wild and strong. A
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cornered cat. He had to sedate her. Reaching
for the syringe in his back pocket, he pinned
her down using his body and exposed her arm.
She turned real wild when she saw the
needle and read his intention. ‘Killer!
Murderer. You want to kill me too! You won’t _’
And then he hit her. It wasn’t a soft slap
either. For the first time since he’d known
Hannah – when they were four – her hit her so
soundly, she stopped fighting.
Still dazed by the blow, she couldn’t resist
as the needle plunged into her vein. The effect
was quick. Gideon released her slowly and got
off the bed. He stood and looked at her and
try as he might, he couldn’t stop the look of
disgust from crossing over his face.
She was mumbling as she succumbed to
the drug. He didn’t wait to hear though.
Shaking his head, he walked out the room,
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making sure to close the bolt he had had
installed behind him.
Hannah cursed her husband with her last
lucid mind. She knew he wanted to kill her.
And soon he would. She had seen him kill
before, and there was that look in his eyes
she’d seen then, that was there when he
looked at her these days.
She didn’t want to die. She would just
have to be cleverer, that’s all. Soon, he would
make a mistake, and that would be her cue.
Till then, she would just have to bid her time
and be cautious…
And as the drug pulled her under, she
knew that she would kill him before she let
him kill her. She grit her teeth as the cold,
cold thing welcomed her back to its world.
* * *
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He didn’t realise he was shaking his head.
With a deep sigh of unearthed anguish, Gideon
said; ‘Not Hannah please.’
The old hag wasn’t even looking at him. She
was staring at the sooty roof. He noticed now
that he could make out the thick strands of
cobwebs, blackened with years of dust. Some
hang so thick that they resembled twisted
fingers. Black webby talons that could reach
out and_
‘It has to be you my son.’ She interrupted his
aimless thoughts. She spoke with firmness as
though she had just come to some momentous
conclusion after much indecision.
‘Me? To do what?’ Gideon asked. It was in the
way she said it. He was sure he wouldn’t like
what was in her mind. Yet he had to hear it.
‘You will know when the time comes.’ Then
she looked at him. He looked into her proper
eye but was very much aware of the torn one
124
beside it. ‘You will have to be brave my son. Be
very brave.’
‘What are you talking about now?’
‘You will have to remember that you make the
ultimate choice yourself.’
‘I don’t understand’
‘You will my son. Sooner than you think.’
* * *
Hannah could hear them outside her door.
Her killer husband and his accomplice. Last
night he had tried to kill her. She had woken
up to find him with a bloody glass shard and
her inner left arm was a bloody mess. A long
garish wound running from her elbow right
down to her wrist.
She had screamed then. She wasn’t sure
whether it was out of pain or fear but the
mixture sure was there. He had quickly
clamped her mouth closed with his hand
125
though. And then to cover up what he had
done, he’d bandaged her arm. As if she didn’t
know he wanted her dead.
He had taken the blood soaked sheets off
the bed and brought others. She was never
allowed out of this room. It was her prison.
Long ago, before he became this way, she
could talk him into letting her out for a walk.
But not these days. Not since he got that look
in his eyes.
Now, she was in a prison in her own
house. She lived in fear. Her wakeful moments
she was most always under drugs and in her
sleep she kept running away from a
determined assailant.
Finally, Gideon had tied her to the bed.
She had pleaded, begged but he hadn’t even
bothered to give her a response. He had
brought two ropes from the garage and tied to
the bed, her hands by her side.
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Then he’d brought out the syringe.
‘Please Gideon,’ she’d begged as lonely
tears ran down her cheeks. ‘Please don’t drug
me. The cold thing is too close.’
He shook his head. ‘I won’t scream Gideon
I promise please don’t drug me.’ Her pleas
had got to him at least and he’d walked out of
the room – her prison – without drugging her,
firmly bolting the door.
What he hadn’t remembered though, was
that he’d left the glass shard that had torn her
arm.
She held it now. She was at the door,
breathing with surprising calm. She wouldn’t
die, not without a fight.
She had desperately sawed at the ropes
that tied her to the bed using the glass shard
which she had hid under the mattress when
Gideon had been busy changing her sheets.
127
The glass had torn into her skin as she
severed the ropes but the pain had barely
registered in her manic mind. She had to get
out now. She had a feeling that this was the
last chance she had. Yesterday he had looked
at her the way one did after making a
momentous decision.
She couldn’t hear what they were saying,
but she knew they were outside her prison
door. It was bolted from outside, she had tried
it. If she had any chance at life, she would
have to have him open the door and then get
away from him somehow.
She tightened her grin around the glass
which she had wrapped using cloth she’d torn
from her sheets, so that it looked like a crude
early man’s fifteen inch knife. She was ready.
‘I have to do it Disi,’ Gideon told his friend.

They were outside his wife’s door. He was
128
opening the padlock. He looked away from his
friend’s eyes as he did so. He didn’t want to
see the judgment in them. How many men
locked their wives in a bolted room?
‘You understand Gideon that if this got out
I could lose my license.’ Daniel Disi was a
doctor. He and Gideon had known each other
since high school. Disi didn’t quite agree with
what Gideon was planning, but he couldn’t
change his friend’s mind. It was always like
that since when he knew Gideon. His mind
once made, was never swayed. Everyone
knew that about the introvert. But now-
‘I have no choice Disi. You understand
that. There is no other way.’
Disi thought there was. They could do this
at another place - at the hospital. It would be
less risky and frankly, less scary. But Gideon
was adamant.
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‘I’ll hold her.’ Gideon said pulling at the
latch. ‘You shoot her.’
Disi held his breath. There was something
eerie about this house. Gideon’s décor was
plaid at best. The colors dank, the lighting
dim, the walls a pale blue, the place reminded
Disi of the inside of an asylum.
Gideon stopped and looked at his friend as
if seeking the final nod. It was as if he needed
Disi’s assent at this final instant. The lowered
thumb of Cesar; finish it. Disi looked into the
troubled eyes of the man who truth be told, he
had never totally understood.
With a heavy sigh, he reached into his
right pocket. Placing his left hand on Gideon’s
shoulder, he squeezed. ‘Let’s do it.’
* * *
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Nancy couldn’t sleep. She kept turning
and her beddings couldn’t get warm enough.
She knew what the problem was. It was
Gideon. He was in some sort of danger, and
she couldn’t help thinking that he needed her.
But she was so scared. The witch, spirits…
such thoughts froze her blood cold. Oh God
why did he have to insist on going to the old
witch’s? Everyone knew she was evil. She had
lost count of the number of times kuka himself
had warned her to steer clear of the old hag.
It was rumored she killed her own
husband. She had driven the spirits into him.
And they had forced him to take a rope and
hang himself up the mango tree in his own
compound, as not fifty feet away, his wife
slept. And it was said she had left him there
for the crows and owls to feed upon.
She had been cornered once. Kuka had
told her that she had been placing her charms
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outside her neighbour’s gate when the witch
hunters had found her. They beat her up and
tied her on a tree and gouged out her eye.
It was only just retribution according to
the young lady. Chumo was not a nice old lady
and besides, all witches deserved painful
death. Everyone knew that.
But Gideon? Her cousin was as stubborn
as sin and was courting the devil himself by
going to Chumo’s tonight. And Nancy was
almost certain, that she couldn’t find sleep,
simply foreboded on what was soon to happen
or was already happening to her handsome
quiet cousin.
‘Grandma, help me.’ She whispered as she
got off her bed. She put on her slippers and
reached for a sweater. The night outside, was
pitch black.
From far, she had an owl hoot. Her heart
began thumping.
132
* * *
Despite himself, Gideon was scared now.

He looked at the old hag and shook his head
trying to clear his mind off the scary world of
spirits and death. But it wasn’t quite working
to plan.
‘I wish you would tell me clearly what you
want me to be ready for.’ He spoke slowly,
enunciating each word so that she understood
him. And so that he could convince himself
that he was till in charge.
She wouldn’t look at him still. The dim
light of the lantern seemed to have lessened
by a fraction.
He was momentarily drawn to the orange
flame. It swayed weakly in the cool night air,
shielded by the transparent glass, which had
obviously seen cleaner days. The flame… it
133
drew him to it like a moth. And he found
himself almost spellbound by it. It swayed and
shimmied as he followed it every movement in
a trance.
‘It needs more fuel.’ He was shocked out
of his trance by her cracked voice. He looked
at her and for a moment didn’t know what she
spoke of.
‘You need to know my boy they are every
where.’ Her eye took a gleam that wasn’t
there before. And her cracked reedy voice was
steady. She was like a feverish fanatic in the
grips of some mania.
‘The witch hunters. They are all over. You
will not always see them but they always see
you. And they show you things, only what they
want you to see though. Never the truth…’
she paused to cough into her old hands. A dry
cough from the depths of her chest. And old
person’s cough.
134
‘I can’t tell you everything.’ She went on
speaking hurriedly. He didn’t have time to
wonder why all of a sudden she was in such a
hurry. ‘For you know it all. You are the one.
They will lie to you. Don’t believe them,
remember only you wield the truth. You make
the ultimate choice - ’
‘I don’t understand you.’ He interrupted in
the same hushed tones she was using. He
couldn’t help it.
‘You will my boy. You_’ she was suddenly
quiet. Outside an owl hooted. He felt his blood
freeze. The hoot of an owl was pure bad luck.
Even he knew that. And owl was never
entertained in any homestead. It was chased
before it had a chance to perch on anything.
Hooting meant only the most ill luck would
befall that homestead.
Suddenly, in his fear, Gideon saw that the
sooty cob webs had moved down and now
135
hang right over his head like the talons of a
huge vulture.
He heard the hiss of her snakes outside
the hut. His heart skipped a beat. And then
started thumping, heavily, steadily.
‘They are here.’ The old woman said. It
was the first time he had heard her speak in
such a tone. It was as though…
‘They are feared even by me.’ She said as
if reading his mind and finishing his thought. ‘I
told you too much!’
Gideon couldn’t breath! His eyes had
strayed to the flame again and nothing else
was in his mind. He could feel the pressure
from unseen fingers squeezing at his throat.
He was being strangled.
The flame danced before his eyes. The
webby talons moved ever closer and his
feverish mind could discern some heavy steps
outside the hag’s hut. Jesus Christ, am dying!
136
Suddenly, the old woman extinguished the
lantern. ‘The flame, it drags you to your
death.’ She told him.
He breathed in a much needed gust of
fresh air. But now, it was pitch black in the
hut. And all around, were sounds that didn’t
serve to put his mind at rest.
‘Are those people I hear walking outside?’
he asked unable to keep the fear from
creeping into his voice.
She pulled him from the seat with
surprising strength, to the floor. ‘Yes, those
are footsteps you hear.’ She told him in a
harsh whisper. ‘But the ones making them are
all dead.’
* * *
Nancy quickly walked back towards

Chumo’s dwelling. For the second time in one
137
night, she was doing something completely
forbidden her by her grandfather.
It was all Gideon’s fault. Yet she couldn’t
fight the feeling that he needed her. It was
cold this night and the moon she had thought
would out wasn’t yet out. It was less scary in
the dark somewhat. There were no shadows
that the moonlight would have made. Nancy
was entirely superstitious and on this night
walking to a witch’s abode, it was taking so
much of her strength.
She hurriedly trudged one. Her ears were
taut in her fear. Every small noise went
straight to her auditory nerves. The crickets,
the scurrying night rodents. And the incessant
hooting of the far off owl.
That was the one sound that kept her
scared half to death. She wanted to run but
she schooled herself. She knew that giving in
to the urge to run, to leave all the bad evilness
138
of the night behind her, would only make her
lose focus and she would in turn cease
thinking altogether.
So she held a tight grip on herself. But
only just.
Hisss… she heard it clear as day. It was
Chumo’s snakes. All thought of the hooting
owl fled her mind for an instant. She was
close.
* * *
Hannah held her breath. They were just
outside, she closed her grip on her crude
weapon and waited.
She wouldn’t go down without a fight. She
knew it had to be today or never. He had
gotten lax today. She would make good of it. If
she didn’t, she knew she would die. He would
kill her. Just as she had seen him do it before.
139
The door was opening, she was much
weaker than him. But she had the element of
surprise on her side and she would make good
use of it.
Outside, Gideon opened the door and
walked in. it wouldn’t do for his friend to see
the mess that Hannah had become and so he
went in first so that if there was need, he
would – he didn’t finish that thought.
140
8
‘KEEP DOWN,’ the witch told him. ‘I’ll be

back.’
Gideon panicked. ‘Where are you going!
Don’t you dare leave me here!’ he all but
shouted.
141
But even in the dark, he could tell that she
had left him. He was fast approaching mania
himself. But miraculously, just as she had
disappeared, she was suddenly at his side. He
was lying there looking around in the dark, the
footsteps from outside getting closer, closer…
when he felt the bony hand on his shoulder!
It was old Chumo. For a moment he
thought it was the webby talon finally closing
on him. He shrieked despite himself and threw
her hand off. When she spoke, he wasn’t
prepared for the relief he felt.
‘They are coming closer.’ He told her in a
harsh whisper.
She didn’t respond. He heard the sound of
a match stick striking a match box. Then she
lit a candle she held in her hand. It was blood
red. And its smell_
‘Take this and leave,’ she told him. He
noticed her voice quaver a little. ‘I have told
142
you too much’ she said again. ‘I have
displeased them. They wish to punish me.’
As she said this she looked straight into
his eyes. But it was as though she looked right
through him. She looked as animate as a
cadaver.
Gideon swallowed. ‘How do we get out of
here?’
‘You take this candle. It will keep them
away.’ She handed him the candle.
‘Remember what I told you now boy. ’ he took
the candle.
‘They are attracted to the flame.’ She
whispered.
‘Then why_’
‘Their noses reject the candle.’ She spoke
in her harsh whisper. ‘Now go!’
But Gideon was frozen. The candle flame
would attract the things he was hearing
outside the hut? Then why was he_
143
‘Can they, you know harm me?’
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
Instead she said, ‘It gets worse the longer you
stay here. For they will sooner or later come
into this hut. Go on. Remember to keep that
candle lit!’
Gideon slowly stood up on rubbery legs.
He hated feeling this fear, rancid in its
rawness. Later he would despise himself. Now,
he couldn’t help himself. He was scared of
leaving the hut.
He looked at the ceiling and noticed the
cobwebs now looked as they should. No
webby talons seeking to strangle him. He then
looked at the portal. It danced in the light of
the candle.
Breathing in, he took a tentative step
forward. Then in the night, he could see two
shapes. They were as distinct as the sun on a
January noon. They were a pair of eyes.
144
Bloodshot like those of a weed smoker. Yet
the colour wasn’t the dull red of such a
person. The red was fluorescent. Like the eyes
of a malignant predator deep in the jungle.
But whatever that thing was, he was the
prey. The eyes went on shining. The candle
light wasn’t enough to show the face of
whatever those eyes belonged to. It wasn’t
though, as if he wanted to know what they
belonged to.
‘Go!’ the crack of Chumo’s voice broke
him from his thoughts. But still he hesitated.
And that’s when he heard it. Piercing the eerie
night was a clear sharp scream! It was
unmistakable.
‘Nancy!’ Gideon ran into the night.
When Nancy heard the snakes, she felt

her heartbeat soar anew. She walked gingerly
like a cat on the hunt. Whenever the long
145
leaves of the sugarcane brushed against her
skin, she jumped.
Her eyes were accustomed to the dark
now. As accustomed as they would be
anyway. It was quite dark. She made her way
more by instinct than by sight. So when she
was finally at the fence, she was shocked at
the abrupt way she’d gotten there. It was as
though the fence had reached her instead of
the other way round.
Up to this moment, she hadn’t been sure
what she’d do once she reached here. Now,
she thought the matter moot though for how
would she get through? She knew there was
no gate. Yet somehow, Gideon had managed
to get through.
She was walking, actually creeping, not
knowing where she was going; the only thing
on her mind was that she help Gideon
somehow. Thankfully the snakes stopped
146
hissing. Then something moved! Right on her
shoulder! Her heart froze. She looked back
and that’s when she fell.
It happened so suddenly, one moment she
was walking looking over her shoulder, the
next she was falling down. She didn’t even
have time to yell. The fall in itself wasn’t so
bad. It hurt her pride more than her body.
Gingerly, she stood up. What she didn’t know,
was that she had entered the compound of
the witch Chumo. Had she known, she would
surely have gone out of her mind.
In the dark she noticed the thick root
jutting right from the ground. That was what
had tripped her. She was under a thick mango
tree. Something hit her head when she stood
straight. She stepped back and peered at it.
It was a dry rotten body hanging on a
branch of the tree. In the dark, she could just
make out the skull, with the skin hanging on in
147
torn pieces. The thing’s hand when she stood
still hang on her shoulder, like some elder’s
comforting hold.
She screamed.
Gideon ran into the night and right into

the path of a pair of red eyes. The candle was
held right before him and the thing shrank
away from him like a small prince from a
leper.
He controlled himself enough to stop
running. …the candle…remember to keep the
candle lit! He started walking. Calling out
Nancy’s name. Struggling hard not to start
shouting like a desperate manic when she
didn’t answer.
All the time he walked, he was aware of
the presence three or four steps behind him.
Red eyes followed him wobbling like a zombie.
148
Not close enough to reach him, but never
further than four feet.
It attracts him alright. Gideon thought.
And when he thought his problems couldn’t
get worse, he noticed two more pairs of red
eyes flanking him on his left. Shit.
‘Nancy!’ he kept calling literally cringing
when the ‘new comers’ reached to within four
feet of him over on his left side. They didn’t
seem to notice their buddy over behind him.
Their red eyes were glued to the flame. Shit.
Nancy where are you?
Two more came over on his right side. The
more the merrier. He thought without merry.
‘Nancy?’ he couldn’t stop the terror from
creeping into his voice more than a babe can
stop crap. He turned over behind him and
called out again. He avoided looking at red
eyes. Please God. Don’t let me run!
149
He turned and would have walked into a
new pair of red eyes had the owner not shrank
away from the blood soaked candle. The sight
before him froze him in his step. Before him,
was not one, not two pairs of red eyes, but a
whole parade of them. He didn’t need to look
around him to know that they crowded on his
flanks. He was totally surrounded!
* * *
What hit Gideon first when he walked into

Hannah’s room was the bed. She wasn’t in it!
He had walked into the room by now. His
eyes swept round and he was coming to the
realization that his wife could only be behind
the door, behind him in fact, when the crude
glass knife was driven into him.
He yelled at the sudden sharp pain in his
back and fell down. Hannah, manic in her
150
victory, pulled out the glass from Gideon’s
back. She didn’t even hear his tormented
ahhh! She leapt out of the door past a frozen
Disi and in a flash, was running toward the
front door. When she reached it, she found it
locked. Shit!
Gideon was groaning. ‘She’s getting
away.’ He kept saying as he clumsily got to his
feet. Finally, Disi was jerked from his
inertness. What had transpired before his very
eyes, he would never forget.
‘She can’t get away.’ Gideon gasped
feeling the blood soaking his shirt on his back.
Disi now jump-started into action, saw it fit to
help his friend first. Gideon however, pushed
him away. ‘Get her. She must not get out of
the house.’
Disi turned to go after Hannah. She wasn’t
in the living room. The front door was still
closed. She must have gone to the kitchen.
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God she is armed with a knife made of glass!
But Disi didn’t know the half of it. Here, he
was completely out of his element.
Rushing into the kitchen, he didn’t see the
oncoming blow until it was too late.
Something, a heavy pan, was struck viciously
against the side of his head. He fell to the
floor. And in that second as he groggily
processed his thoughts, she was beside him.
The glass was at his neck.
Gideon’s fresh blood dripped from it and
Disi could feel as it hit him. Drop by bloody
drop.
‘Help me escape him.’ She hissed. She
didn’t have to say ‘or_’
Disi, Adam’s apple bobbing, rasped,
‘how?’
‘Open the door.’ That was when Disi
discovered how far gone she was. ‘He has
locked them. Where are the keys?’
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‘I don’t_’ he couldn’t finish the sentence
for she pressed the edge of the dangerous
crude weapon right into the pulse at his neck.
‘Let me up.’ He whispered in fear. ‘I’ll help
you.’
‘The keys.’ The glass drew blood. She
wasn’t foolish. Just mad. ’I know he’s locked
the doors so that I don’t escape. He wants to
kill me. But I won’t allow that you see? Now
stop trying to fool with me Danny where are
the keys?’
‘Hannah I can’t_’ the glass sunk further.
His blood mixed with Gideon’s. There was no
way out now. She wouldn’t let him talk. She
didn’t have control over herself now. She had
convinced herself that Gideon wanted to
murder her, and to her, it was either him or
her. Kill or be killed. Only now Disi had come
into the picture. And like any extra, he was
expendable. He looked into the manic eyes of
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the woman he had known for as long as he
had known her husband and knew he looked
at death. He would have to do something. She
was surely going to kill him if he just lay
there_
‘Hannah no!’ Hannah jumped off the prone
body and faced her husband. He was bent at
the door to the kitchen. It was obvious he had
lost a lot of blood and was struggling not to
swoon.
Ironically, his appearance had saved Disi’s
life. Had he not come, what Disi had been
planning to do would have had him killed.
Now Gideon faced his wife. She looked at
him, her body taut in the stance of a street
fighter. Left hand fisted; right hand holding a
bloody weapon. Her eyes screaming bloody
murder.
Gideon looked at her as if for the first time
and was heart broken. Oh Hannah. ‘Go.’ He
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told her then, his voice cracking. He was
getting weaker and even keeping upright was
taking a lot of effort.
‘Go,’ he told her again. ‘I can’t bear to see
you like this.’ And for the first time in a very
long time, he felt like crying. Not even when
he had buried his brother had he cried. ‘Go.’
But she looked at him warily. ‘Give me the
key.’
‘The doors are open Hannah.’ He told her.
She shook her head. ‘Am not a fool
Gideon. You locked the doors. You didn’t want
me to escape, so you could kill me. You can’t
fool me. I know you, remember. ’ And then in
the softest tone Disi had heard from her that
day she told her husband, ‘I’ve seen you kill
before.’
‘Hannah!’ Gideon growled and tried to go
to her. It was a pathetic attempt. He was too
weak. But to Hannah he was evil incarnate,
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and when he moved, she jumped walking back
into Disi’s prone body.
The doctor for the first time that day,
reacted quickly and correctly. He reached
forward and pulled Hannah’s feet from right
beneath her. She fell on her back and he
pounced on her right hand.
They fought for the glass knife but he had
the element of surprise on his side. With a few
scratches, he was able to wrest it from her. He
stood away from her and reached into his
pocket for the syringe ready to shoot her.
At her defeat Hannah stopped fighting.
She watched dejectedly as Disi filled the
syringe with the drug. Gideon limped up to
her. She looked into his eyes; he looked into
hers. For a moment, there was nothing
standing between them. She was a little girl
who needed help. He was the young quiet boy
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who would stand up for her… they were at
that moment after a long time, in love again.
He knelt down beside her and when he
opened his arms, she rushed into them. They
held each other tightly. And for that moment,
he actually thought that all could be better
again. They could go back to life as before.
God knew that if anyone deserved it, it was
them. That’s when he felt the pain. It ripped
right into his back and he could feel it to his
spine.
Hannah had sunk her long nails into the
wound she’d made in his back with the glass
shard. The pain was so intense, so sudden
that Gideon’s breath was stolen from him. He
tried to pull away but she held fast tearing
into his flesh like some carnivore.
Disi punctured Hannah’s arm with enough
drug to put her to sleep immediately. He
pulled her talons from Gideon’s back as she
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succumbed to the drug. Released, Gideon fell
onto his hands across the body of his wife. He
finally released his breath.
‘Now I hope you finally see that Hannah
has to be taken to hospital.’ Disi told him
quietly watching Hannah succumb to the drug.
He wanted to ask his friend what she had
meant when she said that she had seen him
kill before. But he looked - ‘Gideon, what
Hannah said before…’
‘Leave it Disi.’ And then he fainted.
* * *
Gideon struggled to relax. His heart

thudded in his chest almost painfully. All
around him were the zombie-like, red eyed
creatures. They stood close enough to touch
him. Close enough for him to smell them. It
was an assaulting smell of putrid carcass. The
way a dead cat would smell.
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He struggled not to get sick. Where are
you Nancy! He kept circling around on the
spot he stood. He couldn’t stand still. If these
things were attracted to the light, why
shouldn’t he put the damn thing off? But he
put that thought immediately out of his mind.
The witch had said it would keep him safe. But
only if he kept it alive. And in such things, he
decided, it was much safer for him to trust
that old hag.
‘Nancy!’ he called out again. He was
getting desperate. Why wouldn’t she answer?
What if something had happened to her?
‘Giddy?’ he heard Nancy’s shaky voice.
That was when everything went to hell.
Gideon reacting to her voice, moved

much too suddenly to his right. He
inadvertently stepped onto one of the red
eyed zombies who didn’t move away in time.
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Instantly, he pulled away from the thing in
manic disgust. The jerky motion of his hand
was a little too much for the candle. Gideon
watched in horror as if in slow motion, as the
yellow flame flickered then died right out!
He felt a hand on his shoulder and he
jumped from it. His movement much too
sudden and panicky; he tripped and fell down
on his side. Immediately, they were on him.
He felt claws all over his body. He felt as
though a thousand ants were crawling all over
him. Then one of them was right in his face.
He tried to look away but he couldn’t
avoid the rancid torn face staring at him with
evil intent. He saw the shrunken crooked
yellow teeth and tried to shrink away as they
moved to bite at him face. The nose was
almost nonexistent. He could see right into it’s
skull through the holes… the nose! He brought
the dead candle in a desperate motion and
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crashed it into the zombie’s nostrils. The thing
frizzled and seemed to incinerate right before
his eyes. Gideon turned and puked on the
ground.
The others, he thought. He felt a hand
close on his shoulder pulling him. Too late!
He shot out of his sleep. It had been

happening more and more often these days.
These dreams, these unsettled ghosts from his
past.
Ever since his grandson had come home.
But tonight was somewhat different. He
couldn’t point out what exactly set it apart,
but he could feel it in his bones that
something evil was afoot.
His sleep was light. It had always been
light. As a boy, Solomon had bragged that he
could sleep with one eye open.
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Ah when he was younger… those had
been the days. The days when witches and
night runners were in plenty. And witch
hunters.
One night when he was sixteen, a witch
had come to his isimba. Anyone else would
have gone on sleeping. But not Solomon. He,
who slept with one eye open, heard the very
faint footfalls.
Equally quiet, he had gotten off the floor
where he slept. Reaching for the machete that
lay close by, he’d duck walked to the door. As
a rule, witches were damn hard to catch. They
were not necessarily as fast as night runners,
no one had ever trapped one yet, but they
were slippery. Using their voodoo, they
evaded even the best laid traps.
Solomon had not laid a trap. What he had
on his side was the element of surprise. And
162
he planned to use it to his advantage. He
would catch himself a witch tonight.
At the door, he paused. His body, fine
tuned from hard labour in the fields, was taut
in tension. He strained to hear exactly what
the witch was doing. He heard some
scrapping; what was it doing?
Whatever, he would catch it. And kill it. To
Solomon, they were beings without any
humanity. He hated witches. Tonight he would
prove to the village that he was up to joining
the ranks of the witch hunters.
He was still squatting. He moved even
closer to the door. Then he breathed out
slowly and deeply. He relaxed totally. The
witch had frozen. Had it heard him? He
tensed. For a full poignant minute, across the
mud wall, hunter and hunted froze.
Then he heard a subtle motion across the
wall. The witch was back to planting whatever
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charms it was digging into his wall. He
breathed out, realizing that he had been
holding his breath.
He duck walked back into his room
towards the back. He opened the window
there thanking his God he had greased the
hinges. Like a cat, he slipped out into the
night. His hut was the usual round shape.
Still squatting, he duck walked silently
round toward the front. His knees were
starting to smart. But he didn’t feel it. His
whole mind was set on the task ahead. His
grip tightened on the weapon.
He was one with the night. He could hear
the witch still digging away. A sudden cold
wind swept by him. Despite himself, he
shivered. It was an evil wind. And in the dark,
it carried with it dust.
He moved further moving ever slower as
he got nearer. He didn’t have a plan in mind.
164
He decided to play it by ear. He would do as
he saw fit.
Just one turn and he would be there. He
slowed down. The wind had mercifully stopped
blowing. Though it provided him with more
cover, still it set his heart racing to be in the
devil’s wind.
He would have passed it if he hadn’t seen
the grotesque skull sticking out of his wall. He
was at the spot where the witch had been. But
the witch was no where to be seen! What?
Where was the … then he felt its hand on his
shoulder. It was a bony grip, like that of a
skeleton.
Young Solomon didn’t hesitate. He turned
so swiftly, using the same motion to come
upright so that he was like a cat springing
upon its prey, and swung the machete into the
veiled body not a foot from him, hard without
hesitation.
165
He barely registered the astonished yelp.
It was said by those much older and wiser,
that the ideal witch never made a noise. They
died like cats. In silence. Quiet till the very end
when the life was finally out of them
completely.
Well he would make this one scream he
thought as he swung once more. And again,
and again. It was on his fifth swing that he
realized it was gone. He was striking his wall.
He ran over to the back and then round again
but he couldn’t make out the veiled shape.
He moved further from his hut into the
night. But still he didn’t find the witch. It had
just sublimed into the air it seemed. But he
had hit it that he was sure about. He turned
back to his hut.
He lit a lantern and went to inspect his
hut. He went to the place the witch had been
doing its evil. What he thought was a skull he
166
now saw in the light was actually wood. It was
from a tree he could recognize as having high
medicinal value in the village. It must have
some witching powers too.
I’ll burn it, he thought. He looked at his
machete. The wet blood on the blade gave
him a lot of satisfaction. Not many people of
whatever age had ever struck at a witch and
managed to draw first blood and still live to
tell it.
He went back into his hut and slept. With
one eye open.
Now, in his seventies, Solomon had seen a
lot. He was a hard man. It was the times he
had grown in. he had been a hard boy. You
had to be to survive. One thing that had never
changed was his loathing for witches.
Chumo. That was who his mind went to. It
would have to be soon. Sooner than the wise
had decided.
167
Having come to that conclusion, Solomon
lay back and yielded to sleep. With one eye
open.
‘Gideon’, it was Nancy, her hand on his

shoulder.
He turned towards her terrified that she
was in the midst of the zombies. They would
surely hurt her. But when he turned, he
couldn’t make out the hideous red spots that
just a second ago had surrounded him. They
were completely alone.
Had he dreamt it all? A shiver rendered
down his body in delayed reaction. He pulled
Nancy into his chest fiercely.
‘Giddy?’ she began uncertainly.
‘Let’s get out of here.’ He whispered
harshly.
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They started walking toward the kei apple
fence. He was still in a confused state of mind
and didn’t realize that Nancy was actually
resisting until she stopped moving.
‘What?’ he asked irritably.
‘We are going the wrong way.’ She
whispered fervently, breathlessly. ‘We are
already outside her compound’.
Gideon looked around and indeed he was
standing on the other side of the fence. He
could see the sugarcane. What? But he would
think about that later. Now, he just wanted to
get as far from this place as possible.
He hoped the old woman would be okay.
But he dismissed that thought. She might look
frail, but she could take care of herself.
‘Let’s go home.’ He turned, still holding
Nancy’s hand and led them toward the
sugarcane.
169
The moon peaked behind a thick cloud.
Its hour had come. From far, they could hear
the owl hooting.
HE WAS AT SOLOMON’S GRAVE. He

looked at the simple slab beneath which his
elder brother lay. The plaque read a simple
epitaph:
Beloved of all.
You went too soon.
Rest In Peace.
The words scorned him. He had written

them himself. The writer in the family he
thought in self disgust.
170
The words looked back at him. His own
words. His brother had died too soon. Beloved
of all. It was enough to raise a sarcastic laugh.
But inside, what he really wanted to do was
cry. But he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do
that.
It was three weeks since the incident at
Chumo’s. He and Nancy had reached an
unspoken agreement not to speak about it. To
them, it was as though that night didn’t occur.
But to him, he could recall every moment with
the witch like it had just happened.
He wondered how she had fared. She had
insinuated that the zombie-like creatures were
after her. Or had there been anything like that?
Inadvertently, his finger traced the light scar
along his jaw. It was proof enough that he
hadn’t imagined their presence. He didn’t
dream any of it.
171
But why had they attacked him? They are
angry…I have told you too much… what was
too much? The witch had kept him in circles at
best. He had no idea what she meant half of
the time she spoke. …you are marked… he
shuddered despite himself. The quiet intensity
with which she had delivered those words left
him cold.
What was in store for him? And how did
this old lady – old witch, relate to his
grandmother? To his grandfather. For there
was a connection. That much he was sure
about.
He shook himself. At least one good thing
had come from it. Mysteriously, he was writing.
The night he and Nancy had made away, he
had found it difficult to sleep. Images of dead
walking beings with red eyes glowing like
embers, had dogged him.
172
Shaking out of bed, he had gone to the
back room that served as his store. At the
corner, with a dust cover on was his old Olivetti
typewriter. He had taken it to his room placed
it on the escritoire and after dusting it, tried
typing. He’d almost let out a whoop of delight
when he found it miraculously in good working
condition.
Stacking typing paper, Gideon Maina had
gone to work. It was almost as if the story
wanted to type itself. Gideon had experienced
this before. At times, try as he might, he
couldn’t get himself to writing a story. But
there were moments like now, when it seemed
as though he couldn’t get himself to stop
writing.
And so that night into the early hours of
dawn, he had ratted away at the stout
typewriter. The first sentence was always the
hardest part of any story. The first step of any
173
journey, was always what determined the
direction one took. But this time, it came easily
to him. He had thought about it before. Now,
he just marveled at how fitting it was; In the
beginning, he didn’t realize it was the end…
Gideon was now more than three quarter way
into his manuscript. By month end, at this rate,
he ought to be through and then he’d head
back to the city.
He looked back at Sam’s grave coming
back from his revere. Was it a curse or a
blessing that his brother had been mute? Born
with a child’s brain? Forever a child even in a
grown man’s body? He shook his head his
throat tightening again. He could see the body
swaying slowly like some erratic pendulum. His
brother’s body suspended by a rope his life
smothered from him…
‘Giddy’ it was Nancy. ‘There is a call for
you.’
174
She held his cell phone over to him. He had
left it at the house earlier when he’d come
here. She must have heard it ringing. It had
stopped now. He checked the call register and
saw it was Tony Gats his agent.
He called him back immediately. He had
good news!
‘Hi Gats’, he said without preamble.
‘Where are you man?’ Gats was never
given to small talk. He was all business and
that suited Gideon perfectly.
‘Am in the country -’
‘What?’
‘Wait, let me finish.’ Gideon put in firmly. It
was important with a man such as Gats to be
so otherwise you just got railroaded.
‘You know I was having some problems
writing’, he didn’t wait for the other man to
respond. ‘Well I came here to visit with my
grandfather and now I have something.’
175
‘You are writing.’ It was a statement. It
betrayed no emotion. But Gideon knew Gats
was pleased. He was a good writer after all and
had brought good business Gats’ way.
‘I have a manuscript. I will have it with you
next month.’
‘Make it sooner man. Polo is getting
restive.’ Polo was his publisher.
‘Polo is always restive.’
‘Gideon – ‘
‘OK fine. I’ll have it there by next month.
Don’t you want to know what it’s about?’
‘No. I know whatever it is it is top class.’
Gideon laughed as he ended the call.
Whatever else Gats was, he was definitely
good for the ego.
He would go back to his writing. Giving one
last look at the slab, he turned and headed
back to his place, Nancy in tow.
176
The night had come. She was sure. She
would finally have to face her destiny. She was
not scared. She had lived a long time. She had
seen many things. She had buried all her
children. She had never had grandchildren. It
was as it was meant to be.
Her husband – the cowardly bastard, she
had never buried. She had left him hanging on
the mango tree for the crows to feed upon. He
would rot there till he dropped for all she
cared. Tonight though, she would have to deal
with her nemesis. Solomon Maina.
Chumo shut her proper eye as the
memories assailed her.
Solomon Maina looked around him. He was

surrounded by six men, five old and one
‘young’. If things were perfect, he would have
had his own son or grandson there. But as they
stood, he had to do with a distant relative – the
177
young Adede. He was thirty six, but compared
to the other men who were all past their
sixties, he was the youngest.
They were gathered in Saulo’s house. Saulo
Pete was sixty nine. He had grown up, as they
all had, in awe of Solomon. He was their leader.
He now stood at the helm of the rickety table.
This was the night. All seven men looked at
each other surreptitiously. All were scared.
Only Solomon showed no outward sign of
angst. He was calm. He was fearless. He was
their leader. The witch hunter of the old times.
Who else to finish a witch of those old times?
‘We do it tonight.’ Solomon spoke in his
scratchy voice. It made one want to rub at his
larynx. All were rapt as he talked.
‘Last time we warned her but she still
keeps witching.’ He paused for effect looking
around at each man in the small circle. They all
avoided looking back at him. Only Adede with
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the impudence of the ‘young’ perhaps, looked
anywhere near his face.
‘She killed her husband Okwiri and did not
bury him.’ It was not that they had liked the
man. Everyone had in fact detested the
spineless Okwiri who looked like a wizard to
Chumo’s witching at best. He was lazy and did
not cultivate any crop in his land. He had lived
on the favours of friends and family. But it was
a crime to be killed. As long as Solomon said it
was anyway.
‘She has caused a lot of pain and misery. It
is time she was done away with.’ No one
argued. There was one problem though. But
who would voice it?
Solomon wasn’t surprised to hear Adede
clear his throat. ‘Ahem! How do we get to her?
The witch’s dwelling place has no gate.’
‘We’ll get in.’ Solomon spoke and even
allowed himself a tiny condescending smile.
179
‘But there is no way we can get at her.’
Adede insisted. Everyone held their breaths.
Solomon’s smile fled. His face took on a stony
façade. What gal, if they didn’t absolutely need
the upstart, he would have chased him from
their midst right there and then. But they
needed him. The number had to be complete.
So he let it go. He assumed the younger man
hadn’t even spoken.
‘This will not be an easy job.’ He spoke in
his unhurried scratchy voice. He noticed Timo
Sindu on his right running his hand over his
throat. ‘The witch will surely know we are
coming. It will have put in place traps and its
voodoo. I have to warn you that there will be
some injuries.’ He paused. ’You might die.’
Outside, thunder clapped.
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She remembered the first time she had
seen him. Properly taken notice of him. They
lived not far from each other. And in those
days when the colonials had just started
settling, life was still very traditional. She
always went to the river to fetch water for her
mother.
It had been a clear day. A normal day for
the teenage girl. Chores and more chores in
the day. And at night… that was bothering her.
Her mother had started initiating her into the
‘family line’ as she put it.
When she had expressed hesitation at the
craft she was to be taught, her mother had
silenced her. She had been informed that this
was what she had been born to. By being her
mother’s only surviving child, she had to take
the baton.
It had been helpless to fight it. It was her
destiny. No one fought their fate and won. She
181
knew of course that her mother was a witch.
She was feared by some, some people
tolerated her because they needed her brand
of services. But they all hated her. That, they
all had in common.
Young Chumo was in those days a waif
little girl. Not the big boned woman most of her
peers were. She stood out wherever she was.
But years of hard work had tones her muscles
and she was strong. She had a kind face which
leaned on beautiful, depending on which side
you looked at her.
Her hair was closely cropped in the trend of
the day. Her ears were not pierced. From an
early age, the girl had shown a keen aversion
to sharp objects – knives, pins, needles, they
all unsettled her. The best feature of this girl
who stood out for all the wrong reasons, was
her smile. She lit any room when she let her
small mouth curve in a bow. Her black, black
182
eyes lit. Her whole face seemed to transform
when she smiled.
On this day, Chumo as she made her way
from the river, her pot balanced perfectly on
her head, was still in deep thought. What her
mother wanted from her was difficult. It was
tradition that a witch left her craft to an
offspring. But Chumo wanted none of the
things that went with it.
She was an impressionable girl. She
wanted to be able to walk among the village
folk and be accepted. She wanted to make
others laugh. She wanted to be waved at when
she passed. She didn’t want to be hated like
her mother was. To raise fear as the only
emotion in others.
She was still thinking this when she walked
into a soil clot. She jerked her foot up
instinctively and for a moment, her pot tittered
precariously on her head. She silently prayed
183
that it would not drop. And she was still this
unbalanced, when a dog seemingly from
nowhere, ran right into her. She had no hope of
saving her pot, nor herself for that matter. Like
a stack of potatoes, down she went.
She winced when she heard the tell tale
sound of the pot breaking. She lay on the grass
by the narrow foot path feeling foolish. Her toe
hurt miserably, but the thought in her mind
was what her mother would do to her when she
went home with a broken pot. Never, since she
was ten, had she ever broken a pot. God am I
in trouble today, she thought trying to get up.
‘Here, let me help you.’ And that was how
she first saw him. Bending down to her,
Solomon Maina helped her up from the grass
with a firm grip on her arm. She felt herself
leave the ground as though she weighed less
than a feather. She felt as light in her head
though as she looked up at him.
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She knew him of course. Everyone in the
village knew Solomon. He was a remarkable
young man. He was a leader through and
through. Rumour had it that he would yet be
the youngest to join the council of the elders
and wise. She had heard many tales of his
other attributes from the giggly breathy
whispers of her agemates. Now, she could tell
they were all true. He was a handsome man,
and he had quite literally taken her breath
away.
‘Sorry about my dog.’ He spoke in a deep
voice that set her senses further afield. ‘he is
too boisterous.’
She moved her lips dumbly like a fish. Try
as she might, she could not seem to form a
single word. She just looked up into his face.
Learning every depth, seeing every twist,
every nuance.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked with a gentle laugh.
185
Say something. Say something, she willed
herself. But she could only manage a weak
nod.
‘Say something,’ he said still smiling at her
adding encouragement with the slightest tic of
his lip.
Chumo opened her mouth further so that
she looked as though she was a sick individual
awaiting oral administration of a drug. The
comedy of it was lost on her as she was
crashed into again from the back.
The barks told her it was his boisterous dog
back. She was however in his arms now her
budding breast against the stone that was his
chest. It was obscene in those days how they
stood. She knew she must step back but then
most of her thoughts were on how hard his
chest felt. Her nipples felt good against it.
Behind her course work garment, they crested
and tautened.
186
Solomon was laughing good naturedly
admonishing his dog for his clumsiness.
‘Look you broke the girl’s pot you ogre. We
must take you home and I’ll explain to your
parents.’
That took her out her daze. She could not
let him take her home. She didn’t have normal
parents. She was sure that he had no idea he
was speaking to the witch’s daughter. He
wouldn’t so calmly offer to take her home if he
but knew.
‘No. it is OK really. I am not hurt.’
‘But your pot. Won’t your parents be
angry?’ he still held her. She thought to tell him
that being in his arms like this would anger
anybody’s parent.
‘No. I’ll just explain to mother what
happened.’ And then forcing resolve, she stood
back from him. He let her go easily – almost
too easily, she thought. They stood there and
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looked into each other’s eyes for what seemed
like an age.
‘Do I know you?’ he asked, his brow
furrowed in concentration. She stood still like a
scared doe before a leopard. She shook her
head. ‘Who are your parents?’
she sucked in her breath. What could she
tell him? She looked around as if looking for a
means to escape.
Noting her alarm, Solomon was sorry. ‘I
didn’t mean to scare you.’ He looked at the
waif girl who looked like she had been struck
by lightning.
‘They_They_I live with relatives.’ She
looked down. ‘I must be off.’
And she was gone. She ran off so suddenly
he didn’t have time to react. His dog barked
but he held the animal back. ‘Let her go old
friend. Let her go.’
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Bosco. Solomon remembered his dog well.
He had been a faithful companion. He didn’t
believe himself to be the kind of man that
leaned on the emotive side, but by God he had
loved Bosco.
He could still recall the first time he had
met the witch Chumo. Oh she had been just a
little girl. A scared girl if he could remember
well. Infatuated with him at the very least. In
those days, many girls her age had been. And
for him, it wasn’t special. But she had stuck in
his mind for days since that first meeting
where the overly rambunctious Bosco had
bundled into her.
She had strayed into his thoughts and had
surprisingly stayed. He didn’t know why
exactly. He only knew for certain that he must
have her. That it was going to be a difficulty,
did not even cross his mind.
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He was a strapping young man by then. He
was strong physically and he had a bright
smile. The girls loved him. He wasn’t short of
girlfriends – as was the custom of the day, the
more the better, he had a whole parade of girls
to take care of his healthy libido. But he
wanted that girl. Even thinking about her,
recalling her eager young unblemished face to
mind, he had felt his lions infuse with heat. This
much ardor for a girl he had only seen once,
was even for him surprising.
But try as he might, he couldn’t quench his
thirst. He was sure the girl would not be a
problem. He was very assured in his seduction
skills. Only problem was, the girl seemed to
have vanished. He walked the path to the
springs keeping to the bushes, it never helped
a young man to have people know what he was
about, but he saw not one hair of the waif girl.
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He asked his friends, his sisters, but no one
knew the girl he spoke of. It was as though she
existed for only those five minutes? (it had
seemed longer some how) that she had been in
his sights. But he knew that not to be. The girl
must have come from somewhere. He had
wondered whether having come home with a
broken pot, she had been thoroughly beaten
up that she had ran into hiding.
What the other day, it had been said that
an irate Debe had caned his son to death. He
had supposedly come upon the boy copulating
with a kid (the goat kind). He had proceeded to
give the erstwhile randy boy a thrashing of his
life. Right to his death it seemed.
But no word had come of a funeral. He
would have heard. He was sure his mystery girl
was safe and sound. But where…
In those days, Solomon and a few of his
friends had been approached by the village
191
Headman – the overall authority. The
diminutive man wanted them to come together
into a guard team. In short, he wanted an
army.
The boys into early adulthood and bustling
with hormones – key of which was
testosterone, had readily agreed. Solomon had
gathered a group of nine young and eager men
like him. That gave the Headman a strong
team of ten mean men.
When it began, it had been a very wise
move by the Headman. The village needed
security after all. There had been complaints of
increased theft and pilfering of property. When
the boys began their nightly patrols, these
complaints reduced as the thefts were now
checked.
They were local heroes. No one in the
village didn’t know the boys by all their names.
When they went to any home, they were
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welcomed. They had the respect of everyone.
It was almost heady. And it went to their
heads.
The village was principally governed by the
village elders in those days. They were the
wise and sage. They sat whenever a dispute
arose and amidst a lot of smoking and drinking,
they passed their wise and sage rulings to
disputes. And if you didn’t like it? Wait until
you were old enough to be sage and wise then
hope you were chose to join the Council.
This had been the way of thing since the
days of the great grandfathers of Solomon
Maina. What the council passed (in the drunken
stupors and weed induced hallucinations) was
law. It was rare though that they met to
discuss anything of great import. Mostly they
passed small decrees.
The latest they had passed when Solomon
Maina and his ‘prefects’ were instated, was
193
that women folk should not be found eating the
gizzard of chicken! There were some who
thought that the old men were a past way of
life. Some thought they were a waste of time.
But not many wanted or felt the need to do
anything about it.
It was perhaps this need – by the body of
the old wise and sage, that made them act in
an unwise and in a manner completely lacking
of sagacity.
The Headman approached the Council with
the idea of appointing prefects. What for? He
was asked. He went on to explain that there
were some people who had began losing
respect for the old men. Who? Who? They
asked not knowing they looked at one of this
disrespectful ones. Dissent was rife, he went on
to tell them. Decrees were not being followed.
It seemed to the Headman that the peace
194
loving village of Eshihaka was falling into
anarchy!
The old men watched the younger man
from the haze of weed smoke. They nodded
and grunted. True. True son of Matsai what you
say. Very true.
The Headman went on in his impassioned
tone to suggest that there was need to arrest
this dissent. After all, he allowed a small smile.
When is it best to poll the cattle? When young
or when they are grown?
More nodding. Effusive now. The old wise
men loved a young man who talked like they
did. This son of Matsai showed great potential
of joining the Council – something his father
and fathers before had never been able to do.
But the Headman didn’t want to be in the
Council. He didn’t want to be a part of the
decision making body. He wanted to be the
decision making body.
195
‘With the prefects, we are sure to kill many
birds with one stone.’ He had preached. ‘we
make sure that security problems are
addressed and,’ he paused. Give them time to
see the fruit come lose upon its stalk. Make
them anticipate its drop… ‘of course ensure
that decrees area adhered to. That the glory
and respect is returned to the old wise and
sage.’
Everybody in that circle was impressed by
his speech. Furthermore, they completely
agreed. What, the were the rulers. It was high
time everybody was reminded of that fact.
They accepted unanimously to his idea of
forming a body of prefects.
They will be answerable to me. The
Headman told them conversationally. Of course
of course son of Matsai. You are full of respect
for your elders. You will restore full glory to us.
Choose your prefects as you so will.
196
And in doing so, the wise (drunk and
stoned) men relinquished power of leadership
to one man – the exact purpose the Council
had been formed, to deny a single man the
chance to turn dictator.
And so Solomon and his body of prefects
had been chosen. Naturally, Maina was their
leader. They met the Headman Matsai every
morning and evening. And in the evening, they
patrolled the whole of Eshihaka and made
certain that the villagers were safe.
It was in order then that the young men
formed a strong bond with the Headman son of
Mastai. He was really an inspiring man. His
speeches were eloquent. He could move
crowds. In deed, he moved the boys. And all
this time, Maina kept close to him. He admired
the man and learned from him.
It was in such a morning, after the prefects
had met with the Headman, that Maina stayed
197
back. He waited for a moment to pass as was
respectful enough and inquired of the older
man, ‘I want to find a girl Headman.’
The older man smiled in encouragement. ‘I
met her incredibly on the eastern route to the
lower springs. She was on her way home from
fetching water and am afraid my dog, Bosco,
clambered all over her. ‘ his dog gave a hearty
woof upon hearing his name then went back to
looking out toward the gates.
Maina and the Headman were seated
outside his hut on folding reed chairs. The man
smiled at Maina. ‘I take it you find yourself
completely enamoured of this girl?’
Maina nodded. ‘Yes sir. But she seems to
have disappeared. I wonder how I will trace
her.’
‘Your worry must cease now.’ The
Headman said easily. ‘There is the harvest
dance that is coming only three weeks from
198
now son of Maina. Am sure you will find her
then. ’
Maina also smiled. It had skipped his mind.
Of course the dance. No one in Eshihaka failed
to make an appearance. ‘she must come must
she not?’ he spoke in agreement. Then tongue
in cheek, ‘unless she is a witch’.
But the answering laugh he had expected
didn’t come. The Headman’s face was
suddenly very very hard. He looked like a mask
made of bark. He looked right into young
Maina’s eyes, ‘do not ever mention that word
in my presence again.’
It was so coldly spoken the Solomon felt
himself shiver inside. It was as thought a snake
had glided over his back.
‘Look around you my boy,’ he went on. But
now, his voice didn’t drip as much ice. He was
angry but also sad. Before, he had been pure
199
unadulterated venom. ‘you see the void the
emptiness? You see the way I live?’
And then Solomon remembered the rumour
he had heard. He had been just a small boy at
the time. Matsai lived alone. It was said that he
had a wife a three girls but they had all
perished in a house fire one night. A fire he had
set himself.
‘My wife was a witch. She came with it
from her mother,’ he looked right at Maina but
the younger man felt as though he looked
beyond him. ‘she bore me three little
witchlings. He clenched his fists and the venom
came back. ‘a man does what he must do.’
She heard the thunder. Her bones felt

surprisingly light and strong today. She
wondered if it had anything to do with the fact
that it would be her last day alive.
200
And then she pondered on that. Alive.
When had she last been alive? Wasn’t she
dead already? Hadn’t she died a long time
ago?
She feared neither death nor what awaited
her afterwards. One didn’t fear what they
understood. They said that the fear of death
was the greatest. That conquering that fear
was conquering all of one’s trepidations. Well,
she feared neither death or the mode in which
it would come.
But was she afraid of nothing? Had she
conquered all of her fears? She didn’t think so.
She still had one grave fear. She touched the
scar that had been her left eye.
She was seated outside her lonely decrepit
hut. The gloaming was fast fading as the
setting sun was over shadowed by gathering
clouds. They were grey and ominous. They
promised rain. But they didn’t hurry. It was like
201
a bad omen. It came slowly, sure in its
purpose. Sure that there wasn’t a chance of
being thwarted. The clouds came in that
manner. But she didn’t leave for her hut. She
would enjoy this last evening outside like she
was a small girl again.
Too long she had stayed in the dark. Had
been a creature of the dark. Inadvertently, her
hand returned to her sewn eye and then
fluttered away. The pain had receded into a
dull throb now. But pain was nothing to her.
Not physical pain. She welcomed it even. It
made aware she was alive. It was the reminder
that there was a difference between her and
those who dwelt with her, within her at times…
They were in the kitchen now waiting for
her. Her spirit buddies. She smiled without
humour. You cannot run from your fate. Her
mother had told her seemingly aeons ago. No.
she certainly had not run for it. And she had
202
the battle wounds to show for it. None had
been mortal. But they had all been painful.
They had all been a stamp of rejection by the
community in which she lived. Another
reminder that she was unwanted she was
detested, she was hated.
But of all of them, the wound that had hurt
her most. Was on her left eye. Her most
determined hunter Solomon Maina. He hated
her. He wanted to kill her. Perhaps he was
destined to and you cannot run from your fate,
her mother had said. He would come she knew.
The first man she had loved.
The harvest ceremony couldn’t have come

soon enough for the randy Solomon Maina. Try
as he might, he had not been able to find out
more about his mystery girl or run into her
again. Hanging on the Headman’s idea, he
waited with more interest for this year’s
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Harvest ceremony than was usual for him. He
was sure he’d see her then.
It was a special occasion this year. Not only
for the young and virile Solomon Maina, but for
most of Eshihaka. It had been a good year. The
rains had not failed and the efforts of the
hardworking folk had been well paid.
For the villagers, life was normal routine
usually. Everyday, one woke up, one worked in
one’s garden, one looked after life stock, and
then in the evening, one either made merry or
went to sleep. This was of course speckled with
the intermittent mischief here and there. But
on the whole, life in Eshihaka was typical of
village life in the early days of colonialism. It
was predictable. And for this reason, the folk
turned out for the ceremony with fervour – one
had to grab an opportunity for change in
routine where one could.
204
The Headman sat at the naturally raised
ground at the center of the field where the
ceremony was to be held. If anyone noticed his
particularly smug look, no one made much of
it. He was indeed feeling on top of the world
today. Son of the lowly Matsai who himself had
been a son of a lowly man, he who had been
born with limitations the same as a babe born
cripple, had managed to overcome it all. He
had emerged ruler.
For there was no other way he saw it. He
was ruler. The Council was on its way out. And
the beauty of it all was that they didn’t even
know it. He smirked at that. What an easy feat
it had been. He had gotten himself chosen as
the Headman, the authority on land. But
everyone knew that that was normally only a
title. The Headman could not do anything
unless it had been approved by the Council
205
first. A dozen old men who spent most of their
afternoons drunk and stoned to hell.
It had been slow, his plan. Only something
that could be carried out by the most patient
most determined individual – the wise and the
sage, what a laugh!
And now, he had not only managed to
cover a feat no Matsai ever had, but he had
now managed a coup of the greatest order. He
had overthrown the Council. He and his
‘prefects’. His army, he thought privately.
Those boys would be his force. They would
ensure that all he said was law. He knew they
were only ten now. That was all according to
plan. It would likely cause more than one
raised brow if he were to have woken up and
decided to form a battalion. He would start
small, that was what he would do. Ten now,
and after considerable time, another ten and
so on until he had himself his army.
206
Yes, good things were coming ahead. For
now, he was satisfied with the little changes he
was making. The subtle flexing of muscle. In
the past, only the council members had sat at
the center of the field upon the raised hillock –
appropriately having a table top. Today, he had
simply arrived before the old men. He had
gone on to seat himself atop the hummock.
Right at its center. When the old men had
arrived, rather than caused a scene, they had
joined him glad to welcome him among them.
This son of Matsai who could speak like the old
and wise.
He smiled to himself. It was ok to share.
For now. ‘Enjoy you old fools,’ he thought
privately. ‘soon I will have the hill to myself.’
‘My respects to you sir.’ He was snapped
out of his thoughts by Solomon’s arrival.
‘And how are you my son.’ He smiled to the
young man privately grinning at the faux pas.
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Maina had not saluted the old men first. Indeed
he had no even acknowledged their presence.
‘Any luck with your mysterious damsel yet?’
‘No. not yet sir.’ Maina smiled. ‘But I have a
good feeling about today.’
‘Good. Good.’ He genuinely liked Maina.
But it went deeper than that. He recognized
something in the younger man. He had been
called fearless, unforgiving and even ruthless.
And when he thought about it, the only thing
he disagreed with was in the degree of these
characteristics. Yes he was unforgiving, he was
fearless and ruthless. But no one had any idea
just how much.
When he looked into the soft brown eyes of
Solomon Maina – no wonder the boy always got
the ladies, he saw the steel lying deep within.
The goy had something that his cronies didn’t.
he had a coldness in him that on had no
business learning. He had to have been born
208
with it. it was no surprise that he was always
chosen a leader. Matsai could very well relate
to that. This young man was headed for great
things and he didn’t mind if he was the one to
show him the way.
‘You will be sure to handle her carefully
though.’ He winked. ‘she might be a virgin.’
Solomon laughed. ‘I have had some
experience with those sir!’ he claimed
unabashedly.
The Headman waved the boy off to his
errand. In a way he pitied the girl but only for a
while.
The old men were grumbling at the
complete lack of respect of the days youth.
With one good example of Maina’s son. With a
smirk, he turned away from the boring
conversation.
209
He was mildly shocked when he finally
found her. She was standing at the back of the
crowd – he ought to have known, and was
more or less hiding in the bushes which
abounded at the fringes of the field.
The speeches had been said. In fact the
ceremony was drawing to a close. All through,
Solomon had made rounds through the throng
of Eshihaka denizens. He had not despaired
really but fast approaching evening hadn’t
given him much encouragement either.
Yet when he saw her, it was as though she
had just stepped out of nothing. He was sure
he had checked that area before, but that was
neither here nor there the young man thought
to himself. The important thing was that he
had found her at last.
And for a moment, he stood there and
drunk in the sight of her. She was a tiny thing
really. Barely out of her childhood it seemed.
210
But she had grace. She looked like a gazelle in
the woods. The gloaming accentuated her
features. She was slender and stood upright.
Her hair was short and neat. Her clothes
though threadbare, showed him that she was
svelte. He could trace the curve of her small
hip even standing these ten feet from her. And
just like a gazelle she seemed alert. Her
posture was almost rigidly upright. It was as
though she sensed a predator as though she
was prepared to spring up on her flighty feet if
the grass at her feet just but fluttered.
And then she turned. Her big eyes seemed
to grow even bigger when she saw him looking
at her. She looked at him guilessly and with
such sweet innocence that Maina felt his loins
pool with the familiar heat. He had to have her.
Walking over to her, it was all he could do
not to take her into his arms and run into the
bushes with her. He walked toward her and
211
only stopped when he was a foot from her.
They were in a crowd after all and had to be
respectful.
‘Tell me your name,’ he whispered.
She looked up at him. And then she smiled.
He felt his world tilt. ‘Maria,’ she spoke
demurely. And then she lowered gaze to her
small feet.
He had never been this hard! ‘I have been
looking for you’ he croaked and then coughed
to clear his throat.
She raised her eyes, but only her eyes, so
that she looked like the naughtiest imp. ‘You
have found me,’ she whispered also.
‘Will you come with me after this
ceremony?’ it was out before he could stop it.
But he wanted her so bad. And he knew she
wanted him too. He could feel it.
212
‘No.’ she shook her head shocking him. She
smiled still gazing up at him like an imp. ‘I will
come to you.’
He almost chocked. He had never been this
dumbfounded. And as he stood there looking
at her, Maria walked away actually seemed to
melt into the wider throng of people. Which
was wise. Seeing as it was never safe to attract
attention to what you were up to in the village.
He turned and walked away also. Unknown
to him though, eyes were pinned on him. And
they meant no good.
213
10
SOLOMON MAINA LOOKED AT THE SIX

OTHERS. He was sure he had their
214
corporation. He had to finish this today. It had
taken too long and look at what it had done to
his family, to him in the meantime?
His eldest son was dead. His other children
were at best estranged from him. They rarely
came up country to visit. They didn’t like their
home, they feared their home. And his wife,
sweet Betty, his eldest grandson named after
him, both dead. Nancy… All a plague brought
unto him and his by the witch.
He would finish it today. It was long
overdue. It would pay for ruining his life. For
the curse it had placed unto his family. But
more than that, the witch would pay for being
just that. A witch. A witch had to be whipped
and burned. Everybody knew that.
He brought himself back to the present with
effort. ‘We have said enough. Tonight, at the
stroke of midnight, we will meet at this place.
From here, we shall all proceed to the witch’s
215
dwelling. From there, we will do what is right.’
He paused. ‘You may leave.’
The men mumbled their parting words and
all walked out of Saulo Pete’s house. Only
Solomon stayed back. Saulo was notably
distressed.
‘Don’t worry my old friend. Tonight, it all
ends.’ Maina reassured him.
Saulo was younger than Maina and had
grown up in awe of the older man. He didn’t
want to sound doubtful of Maina’s plan.
‘Maina you know I trust you with my life,’
the man began obsequiously. ‘But the witch.
How will we get in?’ everybody knew that
getting into a witch’s dwelling was next to
impossible especially if it was one as strong as
Chumo. The spirits they reared served as
protectors and they were to be feared. They
could drive a man to his insanity. In fact it was
known that for most people, even if they could
216
enter a witch’s compound, they would not want
to. And with good reason.
‘I will show you my friend. Trust me as you
say you do.’ And with that, Maina also
departed.
He wasn’t worried about Saulo. Pete was
from the old days, he knew what to expect.
What worried him more was the young brash
Adede. He may just prove to be more of a
liability tonight than help. Ah but it couldn’t be
helped. The number had to be complete.
Besides, he thought allowing himself a smile,
the young man could be sacrificed. For the
good of everyone involved of course.
As he walked home, he whistled a tuned
that took him back to the days he used to
make rounds with the ‘prefects’ guarding
Eshihaka. He had lived here all his life. And he
would die here. And if he could help it, not
anytime soon.
217
Gideon heard the thunder. It tore into his
train of thought and brought him up from the
escritoire. His hands had been on the
typewriter keys but he hadn’t been writing. His
mind kept drifting. He was in his final phases of
the story and a curious thing was happening to
him. He didn’t know how to end his story.
In his previous stories, this had never
happened. The only problem Gideon ever faced
when writing, was how to get the ball rolling.
But once he got it off, he had never
experienced the problem of keeping it in stride
to its destination.
Now, for once he didn’t know where the ball
was headed. And his mind kept drifting. He had
made Nancy promise him never to discuss the
night at Chumo’s. it was an attempt to get rid
of that night from his mind and to forever
forget it. It wasn’t working. And today in
218
particular, his mind kept going back to the old
witch’s scary house. In his mind, that bizarre
night kept repeating like a reel.
He wondered what the witch had meant
when she had given him her ominous warning.
He felt himself shiver when he remembered
her voice which he privately thought of as
witchy, saying; ‘You are marked…’ what had
she meant? It was not a small sense of dread,
of foreboding that assailed him when he
thought of this.
And his grandmother. His dead dear grand
mother, how was she and the witch Chumo
intertwined? For there was no mistaking it.
Gideon knew that there was a link there. Was it
perhaps his grandfather? The old man Solomon
was surely not an innocent. And that he hated
the old witch was more than obvious. Was it
only because she was responsible for the death
of his wife?
219
…I had a hand in it, she had told him. More
likely she had sent his grandmother some of
her spirit friends and they stole her soul away.
He shivered again involuntarily.
The zombies… he could still feel the hot
fetid air of the things on him. Their clingy
strong twig-like fingers. He felt his skin crawl as
though a million or so ants were trekking upon
his back.
He had no need to ever meet those things
again that was for sure. Yet, what had the old
woman said? It was almost on his finger tips
yet it was so far away. Something about what
she had said kept gnawing at him. At the time,
he had been so rancid with fear that he could
not have internalized its meaning. Now, it just
eluded him.
You are marked… marked for what, death?
Payback for the death of his brother? He closed
his eyes as if to shield against the sudden pain
220
that ran through him. He could still see the
body of Solo swaying from the rope that he
hang from like a pendulum. Left – right, left –
right…It was in this very room that he sat in
that his brother had hang himself. He struggled
with the painful memories but they were not to
be swatted aside.
The pain was not a physical one. It was
deep, a wedge in his very soul. Remember
child remember… what? What was it the old
hag had said that bothered him?
And what of the mystery that surrounded
the death of his grandmother? Old Chumo had
insinuated that the other woman had actually
wanted to die. That all Chumo had done was
lend a hand. hey buddy won’t you be a good
pal and help me kill myself? See there is this…
He shook his head. There must be something in
all these murk.
221
Nancy! It hit him like a punch below the
belt. Right on his ninnies! Something started to
become clear, yet it couldn’t be. Could it?
Completely forgetting his writing or his
attempts at doing so, he got off his desk. He
had to go find Nancy. It was time he learnt
some truths.
Solomon had returned from relieving

himself. Bosco had gone on his dogly errands.
He sat on his bed and had just leaned back on
it when he heard the noise.
It was a soft cough. He sat up straight
instinctively reaching for the blade that he
always kept next to his head rest.
Then from the shadows, she made herself
visible. She had just been standing there he
realized. In the shadows where the small
kerosene lamp threw no light.
222
She must have gotten when he’d gone out
to relieve himself. The sneaky little thing. He
had not even sensed her presence. And what
of Bosco? How had she evaded his sharp nose?
But he stopped asking himself many questions
when she made a small step toward him.
She held her hand together before her like
the small shy girl she was. Maina’s mouth
watered. He gave a completely licentious grin.
‘Come Maria don’t be afraid.’
She moved across the room to him, as if
afraid her nerve might fail her. And when she
was close enough to touch, she stopped. Then
she completely shocked him
‘I am in love with you Solomon.’ She
declared.
He looked at her as though she had spoken
in a foreign tongue.
‘That displeases you?’ she asked timidly her
voice timorous.
223
‘No. No.’ he shook his head quickly. ‘You
just shocked me.’ Then he smiled once more.
His particularly winning one. Maria was not
impartial to it either. ‘No you bring me much
pleasure by telling me that. Come here. Come
to me.’
She did. And when he had his hand finally
around that narrow waist he almost
embarrassed himself by rushing her onto her
back and sinking his shaft inside her, he
wanted her so bad.
It was as if she had bewitched him. She
was eliciting emotions in him that no other girl
ever had. Taking a deep breath, he schooled
his sexual urges. He was a consummate lover
after all. He would make sure this was good for
her.
Maria Chumo held her hands tight in her lap

as if to stop herself from touching the scar
224
again and again. She was in a curious mood.
She was…nostalgic. She was not a woman
wont to emotions. It was not in her place to be
so, but on this day, she couldn’t seem to help
herself. Her thoughts could not keep on the
present. Instead they kept taking her back to
the time when she had been a curious,
precocious even, naïve girl. When her sun had
risen and set in a man and the love she
believed they shared.
It had been doomed from the start. She
knew this with the help of hindsight. But even
in those days, when the world was still small
and Eshihaka a village free from outside
influence, she had known. Deep inside, she had
known she treaded a doomed path. Yet she
had not been able to draw herself from it.
Her body was scarred. She had been beaten
up many times in her life as witch. Her mother
225
had warned her that this was what went being
one. Her lot in life.
And she had warned her off Solomon Maina.
That boy will be the death of you, she could
almost hear her mother’s shrill dire warning.
But it had gone unheeded. Of course. She had
been in love.
When she had returned home that mid
morning without her pot, her mother had been
beside herself with fury. But the young girl had
not been scared. She had not even shied from
the beating she was given. Her mind had been
in the clouds! She had met the man of her
dreams. And what more, she was going to have
him.
Her mother had of course noticed this. She
had made her inquiries – God only knew how or
to whom, and she had found out her
daughter’s source of new joy and purpose in
life.
226
She had immediately forbidden the little
chit to ever leave the compound during the
day. She had then commenced, rigorously, the
education of her only child into the art of
witching.
Maria had persevered it all. Her source of
inspiration was known to both mother and
daughter. The mother had angrily warned her
off Maina’s son. But she knew that there was
just so much she could do. Her daughter would
do as girls her age must do. The ache between
her thighs would drive the girl right into the
boy’s arms.
And of course a mother had to protect her
child. She had to protect the interest of her
only baby. She would have to kill Solomon
Maina.
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Maria had sighed deeply when she felt
Maina’s arms enfold her against his hard body
in a hot embrace. He had gotten onto his feet.
She was held right against him and she could
feel his contours right against hers.
His hands roamed over her back the fingers
soft and oh so tender. She felt herself leaning
into him and a languid warmth spread through
her.
Maina whispered hot obscenities against the
girl’s ear. ‘You are so soft. So warm. I want to
feel how hot you are inside.’
She moaned. She couldn’t help herself.
When he reached round and cupped her small
cone and then squeezed, she felt her
womanhood grow hot and wet.
‘You like that?’ she nodded desperately.
‘You want to feel me suckle at it like a small
baby? You want to feel my tongue sweep over
your nipple my teeth close over…’ and then he
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did it. Maria almost collapsed. He had to
support her.
Gently, he laid her back on his beddings.
Then as gentle, he removed her dress. She was
naked underneath. His eyes went right to her
center and then drew up to her face. Her large
eyes were fixed on him in a trusting look. In
God himself came down to earth, this was how
a pious man would look up at Him, he thought
with a smile.
His fingers ran along her calves tenderly.
Then he ran them up her smooth thighs each
hand on one of her closed thighs. He caressed
the outside of her legs as he went up and
cradled her waist once more.
‘You are beautiful,’ he whispered. Usually
he told all his girls this. But now, he was
shocked to find that he actually meant it. She
was beautiful. His shaft was hard in his cloth
and it was all he could do to keep it there.
229
He joined her on the bed lying on his side.
His left hand ran up between her closed thighs
to her curls of soft pubic hair and back down to
her knees. He did this again and again until
with a shudder, Maria parted her thighs. She
knew not what she was doing. She was just
reacting instinctively – what Maina wanted.
When his hand ran inside her left thigh,
Maria was so shocked she closed her legs
again. His hand was tightly held between her
thighs. Maina flexed one finger and touched
her warmth.
She squealed. But when he went to remove
his hand, she caught it in both of hers and put
it right against her womanhood holding it there
tight. She opened her thighs a little. Her eyes
were tightly shut and her breath was shallow.
Keeping his hand in place she began moving
herself against it.
230
Maina moved his hand to cover her properly
and then let the girl pleasure herself. She was
such a sensuous thing. His crotch burned as he
took in this uninhibited show. She was panting
now. She didn’t quite understand what she
wanted, only that she must get it.
Usually, the girls he cavorted with let him
do all the work. They only started moving when
he had wedged his manhood inside them. But
not Maria. Maria was a being made to feel and
give pleasure. She was as uninhibited as a
common prostitute, yet everything to her was
new. She was an innocent and even in her
wantonness, one didn’t forget it. It only made it
all the more special.
He flexed his finger and pushed it against
her tight hole. She came before he got to the
first knuckle.
And then she started giggling. It was a
curious sound. Like the mixture of a young
231
river falling over rock and the chirping of
morning birds. It was heady to Maina. He
couldn’t take anymore.
He got off the bed.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked in her tiny
voice, made breathless by her first orgasm.
‘Am undressing my dear.’ He said smiling
and got rid of his shorts.
‘God!’ she exclaimed. Her large eyes were
as wide as a cow’s. ‘You will break me.’
‘Yes my dear.’ He laughed. ‘But it will give
you pleasure.’
‘Like just now?’ she asked demurely?
‘Like just now.’ He groaned. How did one
person manage to sound coquettish, whorish,
and virginal at the same time? He came to the
bed between her legs.
‘Promise?’ her breath caught as his finger
went back to her center. Rubbing her. Stealing
her breath.
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‘You my dear,’ Maina said breathlessly as
he aligned his stiff shaft to her entry. ‘Are a
witch.’ And then he moved completely
sheathing himself inside her heat. Her scream
was smothered by his mouth.
Chumo moved on her chair. The

memories… they were threatening to do her in.
It was important that she forget the past and
think ahead to what was coming this night. She
would be with Solomon Maina but they would
not be meeting as lovers. No, they were now
adversaries beyond redemption. Nothing could
save them tonight.
It was getting colder as the night crept on
day. She smiled wistfully. It had been a long
time since she had remembered her youthful
days. Her romps with Solomon. They had been
many – they had both been randy. Sexual
animals. But, she thought grimly, all this was
233
not going to help her in the least today. It only
served to make her sad for the loss of such
innocence – and that was one thing she didn’t
need to indulge in today of all days.
She stood up and was surprised again that
she was so light. She was feeling stronger
today. As though, but surely it could not be, as
though she were younger.
She shook her head. Folding her chair, she
carried it towards her hut. Time waits not for
anyone. And especially not a witch, her mother
used to say.
Solomon Maina was surprised to find that he

was horny. As he sat in his house, he had been
reminiscing. Remembering, rather vividly it
seemed, the first time he had bedded Chumo.
And it seemed the memory was still strong
enough to perk him up even now.
234
He had no problem with his libido. He had
always had a stronger dose than most of his
agemates. His old father had patiently
explained to his mother whenever she
complained of his excessive girlfriends: he is
the only son you gave me. He got all of my
scrotum. And his mother would make a face
and say grimly: it cannot be healthy for a man
to have such needs.
And his mother had been right. Well so had
his father been. He had been born the only
male child in a family of eight children. Having
seven sisters, Solomon hadn’t needed to work
extra hard. What all the land of his father
would be his and not to mention all the dowry
that the marriages of his sisters would fetch.
Now, more than fifty years later, Solomon
thought about his mother’s dire words. His
libido had ran away out of control a few times.
In fact if he was true to himself, it had been
235
much more than a few times. And the
repurcations…
Ah but that was in the past. Today, he had a
healthy hard on and he was going to finish his
nemesis once and for all. He would go over to
Oscar’s widow tomorrow. Tonight, was just for
him. He didn’t want to savor it with anyone. He
thought of Chumo and what he would do to
that one eye that was left and he felt his shaft
still reasonably stiff after more than seventy
years of life, twitch.
‘You murdering son of a bitch!’ Gideon
Maina hurled at him as he barged into the
house a tearful Nancy at his heels.
When Gideon walked into the hut where

Nancy slept, he had no idea what she would
tell him. He didn’t even know how he meant to
236
ask her. All he knew was that he had to get at
the bottom of this.
Nancy had been curled on her bed reading
a romance novel when he entered. Her errands
having ended. She automatically smiled at him.
But as she sat up on the bed, the smile
gradually waned as she took in his grim look.
‘What is wrong Giddie?’ she asked
tentatively looking up at him. He was standing
hands akimbo taking her in.
There was no easy way to do this. So he did
it the only way that would end it fast.
‘Who is your father Nancy?’ he asked in
clipped tones.
Her sharp intake of breath would have sold
her even if her quick mousy look didn’t. She
looked away from his burning gaze. Then shook
her head.
‘Nancy,’ he said expectantly.
She shook her head again.
237
‘Nancy!’ he snapped. ‘Answer me.’
‘I don’t know Giddie.’ She was still shaking
her head keeping her eyes well away from his
face. She spoke timorously.
‘You are lying!’ Gideon spat. His face was
contorted into a fearsome façade. He looked as
though he were looking at a snake. Had she
tried to look at him, she would have surely
crawled into a corner in fear.
Gideon when angry never raved and ranted.
He did not shout or yank his hair or even feel
the need to do any of these things. Anger
cooled Gideon down. It had always done so. It
cooled him down to the subzero temperatures.
He became cold and distant. He became
sadistic.
‘Please please Giddie please…’
‘Shuttup.’ She did. He did not shout it. He
delivered the command in the clipped cold
tone of a Nazi officer.
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‘Your mother, my Aunt Rebecca gave birth
to you what eighteen years ago?’ she nodded.
‘It was here in Eshihaka right? Not where she
married is that not so?’ again she nodded.
He paused as if in thought. His aunt
Rebecca had always been a thin mousy woman
who seemed to be scared of her very shadow.
She was nothing like her daughter Nancy. The
last time he had seen her of course had been
during the burial of his elder brother Solo.
‘Tell me Nancy. Why did your mother give
birth to you here. Why not where she lived?’ he
asked her with a gentleness he far from felt.
Nancy was sniffling now. ‘She got pregnant
with me here Giddie.’
He nodded. He had figured as much. ‘So her
husband didn’t sire you.’
‘No.’ she was crying now. ‘They don’t want
me there. They never have so I stay here.’
239
‘Not even your mother?’ Gideon found it
hard to picture the timid Rebecca disliking
anyone. Somehow in his mind, he had always
seen her as incapable of anything that required
effort. And that included disliking someone.
Nancy nodded. ‘Even my mother.’ She
sniffled.
He was quiet. ‘What is it Gideon. What are
you going to do?’ she asked him wiping a
away at her tears. Her eyes implored him to
let it be. They begged him to let all this go.
That nothing good could come of it. But Gideon
had smelled a rat and he was damned if he
wouldn’t follow the dratted stench right up to
the rodent’s lair.
‘Why are you unwelcome Nancy.’ He asked
calmly. Coldly. ‘Who is your father?’
He was resolute. He wasn’t going to budge.
So she told him.
240
Now, as he faced his grandfather, he was
absolutely livid. For once in his life he couldn’t
seem to check himself.
‘You are a bastard,’ he rounded on the old
man.
Solomon Maina didn’t flinch. He looked at
his grandson calmly. Nancy was weeping
silently at the door. He spared her a glance.
‘I guess Nancy has been telling you a little
about herself.’ He said with absolute calm.
‘You aren’t even sorry are you?’ Gideon
seemed to boil more at his grandfather’s
insouciance.
‘You have no idea what you are talking
about young man. So don’t even try
understanding it.’ Solomon said leaning
forward on his seat.
‘Oh I understand all right grandpa.’ Gideon
went on struggling to keep himself in check.
241
‘You fucked your own daughter you bastard.’
He heard Nancy’s anguished gasp.
‘While you are under my roof young man
you will speak to me with respect!’ he spoke
with a dangerous calm now. But Gideon was
having none of it.
‘And that was why grandma died isn’t it?’
he went on. ‘She found out and couldn’t live
with the shame of it. The absolute, disgusting,
pathetic_’
‘Shuttup!’ Solomon rose on his feet no
longer calm.
‘No you shuttup!’ Gideon rejoined. ’My
grandma went to the witch Chumo desperate
to end her life. She couldn’t face another day
living under the same roof as you. And what of
Rebecca your fucking daughter you fucking
bastard! ’
Solomon raised his hand to stem the spate
of hateful drivel that spewed off his grandson.
242
‘So you find me disgusting don’t you?’ he
spoke looking direct into the younger man’s
eyes. ‘You think am uncouth and have no
morals don’t you? You think yourself blameless
and clean enough to judge me? Huh young
man? Are you my judge now?’
Gideon’s chest was heaving in his effort to
stop himself from jumping onto his
grandfather. Solomon went on.
‘You cannot be my judge Gideon. You know
why? You are just like me. You are no better
than me. In fact grandson, you are much
worse!’
They faced off each other. They both knew
what he was talking about. Gideon opened his
mouth to speak but he couldn’t. Instead he
recalled the image of his brother’s dead body
swaying on the rope tying him to the rafter in
his house. Left – right… left – right…
He looked away from his grandfather.
243
‘You respect me in my house young man or
I will be forced to banish you.’ Solomon told his
grandson with an unforgiving tone.
‘I’ll do you a favour,’ Gideon told him just as
calmly now. ‘I will leave in the morning.’ Nancy
gasped. Gideon looked at her. ‘And I will take
Nancy with me.’
‘Fine by me young man. But I think we
should first ask her if she wants to go.’
Solomon spoke. There was just a hint of self
assuredness in his tone to worry Gideon. He
turned to Nancy.
‘Nancy you will come with me won’t you?’
He asked a question he believed to be
rhetorical.
‘Gideon,’ she sniffed. He walked toward her.
‘Giddie,’ she tried once more in a plaintive
tone.
‘Tell me you are coming with me.’ He told
her in clipped tones.
244
She shook her head and raised tear filled
eyes to her cousin-nephew. ‘This is the only
home I have_’
‘You cannot stay with this, this evil man
Nancy look what he did to your mom, to his
wife.’
‘I cannot leave him Giddie.’ Her tone
implored him to understand. ‘He has no one
else.’
‘That is his Goddamn problem Nancy not
yours_’ he told her. But she interrupted him.
‘I don’t have anyone else.’ She told him. Her
eyes sought understanding in his. He looked at
her for a long moment then turned back to his
grandfather.
‘Well, I leave in the morning for the city.’
‘I will not stop you.’ His grandfather said his
voice emotionless. He wasn’t even gloating.
Gideon wasn’t sure what he would have done if
he had.
245
With that, Gideon turned to leave. He heard
Nancy call to him but he had no business with
either of them now, he thought furiously. If she
couldn’t see reason enough to follow him in the
morning, then that was her business. He had
done what he could.
Solomon stood by the fire that burned at
the fireplace. The house was lit in the dull light
of a lantern turned low. He looked at the
flames as in his mind, past images ran through
it. Rebecca, he didn’t want to think about his
daughter now. He didn’t want to think about
anyone in his family. They had all turned their
backs on him.
All of them except Nancy. He had excused
her to go sleep after she had made him his
meal for the night – Gideon had been
noticeably absent for it. She was distraught
and that was understandable. That good for
246
nothing grandson of his had opened wounds
that ought to be left to heal.
Nancy was such a warm and kind girl how
could it be wrong to have brought her into this
world. In his convoluted way of thinking
Solomon didn’t allow himself to see that his
action had hurt others. It was all the fault of
that witch anyway. Chumo was the root of all
his problems.
His thoughts ran to her and their youth and
he could not stop it. Maria, what a delightful
lover she had been.
After that first night together, the two had
made sure that they were never apart for more
than two weeks. Usually the girl came to his
hut in the night and left in the early mornings.
She never told him about herself about where
she lived – only that she lived with relatives. At
the time, Solomon was drunk with lust. He
didn’t see the need to pursue this topic that
247
visibly disturbed her. What was important was
that she seemed to adore him and she was by
far the best he had ever had in his bed.
It was one day four months after they had
first slept together, when he h ad reason to
start doubting her story – or lack of it.
He was seated in the cool of a blue gum
tree shade outside his hut when he got a visit
from Shtubi. She was a brazen girl. One of his
former lovers. Since he had started bedding
Maria, he had not gotten to inviting any of his
former girls to his hut. In those days, a girl
never went uninvited to a young man’s hut.
Looking at her, Solomon was hit with the
realization that indeed he had been ignoring all
his other girls in favour of the tiny Maria.
‘Shtubi,’ He had smiled in welcome when
she reached him. Bosco who had been lying at
his feet, raised his head looked at the girl and
up and left.
248
‘Whatever did you do to Bosco?’ he joked.
‘He doesn’t seem to like you today.’
Shtubi had laughed her high pitched laugh.
She was a full figured girl. A real beauty in the
classic manner that men judged beauty. Her
breasts were full and rode high on her chest
defying gravity. Her legs were long and strong
from a life of daily work. Her arms were
elegantly slim and her face was as smooth as
milk. In spite of himself, Solomon felt a twitch
in his pants as she smiled at him.
But a girl didn’t come to visit you in the
light of day for no reason. So he looked at
Shtubi expectantly and asked her what had
brought her.
‘I just missed you,’ she said coquettishly.
Then she went on to tell him tales that
Solomon was sure were unrelated to what was
on her mind. He went along. Soon enough
though, she came to her point.
249
‘You have a new girl these days I hear.’
Shtubi spoke still smiling.
Solomon laughed. So that was it. She was
jealous. He could remedy that, he thought. He
could remedy that even now. And he told her
so.
But she didn’t react in the manner he had
expected. She didn’t smile demurely and tell
him that maybe later in the day, or night. She
kept her smile in place and asked him, ‘do you
know where she comes from?’
‘Why do you ask me that Shtubi?’ he was
now less playful with her. The clear rebuff
smarted a little. ‘Of course I know where she is
from. She is from Eshihaka just like you or I. ’
Shtubi had shaken her head and smiled
condescendingly at him. ‘You don’t even know
her family do you?’
Solomon was done with playfulness now.
There was something in the way Shtubi talked
250
that raised his hackles. It might also have been
that he had been asking himself these
questions but never getting the answers. It was
true that Maria was extremely closemouthed
about herself about where she came from in
the dark night and where she went to in the
dark morning.
‘She lives with relatives,’ he told Shtubi as
he had been told. But he spoke as someone
who waited, indeed expected, to be told that
they were wrong.
Shtubi shook her head again. Her smile was
triumphant. Solomon decided that she looked
particularly ugly when she did that. Not on her
face, but in her soul.
‘The only relative she lives with is her
mother.’ She paused and looked at him.
‘Well who is her mother, do I know her?’ he
asked impatiently.
251
‘Uh – huh. You do. Everyone does.’ Shtubi
paused once more just long enough to make
sure (needlessly) she had his attention. ‘She is
Mlosi. The witch.’
Solomon had itched to slam his fist into
something – even Shtubi’s vile smile. Now, at
the fireplace remembering his gullibility at the
hands of Maria, he slammed his fist into the
wall. It hurt but not as much as it had hurt him
to find out what a fool he had been made of.
Shtubi had indeed shocked him. He had
decided that from henceforth, he would seek to
find out the truth for himself. So he had waited
for the little girl to come to him again. But she
hadn’t.
And try as he might, he could not seem to
find her. And in this time, the Headman had
continued to gain favour with the people.
Solomon and his group of prefects, had
ingrained themselves into everyone’s favour.
252
The Council was slowly becoming a
toothless dog. They no longer made any ruling
or settled any disputes. This was because no
one brought their troubles to the old men.
Whenever two disputing parties wanted justice,
they sought ought their Headman, the trusted
son of Matsai.
Solomon of course saw through the façade.
Just as the Headman recognized a kindred
spirit in the vile, cold depths of the young
man’s soul, so had Maina recognized that the
son of Matsai wasn’t all that people thought
him to be. He was a big pretender. But he had
a clear path forged to get ahead and he
wanted Solomon to go with him. Maina had no
problem with that. He would stick by the man,
until the time came when he felt he needed to
get ahead of him.
During this period the Headman had
discussed with Solomon his plan to increase
253
their number from ten to twenty. Of course
Solomon would still remain in charge. Of
course, Solomon had agreed.
Solomon of course realized that what the
man was planning was some form of coup. The
battalion would keep growing by small
numbers that could be easily explained to the
old men or other villagers or indeed even go
without being noticed.
These men were and would be the
Headman’s men. It was no secret to Solomon
that their first loyalty would be to the
Headman. What Solomon thought to himself
was that that could be easily changed. Why
shouldn’t the men instead owe their first
loyalty to him?
And so the idea was born. It was during this
period that Solomon came awake in the night
to find someone digging up the soil around his
hut. He had no doubt that it had been a witch.
254
But his machete had cut into it he was glad.
That would keep the slimy thing away for a
while. And that had taken his mind back to
what Shtubi had told him. Was Maria the
daughter of the witch Mlosi? Was she also a
witch?
He had picked the bones and the herbs and
hair that the witch had left behind and thrown
them into the bushes. On second thought, he
had collected the things again, and built a fire.
At the back of his mind, he had thought to ask
his father or mother first what these things
were but then decided not to.
Had he asked them, he would have been
shocked to be told that the particular things he
was burning were protective elements from
witchcraft.
But being the headstrong individual he had
been, he had stood there watched the things
burn and then gone and cleaned his machete.
255
He was shocked by his blood thirst (he was
extremely pleased his machete had caught
flesh) but not unduly so. It was a tough world
and one had to be tough to stay ahead.
His next meeting with Maria had been a
fortnight later. By this time the Headman had a
group of fifty young men all loyal to him. But as
Solomon would have told him, their primary
loyalty was to Solomon Maina.
Solomon was sure that the coup was soon
to come into place. The Headman would start
asking for taxes – Solomon was certain that
was how he would begin, and the young men
would be his arm of enforcing this new decree.
Maria had slipped into his hut as was usual
with her. Bosco didn’t bark, he didn’t warn him
at all. And that in itself caused Solomon to
think.
He had welcomed her as usual. She had
been as avid and aggressive yet hesitant as
256
she was usually. And the sex had been just as
hot. However, this time, when Solomon was
pounding into her and she had her legs wound
around his waist, she kept whispering in his ear
‘I love you…my love…my only love…’
Solomon was shocked. He indeed
acknowledged from the area in his mind that
could still think these things that this girl had
come closest to claiming his heart. And as he
emptied his seed inside her nubile body he’d
grunted, ‘my heart.’
And as they lay there in the dark holding
each other, the doubts rose. He heard Shtubi’s
voice. He remembered the figure in the night
that had been so quiet that he had heard it
surely by some great amount of luck. And then
the fact that Bosco hadn’t even barked. He
always barked when an intruder came to the
compound. Always, except when Maria came
around.
257
And her continued silence about her family,
where she came from. Solomon struck a
match. He lit his lantern. Telling himself that he
was mistaken that this small girl this waif thing
that had taken his heart could not be capable
of any evil, let alone the evil that witches
cooked.
‘What is it Solo_’ she spoke dreamily when
he got off the bed.
‘Turn.’ He had told her in a tone that
brooked no argument. She started turning and
impatient, Solomon grabbed her shoulder and
turned her so that she lay prostrate on the bed,
her back to him.
He didn’t need the light to see the gash that
was on her left shoulder blade that seemed
fresh. Two weeks fresh if he wasn’t wrong. And
he was sure he could tell where it had come
from. The little thing had been bewitching him.
258
The hand that clamped around Maria’s
shoulder was like a vice. Maina was so angry
he didn’t know what he was doing any more.
All he knew was that he must finish this thing.
And he had actually sought to build tender
feelings for her. And that more than anything,
was what drove him mad. That he had been
made a fool of.
‘Let me explain,’ Maria had began
plaintively. But all that was cut off when
Solomon turned her and coldly closed his hand
over her throat and started squeezing.
Chumo turned into her hut without

bothering to close the door. It had gotten really
cold now and what was more, a draught was
building. The thunder clap came intermittently
now. It was coming to rain but it would not be
here soon. By her estimation probably it would
keep till the wee hours of the next morning.
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By then she would be in the hands of her
destiny. Well, there was no need to keep
wasting time. Time waits for no on. Not even a
witch.
She walked in her ‘spring’ to the center of
her hut where a pot sat benignly. It was
covered by a metal plate. She went over to the
corner where her three stones stood. She
picked firewood careful to place the thinner
twigs in first. Picking a matchbox, she carefully
set fire to the well arranged twigs. They picked
immediately and she slowly fed the thicker
wood to it.
Carefully and patiently with the
nonchalance of one who is doing something
they have done so many times already, she
built a good fire.
Then turning, she picked up the pot – again,
her strength surprised her, and placed the half
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full earthenware over the fire upon the three
stones.
This would take some time. She pulled a
chair and gladly sunk into it. She might be
feeling younger, but there was no need to
waste her energy. She would need it later.
A harsh cluttering sound brought her
sharply from her thoughts. It was the metal
plate that covered the pot. It had fallen right
off the pot rattling as it fell to the floor. She
quickly left her seat and replaced the metal
plate. She picked a large piece of wood and
placed it on top of the plate to keep it from
falling.
‘It’s not yet time my friends,’ she spoke like
a kindergarten teacher admonishing an
impatient student.
‘It’s not yet time,’ she repeated as she sunk
back into her seat.
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11
SOLOMON MAINA WAS GOING TO KILL

HER. She tried to fight him off but he was too
strong for her. She couldn’t even scream for
help with her throat in his strong grip.
She was losing consciousness quickly. Her
lungs were burning and tears brimmed in her
eyes. Solomon tightened his hands further and
leaned into her small body to stem her efforts
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to thwart him. Her hands were ineffectually
trying to pry his off her neck.
He could feel the life leaving her. Her
strength was waning and she’d even stopped
kicking and flailing about. He was going to kill
this witch. She had no business breathing any
longer. It would teach her to try and make a
fool of him. No one made a fool of him.
There was no saving her now. Sensing the
end was near, Solomon just like the ruthless
animal he had become went for the kill. He
leaned right into her forcing her air passage
closed.
Hannah’s saviour came from a most unlikely
source. Solomon was busy squeezing her
throat, his whole body was on her, he was
straddling her chest. His back was to the door
and when he heard the low growl, he turned.
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The door, which he had closed, was now
open. And standing at the door facing him, was
Bosco. He didn’t look happy.
Thinking his dog must be growling at
something else and he really was close to
finishing his first kill, Solomon turned back to
Hannah and resumed strangling her.
The interruption had made him losen his
grip a little and blessed air, a little but blessed
anyway, had passed into Hannah’s starved
lungs. But it was almost making matters worse
as soon, her air passage was closed again. Her
tears were flowing freely now. She was sure he
was going to kill her. She fought no more. She
had no strength left to fight. She resigned
herself to her fate.
But Bosco wouldn’t stop growling. Instead,
the dog moved from the door and came beside
the bed. He was now snarling, showing
Solomon his teeth. And as shocking as it was,
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the dog seemed to be facing off with his
master.
Solomon looked at him and ordered him
out. ‘Bosco out!’ all the while, without releasing
his captive. If anything he sought to squeeze
harder.
But Bosco wouldn’t leave. His growls and
snarls had turned from warning to a clear
signal that he wanted to attack. Solomon
looked at his dog incredulously. When Bosco
went low on his hind feet, Solomon could not
ignore him anymore. He was sure the dog
would attack him.
Slowly, with the shock of one whose
beloved dog turns against him, he removed his
hands from Hannah’s neck. She immediately
started coughing as the air rushed into her
lungs. She was crying and holding her throat
where his hands had been.
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Solomon however did not look at her. His
eyes were on his dog. And Bosco met his gaze
head on. He stopped snarling but the growl
was still there. It told him that he was doing
well but he still had more to do.
So just as slowly, his body taut his muscles
ready for anything, he got off Hannah’s supine
body. Quickly, with no time to savour her
reprieve, Hannah leapt off the bed and
struggled to put her clothes on.
Bosco now stood between her and Solomon.
It was as though the dog was guarding her
from his master. Solomon, all the time didn’t
even look up at Hannah. His eyes were on his
dog. It was as thought he was frozen in shock.
Hannah was dressed. She went to the door
and her tears still running in rills down her
face, she turned to her first and only lover.
‘You misunderstood Solomon. You
misunderstood…’ and when she would have
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gone on talking, she was silenced when he
turned to look at her. There was no
understanding on that face. No forgiveness.
Only murder. She turned and fled from him into
the night. Behind her, she heard Bosco follow.
She fled up to the gap in the fence where
she usually came through and as she crossed,
she noticed that Bosco stayed on the other
side.
She stopped from her flight and came back
to the gap. The dog barked but wouldn’t cross.
‘Come with me Bosco,’ she implored.
‘Come.’ But the dog wouldn’t move.
She remembered Solomon’s face and
feared for the dog. Maina would not be happy
with him. And Hannah had to admit that she
did not know how far he was ready to go to
inflict revenge on the dog.
She implored the dog further. She patted
her thighs and beckoned on the dog to follow
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but with a final bark, as if to tell her, bye, take
care, Bosco turned and in a trot disappeared
into the night.
With her heart heavy, she turned and
headed home. Surely he wouldn’t hurt his dog
for coming to her rescue? He loved that dog.
But hadn’t he told her ‘you are my heart’ and
then jumped on her neck?
There was nothing she could do though. She
took flight on her spindly legs and ran home.
There was nothing she could do.
Solomon Maina left the fireplace. He

decided that the only way to kill some time and
get rid of all these thoughts was if he got to
bed. He would sleep until some minutes to
midnight and then he would get up and head to
Saulo Pete’s place.
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But the memories would not leave him.
Even as he lay on his bed in the dark room, his
mind took him back five decades. And all he
could do was remember.
And his thoughts took him to the Headman
son of Matsai. He was probably the only man
Solomon had ever met who hated witches as
much or even more than him.
It was said that Matsai’s wife had been a
witch. He hadn’t known it himself. When he
married her, he had thought her the next thing
to an angel.
One day he had come back earlier than
usual from the garden. He had come home to
find his beloved wife in their kitchen. She had
closed all the windows so that little light came
into the room. She was seated on the floor on
an old cow hide. Before her, were a number of
cowrie shells and bones. A slain chicken lay on
her lap. Its torn neck looked suspiciously to him
269
as if it had been bitten into. Indeed even as
that thought went through his mind, he saw
the blood that was all over the front of her
dress. Her mouth and teeth were also bloody. A
surge of revulsion ran through him. She was
mumbling to herself like someone possessed.
Even his entry into the kitchen hadn’t
distracted her from her communion with the
dead.
The Headman had been so shocked he
hadn’t moved for a full minute. It was clear to
him that his wife was a witch. He didn’t want to
think it true, but he could not offer any other
explanation for what his eyes had seen.
Turning away from the hut, he had walked
back to their house. He would teach that witch
something today. He had gone to his house
where his three one and half year old
daughters lay asleep. It ought to have been the
first warning, he had thought to himself, when
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his wife had given birth to three children at
once.
The custom of throwing twins, triplets or
any other ‘lets’ had stopped. But still such
children were treated with care and not a small
amount of fear. It was thought of as only a
thing that witches could do. How could the
womb of a woman carry more than one child at
one time? It must be evil.
That hot afternoon, he had walked over to
the bed where his pretty children slept. He had
picked them up careful not to wake them. They
had blissfully kept on sleeping. With a heart as
hot as the tundra in winter, he had taken them
back to the hut where their mother was even
then in a grip of almost maniacal frenzy.
He crept into the kitchen again noting that
his wife did not register his presence. Her eyes
were not closed. They fluttered as her lips did.
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If he had not seen the evidence before him, he
would have thought her in the grips of a fit.
He placed the triplets behind their mother
on the same hide that she sat upon. And then
he turned to the door. As he closed it, he
thought he saw his wife turn and look right at
him with her bloody teeth and bloody eyes. He
quickly shut the door. He returned the dead
bolt outside the door of the hut that was their
kitchen.
He went back to the main house. In the top
drawer, he found what he was looking for. He
came back to the hut and struck a match to
the cloth that was in his hand. It was his wife’s
dress. Then when it was lit, he threw it onto the
hut’s thatch roof.
In the hot sun, the thatch caught fire like
tinder. He went back to the main house for
another of his wife’s dresses. But even as he
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came back, he saw that the thatch had caught
pretty fast on the side he’d thrown the dress.
But he wasn’t the type of man that liked
leaving things to chance. So he went over to
the back and lit the dress he had with him.
Then as he had done, he threw this over the
roof. He stood there for a while wondering at
what he was doing. Then he heard the
whimpering of his children, the smoke must
have woken them up.
And that more than anything, hardened his
resolve. He walked away back to his garden.
He didn’t want to hear the cries of his witch
children. A man must do as he must.
His garden was a good half kilometer from
his home, but he heard the clear shrill cry of
his wife. Burn witch. Burn!
In the days that followed his recruitment of
fifty youth to his army, the Headman reacted
true to Solomon’s expectation. He started
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revealing his less savoury self to everyone.
Even some his prefects began murmuring to
themselves. ‘They say his wife was a witch.’
‘Yes and he burned her .’ ‘With all his children
too they say.’ ‘Is he cursed?’ ‘Nonsense. A
dead witch cannot curse anyone.’ ‘No not the
witch. His three daughters…’
But Solomon was always there to quell
these uncertainty in their leader. He knew that
he had to nip it in the bud before it had a
chance to grow into a cancer. The Headman
had a lot in store for them and it wouldn’t help
if they were not ready to tow the line.
And for sure, not a week later, the Headman
announced that the people of Eshihaka needed
to return some ‘gratitude’ to their Headman by
bringing him some portion of their harvest. The
word made rounds like a forest fire. The
villagers reacted to it in many different ways.
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‘He is a good man,’ some said. ‘We ought to
be greatful.’
‘Ah he is just lazy. Why can’t cultivate his
own crop and rear his own livestock?’ some
asked.
‘He is too busy governing for that.’ Was the
rejoinder.
‘What he needs is a wife.’ Some said.
‘He will never marry again. That witch wife
of his spoilt marriage for him. He does not trust
women.’ They replied.
But through all these, perhaps the only
statement that would have interested the
Headman came from Munyendo. He was a
squat little man who walked with a limp. It was
rumoured that he got it when he fought off a
leopard one evening as he was returning home
from his garden. Some said that his cow had
kicked him when he angered it. But they all
275
agreed on one thing; Munyendo was a well
liked and extremely hardworking fellow.
When he heard the Headman’s decree he
scoffed and said, ‘That man has become drunk
with power. He is busy governing you say? I
ask you then what the Council is doing? Why is
he doing the work that we leave for the old
wise and sage? He is a con artist and a
dictator! I shall not give to him any of my
harvest. Let him let the old do their work and
he should do his.’ And with that proclamation,
Munyendo had unknowingly sealed his fate. His
audience had clapped and cheered him – who
didn’t like an anti-authority rogue? But on the
material day, only Munyendo didn’t bring forth
his harvest.
The reason for this was not just his brave
announcement. On the morning that the ‘tax’
was due to be collected, the Headman sent his
‘prefects’ to every major home but
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Munyendo’s. The boys were at this time quite
loyal to the son of Matsai.
And coupled with all the weed they had
been smoking since their early morning patrol,
they would have gladly gone to their own
homes to get the ‘tax’ for their leader.
The villagers on their part didn’t put up
much of a hassle when the stoned boys came
and with much less finesse than was usual,
relieved them of portions of their harvest.
At his home, the Headman received the
goods calmly. He didn’t need them actually. He
was a hardworking man and his own store had
enough food. But this was an exercise to flex
his muscle and test the waters so to speak. If
the villagers budged, he would just nudge
them again and again until they were
completely under his command.
‘This is good work my men.’ He praised
them. ‘Next time, your families will not be
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required to do me this great favour.’ Solomon
smiled begrudgingly as he saw the pleasure on
the faces of his cronies. Matsai sure knew how
to please the mass.
The Headman waited for the din to quiet
down. He raised his hands and silence reigned
once more. Their leader was speaking.
‘Eshihaka has today done me a great deed.
However,’ he paused and looked around so
that each of the fifty young man felt as if the
Headman had looked at him individually.
‘There is one man who seeks to mock us. Why
would he do that?’ he looked around once
more as though he expected an answer from
them. Solomon noticed a great many evade his
probing eye.
The Headman went on, ‘Does this man
perhaps think we are not men? Does he
perhaps seek to show us that he is better much
braver than us?’ The fact that he was referring
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to Munyendo was clear to everyone. And his
reference to his incidence with the leopard was
intentional but not obvious.
‘I ask you now, are we not men? Are we
afraid of leopards?’ he shouted this and in one
voice, the crowd answered him, ‘No.’
He raised his hands as though he sent a
supplication to the skies. ‘I did not hear you!
Are we afraid of leopard?’
And this time the crowd answered in a
thundering, ‘NO!’
‘Are we afraid then,’ his tone lowered as if
what he wanted to say was a secret he wished
not to broadcast to the all and sundry. ‘Of
Munyendo?’
‘NO!’ was the immediate response.
‘Do we teach him a lesson?’ he asked in
that same low tone.
‘We do.’ They answered. Solomon caught
many of them nodding.
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‘What was that you said?’ asked the son of
Matsai.
‘WE DO.’ Thundered the crowd. He smiled
at them nodding.
‘Today my friends,’ he told them his hands
now lowered a little as though he sought to
impart a blessing to all of them. ‘We teach him
that we are not afraid. That we are in charge!’
The drug induced crowd broke out in a
frenzy. They shouted and stamped their feet.
They were baying for blood. Solomon sent a
negligent prayer for the small man Munyendo.
But he stamped and shouted with the rest. The
Headman had captured their full attention and
they looked at him as though he were more
than a leader. They looked at him as though he
were king. As though could pledge their lives to
him. Maina felt a twinge of jealousy. He wanted
that.
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‘Tonight my friends, I ask that we break
Munyendo’s leg.’ The Headman delivered the
sentence with a deadly cold voice. Solomon
saw his chance.
‘Which on sir,’ he quipped glad when they
turned to look at him. ‘He has only one!’ And
then they all broke in laughter. The Headman
laughed too.
‘We shall not spoil the leopard’s work,’ he
told them still smiling. ‘We will break his good
leg!’
‘He broke the other not from an encounter
with a leopard sir,’ Solomon quipped once
more cheekily. ‘It was an encounter with his
reluctant cow.’ The lurid double entendre was
comprehended by them all and more laughter
rocked the parade.
This time the Headman son of Matsai
watched Solomon Maina keenly even as he
laughed with them. On his part, Solomon was
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positively preening. Now they wouldn’t only
think of the Headman. They would also
remember that he was above them. He was
their link to the Headman in fact. To him, that
was all that he wanted.
Solomon turned on his bed and allowed
himself a wistful smile as he recalled that
morning more than five decades ago. It was
just more than an hour since he had lain upon
his bed. He got up on his feet and went over to
the pot that stood at the corner of his room.
Grabbing a mug from the table by his bed, he
filled it with the cool water from the pot. It
soothed his throat as he drunk it.
From without, he heard a dog bark.
Immediately, he remembered Bosco. His
beloved dog.
He hadn’t seen Bosco for a good two day
after that fateful night when the dog had
thwarted his efforts to take care of that witch.
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And it was almost as if the dog had known, for
Solomon was certain that had he seen the dog
when he was still that angry, he would have
killed it.
But the dog had kept off. When he finally
came back, Solomon’s anger had waned to a
sense of frustration. He was seated under his
tree smoking when Bosco had shown up out of
no where.
He had gotten off his seat ostensibly to
catch the dog. But he had not counted on
being so high. He tripped over his one feet and
landed foolishly on his face. It had all seemed
so funny to him all of a sudden and he had
broken into laughter.
Seeing his master in such a good mood,
Bosco had come to him and licked his face.
That for some reason had made him laugh
much harder. And seeing this, Bosco wasn’t
sure if his master was quite alright.
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When he started pounding his fist on the
grass, his dog had ran off. Seeing him take off,
Solomon had laughed so hard his eyes started
tearing and his belly began aching.
From that day, Bosco came on and off. Their
relationship was not as close, but Solomon was
certain the dog would come back soon enough.
Besides, he was preoccupied with the
Headman and his schemes.
He didn’t think much about the little witch
and her mother. Their time would come he was
sure. But he regretted ever sleeping with it.
And even more, he regretted having been
made a fool of. And he had told her that he had
feelings for her. A witch! He didn’t want what
happened to the Headman happening to him.
So he vowed to get Hannah and finish her off.
But first things first. He had to keep his eyes on
the Headman.
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That first day of ‘tax collection’ Solomon
was sure that the Headman was quickly losing
his mind. What Munyendo had said, that the
man was a dictator, was true. Now Solomon
had to think this through. The man seemed to
like him and clearly preferred him over the
rest. What that told Maina was that the man
wanted his help to get ahead. The only
problem that Solomon saw, was what would
happen to him once the Headman was ahead.
Would he still keep him close? Would he need
to?
These questions ran through Maina’s mind
even as they went in the night to Munyendo’s.
And as they beat up the small squat man, and
he had fought back courageously, these
questions had ran through his mind.
Munyendo was left bleeding and with both
feet broken that night. His wife couldn’t do
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much but weep as she held the writhing body
of her husband in her arms.
That brutal action sent a chill through
Eshihaka. It was clear to everyone what had
happened to Munyendo and who had done it. It
was also clear that the boys had been sent by
the Headman.
The prefects didn’t find ready welcome
anymore. They were treated with fear at best
and at worst, undisguised animosity. As for
Munyendo, the man who had once fought of a
leopard, he was left a cripple. He couldn’t walk
and he lay down on his mat daily
contemplating the whole gamut of emotion
from revenge to suicide.
For weeks, Eshihaka remained in this
tenuous peace. The villagers tried to confer
with the old and wise but they immediately
discovered that the Headman had gone rogue.
The old men didn’t have his ear. They had to
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seat back and watch. And any attempt at
heroism was quickly doused when one thought
about Munyendo.
But Solomon knew that the Headman was
not satisfied. And indeed it was not a fortnight
after their raid on Munyendo when the
Headman made his second decree: Witchcraft
was outlawed and anyone found practising the
same would be punished by death.
This met with a lot of approval if only some
disapproval on the severity of the punishment.
But aside from that, the people of Eshihaka
thought that this new decree was something
they could live with. And it was really logical.
Look at what had happened to the Headman
himself when he married a witch…
It was with this in mind that Solomon gave
himself the work of weeding out the witch and
finishing her off. The mandate of carrying out
all his decrees, and ensuring they were
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followed fell on his prefects. Solomon Maina
and his group were now officially witch
hunters.
They smoked out witches and tied them on
trees where they whipped them. Some bled to
death while some escaped. It was said the a
true witch was like a cat. They had nine lives
and didn’t die easily. It was also said, that they
died quietly with grace just as a cat. Some said
that a true witch never died outside his/her
home. However wounded or hurt, they
managed to drag themselves to their homes
where they then passed away. Anyone
suspected of witchcraft was buried ten feet into
the ground.
That would ensure that their spirits had a
hard time coming back to disturb the peace –
as it were.
Solomon Maina didn’t give much credence
to the rumours. He had seen many of them cry
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and bleed to death on the trees that they
pinned them. Some said that those were not
then tru witches. But that was neither here nor
there.
In the weeks that followed that decree,
Eshihaka was plagued in one of it darkest
periods. Children didn’t play outside. Villagers
were cautious not to behave in any manner
that might throw suspicion to them. Indeed
many a villager had lost their lives by simple
rumour that they were involved in witchcraft.
It only took a hateful neighbours scathing
tongue to seal your fate. The Headman was
ruthless and unforgiving in this matters. And
his band of ‘prefects’ had quickly grown into a
death squad.
And so they hunted and burned the witches.
They caught them and tied them on trees and
proceeded to whip them till their hands tired.
Anyone who was in the slightest bit linked to
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witchcraft, was ruthlessly executed. But during
all this time, Solomon didn’t even hear word
about Mlosi or her daughter Hannah.
It was rumoured that a witch could seal its
compound with spirits that played with the
eyes so that is looked as though it had no
entry. A strong witch was one that had control
over the spirits. It was said that in summoning
those that had died, one had to be careful.
They were said to be bloodthirsty and
unrelenting when they cam back to this world.
If one wasn’t careful, they entered him and
there was no madness like that of one
possessed.
These spirits were kept like animals in a
pen. They were released on victims of the
witches when the need came. They had to be
appeased and in this many people just let their
imagination run wild. Some said they fed on
food. Some said they copulated with the
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witches (man or woman). Some yet said that
they fed on sacrifices – from fowl to children.
Indeed most of the witches didn’t have many
children or their children kept dying
mysteriously.
It was a hard task on every Eshihaka
denizen then to ensure that his family stayed
healthy. Any deaths in the family especially of
little children past the age of five, were
investigated vigorously. It followed then that in
that crazy period, many innocents lost their
lives in Eshihaka.
The old men were distraught. Their land had
gone asunder. They rued the ray that they had
been deceived by the sweet tongue of the son
of Matsai. But who could have known that frm
such a lineage of dullards and lack lustre men,
such a heinous individual could have emerged?
They decided that they had a duty to deal
with this. They had been keeping off the drink
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and smoke – mostly because the Headman had
outlawed idleness. And they were now closer to
being ‘wise and sage’ than ever before. They
decided that this matter called for delicacy.
They had to be surreptitious.
They had gone to old man Maina ostensibly
for a visit. There, they had impressed upon him
the urge to check this madness. They told him
that his son was there only hope. They had to
get rid of the Headman. When he asked them
how this could be done, they told him.
Solomon Maina heard the same from his
father that night. He heard and kept silent.
Later by himself, he thought about it. He had to
ensure that he came up on top in any situation.
If Matsai went down in the process, that was no
problem. If the village went down, then that
was also no problem,. What he had to decide,
was which one served him better.
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One night, they had been approached by
the Headman. He had received word that there
was a witch that lived in the bushes close to
the river. These ‘words’ as he put them, were
never questioned. The young men simply
followed his lead.
That dark night, they had gone into the
jungle on a witch hunt that none of them would
never forget.
They held torches to light the way. They
were stoned out of their minds as usual and
chanted war songs as they forged ahead
deeper into the jungle. Solomon felt his heart
beat double fast as they walked on. It always
did when they went hunting.
He always thought that this would be it. He
would finally meet Hannah. But this time, he
felt more confident. They had never had to go
this far before. They were heading right into
the jungle. It was a wonder that anyone could
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live this far into the wilderness. But still, if the
Headman had ‘word’, then they followed.
Besides, he was at the front urging them on
like a maniac.
They froze when they heard the first hoot. It
was as clear as the clap of thunder. They
stopped in their tracks. They were all brought
up in the old ways and the hoot of an owl was
not a good thing.
‘It comes to announce the witch’s death
men,’ the Headman urged them. ‘Onwards!’
They followed him but slowly now. They
looked all around as though they were being
ambushed from the shadows. Their torches
threw disheartening shadows into the thickness
of the bush.
And then they heard it again. The hoot.
They stopped again. Then it came again. And
again. They realised that there were now quite
a number of owls perched on the trees above
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them. They looked up searchingly. They were
all scared now. Even Solomon felt his heart
beat in a dull thud.
He looked down from the treetops into the
thicket. His heart slowed and almost stopped.
And then it beat once in such a hard thud that
he gasped. In the trees were a pair of
bloodshot eyes!
They couldn’t be anything else. He watched
as they looked back at him their malicious
intent quite readily obvious. And then even as
he stood transfixed, he realised that the others
had seen them.
He heard the collective gasp as they took in
the frightening sight. And as if that was not
enough, another pair of eyes appeared in the
thick jungle beside the first one. And then
another, and another. And as they looked
around, they saw that they were in an opening,
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surrounded by hundreds of those malicious red
eyes! The hunters has become the hunted.
And that was when the owls came for them.
Hooting sharply and incessantly, they
descended upon the witch hunters. They flew
into their faces, scratching them with their
talons and pocking at their faces with their
hard beaks. Screams filled the air as they were
attacked. Solomon reacted instinctively by
using his torch as a shield. He hit at the owl
that cam straight at his face with it. Gladly, he
saw its feathers catch fire. It flew off into the
air screeching.
Then just as suddenly, the birds hit the air
as one and flew off. It was as though there
work was done. And it was. Solomon
discovered that most of their torches had been
put off. In fact there were only three that
burned. He had one. The Headman had
another. And the third was on the ground, in
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the grip of one of them who was writhing in
pain. His face was a bloody mess. The birds
had gorged out both his eyes and the whites
hang in a mixture of blood on his cheeks.
His lips had been torn into and his front
teeth were visible in a crude grin. Solomon felt
his stomach heave. Panic reeked in the air.
They huddled together like lost sheep
surrounded by hungry wolves.
Solomon thought the analogy appropriate
when he saw that they eyes still surrounded
them. And they seemed closer. Someone
picked up the torch from the writhing body.
They had subconsciously formed a circle
around their comrade’s body. They faced
outward toward the jungle, toward the eyes.
The Headman spoke, ‘No one move until I
tell you.’
‘What are these things?’ Solomon heard the
shaky question. Well he didn’t know the answer
297
to that. What he knew was that they were
predators. He unleashed his machete. There
was only one way to deal with predators.
‘OK as one, move back where we came
from.’ The Headman spoke. They followed his
command. ‘Leave him.’ He added when one of
them went to pull the writhing body with them.
He was now almost motionless. Solomon knew
that he was sleeping into shock. Soon, he
would be unconscious.
The Headman led them and they moved as
they were, maintaining vigil in a circle. They
moved slowly. Solomon noticed that the eyes
moved just as slowly forward. Then the
Headman’s strategy became clear.
They were moving further from the body of
their fallen comrade. He was to be the
sacrifice. The larger group of the predators
would be attracted to his blood and they would
only have to deal with the smaller group they
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would run into as they moved back where they
had come from.
He was facing back towards the fallen body
and walked backward with the retreating
group. He clearly saw the moment the fallen
man realised he was alone. He started flailing
again and groaning. His words were not clear
due to the mess his mouth was. But it was
clear he was pleading with them to come back.
Solomon saw the man at his left shed tears
as he looked back at the mangled body of their
crony. He nudged him sharply with his elbow.
The man looked as though he were debating
on going back for him.
‘No!’ he told him sharply. ‘He is the only
chance we get out of this alive.’
And then when they were some twenty yard
off, not ten feet from the group that stood in
their path, Solomon watched in horror as the
predators reached the body. They fell on it like
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vultures and even the scream that came forth
was muffled. It was more like a groan. But what
horrified them even more, was that these
predators that were tearing into the flesh of
their comrade, walked on two feet!
‘Now!’ the Headman shouted and they all
turned in unison to face their enemy. All of
them had a machete in hand. As one body,
following the Headman’s lead, they crashed
into the wall of humanoids before them.
‘Hmmm,’ Chumo spoke to herself as she felt

the pot shake upon the fire. ‘Almost ready
now.’
She got off her chair and went to tend the
fire. She put more firewood and carefully
waited for the fire to build.
The metal plate sat on the top of the pot
anchored by the heavy piece of wood. Steam
300
escaped from the sides of the plate. It suffused
the room in a thick eerie white mist. The smell
was heady and Chumo smiled once more.
She went over to her lantern and lit it. It
was now pitch dark outside. She went over to
the adjoining room and rummaged in a basket.
She picked two of the blood red candles. She
had given one such candle to Gideon Maina
those many days ago.
She walked back to her seat. She placed the
candles on the table and turned down the
lantern to a low light. She sat back in her seat
and enjoyed the cloying feeling of the thick
steam that inundated her .
Eshihaka was shocked when the tale

reached the villagers’ ears. The Headman lost
five to the battle – as he preferred to think of it.
When they had crashed into the wall, they
had met with fierce opposition. The humanoids
301
didn’t use weapons. They didn’t need to. They
bit and scratched. They were animals, they
needed no weapons.
In the other hand, the Headman and his
battalion fought valiantly. Many fell struck by
his machete. But they were just too many. And
they were clever. They maintained the wall so
that it was difficult for the team to find a way
through to get back where they had come
from.
It had hit Solomon, correctly, that they
meant to keep them there till the rest reached
and then the outcome would be the same as
that of their fallen crony.
He renewed his efforts. Sensing his purpose,
his comrades also increased their determined
slashing. Many fell at their blows but more
came up to replace them. And behind them,
the rest started coming.
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Solomon watched in horror as his comrade
who had moved too far ahead, got sucked into
the crowd of humanoids. It was like he had
been swallowed into a vortex. His screams as
they tore into him would stay with Solomon
until he died. But that had created a distraction
and using his torch, the last one now, Solomon
had forged ahead.
The creatures shrank away from the light as
the remaining group ran off into the night.
They could hear the footfalls behind them as
the predators came in swift pursuit.
Solomon ran with all his might. He imagined
that his comrades did too. He shouldn’t have
been shocked to find that the Headman
although older by more than a decade than all
of them was among the first ones.
It was simply a matter of run for your lives.
The ones that lagged behind were caught.
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Their screams were the fuel that ensured those
ahead didn’t stop running.
And then just as the attackers had
appeared, they suddenly disappeared. The
remaining group went straight to the
Headman’s compound. He didn’t need to keep
them awake. None could find sleep. Every
small movement in the night would startle
them. They were so shaken that even the
Headman for once had no inspirational words
to give them. They would never forget that
night.
The Headman on his part simply used this
to his advantage. He warned the villagers
again that he would not condone witchcraft. No
one was to tolerate or hide anyone suspected
of witchcraft. If anyone thought him harsh, just
ask the families that had to bury their young
men who were in the prime of their lives
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snatched cruelly at the hand of the most evil
witchcraft.
Solomon was certain that that was the work
of Hannah and her mother. He only vowed to
wait till another day, or night.
The Headman summoned Solomon to his
place one day. He had in this time been
approached by his father once more. He had
assured the old man that he was thinking
about what they had spoke about the last time
and asked to be left alone.
His father had given him the look that a
father gives his son when he realises that he is
now a fellow man, and walked out.
He entered the Headman’s home, Bosco in
tow. The older man welcomed him readily into
his house.
Solomon entered the hut, leaving Bosco
outside to his own devices. They usually met
305
like this, the Headman and him, and even
shared meals.
‘Am happy to see you this morning,’ he told
the younger man once they were seated.
‘Am happy too sir.’ Solomon replied
respectfully.
‘Something has been disturbing me my
young man.’ He started. He wasn’t wont to a
lot of procrastinating. He usually got to the
point immediately.
‘What is that my Headman?’ Solomon
asked.
‘It has reached my ears,’ he spoke slowly
enunciating each word. ‘That you have been
entertaining very interesting visitors.’
Solomon looked back at him. The man
watched him keenly. And even as Solomon
asked, ‘which visitors?’ he knew of what the
older man spoke.
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The Headman smiled. Solomon’s mind
raced. Was he in problems? How deep was he?
‘The ones who were called wise and sage my
boy.’
‘Oh those.’ Solomon shrugged as if to show
that it meant nothing to him. ‘They met with
my father actually. They have been friends for
long.’
The older man nodded as if this were a
perfect explanation. Then he eyed him so long
that Solomon was drawn to add almost
desperately.
‘Their meeting didn’t have anything to do
with me Headman. I swear that.’
The Headman nodded. ‘Good. Good. If that
is so then all is fine.’ Solomon realised the
breath he hadn’t known he was holding. But
the Headman continued, ’It would be a shame
to discover that maybe you are not what we
think you are my boy.’
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‘I don’t understand.’ He said slowly.
‘Well you have been seen cavorting with a
known witch’s daughter.’ He smiled.
Solomon was shocked. But in hindsight, he
knew that he really shouldn’t have been. The
Headman knew it all. He went to speak but the
Headman quietened him with a raised hand.
‘I think the food is ready. I’ll be back.’ And
with that, the Headman left Solomon in the
house and went to the kitchen. He lived alone
and so did everything by himself. He really had
no trust left for women.
After a few minutes, the man was back. He
placed the food on the table and brought water
to clean their hands. In his absence, Solomon
had decided that the only way was to act
insouciant. He wouldn’t give anything away by
showing any betraying emotion.
The food smelled nice. It was chicken and
ugali. The Headman gave him his plate on
308
which he had served the whole back of the
chicken. Solomon washed his hand and
prepared to dig in. He sunk his fingers in to the
ugali when the Headman spoke.
‘We wouldn’t want to mistake you for a
witch’s accomplice would we my boy?’
Solomon shook his head. His appetite flew out
of the window.
‘Well eat now boy. Eat.’ The Headman told
him. He went to douse the ugali in his hand
into the soup, when out of no where, Bosco
flew into the room and went straight for his
plate. The dog took the chicken toppling the
whole plate to the floor. He then ran away as
mad with the chicken.
‘Sorry for that Headman.’ Solomon said as
he got up bewildered at the unusual behaviour
of his dog.
‘Seat. I will get you another piece.’ The
Headman told him.
309
But he was now angry. ‘No thank you sir.’
He refused picking up the fallen plate. ‘But I
have to go. One can’t let one’s dog get out of
hand like that.’
‘I am sorry again sir.’ He said replacing the
plate on the table.
‘No. No it’s fine. Go do what you must.’ He
told the younger man. ‘But take care.’ He
didn’t need to spell out the threat in his tone
for Maina.
Maina didn’t see his dog until that evening.
And all the fight in him left when he saw Bosco.
It was his younger sister who called him to go
check the dog. It was lying in the bushes
behind his father’s house.
The dog was whining as if in great pain. And
it was foaming at the mouth. It was clearly
dying, ants had began crawling all over and
into its nostrils and its tongue was outside his
mouth.
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The dog lay on its side and when Solomon
appeared, it turned its eyes to look up at him.
It was such a sad look that Solomon, for once
in his life felt like crying. He walked over to the
dog mindless of the ants and dust, cradled the
mongrel in his lap.
He didn’t need to hear his father’s grave
proclamation; ‘someone poisoned him’ to know
that was what had happened. Of who that
person had been. And he would pay for that.
Chumo was startled out of her deep

thoughts. She really must get a grip on herself
she thought. This was not time for indulging in
wistful reminiscing. She had work to do tonight.
It would soon be midnight. She had no
watch and neither had she ever owned one.
But she knew the time like she knew her name.
It was time to add the final ingredient to her
cauldron.
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Standing up – it was easy today; she walked
over to the basket where she had gotten the
candles. She didn’t take the lantern this time.
She knew her way around. She had been in this
kitchen ever since she was ten years old.
In the basket, her thin bony fingers touched
a folded paper and carefully picked it. She
went to her pot and carefully removed the
wood, then the metal plate. The white foggy
steam filled the room more when she opened
the pot. She made cooing sounds as she did
this. As though she were speaking to overly
zealous children she said, ‘easy, easy, not yet. I
just have to add this.’ And then she unfolded
the paper and took out the single highly coiled
hair. It belonged to Gideon Maina.
When she had given him the candle and
told him to leave her hut, she had given him a
gentle push at the small of his back. And then
as she withdrew her hand, she had deftly
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reached to the back of his head and pulled the
single hair.
His attention fully centred on the red eyes
that belonged to her ‘friend’ he had not felt it.
Now, Chumo reached for the single hair with
her thin fingers and carefully dropped it into
the pot. Then smiling, she replaced the metal
plate and stopped it with the wood.
The next time she opened it, it would be
business.
12
IT WAS TIME. Solomon Maina got off the

bed and forgot his reverie. He got to his feet
and walked to the corner of the room where his
pot stood. Behind it, was his trusted weapon.
His hand closed over the handle and he pulled
it.
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It resembled a scimitar. But it had both
edges sharpened to a razor sharpness. It had
been a slasher originally. Built in the days
when people were interested in quality more
than making a quick profit, the stainless steel
that it was made of was strong and non-
yielding.
The tool had been used so many times until
its cutting plane got too narrow, from repeated
sharpening. But then, instead of throwing it,
Solomon had decided instead to fashion a
sword from it.
He had cut off the cutting plane and
sharpened what was formally the body of the
slasher. What resulted was a very sharp
weapon that was light, strong and had a far
reach.
Solomon had frequently oiled and
sharpened the tool to ensure it stayed sharp
and the body free from rust. He had replaced
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the wooden handle with a rubber one
fashioned from an old tractor tire. Then it had
been bound by a strip of goat hide. It was truly
a price possession. And all this time, more than
twenty years, he had kept it sharp and proper
in readiness for one thing. This night.
He ran a finger very lightly over the blade
and was pleased to feel the sharp pinch in his
finger. It had cut him. He smiled even as he put
the offended thumb in his mouth. His eyes
were glued to the shimmer the blade made in
the dim light of him room.
Taking his eyes off it, he went to a drawer
and pulled it. He reached inside and pulled out
a paper bag. Feeling with his hand that it had
what he needed, he put it in his jacket’s
pocket.
He lowered the wick of the lantern
completely and then turned to go. One more
thing, he took the matchbox off the table and it
315
joined the paper bag inside the pocket. Now he
was ready.
Solomon Maina remembered burying his

faithful dog not far from his house, the present
location where the gate he had just passed
was. As he made his way in the gait of the old,
he was yet again pulled back to his youth.
As he walked in the chilly night, he
remembered another chilly night fifty years
ago that he had walked this very path but in a
different direction. He had been going over to
the Headman’s house.
It was the day after Bosco had died and
been buried. He had gone to his father and
given him his instructions. There was to be no
mistake. No hesitation. He would kill the
Headman and return Eshihaka to its rightful
leaders.
316
He would avenge Bosco and at the same
time gain entry into the good graces of the
village elders and the whole village at large.
Even then in all his anger and fury, he had still
maintained that cool calculating side of his
mind.
That night, so like this one, he had made his
way armed with a very sharp blade. They had
just come from their nightly patrol with the
Headman. He had shown no emotion when
they had been together. He had behaved as
usual. The patrol had been blessedly over just
before midnight. And then they were dismissed
to go home and rest for the night.
The Headman usually stayed with two men
who guarded him in the night. Just like any
other dictator, he was paranoid about his life.
This night, the two men were to be Masafu and
Sutsa.
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They went home also but were to return
afterwards to the Headman’s homestead. That
night as they parted ways with their leader,
Maina had reached to the two young men.
Luckily for him, they weren’t walking together.
Pulling Sutsa aside, he’d told him, ‘I will
guard the master tonight with Masafu my
friend. You need your sleep.’ Sutsa had made
to resist, but it hadn’t been anything more than
token. No one in his right mind ever refused a
night to sleep. He was actually glad to let
Maina take his place. Besides, there was
something in the tone Maina had used that told
the other man that this was not a favour he
was being asked but a command.
Masafu on the other hand, hadn’t been as
easy to dissuade. ‘I will guard the master
tonight with Sutsa my friend.’ He’d told his
comrade gently but firmly. ‘You need your
sleep.’
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Masafu hadn’t stuttered. He’d looked at
Solomon and calmly shaken his head. And as
Solomon searched for words to tell him – he
hadn’t thought that anyone would deny him,
the other man had spoken gruffly, ‘I will help
you.’
‘No my friend.’ Solomon snarled making
‘friend’ sound like and insult. ‘Sutsa will be my
aide.’
But Masafu hadn’t paid attention to the
venom in Maina’s voice. He shook his head
once more. This time Solomon grabbed his
elbow and pulled the man, careful not to
attract undue attention to them. But the rest of
the disperaing party assumed that they were
having a heated argument at most. Solomon
was fit to beat the other man up.
‘I will help you.’ Masafu said once again.
319
‘No you oaf!’ he whispered harshly
tightening his grip on the man’s elbow. ‘You
will do no such thing.’
Masafu grabbed his shoulder and Solomon
tensed for a fight. But the other man simply
wanted his attention.
‘Owik was my brother.’ He said looking
straight into Maina’s eyes. He looked back at
the man blankly. And then as they stared at
each other, he nodded with realisation. Owik
was the name of their comrade who had been
attacked by the owls. The man they had left
behind. ‘I will help you.’ He repeated and this
time Solomon nodded.
As he walked in the night, he had almost
been shocked when Masafu fell into step with
him out of the shadows. The man moved like a
hawk. He was swift and silent. In his right hand,
was his weapon of choice. A crude long knife.
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At the Headman’s Masafu wanted to storm
the doors and be done with it. They knew that
he was fast and fit but they outnumbered him.
But Maina shook his head at this idea. The trick
would be getting close enough to the Headman
without being noticed or stabbed.
He whispered into Masafu’s ear and the
other man nodded. They would split and
stealthily make to the Headman’s house.
Masafu led the way and melted in the night in
his sleek manner.
Maina went slowly in the night to the house.
He went round it and reached for the window
at the back. It hadn’t been latched from inside.
He had been ready to work the weak wood with
his machete but this was a blessed alternative.
Quietly, making sure that his breath was
deep and slow, so that his movements were
languid, he opened the window. Making sure
that no one had heard it open, he had reached
321
up onto the ledge and then stepped into the
Headman’s house. And there met with a shock.
Solomon heard the thunder clap again. It

would come to rain this night. But hopefully, it
would keep until they had finished what they
had to do.
He was at Saulo Pete’s place. But instead of
entering, he stood in the shadows. He wanted
the other men to enter first. He would enter
when they had all settled. It was an old trick of
Matsai’s. He had done that to make sure that
when he enetered, everyone’s attention was on
him.
Matsai had been full of tricks. If Maina lived
to see a hundred, he would have half his
treachery.
The window he climbed through had opened
into Matsai’s living room. In the dark, Maina
was careful not to make any noise or walk into
322
anything. And then as his eyes struggled to see
in the dark, a match was lit and his eyes wide
in horror, Maina had watched the Headman
light a lantern on the table. And then
nonchalantly, the man had sat down on a chair
looking right at him.
‘My boy.’ He spoke with beguiling humour.
‘What a way to come into your master’s
house.’ His head lifted as if to refer to the open
window and his weapon.
The window! He must have known. He had
left it open. And even as Solomon realised this,
the older man spoke, ‘Your dog I take it.’
Solomon didn’t need to ask what he meant.
He simply nodded.
‘Well don’t just stand there my boy,’ the
man’s deceptive charm was still in his voice.
He held out his hand, ‘Come into the light, let
me see you.’
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Solomon ventured forward into the light. He
saw Matsai’s own weapon on his lap. It was a
large machete that looked ugly and very very
sharp. He smiled when he saw the younger
man’s eyes land on the weapon.
‘How did you know.’ Was all Solomon asked.
‘Oh don’t worry about that.’ The Headman
said calmly as if it were irrelevant. ‘Worry
about what I will do to you.’
‘And what is that?’ Solomon asked. In his
mind he wondered where Masafu had gone to.
‘Oh,’ the man spoke as though they were
discussing the most mundane of topics. ‘You
are now known to have associated with
witches. They are without a doubt responsible
for sending you here to kill me.’ His smile
disappeared. Then his face lit up again. Maina
was sure he looked at a mad man. ‘And when I
heard you break in, I had to defend myself and
oh cut you into many pieces.’
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Solomon was not six feet from the man
now. Surely, where was Masafu? He needed
the distraction. Anything. Otherwise there was
no way he could get to the older man. And one
to one combat was out of the question. He had
no skill to match his elder. And then in his
sleek step, Masafu appeared. Right behind the
man in fact.
Matsai saw his eyes light up. ‘Oh Masafu.
Your friend is here.’ And as Solomon watched
wide eyed, Masafu walked to the man, pulled a
chair and sat beside him facing Maina. His
knife was in his hand. He placed it on the table
then sat back. He grinned.
‘What_’ but he couldn’t form a coherent
sentence. He had been tricked. Owik’s brother
indeed. Then he remembered that Masafu had
been the man at his side when they had left
Owik to his fate. He had been the guy he’d
nudged.
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‘Sorry my boy. You couldn’t match me.’ The
Headman spoke with illdisguised mirth.
‘Masafu_’ Solomon tried again. He had
never known such treachery. His heart
thumped away and he felt it’s beats in his ears.
‘He came and told me what you planned
just now.’ He was informed. ‘And well I
unlatched that window and simply waited for
you to come.’
‘Masafu_’ Solomon tried once more. He was
mortified to find that his lip was trembling.
Masafu on his part insouciantly leaned
forward and grabbed his blade. ‘I would never
forsake my leader,’ he said gripping the knife
and pointing at him with its tip. ‘Never!’
And as Maina watched wide eyed, Masafu
turned swiftly with his paranormal grace and
lunged at the Headman. The knife was aimed
at the older man’s neck but even with the
element of surprise working against him, his
326
reaction was fast enough. He raised his right
arm and the blade sunk into his meaty bicep
tearing out.
He screamed as his left had closed over the
machete in his lap. But Masafu was up in his
fluid quickness and had the knife out. He was
on his feet now and aimed again for Matsai’s
neck. But the man was expecting that. He
swung viciously at Masafu both deflecting the
younger man’s attack and slicing his arm. The
knife flew out of his hand as Masafu yelped in
pain. In an instance, he was also out of his seat
and after Masafu.
Maina’s frozen mind finally thawed and he
was galvanized into motion. As Matsai raised
his machete to run Masafu down with the
heavy sharp blade, Maina closed the small
distance between them and stabbed him in the
belly. His blade was wide and sharp and when
327
he removed it from the older man’s belly, it
was a bloody mess.
But he was maniacal now. The smell and
sight of blood had made him an animal. Raising
his weapon he swung it and connected in a
thud with Matsai’s skull. The man fell to the
floor at Masafu’s feet.
His mouth was open and blood oozed out of
it. He attempted to speak but it all came out
garbled as he chocked on his own blood. His
eyes were wide open in shock. At the floor he
bled and his life was soon over. With a sick
jerk, the body went taut. Solomon had never
seen anyone die this close nor had he ever
killed. He felt sick. The cloying smell of warm
blood threatened to make him faint.
‘Let’s burn the place.’ Masafu said. Maina
had agreed. And as the set the house ablaze
with their fallen leader in it, Masafu had told
Maina what had happened.
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‘He heard you,’ the man said and Maina
hadn’t refused. Masafu’s step was surer than a
mountain goats. ‘When I was going to his door,
I bumped into him. He just walked out of no
where. He assumed I had come for guard duty.
He told me he had heard some noise. I then
told him what we were up to.’
‘What?’ Solomon couldn’t believe his ears.
‘You said we had to get close to him. This
was the surest way. I could not have taken him
alone. So I told him I had led you to believe
that you had my help. His own ego took care of
the rest.’
‘Yes it certainly did.’ Solomon had said
standing there in the dark night.
‘What happens now?’ Masafu asked.
‘Eshihaka goes back to what it has always
been my friend.’ He had said as they stood
together watching the flames eat up the house
and its dead inhabitant.
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He stood now in the shadow watching Saulo
Pete’s house calmly. Everybody had arrived.
Eshihaka had gone back to its usual peaceful
self. The prefects had been declared redundant
and relieved of duty. But one thing had never
changed. Maina and his friends had never
stopped hunting witches.
And now, he thought as he made his way
slowly to Pete’s, they would do it one last time.
The pot started shaking hard. ‘Hmmm,’

Chumo spoke to herself. ‘Has time come?’
Her finger unwittingly went to her left eye.
Her fingers traced the leather thong that had
cruelly sewn her eye shut. They came out with
pus. Ah but what joy retribution would be. This
night? Maybe. She knew not. But she knew
what she must do.
The night she lost her eye hadn’t been like
this one. It had been bright with moonlight. She
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usually didn’t go out on moonlit nights, but she
had been summoned. Her friend Falsa had
asked her to come see her.
It had not smelled of a trap. Or if it had,
then she hadn’t bothered smelling it. It was
fate though. Of that she was sure. Ever since
her mother started teaching her witchcraft, she
had instilled into the girl that one did not fight
their fate. It was one thing even the powerful
spirits had no control over.
Her mother had known a lot. It was said that
since the days of Mlosi, there had lived no
greater witch. And Chumo would be the first to
agree. She had watched her mother die of old
age not ten years past.
She had never succumbed to the fear of
witch hunters. Not even in the days of Maina’s
youth when he and his group of brigands
reigned supreme and were feared by witches
and non-witches alike.
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Her mother had known of her love for
Solomon Maina. On that first day when she
broke her pot, she had known. She had kept
her daughter closed up in the compound but
sure enough, the determined teenager had
managed to escape and go meet the man of
her dreams.
In hindsight, she wasn’t sure if her mother
had not arranged it so that her daughter would
see the evil in Maina for herself. But as a young
woman, she had been too headstrong.
When she had first made love with him, her
mother had known. She had been waiting on
her bed when Chumo had snuck back in the
early morning.
‘Mother!’ she had yelped when she opened
the door to find her mother seated calmly on
her beddings waiting for her.
‘You are a hard headed child!’ she had
started. And as she stood, she had produced a
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cane. Chumo had looked at her with the guilt
on her face and gritting her teeth, accepted the
strokes. But they had not stopped her. And her
mother had known as much.
Then one day, Chumo had discovered that
her mother was mixing a death potion. She had
asked her who it was meant for. Her mother
had calmly told her, ‘Solomon Maina.’
Shaking, the girl had tried to convince her
mother not to do it. She had told him with her
characteristic calm, that she had already
received payment.
Chumo had then decided to take matters in
her hands. She had slipped out one night and
gone to Solomon. But this time she didn’t come
for sex – even though she was greatly tempted.
She had come to plant protective charms, to
shield him from her mother’s dark magic. And
that night, she had first tasted Maina’s hate.
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She touched her shoulder blade. The scar
was still there. And then as her mother had
applied herbs to her wound, she had
admonished her only child.
‘I wish you would leave that man alone
daughter.’ She had said.
‘But why mother? I love him.’ She had
declared in her youth and naivety.
Her mother had stood up having finished
with the cut. She had looked at her daughter
right in the eye and told her, ‘That man is
destined to end your life. And no one can
escape ones destiny. Not even a witch.’
But even then, she had gone back to him.
And even as he strangled her, she had been
wondering if her mother’s dire warning was to
come to pass so soon. And then Bosco, bless
his soul had come to her rescue.
She had run that night. Run from her lover,
the one and only man she had ever loved. She
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had cried on her mother’s bossom that night. It
was to be her lesson her mother said. Maina
was evil and had to be avoided at all costs.
But when she discovered that the person
who had gone to her mother seeking to end
Solomon’s life had been none other than the
Headman son of Matsai, she had yet again
been ruled by her weak heart.
She had sought out Bosco and instructed
him to watch out for his master. She never
knew it, but Bosco had died doing just that.
‘Your kindness will be your doom.’ Was all
her mother had said of this.
Yes her mother had known everything. She
had also known that the Headman would turn
against his word and seek to destroy her. And
she had been prepared with an army of
‘friends’.
‘Be careful how you call them,’ she had told
her daughter that night as she showed her the
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procedure. ‘They serve no master. Remember
that. They can be your aides, or turn to destroy
you.’
‘What happens when they turn against me?’
the girl had asked wide eyed as she watched
her mother summon the otherworldly beings.
And her mother had shown her the candles.
Her mother hadn’t been around during her
marriage to the spineless Okwiri. The leech had
had nothing. He had accepted to live on her
land and she had just accepted him because
she had wanted children to teach what she
knew. But she was too old for that. Either that
or the man was not very healthy – it had
proven to be a task with him to raise his wick
on more than one occasion when she needed
light!
In the end Okwiri had been nothing but a
sluggard who enjoyed most, seeing the
suffering of others. He had run to Betty to tell
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her of Solomon’s philandering on more than
one occasion. And when he had discovered
that he had forced himself on his daughter, and
that their liaison had resulted in a child –
Nancy, he had run to tell the kind woman.
It had saddened her when the woman had
come to her and asked for a ‘favour’. And her
mother had known this too. She had told her
that Solomon’s big stick would lead him and his
family into a ditch.
And when she thought about how his family
had disintegrated, she agreed with her late
mother. And now, now of course the man
wanted to take it out on her. The source of all
his problems.
She wondered briefly if he ever thought of
what role he had played in her life. She had a
scar on her back that had healed. She had
another on her left eye that would heal too
given time. And she had a wound right inside
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her soul that would never heal. It would always
remain exposed to the elements. Smarting
endlessly. All from him.
The pot shook vigorously and caught her
attention. ‘Ah,’ she whispered reaching for the
candles. ‘The time has come.’
‘The time has come,’ Solomon delivered the

terse statement calmly. His heart was racing,
but he was the figure of cool calm on the
outside. ‘I have lived a long time. Seventy five
years, and in this time I have seen Eshihaka go
from a small village of two thousand to the
large center it is now.
‘I have never lived anywhere else my good
men. I have seen many of my friends,
agemates relatives leave this place. But I was
born here and here I shall die.
‘Some of you like Saulo Pete,’ he smiled at
the man. ‘I have been close to since a long
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time ago. Thando, Litsi, Aluka and Gando you
are all good friends. And of course Adede, the
son of my sister you are like a son to me.’ He
didn’t mean that but he was the only one who
knew this and that was fine. His gaze took
them all in.
‘In my life, I have seen many ills come the
way of Eshihaka,’ he paused yet again. ‘Some
of you had heard of the notorious Headman
Matsai who lived in the old days when Saulo
Pete himself was only but a small boy. That to
you might seem like the biggest ill that ever
faced Ehihaka.
‘That my good man would be a
misconception.’ He looked straight at Adede
whose smug look had dissolved into something
that wasn’t quite, but neared attention.
‘Witches!’ his sudden shout caused them to
flinch Maina was happy to see. But not Adede.
The young insolent man simply looked at him.
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Just he had looked at the Headman those many
years ago as his silky tongue wove an enticing
web over crowds. But Maina couldn’t make the
connection. His mind was on more important
things.
Inside, what he wished for was one – just
one of his comrades from the old days. But
they had all, to a man, either disappeared or
passed away. He was truly the only member
left from the group.
These men before him looked up at him
with awe at best. They revered him and had
grown up doing so. Along with their mothers’
milk, they had been fed the stories of old.
Maina and his famous – or infamous depending
on one’s relationship to one Munyendo, had
been made into something close to legend.
These men would follow him. They would
stay loyal. They believed in him. That was all
fine. The one thing that they lacked though,
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was knowledge. None of them had ever faced
the task that they were going to tonight.
The last time when Maina had cornered
Chumo and sewed her eye shut, it had been
outside her compound. They had lured her out.
Falsa, a witch far less stronger than Chumo,
had been the decoy.
When they discovered she was a witch,
Solomon had hunted her down. As she looked
into his brown eyes that were so warm yet so
cold in their depths, she had known she looked
at sure and painful death.
But then Maina had offered her a way out of
her sure demise. He had told her that all she
need do was send word that she needed
Chumo’s help. She would have to devise a sure
way to get the older woman to her place.
Maina didn’t care what she did. He had to get
his hands on Chumo. Besides, it was either that
or get her throat slit.
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In Eshihaka, authority was at best scarce.
The nearest police post was five kilometres in
the center – Musanda. And even with that,
most of the policemen had grown up in the
rural area. They too feared and revered
Solomon Maina. He was a law unto himself.
And when it came especially to witch hunting,
he took full advantage of his station.
Falsa knew she would not get any help by
going to the police. Besides, they might just
join Maina and burn her together. So she had
agreed to lure Chumo out. She had racked her
brain wondering how she would go about it.
Saying she needed help was one thing. But
what sort of help would that be? Chumo would
simply tell her to go see her at the older
witch’s home.
No, it had to be something serious enough,
that would make Chumo leave the shelter of
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her compound to come to Falsa’s aid. And as
she thought about it, she got the perfect idea.
Falsa wasn’t born in Eshihaka. She was
married here. She had come with her
witchcraft from her birthplace. She had met
Chumo a few times and though the old woman
could look frightening when she wanted to, she
also was likeable.
But she was also very smart and sharp. The
was only one way to lure her that would ensure
the woman came with haste forgetting caution.
She thus quickly sent word to Chumo. She had
tried to awaken the spirits she said. Now she
was afraid she had done it all wrong since the
‘friends’ seemed intent on feeding on her!
Chumo had been predictably alarmed. Falsa
sent word to Maina and told him she expected
Chumo to come to her that night. Solomon and
his men had laid in the bushes along the way
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to Falsa’s house. And then they waited to
ambush the older woman.
Chumo upon hearing word of the younger
witch’s ‘blunder’, she had taken with her seven
of her blood red candles – better to carry more
and not need them than to need them and not
have them.
And in her haste, Chumo had walked right
into Maina’s trap. It had been close actually
she moved silently even in her old age. The
night had been bright already with moonlight
and promised to get brighter as the moon rose,
but she had blended well into the shadows.
Only the crunch of a dry leaf had alerted Maina
to her footfalls. After that, it had not gone well
for Chumo.
But now, they would have to go to her home
to fish her out. And Maina was pretty sure that
they were expected. They would meet stiff
resistance. He fleetingly remembered that dark
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night long ago when they had gone on a similar
venture. That night had ended in disaster. He
didn’t want the same to happen this night.
‘Men,’ he spoke with more oomph. ‘Tonight
we have a duty to ensure that this, the biggest
ill that ever plagued Eshihaka, is done with. We
have a duty to see that our children, and those
of our children can play and run around without
fear. We have a duty tonight my fellow men to
make sure that Eshihaka, our home is rid of
this disease!’ His hit the table with his right
fist. ‘Let us hunt down the witch and squash it!’
The men grunted and as one, each of them
closed their hands over their weapons. They
were psyched. As psyched as they were ever
going to get anyway, Maina thought with not a
little glee.
He raised his sword. They raised their
assortment of weapons too. ‘Are you ready
men?’ They let out a strong, ‘yes!’
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They didn’t shout. It would draw too much
attention, and these weren’t the days of old
whatever Solomon told them. But they said it
with strength and unity. And that was all
Solomon wanted.
‘Well you had better be,’ he inflected a light
teasing in his tone. ‘Because the time has
come!’
And right on time – Solomon should have
expected it really, ‘Not to show any disrespect
uncle,’ Adede spoke. ‘But the small matter I
raised earlier sir? How do we get in?’
Solomon Maina looked at the younger man
and the whole room went silent. Then he
smiled and held out his hand to the door. He
said lightly, ‘By following me my boy. By
following me.’
And as the rest broke out in a light humble
laugh, the tension was diffused. Solomon
exchanged one long look with Adede who also
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laughed with the rest, the laughter stopping at
his lips though, and lead the way out into the
dark night. The hunt was on.
13
CHUMO LIT THE CANDLE. She watched

calmly as the wick caught flame melting the
thick wax. She waited until the strong smell of
the candle permeated the thick misty cloud
that had formed in her kitchen. When cloying
smell of the mist was over powered by the
smell of the bloody candle, she reached for the
metal plate that covered the pot.
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She removed it carefully having first taken
off the wood. The mist rose from the pot in an
incessant fizz. It didn’t come out in an
explosion like a disturbed bottle of an alcoholic
beverage. Instead, it oozed out of the pot in a
continuous cloud with a long drawn out fffff
sound.
She reached for the candle and clutched it
to her thin breast as she looked at the sight
before her. The cloudy mist permeated the
room as it left the pot like some translucent
anaconda whirling and twisting its body out
into the kitchen, where it started coiling around
above Chumo.
She watched this with wide eyes. The misty
snake moved round and round until she was
fully immersed in the thick fog. But around her,
a radius of less than a foot, the air remained
free. It was the candle. It kept her safe.
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She watched as the fog settled. The snake
had completely left the pot now. And then they
appeared. She remembered from the last time
her mother had done this. But even though she
expected it, it sent a chill down her spine.
First it was a thin drone as of a motorcycle
engine far away. But it increased in pitch and
frequency until Chumo felt as though she was
inside a very large beehive with millions of
bees buzzing away.
They were voices. Her mother had told her
this. She knew but it was eerie. The spirits of
the dead were conversing. They held a
discussion to decide whether she was worth
helping or not. This, he mother had told her,
was the most important phase. One emptied
their minds. The spirits had to see that one had
no ill motives against them. Indeed they had to
think one an innocent.
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Depending on their decision, they either
helped or they destroyed you. Chumo’s mother
had not never lit the candles. ‘They judge you
more innocent if you don’t seek to protect
yourself,’ her mother had explained. But Mlosi
had been a far more powerful witch than
Chumo would ever be.
‘It is your kind heart daughter. That is what
limits you.’ Her mother had said.
Chumo watched the mist as she sought to
empty her mind of all thought. More than
anything, she could not show fear. That was
paramount. She held her candle tightly.
The voices were now becoming discernible.
The buzz was quitening. She could catch
rushed whispers, harsh laughter, gasps and
questions. It was all very scary but she knew
more was coming.
Indeed as the buzz settled back into a low
drone, the red eyes began gleaming in the
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mist. There were hundreds of them, tiny and
glittering like stars in a cloudy sky. She held
her breath. She was too kind? Well she used to
be kind that she was sure about. Now, she
wasn’t so sure. Her fingers touched her left eye
flittingly. No, life had not made it easy for her
to keep being kind. Not to Maina. Not anymore.
Breathing in hard, she blew at the candle in
her extinguishing the flame.
Solomon Maina led his team in the night

toward Chumo’s place. The path they were on,
was just a thick undergrowth as it had been
those years ago. The only difference was that
where that night they had walked in a jungle,
they now walked inside a sugarcane belt.
The trees and bushes had been cleared and
sugarcane replaced them. They were on a foot
path that was five yards wide give or take a
foot. Flanking them on both sides, was thick
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sugarcane such that they essentially on some
corridor with no other way to go except
forwards or backwards.
At some places, the corridor widened
expansively some ten yards. But at other
places, the sugarcane grew so close that the
leaf blades touched them as the passed. It was
eerie in the darkness lit by their torches, the
feeling of those leaves on them. They stuck on
the coat or hair as they passed and leaned that
way until they either got far enough to detach
them or when they brushed them off. It was
though they were being bade farewell by
desolate relatives who didn’t want to see them
go.
The sound they made as the blades rubbed
on their jackets did not help. Soon Solomon
noticed that each man was moving his torch
every which way. Anxiety was creeping in. still,
he forged on and they followed.
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He had not told any of them what had
actually happened that dark night. He
supposed that some of the older men might
have heard the stories. But no one knew
exactly what had happened here.
He didn’t tell them mainly because that
would have scared most of them into their
warm beds. It was tricky since they would be
unprepared if it all happened as it had done
fifty years ago. But it was a trade off he was
willing to live with. Besides, he was there, and
he knew what to expect. Also maybe this time,
things would go different. But he doubted that.
She heard the hisses. ‘Have we visitors my
friends?’ she spoke. ‘Well go and welcome
them.’
As the snakes slithered off into the night,
Chumo leaned back into the chair. All around
her the red eyed spirits spun round and round.
She had made a decision that could not be
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reversed. She was now in it fully. She had
sealed her fate.
‘My friends,’ she whispered. She hardened
her heart from shaking when she heard the
responding mmmm from the cloud that
surrounded her. Indeed now she was right
inside it. The mist was in her ears right inside
her nostrils and against her eyes. When she
opened her mouth to speak, she expelled it like
a warmth breath on a very cold morning. The
mist was fluorescent such that it glowed a
milky white in the dark interior of her hut.
‘We have unwanted guests,’ she went on in
her low voice. She was almost entranced by
the mist that left her mouth. The red eyes
whirling round and round. She got off her chair,
and the deftness of her movement was surely
that of a young girl. A gazelle, Solomon had
once thought her.
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She walked to the door of her hut. In her
mind she only thought of that man. As she had
for most of her life. But was she kind? No.
kindness had not served her well. This was no
time for kindness.
‘Let us welcome them, shall we?’ and
enshrouded in the milky mist like a wedding
gown, Chumo stepped into the night.
Solomon first heard it not fifty steps later.

The hoot of an owl. They were close, he could
sense it. He stopped in his track and raised his
hand to signal those behind him. They stood
still as another hoot was heard.
And yet another joined it. The men began
panicking. Maina could smell it. Then the owls
descended on them. They heard the thick
sound of the birds large wings as they cam
down on them.
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‘Off!’ Solomon shouted. ‘Switch off the
torches!’
He heard some one shriek, it must have
been Aluka. Jesus don’t let it be happening
again he whispered fervently. But the men
responded to his call quickly enough. They
switched off the torches and incredulously
watched as the birds left them and took to the
air.
Aluka wasn’t hurt at least. The bird had just
scratched his neck. He would live. But his
nights would be plagued with disturbing
nightmares.
They stood in silence their lights off in total
darkness. No one made any attempt to move a
muscle. And no one even thought about
switching on their torch.
‘What now?’ Adede whispered. He didn’t
need to say that he addressed the question to
Solomon. It was obvious to all of them that
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here, there were under no one elses guidance
but Maina. He could have told them that things
were only going to get worse.
He seemed taut. His stance was that of a
cat walking in tall grass after it had had a run
in with a snake. His hair was raised and his
spine was stiff. It was as though he waited for
something. And without option, the rest waited
along with him.
They didn’t have to wait long. The snakes
came first. They heard them at the same time.
Hiss. Saulo Pete jumped in spite of himself. The
hissing was coming from the sides – in the
sugarcane.
‘What are those?’ Litsi asked.
‘What do you think they are?’ replied Adede
angrily. Solomon knew what was happening.
His party was falling apart rapidly. Terror could
do that. But he was tight lipped more would
come he was sure.
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As for the snakes, judging by the sounds
they made, they were close. The path they
stood in had short grass, it grew to the ankles
at its highest. But the men cowered as the
snakes seemed to be afoot.
They had subconsciously divided their
attention between their sides. Only Solomon
stood facing the front. But even then, it was
Adede who first saw it. His eyes were getting
old, Solomon thought unnecessarily.
‘What is that?’ Adede asked with the tone of
one who didn’t believe or even want to know
what his eyes were seeing. The rest turned and
looked before them. And as they watched in
horror, the single pair of blood red eyes was
joined by one and then two and then they
suddenly seemed to be all over the path, not
ten yards before them.
‘Jesus!’ Litsi gasped.
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‘So its true,’ Saulo whispered. He had no
doubt heard the stories, Solomon told himself.
‘We have to go!’ Aluka said urgently. His
right hand was on his neck unconsciously
covering the spot where he had just been
scratched.
‘No.’ Solomon spoke calmly not taking his
eyes from the red eyes before them. He need
not have bothered detaining anyone though.
When they turned back, they saw the same red
eyes glittering in the dark another ten yards
from them.
The sides were filled with snakes. They were
surrounded. The men, just realising that they
were in way over their heads, were terrified.
But Solomon was glad that their terror made
them freeze rather run wildly. Freezing was
good. It gave him time to think up a strategy.
‘We form a circle facing out.’ His lips barely
moved yet his words were clear as a slap to
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the men. They did as he said not because they
knew that he was right, but in this moment of
shock, he showed no sign that what was
happening was unexpected. He acted as if he
knew what he was doing. A drowning man will
clutch at straws if they float.
They made the circle backs to one another.
The hissing scared them most. The snakes
seemed to be close, at their very feet. The
worst part was that they were in the dark. They
had switched off their torches.
In the dark, those eyes looked mean. They
looked like the eyes of wolves that had gone
hungry for quite a while. They seemed to
glimmer in a dull sort of manner and the malice
they intended was not disguised.
They stood high and steady, as though they
belonged to an animal that stood six feet off
the ground. As though they belonged to
humans.
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‘What are they?’ Saulo heard himself
whisper breathlessly. His heart beat was so
rapid he was shaking. He was clearly not young
enough for this!
Adede went to switch on his torch but
Solomon put his hand over his to stop him.
‘You would rather have no memory of how they
look,’ he told the younger man.
‘Well, what is the plan now?’ Adede asked.
His insolence was now less obvious. He too was
fighting to keep his heart from beating to first.
Solomon reached into the pocket of his
jacket and removed seven blood red candles.
He lit each one before giving each man one.
They took them silently. Their eyes were glad
for the light, but the dancing flames didn’t give
the mind any peace as the shadows were
brought so close to them by the small light.
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‘What_’ Adede started to ask but was
silenced when Solomon again placed a hand
over his arm.
‘Keep those candles lit at all cost!’ he
whispered harshly, urgently. ‘They will keep
you safe from the predators,’ he still thought of
them as animals. ‘We sheath our weapons
men, at least for a while.’
And then urging them to follow him, they
started walking forward. They didn’t need to
hear his; ‘move as a single unit.’ In order to
huddle together like one-day-old chicks.
‘The snakes?’ Adede inquired in another
whisper. He and Solomon were at the very
front. The vanguard. He couldn’t have chosen a
better partner, Solomon thought sarcastically
to himself.
‘The snakes?’ he snarled. ‘What snakes?’
and he concentrated on the task ahead. He
didn’t want to think about the snakes. The last
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time they had come this far, there hadn’t been
snakes. It wasn’t part of it all. He decided to
ignore them until they decided to have a less
benign role in the play of things. He touched
the handle of the weapon at his belt to
reassure himself.
‘Let the hand that wields your weapon be
light and swift.’ He spoke. They knew what he
meant. As one, they reached to their belts and
pockets to make sure that their weapons were
close at hand.
As they neared the menacing wall before
them, Solomon noticed that their step slowed
down with every step. Every man, him too,
moved slower and slower the closer he got to
the wall of red eyes.
He couldn’t blame them. None of them
knew whether the candles would protect them,
all they seemed to do was produce a very
pungent smell. Besides, their instincts
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screamed that they should run as fast as they
could away from the evil red eyes not to them.
But reason reigned – they had no chance
against the snakes inside the sugarcane where
they would at best get lost sinking deeper into
the belt.
Litsi and Aluka who stood at the back,
noticed after numerous backward glances that
those at their back, moved ahead as they did.
They didn’t rush. It was as though they were
too sure of ultimate victory or they were
waiting for some signal.
Still, forward they went. They last ten were
feet were the most difficult. The candle light
shimmered in its endless dance and fell on the
creature’s bodies, then off. It was as if they
were playing an ill session of peekaboo. Now
you see it; now you don’t.
And then the smell reached them. It was
stronger, sicker than the candles. It was the
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smell of something that had died and had
proceeded to rot. They felt sick to their
stomachs and now moving toward those things
was quite an effort.
‘I can’t.’ Aluka announced. His face looked
ashen in the candle light. He was looking at
walking corpses, rotting even as they stood
there waiting to do battle. His hand went to his
forehead as he shook his head. ‘Sorry Maina I
can’t continue.’
‘Shuttup man!’ Solomon snarled at him. ‘We
are nearly there what is wrong with you?’
But Aluka wasn’t listening. He kept shaking
his head and rubbing his forehead. He was
going to be sick. ‘Why can’t we go back?’ and
no sooner were those words out than the
man’s mouth opened to expel vomit. He
heaved. His candle went off. Without, just a
step was closed between the witch hunters and
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those that hunted them. But it was not made
by the seven men.
‘Round!’ Solomon ordered urgently. ‘Keep
him in the center! Surround him for the sake of
God!’
They came in a circle with Aluka in the
middle. He was bent at the waist. Loudly and
disgustingly, the man puked on the ground.
They sense his weakness, Solomon thought
to himself. Clever bastards. He ordered Aluka
to stay in the middle when he was through
vomiting.
‘Get a grip on yourself Aluka!’ he told the
sickly man. ‘You will meet your fathers today if
you do not stand up like a man!’
Aluka was flushed. But he saw the wisdom
of Solomon’s words. He could not make it alone
back. They had to stick together. There was no
other way. But at that moment, he cursed the
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day he had ever set his eyes on Solomon
Maina. He wasn’t alone.
‘OK, now we see in these candles are worth
anything,’ Solomon muttered. They were not
five feet from the wall. They had closed at the
back to within ten feet of them. The candle
light bathed the figures better now. And
Solomon had been right about one thing, they
were not worth looking at.
The bodies were human. But they were
dead and in all stages of rot. Some even had
roaches and insects crawling into and from
their rotting nostrils. Saulo saw a worm make
its slow way to an ear, before the shifting
candle light spared him the sight of seeing it
crawl into the orifice. He struggled with his
guts. And his bladder.
Now, Solomon was clearly before them all.
He walked a step before Adede who was glad
to be second this time round. The dead hunters
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shrank away from the light when he got to two
feet from them. But they seemed almost daze
by the light at the same time.
‘The shrink from the smell,’ he whispered.
‘But the light draws them.’
As Gideon Maina could have told them had
he not been fitfully sleeping, that was one bad
thing.
Solomon trudged on determinedly. The wall
opened for them as they passed. The
predators, more like zombies now, stood aside
one by one when he reached them. They stood
aside in a narrow corridor of red eyed zombies.
He wondered fleetingly ho Moses had felt
walking between the parted waters of the red
seas.
Had he fretted? Wondered how long would
this last. What was the expiry to this miracle?
Miracle 134af expires in ten minutes! Had such
thoughts run through his mind? They sure ran
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through Solomon now. He wondered how long
this would be till the waters of the sea fell back
and swallowed them whole?
They walked in a single file slowly step by
step. It had happened quite naturally and
simply, that had the circumstances been
reversed, Solomon would have laughed. The
men all shrunk from the zombies – their sight
and smell more than their intended malice, and
they had inadvertently found themselves
dissolving their circle and falling into a single
lane.
‘Stay together,’ Solomon urged them. They
were so close. And that was when the hissing
made sense! ‘Follow the snakes,’ he said
barely concealing his humour. ‘They are
heading back to the witch’s home.’
‘Clever Maina, clever.’ Chumo whispered.

She stood just inside her compound. She could
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feel them coming to her. It was a pity her
‘friends’ had been sidetracked. But she didn’t
worry about that much. They were too clever
by half. Their time to spring would come and
they never wasted a second.
Those candles helped them. She couldn’t be
angry at herself enough at inadvertently giving
them to Solomon. He had gotten them off her
person the last night they had had a run in.
She had hoped that he wouldn’t know their
purpose but Solomon was a clever man. He
knew the first rule of engaging your enemy was
to know them.
Well she knew him too. And that was why, a
sharp scream cut into her thoughts. Ah, she
smiled. It seemed her trick had worked just
right.
Solomon was leading the men closer to the

witch’s compound following the snake’s hisses
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when he heard it. It was a sharp bark. It came
from right before him. The corridor that they
must pass through seemed endless. Indeed the
red eyed predators seemed to have no
number.
And as he watched wide eyed, a dog
stepped into the candle’s light. It was Bosco!
He felt his heart thump and he almost shouted
from equal measures of shock and joy. His first
instinct was to accept his old friend without
seeking explanation. But then he froze.
A cockroach shot out of the dog’s left nostril
and crawled up to its eyes. And right before
him, they turned from the brown his eyes had
convinced them they were, to the dull red of
the rest of the predators.
And then it sprung at him. Instinctively,
Solomon stepped back and at the same time,
his hand reached for the weapon at his belt.
But he was old and thus clumsy. He stepped
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back too fast and right into Adede who was
right at his neck.
Adede in turn moved back to avoid the
extignuishinig of his candle more than anything
eles. He in turn stepped into Aluka who
stepped back into Litsi and right to Saulo Pete
who brought the back in a crazy domino effect.
The sword was out in an instant and in the
same motion swung into the dog’s body,
severing it’s right foot and cutting into much of
its neck. It lay dead at Solomon’s feet. He
panted heavily as his mind struggled to
grapple with what had just happened. And just
like that, his heavy breathing, he put out his
candle. He watched as if in slow motion as he
sent a heavy draught of air towards the candle.
Belatadely, he tried jerking it to the side but
even then, the flame was flickering. He
watched as it wavered shakily, his eyes wide in
horror, and then as he willed it to light - light
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dammit! It wavered back on a little but then
simply went off.
The predators closed in! But even as
Solomon tightened his grip on his blade, he
saw them fall back. It was the smoke! The
extinguished candle emitted a single line of
white smoke from its wick that made his frozen
mind think of a the smoke from a chimney in
one of those cartoon houses they showed on
the television. The candle in short, had never
smelled worse or stronger. But the smoke
would die in fact right before his eyes, he saw
it leave, detach itself from the wick .
Adede tried to shake him from his stupor.
He turned to the other man and saw that he
was gesturing with his candle. What he said,
Solomon didn’t hear. His ears were blocked. He
was still in shock.
Adede desperately reached for his uncle’s
hand and tried to light his candle using his
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own. Solomon snapped out of it finally. He put
his candle under Adede’s their wicks practically
touching. But the candle wouldn’t light! He felt
without turning, the predators close around his
back.
‘Relax!’ Adede whispered harshly. He was
shaking too much. The younger man’s voice
dripped with rebuke. And this got to Solomon
who relaxed enough to have his candle’s flame
back on. And just in time.
He felt the cold cold talon of one of those
things of his neck and he turned viciously
holding the candle before him like a dagger.
The predator shrunk away from him with a
disgusting shriek. The candle’s flame had
touched it on its nostril, and Solomon watched
in fascinated horror as it shrieked its face
seeming to sublime into nothing before his
very eyes. And then, just as suddenly, the
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shrieking stopped. The flailing ceased. The
carcase with half its face gone finally lay dead.
And that was when Solomon heard the
scream.
He had been preoccupied with what was
before him, indeed so had the rest of his team
behind him that no one had paid any attention
to Saulo Pete at the back.
When they had fallen back, he had stepped
back too late himself. Gando who was right
before him, had in his effort to keep his candle
from being hit, thrown his elbow right into
Saulo’s candle.
The man’s step had thrown him off balance
and he had stepped into the predators. He had
cringed when he felt the dead bones crunch at
his heel. His attempt to right his body had seen
him stagger ever further back. He was an old
man.
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And during all this time, all six men
including Gando, not three feet away were
glued to the scene at the fore. Saulo on his
part didn’t yell. He would never know what
made him keep silent, whether it was shock or
habit – a man didn’t go around yelling all the
time, but as it happened, the man in his latter
stages of six decades had found himself
surrounded almost instantly.
He finally stood straight on his feet the
raised candle before him. The smoke had just
left the wick and flown to the skies. He
watched as the eyes that had been in a trance
just a moment ago, turn bright with malignant
intent. Saulo’s aged hand closed around his
machete. They moved, he swung and soon he
was screaming. Even sooner it seemed, he
wasn’t.
The six watched as a sea of the predators
crowded over the body of their comrade.
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Gando made to run back but Thando held him
back. He didn’t need to speak. As one, they
turned their eyes on Solomon Maina and he
knew without their saying it that they held him
responsible.
The sight he had never thought to see again
hit him hard. He was ready to resign and let
them decide what they do. Surely one witch
wasn’t worth all this death.
He remembered Bosco. That had been
cruel. He remembered Owik and how he had
died. He didn’t need to remember Saulo, he
was being dismembered right before his eyes.
But predictably, it was the young Adede
who took the lead. ‘The only way out of this,’
he said as he stepped over Solomon’s side. ‘Is
to go forward.’
And they had no option but to follow him.
Aluka was quiet. If he had had anything in his
belly, he’d have puked it all out. Now, he was
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in a state of shock that allowed him to move
much like an automaton. He would never find
sleep after this.
And ahead, they saw what they sought. A
portal. It was the width of a cow’s girth. So this
is how you get into a witch’s home, Adede
thought privately. The six men went into the
compound in the same file.
‘Welcome to my home,’ they heard
Chumo’s voice laced with humour. ‘We meet
again.’
But as they stood before her hut, they were
by themselves. She didn’t show herself. Adede
switched on his torch and swung the light in a
wide arch where he thought the voice had
come from. He widened the search when she
was not to be seen. He made a full circle and
then stopped.
‘Jesus,’ he muttered. His torch light was on
a mango tree. From a branch, they could
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clearly see a hang body. It had seen better
days and only God knew what was responsible
for the numerous holes that marked what had
been its face.
‘I see you have met my scare crow…’ the
shrill laughing voice was just at their back and
Adede swung back his light into nothing.
The rest had their torches on also. ‘Maria!’
Solomon shouted. ‘Show yourself!’
‘Maria?’ the voice came back at them in a
sing song tone. ‘Who is Maria?’ and then it
broke out in laughter.
‘Stop this madness now Maria!’ he
thundered. At the corner of his eye, he noticed
the red eyed bastards coming into the
compound from the portal. Great! He thought
irascibly. Just great. They were in the middle of
a snake pit with man eating cadavers and their
host was zany!
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‘Is that the name you used to call her?’
came the question. Solomon froze. What kind
of question was that? Who was it he was
speaking to? Was it Maria? He didn’t know her
voice he couldn’t tell that by sound but was it
possible?
‘Uncle?’ Adede spoke.
‘The hut!’ Solomon said.
‘I was waiting for you to say that.’ Adede
replied. His torch’s light beam was centred on
the hut’s dark doorway.
‘Stay!’ he told them and ran toward the
door. But just as fast, the hissing grew louder
as ten snakes made to the door to bar him
entry.
‘No. No. You don’t.’ the voice came again. It
had lost some of it playfulness. Solomon was
consumed with an absolute certainty that it
was all tied up with the hut somehow. He had
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to get in. But how, the door was barred by
snakes.
Adede wasn’t as hesitant. Solomon would
later chalk it up to youth seeing in Adede
exactly what he had been himself. The hissing
competed with Adede’s shouts as his machete
landed again and again into the reptiles. Gando
was at once beside him giving him a hand.
Thando, Litsi and Aluka stood shielding
them from the predators with the candles. The
sickening voice was singing a lullaby. It was a
wonder he hadn’t lost his mind Solomon
thought as he made a desperate lunge into the
hut when he saw a clearing.
It was a close thing. A snake had turned to
bite at him but lost its head to Gando’s furious
blade. Solomon looked inside the hut curiously.
He didn’t know what he was here for, only that
he would know it when he saw it.
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And as he walked in the mist, his candle
before him protectively, he saw her. It was
Maria. Just as he remembered her. She was
curled up in a fetal position on her left side. He
went closer still. She looked to be in a peaceful
slumber.
Her tiny body was clothed meagrely. He
could see the upward curve that her right hip
made. And as he got to her, he squatted and
without knowing what he was doing, his hand
went to her face.
But just before he reached her face, she
turned and he saw that she was not young at
all. She was old, her skin folded and scaled and
her left eye, that hideous scar that he had
inflicted on her, was revolting.
He saw her come at him but he was slow.
He was old, Adede would have told him. She
leaped at him and went into his lap wrapping
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her hands around him as a child does to its
favourite long lost uncle.
And then her mouth was on his neck. He
thought incredulously, that she was going to
kiss him. And she did. And then she blew into
his ear and spoke a single sentence, ‘It is
done.’
He threw her off him. She landed at his feet
and before he could think, his sword was in his
hand and he was repeatedly sinking it into her
body with his right hand. He was maniacal. He
just wanted to see her dead. And so he
stabbed and stabbed. She didn’t fight him. She
curled back into the foetal ball he had found
her in.
When he caught his breath, a few minutes
and many stabs later, he realised that he was
panting heavily. He looked at the blood that
was spreading from her fallen body and for
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Saulo Pete, sunk his blade into her body one
last time. She was long dead.
Incredibly, the candle in his hand was still
lit. He looked at the pot on the embers and
without knowing how he knew it, knew that
what he must do. He threw the candle inside
the pot and turned toward the door.
‘What now?’ a panting Adede asked when
he jumped out into the night.
‘Now we run!’ the old man told him. And run
they did. Solomon wasn’t surprised to find that
the predators had vanished. Just like that. One
time they are there. The next they are not! He
would later hear from Thando.
But the voice didn’t die. It was laughing at
them now. It laughed the laugh of an insane
woman. And with that in their ears, they ran
young and old alike away into the sugarcane.
The hut blew up into flames not minutes
later. The flames picked quickly and razed the
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whole of Chumo’s compound and with the
assistance of a small breeze, lit into the
sugarcane. The dry leaves picked fire and it
was spreading quickly.
The fleeing party could soon smell the
burning cane in the air and the ash that was
carried by the wind for miles could be seen
floating down silently. They dared not slow
down, not even the old men who were now
trotting. The sky was lit by the burning cane
and what could have only been a great
tragedy, was stopped by the rain which finally
decided to start pouring.
It poured in a cleansing shower the whole
night and only fettered off into a light drizzle at
five in the morning.
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BOOK TWO
THE UGLY DUCKLING...
386
"The earth is suffocating .... Swear to make them cut
me open, so that I won't be buried alive".
last words of composer, Frédéric Chopin.
14
SHE WAS TEN YEARS OLD WHEN IT

HAPPENED. It had been a whole year since
she had last seen her. But this night as she
tossed and turned in her bed, she came to the
little girl in a dream.
They were seated on an extremely high
cliff. She could see the clouds around them
and even those below them over there beyond
the precipice.
But even as they sat at this great height,
she was not afraid. The old lady’s presence
was calming. It was curious when the last time
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she had seen her, she had been on the verge
of death. She had belived the woman to be the
angel of death come to take her to a better
place. But the woman had calmly told her that
it was not her time.
All the time they spoke, the old woman did
not even once look up at the little girl. She had
kept her face hidden in the shadows. Now, as
they sat here above the whole world, a muted
light bathed them. It was the light of an early
morning.
She sat on the soft dewy grass. The old
woman sat right beside her on her left. The
clouds moved around them in a misty aura.
They swept clear for a moment and that was
when the space beyond the precipice became
visible. And then, a breeze swept the mist right
into their eyes so that the little girl could not
see past her small feet which were spread flat
before her.
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She was in a flowery dress and the frilly
hem was properly past her knees. Her feet
were bare. And the softness of the tuft was a
welcome feeling.
Despite the mist, she didn’t feel cold at all.
The old woman beside her was draped in a
thick blanket made of cashmere. Her old
hands, like the small girl’s, were placed
together on her lap. Her face was hid by a
shawl that she wrapped around her head.
It reminded the small girl of the one she
herself wore. ‘to keep the elements away’ her
mother said. But she thought to herself that
the purpose of the shawl was to keep her face
hidden. Her ugly face away from the elements
and not the other way round.
‘Is it my time now?’ she spoke slowly. It was
so vivid this dream, that later, she would
wonder if it had not actually happened. If she
had not actually taken a trip to ‘twilight zone.’
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‘No child,’ the old woman spoke in her aged
voice. The small girl thought of it as a
grandmother’s voice. She had no grandmother.
But if she did, she thought she would speak
like the old woman. It was obvious to both of
them that this news was not all that great to
the small girl.
‘Who are you?’ she finally asked after a
brief silence where they both sat back and
enjoyed their peaceful surroundings.
‘I am an old woman,’ she replied. The small
girl caught the smile in her voice and
responded to it.
‘I rather thought you were the Angel of
Death.’ The old woman laughed gently. The
small girl smiled. She was happy. In her bed,
she had stopped fretting. She looked down at
her hands on her lap because she felt that was
what she must do. What she really wanted to
do though was look to her left at the woman.
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‘I am no angel my child,’ the woman said a
little later after her laughter had quietened.
‘No. I am afraid I am just an old woman.’
‘I know this is childish,’ she said in a very
grown up way. ‘But if I had a wish, I’d wish to
go with you.’
‘No!’ the sudden vehemence should have
shocked the girl. But it was as though she
expected it. Her only sign of torment was how
she wrung her hands. The old woman looked
up her face hidden by the mist. ‘You still have
work to do. You must stay.’
‘Will you come back to visit?’ it was the
plaintive call of a much too sad and lonely
child. It was heart-rending.
‘Yes. Yes child. I will come back to visit.’ she
held the small girl’s hand in her time worn one
and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
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‘Show me your face, let me see you.’ The
girl suddenly turned and looked at the old
woman, her eyes bright with expectation.
But the old woman shook her head looking
down at her lap. ‘I cannot reveal my face to
you child.’
‘But why?’ she was trying hard to be strong
but the rejection she was feeling was so
strong. Her insecurities boiled up to a simmer
and she was appalled to find that her upper lip
was now trembling. She bit it hard. She
squeezed the hand that held hers tight. What
she feared most was that the woman didn’t
want to look up at her, not so that she wouldn’t
reveal her face, but so that she wouldn’t have
to look at the ugly little thing that sat beside
her.
‘No child.’ The woman said as if she had
read her mind. She had. ‘You are a beautiful
392
little girl and you’ll grow into a beautiful
woman
‘You will meet a nice man who will find you
beautiful and love you.’
The little girl made a sound that she hoped
passed for a nonchalant grunt. She was really
trying to quell the joy that wanted to burst
forth from her chest. She had been hurt so
young, she had learned to harden her heart
against false empty promises of a blissful life.
‘Yes you will,’ the smile in the old woman’s
voice was unmistakable. ‘And he is so
handsome child. I have seen him you know?’
she laughed. ‘You will be alright child.’
‘But you have not told me why you wont
look at me.’ it came out before she could catch
her tongue.
‘I cannot let you see my face,’ the old
woman stressed. ‘Because then, you’d have to
come with me.’
393
She froze. Her heart slowed until it hurt
deep in her chest. Go with her? She knew that
meant only one thing. She would die.
‘But,’ the old woman was saying. ‘You have
work to do and so you have to stay.’
‘But_’ she was interrupted by the sudden
appearance of two large owls. They seemed to
come right out of the mist with their talons
drawn and their dead brown eyes staring right
at her. And as she watched wide eyed, they
perched on the old woman’s shoulders.
And then they flapped their great wings and
they seemed to pull the woman into the mist.
They looked right at her and she cried when
she felt her fingers detach from the old
woman’s. Her hand remained in the air for a
minute so that it seemed as though she raised
it in a silent plea.
‘I cannot stay any longer child. Go!’ And
that was when she realised that she was the
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one who was moving away from the old
woman. She was edging closer and closer to
the precipice! Her eyes contorted in horror.
And even as she thought she was about to fall,
it registered somewhere in her mind that she
had the urge to pee.
Her hand remained raised to the old woman
as she went closer and closer to the edge –
pulled by an unseen relentless force.
‘Save me!’ she cried as she reached the
very edge. And then she fell over into thin air.
And suddenly, she was falling, falling falling…
She jerked up from the deep panting. She
looked around her room as she orinted herself
wither surrounding. And as she calmed down
her heart beat slowing to normal, she felt a
warm stickiness between her legs.
‘Oh no,’ she groaned.’ Not that.’
395
She flung her blankets off. And froze. The
pants of her pyjamas and her sheets were
soaked in blood. She screamed.
Gideon Maina was in a dour mood. He was

seated at the very back of a minibus. He
leaned his head back over the seat and his chin
was anchored over his hand.
It was morning – minutes past seven am. He
was heading from Musanda to Mumias. He
hoped to catch a bus there to the city. But with
his luck so far, he didn’t think he would make it
in time.
The buses left at eight. He had woken up
early but with the rain still pouring, he had had
to wait till six in order to leave. Nancy had
been up. She had already made breakfast. He
had taken it – her sign of peace, thanking her.
But he had only taken the tea refusing the
396
potatoes and the rest of breakfast which was
really for him, a large meal.
And then with tears in her eyes, she had
bade him goodbye. She had offered to escort
him to Musanda where he would get a vehicle
but he had declined, telling her instead that he
would move faster if he went alone.
She had nodded in agreement. Gideon had
looked at her waiting to see whether she’d
change her mind but she had resolutely kept
her glance on her feet. So he had bade her
farewell and departed. He hadn’t even
bothered to check on his grandfather. He had
only allowed the thought that it was odd the
old man wasn’t yet up. He was usually up way
before six. But he had been too filled up with
pent up rage, he didn’t trust himself with the
old man anyway. So he had walked toward the
gate and out.
397
The road had been muddy. The rain had
done a great deal of damage and it hadn’t
helped any that it had already been trodden on
by tractors and cattle. There was no way he
could have gotten a bicycle taxi or allowed
himself to be carried on a bicycle in such
conditions.
So Gideon had had to walk all the five
kilometres to Musanda from Eshihaka. When
he passed the place the old witch had called
him from, he tensed, expecting to hear
something or at least feel something. But it
hadn’t happened. Everything had been normal
and the peace hadn’t bee disturbed in a shrill
voice or any other voice.
Unknown to him, a few meters from the
road he walked on, the sugarcane was
scorched and stood in black stumps.
Musanda hadn’t proven any better. It was
just as muddy and being much busier than
398
Eshihaka, he had a hard time of it watching
where he stepped and making sure that he
moved fast.
The stage had been empty. A minibus had
just filled and left he was told. This far up
country, the folk were never in a hurry. He
found that he was not the only one waiting for
transportation to Mumias – he was the only one
who was impatient about it.
So he had stood there in the waning drizzle,
a reluctant sun showing itself from the clouds
adding to the somber mood he was in. finally,
after a very long quarter of an hour, a minibus
had arrived.
He had been the first to get in. He had gone
straight to the back so that he would not be
disturbed by other boarding passengers. And
then he had waited. And waited.
The minibus just wouldn’t fill. It carried
fourteen passengers. Presently, it had ten. He
399
saw two men standing at the stage conversing
with the conductor of the vehicle. They
appeared to be discussing the price for some
time. And then, seemingly having reached
consensus, they broke into village gossip.
Had he been paying attention to what they
said, he would have heard about the fire that
razed a good half acre of sugarcane before the
rains finally doused the fire. But he had been
livid. This men did not have a mind for others!
They were idlers it seemed and he told them
his mind.
The men looked at him in wonder. ‘Where
are you off to?’ one had asked him.
‘I have to catch the eight o’clock bus to the
city!’
‘You will get it don’t worry.’ I will get it if
you assholes get in and we start going already!
He wanted to shout. ‘As long as you booked a
seat, you will not be left.’
400
Gideon wasn’t to sure about that. Plus, he
had not booked a seat on the bus. And that
was the problem. He had decided just last
night after that appalling discovery as to the
real paternity of Nancy that he would not have
had time to book a seat on the bus. He was
rushing there on the hope that he could get
one that had not been fully booked. But even
with that, he had to get there early.
But these men were delaying him! And then
a woman got in. The two men, perhaps taking
pity on him, decided to board finally. The
conductor took the final seat at the sliding door
of the minibus. But still, it wouldn’t start.
‘What are you waiting for now?’ he had
asked.
‘I forgot my shawl at home,’ the lady who
had just boarded told him her voice dripping
with reprimand. ‘My child has gone for it.’
401
What? He wanted to shout. But he held his
tongue. Surprisingly, every other passenger
was at ease with all this. If the lady had
forgotten a shawl, they would wait until her son
ran back home, got it and then ran back to the
bus stage.
He was so angry he couldn’t talk. He
glanced at his watch. It was seven thirty
already. He would be late, Goddammit. After
ten minutes, the woman’s shawl had arrived
held aloft by the tiny running feet of a boy who
couldn’t be over six years of age.
‘Thank you Sammy,’ the lady had effused.
‘You are a good boy.’ This she said turning
back to look at Gideon as if to say that he
wasn’t a good boy. If he hadn’t been so mad,
he would have laughed at her veiled affront.
He sighed when he heard the conductor
shout to the driver to be off. Needless really
when the driver was not a yard from him and
402
could surely see for himself that the vehicle
was full. Any way, the driver turned the key in
the ignition. It refused to start. He tried again,
but aside from making hopeful sounds, the
engine didn’t pick.
He turned the key too much and Gideon
cringed at the harsh scratching sound that
ensued. The conductor, got off and went
behind the vehicle, ostensibly to push it. He
was joined by half a dozen youth and soon the
car was rolling. When it had enough
momentum, the driver jump started it. The
engine coughed several times but held.
All this time, the conductor was running and
banging at the side door. The driver didn’t stop
or reduce speed. Running like the devil was at
his heels, the conductor finally managed to get
the door open and to jump into the moving
vehicle. And not a moment too soon Gideon
403
thought as he heard the driver shift into third
gear.
Incredibly, the conductor hadn’t broken
sweat. Slightly panting, he started narrating a
story to the driver. That was about the time
when Gideon’s chin fell on his hand.
‘Am all he has.’ Nancy had said last night.
But he promised himself he wouldn’t think
about that. He would concentrate only on the
trip ahead and what he would do immediately
upon arrival to the city.
He had written the story but was left with a
large chunk of the ending to do. He had neatly
punched the papers and put them in a thin file.
It buldged with the few hundred sheets of
paper.
He hadn’t finished the story but he was sure
he could do the ending in the city. He would
show Gats – his agent the draft he had written
so far if worse came to worse. He was sure it
404
would placate him and his publisher to grant
him some more time off the deadline.
And then as if on cue, his cell phone rang.
‘Yeah.’ He said into it. The caller id simply
read ‘Gats’.
‘Man where are you?’
‘I am on the road, coming your way as a
matter of fact.’ Gideon answered worried about
something he couldn’t quite put his finger on,
in his agent’s voice.
‘Good man. What time do I expect you?’ this
time there was no mistaking his tone. He was
happy with that news.
‘Ah… I don’t know.’ Gideon glanced at his
watch; it was ten minutes to eight. ‘See I am
leaving the country now as we speak. I don’t
think I will make it to see you today. Why don’t
I come over tomorrow?’
‘OK why not? Make it ten o’clock, Polo’s
office.’
405
‘Fine.’ Gideon said.
‘Fine? See you then man.’ And he
disconnected.
As he replaced his cell phone, he noticed
several glances – some surreptitious some
brazen, from his fellow passengers.
He ignored the whole lot and his chin went
back into the cradle of his hand. He willed the
driver, mentally, to step on the gas. The
vehicle after getting off to a shaky start picked
speed and was even at this moment making
good speed. He was lucky also that at this
early hour of the day, all of the passengers
inside the vehicle were not alighting along the
way. They were all bound for Mumias.
Still, it was ten minutes past eight when the
minibus finally arrived at the bus station in
Mumias. He could see several buses still
around.
406
‘See,’ the conductor told him triumphantly.
‘You got here on time. The buses are still here.’
Gideon didn’t bother responding to that
statement. Instead he alighted and went in
search of a good bus to take him to town.
The first bus he went to though was full. It
had been fully booked the previous day. ‘Why
didn’t you book yesterday?’ a very infuriating
woman asked him from behind a grilled
window. Gideon gnashed his teeth and walked
off to the next bus.
That one, had already left he was told. The
bus that stood there was bound for Kampala
not the other way. ‘You should have come
early. It left at eight sharp.’
‘It wasn’t full?’ he asked.
‘Our buses always leave at eight o’clock.
Why didn’t you come early?’ Gideon didn’t
bother answering her.
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He could barely conceal his chagrin as he
crossed over to another bus. It hadn’t rained
this far in Mumias. At least the ground he
walked on was dry. He ought to be greatful for
small mercies he mused.
The bus he checked was full, but he could
get a seat to Nakuru he was told. There, a
passenger would fill it. He didn’t want to stop
anywhere before the city though. So he
declined. Just then, a bus drove into the bus
station.
It had barely stopped when there was a
collective mad rush to it. Passengers fought at
the door to squeeze inside. Gideon had run to
the door as soon as he could and he was lucky
enough to get in after a lot of hassle.
Soon, the bus was full and the panting
passengers that had gotten seats were smiling
and conversing praising themselves no doubt
for having achieved a ‘Herculean’ feat.
408
Their ill gotten reward didn’t last. A
uniformed portly man, with suspenders over
his great belly walked into the bus. Then with a
booming voice that silenced them all, he
ordered them all out.
‘This bus was booked. So if you do not have
a ticket with you, I suggest you move before I
come and move you.’
There was a collective groan. Several
people like Gideon cursed. The big man stood
there his hands tucked in his suspenders and
look at the expectantly. When no one made to
move, he walked over to the first seat.
‘Ticket please.’ He spit. He made ‘please’
seem like an obscenity.
The small man who sat there mumbled
something that he didn’t catch. ‘What!’ he
bellowed. The small man made another
attempt at communication. It was painfully
409
obvious that he had no ticket and that the bus
official was not going to give him a chance.
‘I can purchase one,’ the puny man said in a
puny voice. He was still panting. On his brow,
was a thin line of sweat.
‘You purchase one at the office. Not inside
the bus!’ he was told. ‘Now off!’ without
waiting to see whether his word had been
adhered to, he was on to the next person.
Actually what made the ill fated would be
passengers stick to their seats was the
embarrassment that went with having to walk
down the corridor between the row of seats the
proverbial tail tucked between the legs. And
after such brave and masculine entry!
But when one looked at it, it was the lesser
evil. The large man was making it extremely
embarrassing when he got to you. Not only did
you then have to leave with your tail tucked
between you legs , but then you had to carry a
410
placard written where’s my mommy? I wanta
breastfeed. Or something.
Gideon was one of the many who saw this
wisdom. Gathering his bags, he had two. One
was a rucksack that carried his clothes, and the
other was a small bag that had his filed
manuscript. He carried the latter in his
stronger, right hand. He got off the seat and
walked with his tail between his feet – but
thank God no placards, and got off the bus.
He didn’t need to go to the office to buy a
ticket. He was sure it was fully booked. He
went anyway and he was told what he knew.
Together with the additional, ‘You should have
booked yesterday.’ Holding back a retort
valiantly, he considered his options.
It was now past eight thirty. There would
not be another bus. And he didn’t want to have
to go by minibus. They simply tired him
411
especially over long distances. His long frame
sat better in a bus.
He had no option. He would have to be
satisfied with Nakuru. From there, he would get
another vehicle to the city. He went to the bus
he had declined.
‘Sorry sir,’ he was told. ‘We sold that seat.’
‘You are not_’
‘Only one seat left. But we take you only as
far as Kisumu. ’ the busy man interrupted him.
‘Take it or leave it.’
Kisumu was much further from the city than
Nakuru. But he had gambled and now he was
at the end of his tether. He couldn’t gamble
any more. Resignedly, he accepted the seat
and having paid for it, he folded his ticket
neatly and placed it inside his breast pocket.
Then he entered the bus and took his seat.
Indeed it had been the last seat. Soon the
bus crew came on board and the driver ignited
412
the heavy duty engine. He was glad to hear it
pick immediately and roar in a reassuring
manner. This was a well conditioned bus. Too
bad it would take him only as far as Kisumu –
some two hundred kilometres away.
He hadn’t been lucky enough to get a
window seat. In fact he was seated in the three
row side. He was wedged between a small
dapper man on his right, at the window, and an
extremely large and unyielding woman on his
left at the gangway.
He stretched his feet before him and leaned
back into the relative comfort of his seat. He
was seated leaning mostly on the right side
courtesy of the large woman on his left. As he
felt the road move beneath them, he allowed
his mind to lift and roam.
When he had been born, Gideon had been a

much awaited bundle. He had overstayed his
413
welcome in his mother’s womb and she had
had to have labour artificially induced when it
came to ten months and still there hadn’t been
any sign of him.
And then after an excruciatingly painful
labour, Gideon had come wailing into this
world. The accouchment had been hard on
Sera and she had been hospitalised for three
weeks.
The nurses had worried at this time not for
the mother but more for the young son. This
long a period without the mother-child contact
– for Gideon was not once seen or held by this
mother during this long period of
convalescence, would be detrimental to their
relationship.
And interestingly, the mother had not asked
for her child. She had spent her time between
deep sleep and drowsy wakefulness. They
thought that the drugs she was on were to
414
blame for this condition. Once she was better,
she would ask for her child and be off to
motherhood. After all, she was not a new
mother.
At this time, Solo was already one year old.
The happy father, Thomas Maina had had his
hand full taking care of the bundle. It had
surprised the doctors when the haggard father
claimed his new born.
‘How ever will you take care of two young
children, the older not yet a toddler?’ they had
asked of him. But Thomas had reassured them.
He had a good neighbour who gave him a hand
he had said. Besides, the cost of having both
his wife and newborn son in the hospital, would
be extremely high. The last reason had cinched
it.
What with the economy being what it was
these days, money was hard to come by. It was
415
all a man could do just to get a meal in the
bellies of his kids.
So young Gideon, a week old, had been
carried off by his father. He had been fed on
skimmed milk and the love of his father. Those
who knew him in those days, said that Thomas
Maina was an angel. He would make it far.
Good guys like him always did.
His mother, had followed not long
afterward. Initially, Thomas had attributed her
lack of enthusiasm for her child to post-
convalescence weariness. But even after a
month, when she was healthy and fit, Sera
Maina showed little interest in either Gideon or
Solomon – his elder brother.
In fact if she didn’t had to breastfeed to
ease her discomfort, Thomas suspected that
she would abscond even this natural duty.
She did all else. The onus fell squarely on
Thomas’ hands to ensure that his sons were
416
clothed, changed and bathed. When Gideon
cried in the wee hours of the morning, Thomas
woke up and placated him back to sleep.
He took to coming home early from work.
For Thomas, his little family was the centre of
his world. He gave his wife time. He was sure
that she would come to eventually. Plus, he
was the one rare type of father who enjoyed
being a mother.
Gideon picked up quickly. He was born a
healthy baby and took in the early hardships in
his life in stride. He would smile angelically
whenever he was picked, but for his father, he
reserved a particularly large toothless grin.
Soon, he was crawling tentatively and then
he was all over the place like a small
locomotive on four. His quick movements were
soon to bring him to peril though.
One day as his mother dozed over the
settee before the television, Gideon had
417
crawled mumbling baby talk to his elder
brother who stood at the door. Solomon by this
time, though a slower developer, had managed
to take his first steps and had perfected
standing.
Grabbing the front of his elder brother’s
jersey, and talking rapidly in his own language,
Gideon had pulled himself up. Shaking like a
newborn calf, he had made his first attempt at
standing.
He reached his brother’s chest at full
height. Clutching the jersey of his brother, he
held himself steady. He was quiet for a while
and then when he saw that he was well
anchored, started babbling at his brother.
Young Solomon Maina had looked at his
brother, without smiling, placed his own hands
on the young one’s shoulders and gave an
almighty push.
418
Taken by surprise, had fallen back
unhindered on his backside. The padding there
had cushioned the fall but it also destabilised
the child who turned on his side and started
rolling down like a small drum.
He rolled out the door now screaming his
head off. And he rolled right to the stairs and
effortlessy, down to the ground. He fell on the
ground off the last stair with a thud. He was
quiet for a while and then crunching his little
face, opened his mouth to wail. But he couldn’t
his chest was too full. His face swelled up so it
was like he was stuggling to breath.
When Sera relactuntly got of the couch and
went over to the kitchen, the baby was in his
father’s arms. He held him in his arms and
shook him a worried frown creasing his face.
And finally when Gideon managed to start
wailing, it came in an almighty scream. But it
419
was better than the child he had been a
moment ago, fighting for breath.
‘Give him to me,’ Sera said holding out her
hands.
Thomas Maina who had just come home
from work to be greeted by the sight of his son
rolling down the stairs walked mencingly
toward his wife.
‘Where were you?’ he growled. But Sera
stood her ground.
‘Give him to me Thomas.’ She repeated.
And then Solomon started crying also.
Looking down at him, Thomas was for a
moment consumed with an overwhelming urge
to kick the child. He was responsible, he had
seen the whole thing from the gate.
He looked at his wife. And for in that
instant, he realised what a negligent mother
she had turned out to be. But by nature, he
was a forgiving man who liked to see the good
420
in others. The thrust Gideon at her and bent to
pick Solo who was now wailing in competition
with his younger brother.
Gideon had gradually stopped crying. He
had stopped screaming, but he was still
sniffling. Solomon by this time was quiet and
put to bed.
Thomas walked to the living room to find
Gideon in his mother’s arms. She had him by
her side but that was all. She didn’t soothe him
or move around or even rock him in her arms.
She simply let him cry until he couldn’t cry
anymore.
‘Bring him here,’ he said astonished yet
again at the woman he called wife. He picked
up the child and rocking him, making soothing
sounds, he walked with his son outside.
Gideon had come from that experience with
a minor scratch and a confounded knock on his
head. But with his characteristic exuberance,
421
he was back on his feet – this time literally, and
was walking in a few weeks time.
When he started talking, Thomas suspected
that there was a problem. Solomon had for all
this time never uttered a single word in
anything other than baby language. When
Thomas told his wife about this, she had for
once shown a reaction toward her children. She
had looked at Solomon who at this time was
seated on the floor, preoccupied with a fly that
had landed on his dainty foot.
‘This is a problem,’ she said. Well while
Thomas would not use those exact words, he
agreed with his wife that they needed to
investigate this matter further.
Thomas suggested that they seek a doctor’s
advice and even suggested a paediatrician he
was familiar with. But Sera had refused this,
telling him that they ought to give it some
422
time. It was possible that Solomon was just a
slow child. He would start talking soon perhaps.
But Thomas’ initial fear did come to pass.
When he was two years and a half, Gideon’s
parents were not as close. The rift that had
started with the birth of Gideon, grew with time
and Thomas was forced to admit to himself
that he had no idea what went on in his wife’s
mind.
Being a conscientious father, he had bought
his sons reading card. These, he read with his
sons when he was home. It was however the
responsibility of his wife when he was at work,
to ensure that the early learning process at
home went on.
Sera Maina had not gone back to work after
her maternity leave when she had been
pregnant with Gideon. She sat home and let
Thomas earn the bread. After all he was the
423
man of the house wasn’t he? And he had
wanted the children in the first place not her.
So it was on one such day, that she sat her
two sons and short stools before her. In her
hands, were the reading cards. Solomon was as
usual, babbling his own things. Gideon- as he
was wont to be when he was left alone with his
mother, was uncharacteristically subdued. He
tried to win her attention subconsciously by
laughing extra loud when she was in the
vicinity, or clinging when she held him, but she
always turned him a harsh glance.
Seated before her today, his hands were on
his lap. She placed a card on his lap that was
written on it the word ‘eat’. Gideon struggled
desperately to remember what his father had
instructed him. He wanted to please his mother
so. But in his tension, he couldn’t remember
how to pronounce the three letter word.
424
‘Eat!’ she shouted at him and Gideon
jerked. His lip was shaking now and he tried
hard no to cry.
‘Here, read this one,’ she gave him the next
one written ‘Seat’. Slowly, his tongue stressing
the ‘s’ he pronounced the word properly.
‘Seat,’ his mother repeated in agreement.
He felt warmth fuse within him. ‘Give it to your
brother.’
Gideon did as he was told. ‘Read.’ She
instructed Solo.
The older child looked at the card and tried
to decipher it. The tension in the room
escalated as they waited for him to say the
word. Gideon was caught between his fear and
the urge to help his brother. ‘Seat,’ he willed
his brother mentally repeatedly.
‘Seat!’ his mother said. He expected to see
her snatch the card from Solo as she had done
when he couldn’t read ‘eat’ but she didn’t.
425
‘Seat,’ she said again sternly her finger
hitting the card on the child’s lap. ‘Repeat after
me. Seat!’
Solomon looked up at his mother and
looked down at the card again. He was not
smiling now. The look on her face terrified him.
‘Seat!’ she yelled. Gideon’s little heart was
pounding now. His lip was trembling terribly.
‘S-S-S-S-‘ Solomon struggled.
‘Seat! Seat! Seat!’ she reached for the card
and snatched it as Solomon still made fruitless
effort to do as his mother said. But he couldn’t
get past the ‘s’.
‘You mad child,’ she spoke under her
breath.
Producing another card, she threw it at
Gideon. He grabbed at it jerkily. It was written
‘Beat’. Trembling and struggling to check it,
Gideon read the word; ‘Bet.’
‘Beat!’ his mother shouted.
426
‘Beat,’ he corrected himself his voice
shaking.
‘Give it to your brother.’
He did as he was commanded. Solomon
took the card as though it was hot excrement
that he had to nonetheless handle. He looked
up fearfully at his mother.
‘Read you moron!’ she yelled. He tried.
More than ever, Gideon willed him to say the
word. He did.
‘What?’ Sera asked. ‘Read it again.’
Solomon read it; ‘it.’ He said as if he had a
heavy tongue.
‘Beat!’
‘It,’ he couldn’t pronounce the ‘b’.
‘Are you insane you mad child?’ she was on
her feet now. Gideon couldn’t hold it any
longer, hot tears that had welled in his eyes
started streaming down his cheeks. ‘Say it.
Beat!’
427
‘It.’ Solomon was shaking too now. But even
as he shrunk away from his mother in fear, his
eye remained dry.
‘Beat!’ his mother rounded on him. She was
absolutely livid now. ‘I will beat you.’
Solomon fearfully tried to do as his mother
said. ‘It.’
‘Mama_’ Gideon pleaded but she didn’t
hear.
She raised her hand and smacked Solomon
right across his face. The boy fell down
toppling the stool. In the moment of rage, she
had it in her hand. And even as Gideon wailed
and asked her to stop, she hit at her eldest son
with it again and again.
Thomas had returned home to find his son a
bleeding mess. He hadn’t spoken, he had just
rushed Solomon to hospital. Sera had followed
him with a crying Gideon.
‘What happened?’ the doctor had asked.
428
‘Fell down,’ Sera had said looking straight at
her husband daring him to call her a liar. The
doctor had looked from husband to wife and
back, and then shrugged. He took care of the
wounds which would leave the boy looking
puffy for a while but no lasting scars would
remain.
‘Let him not fall like that again,’ the doctor
had told them and in his tone had been the
unmistakable hint of threat.
‘Yes doctor.’ Thomas had put in before Sera
decided she needed to debate with the doctor.
‘What happened?’ Thomas had asked his
wife later at the house, when the children had
been put to sleep.
‘He fell down. I told you.’ And she hadn’t
bothered to look at her husband when she said
this.
429
He hadn’t insisted on arguing. Instead, he
got her to promise never to let such a thing
happen again.
For Gideon, that morning as his brother lay
on the floor his mother hitting at him again and
again with a wooden stool and him crying
helplessly, had been his first memory. He had
lived in terror of the next time their mother
would chose to read with them.
But after that incident, she had gotten
bored or something like that since she didn’t
make another attempt to teach them reading.
Even now, as he sat in the bus, Gideon was
amazed at how vivid the memory of his
mother’s vile temper was. He closed his eyes
at the sudden unwanted hot wetness that
stung.
‘Your ticket sir.’
He was shocked by the abrupt sound. It was
the bus conductor. Gideon reached inside his
430
pocket and placed the paper on the
outstretched hand.
The man looked at it, then recorded the
serial number in on a writing pad and returned
the ticket. Without so much as a thank you, he
stretched his hand to the occupant of the
window seat beside him.
‘Your ticket sir.’ And then the man repeated
what Gideon had done. After a minute he was
off to the next seat.
Gideon settled back in his seat. The
interruption had been timely. His eyes were
now dry. It had been a long time since he last
allowed himself to dwell on the past. The bus
was halfway to Kisumu. They would be there in
an hour.
431
432
15
SHE WAS NOW A LITTLE WOMAN. That

was what Mama said. She had not been
bleeding to death. She had begun
menstruating. It embarrassed her when she
was given the details of this by her mother.
But, she noted, not any more than it seemed to
embarrass mama.
‘You are a little woman now,’ her mother
had told her.
‘What does that mean?’ she had asked.
Purity had looked at her daughter in silence
wondering how she was going to go about this.
She had been aware that time would come for
‘the talk’. But she had never envisioned it, now
it seemed to be a very big thing indeed.
‘It means that you can have children now.’
she said thinking to herself when she herself
had discovered that she was ‘a little woman’.
Didn’t her daughter have friends? Maybe not.
433
‘Oh,’ and then she had blushed beautifully.
Ah so even though she had no friends she
knew about sex nonetheless. What age did
they start sex education? In her time, they had
never had such a thing.
‘So you want to be careful now you are a
big girl.’
Her daughter had looked up at her
questioningly. Purity felt put on the spot and
not a little ill at ease. She struggled to explain.
Out of habit, her eyes went surreptitiously to
the digital bedside clock. She was late.
Her daughter’s scream had woken her. She
had rushed to the room and found her
daughter near hysteria. She had thought she
was bleeding to death. And so had Purity.
After a minute, she had known what was
happening. Her daughter had reached puberty.
But even she was shocked at the amount of
blood that she shed.
434
So she had busied herself cleaning up the
girl, she then removed the soiled sheets and
instructed her daughter to bathe and change
into clean clothes. She had then left with the
dirty laundry and gone to take her own shower.
Now dressed she was getting late for work
and was tied down by her daughter. John was
no help. He had simply turned in bed when
they heard the scream. He had not even
attempted to get out of bed.
Purity was worried about him. He was over
ambitious and while that was not necessarily a
vice especially in politics, she was sure he was
heading into a tight corner. He was so
preoccupied these days and negligent that she
was certain more and more each day that their
marriage was becoming a sham. What with her
busy schedule and their daughter…
435
‘Mama,’ she brought Purity back to the
present. ‘I wont get pregnant. I don’t have a
husband.’
Purity smiled. Such innocence. She touched
her daughter’s cheek. ‘You still have to be
careful with boys ok?’ save me. Save me she
thought. She wasn’t ready to give ‘the talk’.
Her girl was too young to hear the talk. God
where had time gone.
‘Don’t worry Mama.’ The girl looked down.
‘They wont bother me.’
She nodded absentmindedly. And then she
understood what her daughter was saying. She
felt her eyes sting with tears. But even as she
sought to reassure her daughter, she couldn’t
help the thought that crept into her mind
unbidden like jigger.
She is right. No boy will approach her. No
man will ever love her. And as she struggled
436
with her thoughts, her pager went off. She
reached for it, never so happy to hear it.
‘Sorry baby, Mommy has to go work.’ She
said failing to meet her daughter’s accusing
eyes. John said it was her fault she looked like
that. She had bore her after all. And inside, she
felt the guilt and more so because she couldn’t
offer the girl any solace. What a pity she
couldn’t get another child.
‘You will be fine ok?’ she sought to reassure
the girl as she got off the bed. Her little girl
nodded. She saw the questions still lingering in
her eyes but she ignored them. Life was hard.
And she had work to do, to ensure that they
lived in comfort.
The small girl watched her mother leave.
She waved at her. When the door closed, she
leaned back on her pillow and curled into a
foetal ball. Why would her mother never tell
437
her even once that she loved her? Even if it
was a lie?
Kisumu was bedlam. Noisy salesmen

struggled to outdo each other as they hawked
their wares at the very top of their voices.
He made his way to the first bus he saw
that was headed for Nairobi. It was a massive
Scania 310HP that looked formidable. It was
blue and had the words Eldoret Express printed
over the sides.
He was told yet again that the bus was full.
He could only hope to get as far as Nakuru.
There, he would have to get other means to
get to the city for someone was waiting to
occupy that very seat. At least this man didn’t
tell him how he ought to have booked earlier,
Gideon thought as he accepted the seat and
paid for it.
438
He thought that he probably would have
gotten another bus that went straight to
Nairobi, but having been bitten once in
Mumias, he was twice shy. So he decided to
take the gamble and to hell with the
consequences.
The bus took a while to fill. It was leaving
Kisumu bus station one hour later. Gideon had
bought the day’s newspaper and immersed
himself in the news. But it was hard to
concentrate on the small print. The news about
what politician had done what, and the latest
gossip about what model was going out with
what musician, didn’t grasp his attention for
long.
His eyes drew closed and he drew them
open with effort. He had not slept late last
night. He had spent some time on his
typewriter but he hadn’t written much. He had
tried to forget his grandfather and the
439
disgusting news he had just learnt about him,
through writing. In the past, he had taken
solace in his writing. Right from the time he
had learnt to write, he had taken it as a
tourniquet whenever his soul bled.
Being an introvert, it had really been the
only avenue he could take to ease his pain. But
last night, he had not found it easy to form his
story. His characters wouldn’t do as he wanted
them to do. They refused to come to him; he
couldn’t even see what they looked like. It was
as if his story had gone out the wind.
Feeling dejected he had stopped typing,
and discarded the three pages that he had
typed so far.
He collapsed on his bed and tried to find
sleep. His eyes had closed finally, but his sleep
had been fitful at best. He had drifted in and
out of dreams the whole night. Once, in the
wee hours, he had jerked from a nightmare.
440
But now, for the life of him, he couldn’t
remember what it was that he had been
dreaming about.
‘May I have your paper please?’ he was
brought back to the present by the passenger
at his side. He handed the paper to the man at
his side.
Not five minutes later, the bus started
moving slowly out of the packed bus station.
Gideon was glad to leave the hot and
extremely noisy town.
His eyes drew close again and again he
forced them open. He looked outside the
window at the scenery that was moving fast in
the opposite direction. And then inadvertently,
his thoughts went back to his brother and their
childhood.
Thomas Maina impressed upon his wife

Sera, the need to take their son to a specialist.
441
And perhaps having seen for herself how bad it
was, she had reluctantly accepted to take Solo
to see his paediatrician friend.
‘Is he deaf?’ an anxious Thomas had asked.
They were seated on the doctor’s office.
Solomon was on his father’s lap while Sera had
Gideon on hers.
The doctor had taken Solomon into the side
room that was separated from the main office
by a curtain. After a few minutes, they both
reappeared.
‘He is not deaf,’ the doctor said. She
clicked her fingers at Solomon from across the
large desk and the boy looked at him. ‘He
responds to sounds and obviously knows his
name.’
‘Then what is wrong with him, is he dumb?’
Sera who had been surprised – and not
pleasantly so, to find that Thomas’
paediatrician friend was a woman retorted.
442
‘He is mute yes,’ the doctor said slowly
implying that there was a difference between
the two terms, and the one that was correct.
‘But it is more than that I suspect.’
The anxious father looked at the doctor and
waited for her to expound. Doctor Winnie
looked at the parents and couldn’t hide her pity
to the her good friend Thomas. It was so
difficult to parents when they discovered that
their child had a disability. And especially if the
child was the firstborn. But for these two, she
was afraid, it went further than a simple
disability.
‘Doctor - ’ Sera started saying the word like
an accusation.
‘What is wrong with him?’ Thomas rushed
in.
‘Does he wet his bed still?’ she asked. The
parents nodded. ‘And does he soil himself, you
know poopoo in his bed?’
443
Thomas nodded. Sera, the doctor noticed,
looked at the charts on the walls. ‘He doesn’t
do it every other night, but he does it yes.’
‘And his younger brother, Gideon is it?’
‘Yes.’ Thomas again. ‘He stopped earlier
this year. He doesn’t wet himself.’
‘And_’
‘Not even poopooing.’ Sera interjected
impatiently.
‘We wondered Winnie,’ he saw his wife jerk.
‘Is he perhaps just slow, you know like down
syndrome or something?’
‘He may just be slow, yes but he does not
have down syndrome you can be sure. He
shows no physical signs of malformation or
underdevelopment that is most obvious in a
child with down syndrome.’
‘So what could it be?’
‘I have a theory.’ The doctor said and
watched as Sera sneered. ‘He may have been
444
delivered late.’ She raised her hand when she
saw that they were going to question her.
‘Let me explain. What I mean is, the baby
may have already been delivered, you know
severed from the mother, but delayed in the
mother’s body. As a result, the child might
have been denied oxygen which could have
affected his brain_’
‘My child is mad?’ Sera asked incredulously.
‘No not mad Mrs. Maina. His brain might
have been affected by the lack of oxygen but
not to a great extent. The child seems to only
lack in the ability to speak. He may grow up
and develop slower than normal children but
with the close attention and care of the both of
you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t give him a
normal up bringing.’
‘So he will heal?’ the father asked hopefully.
Winnie hated to see that expression on his
face, because she knew she had to break it.
445
‘What he has is not an illness Thomas,’ she
explained kindly. ‘You have to understand that
your child will always be special,’ she looked at
Sera when she said this. ‘He will for instance
probably never develop any motor skills_’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning that he might never be able to
write, to draw_’
‘So how will we communicate?’ again, Sera
interrupted the doctor.
‘He appears to hear and understand. And
given time, and the ability of all living things
animals included to learn by rote, he will come
to understand a selective diction. But am
afraid, I do not think that he will learn how to
speak.’
‘Sign language?’ Thomas asked.
‘Everything will depend on how he is taught
and for how long. Sign language is not an easy
446
thing to learn, try it’ she smiled gently. ‘It
might prove to difficult for him to grasp_’
‘So what’s the use?’
‘Sera!’ Thomas was aghast.
‘Mrs. Maina,’ the doctor spoke finally losing
patience with the crass woman. ‘You should be
thankful. You almost gave birth to a still born
baby. A few minutes longer and you would
never have had Solo,’ the child perked his head
at the mention of his name. ‘Thank God for
having such a special child.’
‘He is mad isn’t he?’ she directed this at her
husband. And then as if she accused him, she
stood up and left the office.
Thomas apologised for his wife’s
callousness. But Winnie shushed him. ‘Don’t
worry about it Tom. You just take care of this
child of yours. That wife of yours…’
447
‘She will come around Winnie,’ Thomas had
said as he stood to leave. ‘She just needs to be
understood.’
‘Well, better you than me.’ She had
answered also standing up. She walked them
to the door. ‘Just make sure you bring this little
man right back here whenever you need to.’
‘Thanks Winnie. You are a good friend.’
‘No sweat Tom.’ And as he stepped out into
the corridor she mouthed, ‘Sorry.’
He didn’t need her to expound. They both
knew what she meant.
Life in the Maina household settled to a
semblance of peace after that. Thomas found
himself spending less time at home now. It hurt
him ever time he came home and saw his
eldest son. And the accusing eyes of his wife
haunted him even when he slept. At work, he
started losing concentration.
448
Gideon by contrast, grew up quite fast.
Physically as well as mentally. He didn’t know
what was wrong at home, but he knew that his
mother was always angry and his father, who
had been such an exuberant fellow, was this
days dour and his smiles were few and getting
fewer.
That his parents didn’t get along, was not a
secret to him. And his brother, Gideon loved
Solo unconditionally. When he went to play
with the other children in the neighbourhood,
he got Solo to tug along. Being older, Solo was
larger than Gideon who was rather wiry even
then.
He didn’t play a lot with the other kids
though. He just ran out with them but when
they formed teams for their games, he was
always left out. Not one to assert himself, he
always ended up at the fringes playing with his
brother.
449
‘Why can’t you brother talk?’ he was asked
one day by one of the bigger boys.
He had shrugged. As if to tell the other boy
it was none of his business. But the larger boy
wouldn’t let it go. With the characteristic
cruelty of six-year-olds he had started
chanting; ‘mad boy! Mad boy!’ and as he
chanted, he had started clapping laughing and
pointing at Solo.
‘No!’ Gideon shouted defending his brother.
‘He is not mad!’ but the chant had been picked
up by the other boys and they were now all
laughing and pointing at Solo.
Gideon was close to crying now. He picked
up stones and hurled them at the big bully who
had began it. Solo, who at this time had been
digging up at the ground, stood up and seeing
his younger brother futilely trying to pelt the
bullies, he had picked up a large rock and
thrown it at the bully.
450
It hit him right in the belly. He had
immediately stopped laughing. He was bent at
his waist holding his ribs where the rock had hit
him hard. He couldn’t stop his tears as he
turned and hobbled home. ‘I will tell on you,‘
he warned Gideon ominously.
Gideon had lived the rest of that week in
the morbid fear of what his mother would do
when she was informed of Solomon’s actions
that day. But as days turned into weeks and
still no word had come from the bully’s
parents, Gideon started to relax.
But he didn’t go out to play as much. After
that incident, he didn’t have many friends
anyway. So he had limited himself to playing in
their compound with his brother. But of course
he missed the rapid conversations that he held
with the other kids. But since he wouldn’t leave
his brother behind and he wouldn’t expose him
451
to the ridicule of bullies, he learnt to do without
the company of other kids.
He held the conversations, but alone, by
himself. In his mind, he built characters and
they talked through him, transacted business,
fought and played together.
When he was six himself, Gideon Maina
joined primary school. And that was when Sera
got her harebrained idea. She decided that it
would be good for Solomon if he joined primary
alongside Gideon. She had never actually come
to terms with the child’s disability.
‘Being with normal children might make him
pick up.’ She had explained to Thomas.
And by pick up, he knew she meant become
normal. It was as though Sera thought he was
doing it on purpose or that it was an illness
that could be cured. But being one who hated
arguments, Thomas had relented.
452
In neat brown shorts and a cream shirt,
brown jersey and an elastic tie, the two boys
had reported for first day in primary school.
Gideon even then, knew that this was recipe
for disaster. And to make matters worse, they
were put in different classrooms. It was a
school policy that siblings weren’t put in the
same classroom so that they were exposed to
different environments and different people.
Gideon had tried to explain to his father
that he needed to be with Solomon so that he
could watch over him but Thomas perhaps
caught in the same spirit that had caught his
wife, decided against this. He had explained to
Gideon that the teachers knew best.
He explained to the teacher that Solomon
was a slow learner. Which one is he? The
teachers had asked. So his father had pointed
a finger at Solomon. The teachers had smiled
and told him not to worry. They would be sure
453
to take care of that. It was obvious that they
had greatly under rated his dad’s words and
Gideon was shocked when his father didn’t try
to explain further.
His brother wasn’t a slow learner Gideon
thought desperately. He just doesn’t belong
here. But as he had watched helplessly, his
father had bid him farewell and asked him to
be good. Gideon had never been so sad to see
his father walk away.
The first week of school had been extremely
busy. Everything was new for Gideon and he
even managed to forget about his brother in
his effort to grasp what he was being taught.
In the other class however, Solomon had
fast become the local zany. He bore the brunt
of all the kids’ jokes. He was so slow in fact
that he tried even the teacher’s patience. They
had been told that the child was slow but this
was a complete retard.
454
Solomon didn’t mind the jokes though. He
didn’t understand them. He laughed right along
with the other kids. But when they began
shunning him, chanting ‘mad one!’ repeatedly,
he started getting depressed.
At home, he was noticeably moody. And
then his tantrums started. Previously, he would
occasionally sulk like any normal child. But
following the first week of school, his tantrums
were major. There were times he started
shouting and pulling his hair. One day Gideon
found him pounding his own head on a wall.
And try as he did, he hadn’t been able to get
his brother to stop. It was as though Solo had
demons in his head he wanted to let lose, but
to do that, he had to break his cranium first.
Pulling his brother and crying at the same
time, the younger boy had managed to get his
elder brother off the wall.
455
It got worse when the second week of
school started. Solomon was mumbling to
himself one day in class, when the class whiz –
but also the most notorious boy, came up to
him and started mocking him.
At first, Solomon smiled and increased the
sing song moaning he was doing. But soon, the
other boy started pulling at his ears and
holding out his tongue. Even Solomon knew he
was being teased. His volatile temper erupted
and he shot off the seat. He reached for the
boy but he ran.
Solomon ran after him and they chased
each other around the class. Solomon ran
determinedly but he didn’t have the cunning of
his would be prey. The other boy jumped over
a seat and as he leaped from it, he pushed it
back right into Solomon’s legs. Solomon wailed
as he hit into the seat collapsing to the floor.
456
The boy in class and some girls were now
laughing at the ‘mad one’. The bell for break
rang just then. Solomon got to his feet tears
streaking down his cheeks. He was crying with
a sickening deep sound. The bully ran out of
the class laughing his head off.
Solomon was out after him a moment later.
The boys followed laughing and pointing
fingers at Solomon. They raced to the field
where Solomon reached for the first stone he
saw. He hurled it at the bully who laughingly
evaded it.
But now, the boys were working as a team.
They also picked up stones and began hurling
them at the crying child. ‘mad one! Mad one!’
they chanted as some mimicked the sad crying
sound he was making.
He was soon surrounded and as he tried to
run toward his first tormentor, Solomon tripped
on his laces that had come undone and fell flat
457
on his face. As he cried now, mucus ran down
his nose. The boys laughed harder as they
threw stones at him.
A girl in their class came out of nowhere.
She shoved off the boys and went to the crying
Solomon. Seating on the ground, she pulled
Solomon onto her lap and he pitifully turned his
face into her tunics.
Gideon came to the field attracted by the
gathering as was every other child. And as he
neared the group, his heart beat faster. He
sensed that it had to be Solomon or something
to do with him.
When he got to the gathering, and saw the
pitiful sight of Solomon in the lap of a girl
crying his eyes out, the little boy’s heart broke.
He couldn’t stop his own tears as he ran to his
brother.
He sat beside the girl and Solo shifted to his
lap without a word. Gideon held his weeping
458
brother and looked up at the girl. Thus he met
Hannah Kheri for the first time. His eyes
thanked her for her kindness.
He turned to the boys who still stood
laughing and holding rocks. He took their faces
in one at a time. Through his tears he
memorised those faces. They would pay for
what they had done today.
Hannah would later tell him, ‘I fell in love
twice that day. When I saw your brother being
hunted like that and he was fighting back all
alone, my heart went to him and I couldn’t help
myself but love him. But when you cam
running and took him, I loved you
immediately…’
That incident had gone to the teachers.
After a meeting, they had decided that they
would have to let Solomon go. When Thomas
Maina was called to the office by the
Headmistress, he was told that the school was
459
not the right environment for his child. He
would benefit more in another school. The
Head came close to telling him to try a school
for the mentally retarded but she didn’t want
to be cruel.
So dejected, Thomas had taken his son
home with him. As they left, Solomon had
looked back at Gideon and waved. He had
never waved at him. And when he had looked
back, he had seen Hannah waving. To this day,
he didn’t know who Solo had been waving at
that morning.
Sera had taken the news badly. ‘Who is he
going to stay with?’ she had shouted. Gideon
had buried his head in the pillow to mute the
voices of his arguing parents. But he had heard
the shouting no less.
‘Sera could you just be a little less selfish?’
Thomas had thundered.
460
‘I will not stay at home all day with him. He
is a mad child Thomas who knows what he will
do!’
But there hadn’t been any other way.
Solomon had stayed home with his mother
everyday as Gideon went to school. But to
placate her, Thomas had promised to begin
searching for a special school.
On her part, Sera soon found that staying
with Solo was not that bad. She simply
pretended the child was not around. And when
she decided to be naughty, he would never tell
anyway. She could even invite him to watch!
At school, Gideon cooked his revenge. The
ripple effect of Solo’s breakdown and
consequent expulsion ensured that he was the
new fall guy. The chants became ‘mad one’s
bro!’ he hated everyone at school. Everyone
except Hannah. She was his only friend. She
461
was fearless and hassled with the boys just like
one of them.
Gideon was in awe. He was a quiet boy
even then. But Hannah didn’t know how to shut
up. She was always being punished for noise
making. When the first term exams’ results
came out, Gideon was first in his class and
Hannah in hers.
They were together at breaks, at lunch time
and when they went home, Hannah insisted
that they walk together.
They didn’t live far from the school and so it
was safe after the first few weeks for the
children to walk home. Gideon doubted
whether his mother would have come for him
anyway.
Hannah lived at the Railway Flats. They
walked the straight road toward both their
places but after half a kilometre, she turned
462
right. And they bade each other goodbye till
the next morning.
‘I have to cross the railway tracks and then
am home,’ she explained to him. And that was
when Gideon had the idea.
The bully who had caused Solo’s breakdown
– as Gideon saw it, was called Peter Kisa. One
day after classes, Gideon went to him.
‘I have a fight with you,’ he had told the
larger boy.
Peter, an unabashed attention seeker had
looked around to make sure that his cronies
had heard. Then he looked at Gideon. ‘You are
the mad one’s brother aren’t you?’ he
sniggered. His friends giggled annoyingly.
‘I have a fight with you,’ Gideon repeated.
‘Where, when?’ Gideon told him.
That afternoon, classes ended for the lower
primarians at three, Gideon had gone ahead of
Hannah towards home. However, when he
463
reached the junction that she took, he followed
it and ran up to the tracks.
The train arrived at 3.30 in the station – he
had asked his father. Now, to effect his plan.
He rigged the booby trap and waited.
He had dug a hole close to the tracks where
the soil was soft the previous evening. It was
just about two feet deep and three feet in
length. It wouldn’t harm anything. But inside it,
he placed a hornet’s hive. It was dry and
unused. Just a husk. But it would do.
As he waited in the tall grass beside the
path that cut across the rail tracks, he saw
Peter Kisa arrive. As he had thought, the boy
was accompanied by his cronies. They had
come to witness his thrashing of the ‘mad
one’s bro.’
Gideon would show them. He waited as he
glanced at his wrist digital watch. He knew how
to read time, thanks to a diligent father. It read
464
3:20; he waited. The boys stood in the grass
and looked around.
‘Where are you coward?’ Peter Kisa
shouted. It was a disserted rout at this time of
the day. Usually, it got its heaviest traffic at
five pm and in the mornings as works went to
and from work. Now, it was just their
playground – or fighting ground.
‘Am here,’ Gideon said suddenly emerging
from the long grass. They turned as one to look
at him. The tracks were behind him. He looked
at his watch. It read 3:25. it was now or never.
‘You fatso!’ he shouted at Peter Kisa and
then turned on his heel and fled. Peter Kisa
hated the term ‘fatso’. He was actually a large
boy bordering on fat. And being called so was
just asking for it.
Besides, the boy was running like a scared
girl. He would show ‘her’. His friends urging
him on, he took after the wiry boy. He signalled
465
for them to stay back. He is mine boys am
afraid you are just gonna have to sit this one
out. He thought in Rambo’s voice as he closed
the distance between him and the boy.
Gideon couldn’t have planned it any better
if he had been paid. Granted, a large element
of luck was on his side, but it worked like
clockwork.
Gideon paced himself so that the larger boy
could catch up quickly. He didn’t have to fake it
much, Peter was much faster than him. Plus he
had a reputation to hold, Gideon didn’t.
He ran over the hole he had dug hoping that
he hadn’t so obviously jumped over the dry
twigs and leaves he had covered –
amateurishly, it with.
Peter was none the wise as he came
blundering up behind Gideon. He was so close
now. The boy would pay when he got his fist
466
around him. He stepped onto the dry twigs and
the world parted below his feet.
His foot sunk into the hole and he fell badly.
With his weight, Peter screamed as he felt his
left ankle twist. And then as he looked back at
the hole, he noticed the husk for the first time.
But in his mind, he only saw a hornet’s nest.
He lifted himself off on his right foot and
skipped up to the track where he sat down. He
gingerly touched his left ankle anxiously
looking out for hornets.
Then he felt Gideon’s presence. ‘You are
dead,’ he spoke through clenched teeth.
Gideon looked down at him and then viciously
kicked at the ankle. ‘Awww!’ Peter wailed
trying to move away from Gideon and hit at
him at the same time.
The smaller boy squatted at the boy’s foot
and held out his hands. ‘Let me help you.’ All
this time, Peter’s cronies were not ten yard
467
away sniggering at the surprising outcome of
the bout. Peter didn’t want to look at them.
He stretched the broken foot slowly to
Gideon. ‘If you try anything I will skin you.’ His
bravado was still high and he noticed that a
few of the boys laughed obviously happy at
this. He made it look as though Gideon was
helping him or else…
His sneer washed off his face when he
bothered to pay attention to what the other
boy was doing. Gideon had tied the bully’s
shoe lace on to the rails! ‘What are you doing
you oaf?’
But Gideon smiled and said a cold ‘ciao’ and
then left the rail. He pointed toward the left as
he did. That was when Peter heard the whistle.
It was the train whistling to signal its
nearing the station. He watched eyes wide in
horror as the train came closer and closer.
Frantically, he turned to his foot and tried to
468
undo the lace. But his fingers shaking badly, he
untied the simple knot into a tight double knot.
He was held fast to the tracks.
In those moments of pure anguish, Peter
was torn between trying to get his injured foot
loose off the track, he recalled that he was
seated on the bloody path and thought about
getting off the rail, and mostly, he thought
about the train that loomed closer each ticking
second.
It was a whole football pitch length off but
to Peter’s anguished mind, it was a foot away!
He was now crying like the baby he was.
The boys – his cronies, were in shock and
had stood there frozen. They all thought the
same thoughts that ran through Peter’s mind
and couldn’t get their small minds settled on
any single action.
Only Gideon Maina reserved his cool. And
he was cool. He sat back on his haunches
469
before Peter Kisa. He looked at the crying boy
and he felt a moment of sizzling pleasure. This
was how revenge ought to taste. And boy,
wasn’t it sweet.
The train loomed closer. ‘Peter,’ he spoke
clearly, coldly loking strainght into the bully’s
eyes. ‘You want some help?’
‘Get me off this thing!’ Peter cried. ‘The
train oh my God its going to hit me!’
‘Yes that’s right,’ Gideon said. ‘And you
know why?’
But Peter was beyond any thoughts past his
imminent demise. He hadn’t even moved off
the tracks. His eyes were glued to the
approaching train. It hooted again now seventy
yards from the boys.
‘Peter!’ Gideon called him forcefully. ‘Look
at me when I talk to you!’
470
Peter was crying shamelessly. ‘Help me, ’
he wailed repeatedly. But everyone was still
glued. Only Gideon remained animate.
‘My brother Peter. You remember my
brother? Mad one?’
‘Oh please,’ the boy wailed pitifully looking
at Gideon now. His tears were streaming down
his face pathetically. ‘Am sorry. Am so sorry.’
Peter was struggling to hold his bladder.
‘Please help me.’
‘No.’ Gideon said simply and stood up on his
feet. ‘Well, die now Peter!’ and then he started
walking away toward Peter’s cronies, who even
now seemed not to know which way was left or
right.
‘Gideon!!!’ Peter shouted at the top of his
lungs. Gideon turned and gave him such a cold
look, that for an instance, Peter was shocked to
silence. And then his mind started running
double-time again; the shoe laces – untie the
471
shoelaces, the track – get off the track and, the
train – the train is coming for you… and as it
hooted for one last time, his bladder let go and
so did his rectum. Peter fainted from his agony.
Gideon smiled a cold smile. The train,
stopped at the station, fifty yard from the boys.
The boys – Peter’s cronies finally became
active, in a collective sigh of relief, they rushed
to aid their fallen friend.
Peter came to almost immediately. What hit
him first was the pain in his ankle and then the
actions that had taken place for the last five
minute. He looked at Gideon, Gideon looked
back at him and winked. And then the smell hit
him. Apparently, it hit his friends at the same
time.
Holding their noses, they ran from him. And
then one started laughing. Soon all of them
were laughing hysterically. It was nerves but
they didn’t know. Peter, was one shocked boy.
472
He got off the track as fast as he could –
someone had gotten his laces presumably
before the stench from Peter’s excrement got
to him, and hobbled on his right foot.
The pain in his left ankle had lessened to a
dull ache. He tasted his weight on it. When he
was sure he could walk, he limped away from
the track. But there he was faced with the
problem of what to do with his soiled shorts.
There was a huge wet stain on the front, right
along the crotch and at the back. He was
mortified. His tears came back.
Gideon turned his back on the bully. He had
no remorse absolutely. Hannah appeared. She
was on her way home.
‘Nice trick,’ she said. So she had been there
awhile. Actually for the first time, Gideon felt a
little guilt. He did not want Hannah hating him
for what he had done. ‘How did you know the
train doesn’t pass the station?’
473
‘I didn’t.’ and they had looked into each
others eyes for a long time. Hannah trying to
decide whether or not Gideon was lying, and
Gideon doing the same thing. Having not
reached at conclusive answers, they had bade
each other farewell and then proceeded their
opposite ways home.
16
474
SHE WAS ECSTATIC. Her tutor was
quite happy with her progress. Following
her entry into the ‘onto becoming a
woman’ stage, the girl had developed a
passion for the piano. She asked her
mother about it and being a child that
never asked for anything, her mother had
been shocked into accepting
immediately.
So she had been enrolled into a piano
class. All this was during the Christmas
holidays. The small girl had no other
passion. She solemn notes that the tutor
hit on the keys, struck a cord deep inside
the lonely child’s soul.
She lived for the piano. And soon it
was discovered that she had an extra,
most vital ingredient to being a good
player, she had innate talent.
475
The ease with which her finger ran
over the keys was astonishing even to
her tutor who had been around for quite
sometime. But in her experience, the old
woman nurtured her charge’s talent
skilfully and patiently.
What shocked her though, was the
girl’s preoccupation with the sadder more
sombre pieces. She played the faster
renditions properly when asked to, but
without the pleasure or the naturalness
in which she did the slower melancholic
tunes.
After learning the solfa ladder, she had
quickly picked up Silent Night of all
things. She wasn’t as patient to read
music though. She preferred to watch Ms.
Reech play and then copy her fingers’
movements on the keys. And this she did
with remarkable ease for one so young.
476
But she had an ear for music. Her fingers
seemed to know just where next to go.
But Ms. Reech remained adamant. She
impressed upon the girl the need to learn
to read music. If she wanted to be a
performer, she couldn’t expect to play
only the pieces that she knew off head.
There would come a time when she would
need to read for herself and play.
Besides, Ms. Reech wouldn’t always be
there. This last argument had perhaps
cinched it.
Ms. Reech had embarked on a
thorough programme. But she had good
motivation in the girl. She was pure
talent. So every morning, Ms. Reech
arrived at the colonial mansion in her Mini
Morris and headed straight to the girl’s
bedroom where the upright piano had been
installed.
477
She had a tutoring school in town, but that
she left to her junior staff. She didn’t insist that
the girl join the rest of her pupils in town. She
was special talent. And Ms. Reech was
determined to nurture her into special
stardom. If only she wouldn’t play the sadder
tunes so.
Soon, the Christmas holiday were over. It

was time to go back to school and to a higher
class. The small girl dreaded going back to
school. She had no friends. When she walked
down the corridors, she could swear she heard
people sniggering behind her back, pointing
fingers.
Actually, she had a nickname; ugly
duckling. But she didn’t know it yet. When the
first term drew to a close, there was normally a
flurry of activity at the prestigious school.
Exams had to be marked and corrections
478
made. Report books had to be compiled and
the relevant signatures appended. And the
Parents Day had to be planned for. It was an
annual event that took place every first term of
the year. The parents were invited to the
school auditorium where they met and were
presented with the annual budget, and general
school progress.
The students were awarded certificates of
merit for best performance on this day in the
school Auditorium before their parents. Also,
they got to showcase their talent by acting
skits, singing, dancing and doing whatever else
their teachers could come up with – it wasn’t
only the pupils ‘strutting’ their stuff up on
stage after all.
The exams were done early enough to
leave one and a half weeks before the Parents’
Day meet which was also the closing date.
479
And so the teachers came hunting for
‘talent’. In her class, there was a thick air of
expectation. Only the best got chosen. The
classes were converted instantly into audition
halls. Several teachers – drama master, choir
master, arts and crafts master even the
swimming master, this last one caused such a
laugh that he decided to squash his idea
totally. He wouldn’t get to ‘strut’ his stuff. Well,
there was a next time.
In the small girl’s class everyone was
speaking in loud whispers. Impromptu
skits were being enacted at all corners of
the class by the more active boys. These
caused nervous laughter from their
classmates.
When the door opened to reveal the
panel of teachers, they were five, the
class quietened in a hush.
480
‘Good morning everyone, we have
come here for this year’s talent search.’
Began one of the masters – the drama
master; everyone’s favourite. ‘You are
now older children than last year so
maybe you don’t want to participate_’ he
made as if he was leaving.
‘No!’ the class chorused and they all
fell into squeals of laughter.
‘Hmmm, ’ he turned toward them.
‘This is the most promising class.’
His ploy had worked. The youngsters
were ready to act their arses off. He
introduced the other teachers who
everyone knew in the first place.
‘Well, there is only one way to do this,’
he paused and looked at the kids waiting
for the anticipation to build. And when it
was almost tangible – some boys were
481
coughing rather alarmingly, he said;
‘volunteers!’
But this time, no one stood up. They
feared one another he knew. He couldn’t
allow that. He would get out of this class
empty or with the wrong people if that
happened. And he wanted the crème de
la crème. His idea this year was going to
be marvellous. He didn’t want the
potentially good actors cowering in the
rapidly building anxiety in the room. A
joke someone. Tell a bloody joke! The
tension was almost palpable now as he
looked from one pupil to another,
noticing how they refused to meet his
eyes.
‘Come on, I need a volunteer,’ he
coaxed willing mentally for someone to
come up with a joke or a prank, anything
that would ease the tension. ‘Someone…’
482
‘Ugly duckling,’ a boy quipped from an
indiscernible source. A few sniggers
started at the back. And spread as they
told each other the joke.
‘What? Who is that?’ the teacher asked
feigning a harsh tone. He knew his wish
had been answered.
‘Ugly duckling,’ somebody else said
from the other corner of the class. And
this time it was loud and clear and the
whole class erupted in laughter. The
small girl smiled too – she was as taken in
by the drama teacher as everyone else.
‘Ah, the ugly duckling,’ the teacher
said eliciting even more laughter. ‘Now
who might that be.
‘You are all ugly ducklings to me.’
‘No!’ they chorused.
‘Who is it then?’ and as they laughed,
some boys surreptitiously pointed
483
fingers. The small girl was none the wiser
as she laughed a little. Then she noticed
her deskmate leaning away from her. The
boys were pointing right at her.
‘Ugly duckling,’ they whispered. And it
was almost like a horror movie or a
nightmare. She kept hearing the harsh
whispers coming from everywhere around
her; ‘ugly duckling, ugly duckling…’ and
fingers all around pointing at her, the
laughter… she got off her desk on shaky
feet and ran out of the class. In her ears,
the chanting had escalated into a roar
that threatened to deafen her. She ran
almost blindly her hands over her ears,
and hot tears streaming down her
cheeks.
And almost as though she was guided
there, she found herself at the door to
the music room. She knew she would
484
attract attention to herself if she went on
running down the corridors crying her
eyes out and with her hand over her ears
like the hear-no-evil monkey.
The door to the music room was open.
It was a temptation that proved too great
not to yield to. She pushed the heavy
door and entered the dim room. It was a
huge room that had charts all over the
soft boards on the walls that showed
pictures and drawings of several musical
instruments, the solfa ladder and
numerous hymns. She could see a picture
of Beethoven over the large desk that
belonged to the music teacher.
There were several instruments – the
school band stored their instruments in
this room, but only one held her interest.
Over by the draped windows, stood a
white grand piano. She had heard the
485
teacher play it on one occasion and had
immediately fallen in love with it.
She had fantasised about playing it,
but being shy and reclusive, she couldn’t
approach the teacher. And since she
wasn’t in music class – her father had
refused it, she could just covet from a
distance.
Every time she had passed by, she had
found the room either closed or occupied.
Today, was actually a miracle. And so
unexpected too. She reached her small
hand and touched the glossed wood with
her fingers.
She opened the cover and ran her
fingers on the ivory keys. Their smooth
cold feel was a tonic to her wounded
heart. She sat on the stool her heart
pounding in her chest.
486
And then almost breathlessly, she
splayed her fingers on the keys and let
them have their own reign. Immediately,
she was pulled into the world of dreams.
She left the present world and its turmoil,
she forgot that she was unloved, an ugly
duckling, and in this world she became a
swan.
The sad notes she inadvertently
played, hit right inside her heart. The
vibrating strings set an answering
resonance in the depths of her soul. And
she cried. But these were not tears of self
pity, the tears she shed were cleansing.
She felt herself become lighter, as her
fingers flew over the keys as if with a life
of her own; the tears fell leaving her body
with all the extra baggage that she
wielded.
487
‘Wow!’ she was stunned and her
fingers froze over the keys. Her first
thought was busted, busted. She had not
thought what she would do if it came this
far. She had not thought at all period.
She heard the footsteps draw closer
behind her. She daren’t look back and
frantically, she swiped at her tears with
the sleeves of her school jersey. She felt
the hand on her shoulder, it was soft and
tender but still, she flinched.
‘Let me not stop you,’ she heard the
silky baritone. It was the music teacher.
‘Please keep playing, you are quite
talented.’
She had her shawl draped tight to
cover her face. From the back, she knew
he couldn’t see her. She just wished the
floor could open beneath the stool she
488
sat on so that she could disappear. Oh
why hadn’t she thought this far?
‘Tell me your name,’ he said when her
fingers stayed frozen over the keys. She
croaked her name in a barely audible
voice. ‘What class are you in?’
She croaked the answer once more.
‘You ought to be in my music class.’ He
said and then he came forward, the small
girl thankful the hand had left her
shoulder. But then what he did shocked
her even more.
He reached down and sat on the stool
she was seated on! Granted it was long
and they fit well after he nudged her with
his hip, she had never experienced such
intimate closeness with anyone. Not even
her mother. And she just managed to stay
on the stool and not jump out of her skin,
or run away from the music room.
489
He placed his fingers along side hers
on the keys. If he noticed her anxiety, he
didn’t let on. His fingers were neat and
long she saw. Her shawl still hid her face
from him – not that he was gazing at her.
She was still seated beside him her
fingers on the keys, her body wound
tighter than a guitar string, when she
heard – him strike the keys. He was
playing exactly what she had been
playing. He stumbled once and then when
he started again, she knew he had it.
He was skilled. And with a nudge in
her side with his right elbow, she knew
what he asked. Her fingers picked up on
their own, and she joined in the tune on
the higher octave. She had done this with
Ms. Reech – shared the keys but it had
never been this intense an experience.
490
Maybe it was because with Ms. Reech,
it had been one up beat tune or the
other. But with the music teacher, it was
as though she was sharing with him her
cross, and he was taking it, aiding her
with its heavy weight. Maybe also it was
because he was a young handsome man
and she was now a little woman.
But soon it was over. He looked
expectantly at her. She froze. This was
what she had feared. Showing her face.
And today, after what had happened in
class, her nerves were raw. She thought
desperately how she could escape.
‘You will be a sensation during the
Parents’ Day,’ he spoke. She forgot
herself and turned her wide eyed face to
him.
And she saw the moment it registered
in his brain what his eyes saw. Oh he hid
491
it well. Reaching for his breast pocket, he
got out a handkerchief and bent his face
into it. He blew his nose convincingly. But
she had been looking right into his face
looking for the revulsion, she could not
have missed it.
‘You are good,’ he said looking right
into her eyes. ‘You should not hide such
beauty.’
And although she knew he meant the
music, it warmed her starved heart. She
decided to forgive him. She smiled back.
‘Good,‘ he said putting the folded
handkerchief back into the pocket. ‘You
will be great next Friday.’
And looking deep into his warm eyes,
she nodded shyly. She would be
beautiful. The ugly duckling would be a
beautiful swan.
492
The music teacher smiled harder. He
would get to ‘strut’ his stuff too. And in
what style, he could hear the accolade
already, the shouts ‘encore, encore…’
Gideon Maina grew like a weed. He was

outgrowing clothes by the month it seemed.
Life for him was more of the same. He went to
the same school he still had a good friend in
Hannah and he came home every eveing to his
elder brother.
Actually at school, Gideon was known as the
psycho kid. He didn’t get bullied but then he
didn’t get new friends either. Who wanted to
be friends with a psycho kid? Hannah was who.
She was a delightful girl who drew attention
to her like shit draws flies. With her sunny fear
nothing attitude to life, she was fun and easy
to be with. She had a lot of friends. But she
liked Gideon most. And that was fine with him.
493
He was becoming more and more
introverted. But his mother didn’t notice, and if
she had, she would not have done anything
about it. His father was another story
altogether.
He was becoming rare and more rare at
home. It was obvious to Gideon that a large rift
existed between his parents. Thomas spent
more time at the office and at the bars than he
did at home. It started with an after work
shindig, where he would indulge himself to one
or two drinks. This went on until in no time, he
had progressed to the daily one too many
stage.
And Sera didn’t mind his absence in the
least. But when he came home later and later
each night, Gideon would hear them arguing,
his mother yelling and yelling at his father.
Gideon loved his father whole heartedly. He
tolerated his mother and feared her. But that
494
was the extent of the emotions he felt towards
her.
Solomon on his part was becoming more
and more antsy. His tantrums were becoming
more and more frequent, and although Gideon
didn’t catch him banging his head against the
wall again, he was getting quite irascible.
Gideon wondered if his parents noticed. He
wondered if they noticed anything. He wished
thing could go back the way they had been
when his dad used to spend more time home.
But he was a child, it wasn’t his place to make
the suggestion.
But he thought aloud to Hannah. She was
his confidant. She continued to draw the
attention of fellow pupils and teachers as the
years went by. And she was sharp and
intelligent too. Gideon was all too ready to
share her with everyone. He never sought her
495
out in fact. It was always Hannah who came
looking for him.
He would see her in a crowd completely
capturing the attention of everyone, and he
would simply stand back and await his chance.
And he usually got it. What pleased him above
all, was that when she was with him, she was
all his. There was no competing for her eye,
she paid attention to no one but him.
In his own way, he was totally captivated by
her. And she was without a doubt captivated
by him as well. They kept their habit of walking
each other home after school. What changed in
the routine was that one day they went all the
way to Hannah’s place or at times they went all
the way to Gideon’s.
Hannah was still quite fond of Solo and he
was enamoured of her. They would mostly find
him playing by himself at the back of their
house. Usually he was seated in the dust
496
making sounds and drawing figures on the
ground.
It always hit Gideon how lonely his brother
was. And even as an adult, these memories
would prove to be hear-rending for Gideon.
Solomon had had no friends. His mother
wouldn’t play with him – she left him to his own
devices as she entertained in the house every
afternoon. He was only called in for lunch, and
one day he had been so dirty from playing
outside that Sera had denied him food. And
then she had made Gideon eat it all while his
elder brother watched.
‘Your paper sir,’ the passenger at his side
said. He mumbled something and took the
outstretched paper. Kisumu was behind them.
They had passed a few towns and Nakuru was
not a long way off now. It was past one pm now
and Gideon could feel his stomach needling
him.
497
He surreptitiously wiped the moisture that
had gathered there. He always got this way
when he remembered Solo’s deprived
childhood and his mother’s cruelty. But all that
culminated in one memory which hurt him
most. And try as he might, clenching his teeth,
he could not get his mind from dragging forth
the memory like some sadistic tormentor.
Gideon was nine years when Sera first
brought a lover to the house. It was all things
considered really longer than it could have
been. Gideon was in upper primary and left
shool at four.
That was perhaps the only reason that
made Sera wait this long. It had been the
neighbour’s husband. She had been eyeing him
over the fence for months. And what had
begun as mild conversation, had escalated to
harmless flirting and soon into the unchartered
regions of risqué and meaningful innuendo.
498
They both knew that only time and space
was what they lacked. This came their way one
afternoon when Gideon was at school. She had
simply curled her finger at her neighbour and
waited.
He had come to her an hour later. His wife
all this time thinking he was in town at the
office. They had fallen into each others’ arms
hungrily. The fact that what they were doing
was forbidden feeding on their hunger and lust
for each other.
‘How long do we have,’ he had groaned as
he sunk his fingers into her ample breasts.
‘Till four lover. Make me happy,’ she had
replied just as breathlessly shedding off her
clothes as she clung to him.
‘The child,’ he had managed tearing his lips
off hers.
‘He’s outside forget him,’ and she had
joined their lips again furiously. And they had
499
indeed forgotten Solo that afternoon as they
writhed and sighed and groaned hitting noisy
and sweaty orgasms.
It became a pattern, until three months
later, the man was discovered by his wife. She
walked out on him and dejected, he told Sera
he never wanted anything to do with her again.
And then he had shifted.
Sera had been nonplussed. It created for
her only a minor annoyance. She had gotten
rather used to the illicit sex. And so she hadn’t
taken long to replace him. And when this new
lover had to leave, she replaced him. And then
she discovered that she could actually have
more fun dumping them. So she did. In the
next six months, she had had as many lovers
to her marital bed.
If Thomas knew anything, he didn’t let on.
And to Sera, it was just the more reason to get
more and more adulterous.
500
One afternoon, as she was busy receiving a
good pounding from a younger man – younger
men were super, Solomon left to his own
devices, wondered.
The new neighbours had not been around
for a month and as such, they didn’t know the
neighbours or their children for that matter.
Solomon, on this fateful day, had gotten
bored with his game and gone off into the
neighbours compound. The fence was torn at
the back and he passed through this gap. He
went straight to the servants’ quarters which
were behind the main house.
He entered the outdoor bathroom. He
looked at the toilet bowl – eastern type, and
suddenly he felt the urge to go. Nonchalantly,
Solomon had dropped his pants and squatted
over the toilet.
The neighbour’s servant girl had found him
like that. He hadn’t closed the door – propriety
501
didn’t bother Solomon. She had stared at him
as he unleashed his load right before her, in
shock. And when he was through, searching
and not finding any tissue paper, Solo had
made his way back to the fence now
apprehensive a little around this adult who
didn’t talk but just stood there staring at him.
The servant had after overcoming her
shock, tried to flash the toilet. But having been
empty for long, the taps to the servant
quarters were still dry. She was angry now.
These kids! Who did they think they were? Well
she would teach this one.
So turning, she just caught as he jumped
over the fence. She quickly marched outside
the gate and went to the neighbour’s house.
She stood at the door one hand on her hip and
knocked. She knocked again when nothing but
silence greeted her.
502
Then at the corner of her eye, she saw the
offensive child. He was seated in the dirt as
though he were a toddler and she could tell
from his size he was at least ten. You are done
for, she thought. And though she couldn’t know
any different, she saw the light dawn in his
eyes that he was in big trouble. He opened his
mouth and ushered a raw guttural sound.
Curiosity piqued despite herself, she had
started toward him when the door was opened.
It swung inwards so fast and abruptly, that
she felt draught hit her face. Her eyes were
greeted by the sight of a beautiful extremely
sensuous older woman in a lacy negligee. Her
hair was tousled as though she had just come
from bed.
And then as she watched, a man appeared
from behind the woman. He was buttoning up
his shirt. He looked young – like he was just out
of high school. They kissed right before her
503
eyes and then after a lingering sultry look, the
man departed.
She stepped back to let him through as
though afraid he might start assaulting her lips
too. She shook her head to compose herself as
she struggled not to look at him go.
‘Well? What is it?’ she was asked by Sera
who did nothing to hide the impatience in her
tone. She looked at the girl from her plastic
shoes to the scarf she tied over her untreated
hair. Maid, she thought with clear disdain.
The servant didn’t miss the dismissive look.
It rankled and she reacted to it. ‘Is that your
child?’ she asked forcefully.
Sera looked toward Solomon who had now
stopped doing anything. He was looking at
them as though he would bolt at anytime. Sera
nodded negligently as if to say; yeah, so?
504
‘Well he has dirtified the toilets in the
servants quarters there,’ she pointed at the
next house.
‘What do you mean dirtified,’ Sera asked
slowly. Mistaking the venom lying underneath
her words as intended for her, she stiffened her
back.
She pointed an accusing finger at Solomon.
He knew he was in problems. ‘I found him
shitting in the toilets just now and they have no
water so they cannot flush.’
‘Are you sure?’ the deadly tone was
unmistakable now. For the first time, the
younger woman feared for the child and
thought that may be she had over reacted.
But she nodded. It was done, these kids
were spoilt. They had to learn a lesson and she
was the one who had to clean the shit anyway.
‘Thank you. You may go.’ She felt the
dismissal like a slap. She would not like to work
505
for this woman, she thought as she left. And as
she turned, her eye caught the young boy’s
and she saw in his the raw fear and felt the
knife of guilt twist in her guts.
She turned and hurried off.
‘Solomon,’ Sera hissed. ‘Get inside!’
The boy obeyed the command quickly. She
slapped his head as he passed by her at the
door. He rubbed at the offended spot as she
came up behind him grabbing the umbrella
that stood at the corner of the room.
‘Go to the toilet,’ she shouted. When he
looked back at her, she hit him on the head
with the umbrella. And as he rushed forward,
she followed him hitting at his back with the
umbrella all the time screaming at him to get
to the toilet.
When he got there, she ordered him to
remove his pants and perch on the bowl. ‘Now
shit!’ she went to hit him again with the
506
umbrella when she realised that it was broken.
She looked like a harridan with her dishevelled
hair and blood shot eyes.
‘When I get back, I want to find you
shitting!’ she turned and walked away. The
scared boy sat there on the bowl wondering
what was being asked of him. He didn’t cry.
Tears didn’t even well in his face, instead his
eyes were an image of astonishment. He
wondered why he was being subjected to this
treatment and of course he could not ask.
And soon, she was back. Sera had in her
hand the wooden handle of the broom. She had
broken it off at the end so that it was now an
apt cane.
‘You dare embarrass me you mad child?’
she roared. ‘Now shit!’ and before Solomon
could react, she raised the broomstick and
lowered it viciously on his naked thighs.
507
Solomon winced. Even now, he would not
shout or cry. He just looked up at his mother in
questioning astonishment.
‘Shit! Shit now!’ she repeated as she rained
blow after blow on her hapless child. Solomon
took them all. She aimed at his naked thighs
and hit him repeatedly. Solomon tried to cover
his stinging thighs uselessly with his hands. He
placed them on his thighs as if he wanted to
explain something to his mother. But the
broomstick landed harshly on his wrists, he had
to remove them. But even as his thighs stung,
Solomon didn’t try to run or shield himself
aside from that feeble attempt to cover his
thighs with his hands.
‘Mad child!’ she thundered raising the
broomstick higher with each successive blow.
Thwack! It sounded as it hit Solomon’s thighs,
the bowl, his shoulders, his elbows and still
more came.
508
Gideon came home to this horrific scene. He
gasped as he watched Solomon’s punishment.
Solomon didn’t cry. His face was still frozen in
that mask of innocent astonishment. And that,
more than anything else, made Gideon cry out
to his mother.
Sera, brought out of her trance by her
younger child, stopped beating Solomon. She
heaved as she fought to catch her breath.
Gideon’s tears were running unchecked now.
‘Dress!’ she commanded Solomon. He
proceeded to do so, getting off the bowl
gingerly. ‘Go to your room. And let never hear
word that you have embarrassed me like that
again!’
without a glance at Gideon, she turned and
went to the kitchen. Gideon had helped his
brother limp to the bedroom they shared.
Through his tears, he could see the ugly welts
that were rising on his brothers thighs. And the
509
painful looking swellings all around with
splinters sticking from some of them.
Gideon got his brother to sit on his bed. He
sat beside him and hugged him fiercely. ‘Sorry
Solo, sorry, am so sorry.’
But Solomon didn’t cry or hug him back. He
just stared ahead at nothing and started
moaning in his deep raw guttural way. Gideon
hugged him tighter sobbing shamelessly now…
‘Hey man look.’ He was brought to the
present once more by the passenger at his
right. Gideon struggled to hide his glazed eyes.
The memories had never assailed him more
than today. Why was he getting this way? The
subject of Solomon was a painful one from
when he was born to how he died. He didn’t
discuss it with anyone and he didn’t think
about it. He was so close to crying Jesus!
He looked at what his seatmate was
pointing at, glad for once for the distraction. He
510
didn’t make friends quickly, and not on buses.
His demeanour discouraged small talk. But he
was glad this once that his seatmate wasn’t
one for looking at demeanours.
He was pointing at the woman who sat one
seat before them, on the row across the
gangway. Actually he was pointing at the
woman’s great buttocks that had spilled –
literally, from the seat and could be seen from
the side.
‘Imagine, that is only a third,’ the man
whispered lewdly. ‘Of one arse!’ he groaned
dramatically.
Gideon smiled in spite of himself.
‘Wouldn’t that be nice in bed man?’ he was
nudged in the side.
‘No,’ he croaked laconically. His voice was
so raw he was certain it gave away his
emotional imbalance. He shook his head to
511
signify to his seatmate that he did not want
any more talk.
Then leaning back, he closed his eyes,
shutting out large buttocks, one third of which
hang off the seat – of one arse! He shut out his
seatmate. And he shut out the painful
memories of his youth. Squeezing his eyes
tight, he struggled especially hard to get the
image of Solo holding out his hands to explain
or fend off the vicious attacks of a torturer – his
mother. And another painful image, an adult
Solo swaying dead from the end of a rope; left
– right, left – right…
They would soon be in Nakuru.
512
513
17
FRIDAY CAME FINALLY. It was the

Parents’ Day. She had with the constant
help of the music teacher, Mr. Gabriel,
managed to polish her 9th Symphony
rendition.
‘Can you read the piece?’ Mr. Gabriel
had asked without much hope in it. She
had shaken her head, cursing why she
never took more interest when Ms. Reech
had struggled to teach her to read music.
But the Mozart piece was too complex
for her. She was out even before she
tried, she thought dejectedly. But Mr.
Gabriel had proven her wrong.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he had said
enthusiastically. ‘You just learn to play it
and we’ll pretend that you are reading
514
the piece. They won’t know the
difference.’
‘You are sure that will be fine?’ she
had asked timidly.
‘You are sure you can learn to play it
by Friday?’ he had asked. She knew it by
heart.
‘I can, with your help.’ And then she
looked down demurely. Such a sight it
touched the teacher. If only she didn’t
look… well there was no helping that, he
shrugged.
‘Then we have us a deal,’ he beamed.
‘You my girl are going to be sensational.
They are going to be shouting your
name!’
He turned out to be quite wrong.
The first setback to what was
otherwise going to be her perfect day
began that morning. They were having
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breakfast. She set her fork and knife on
the saucer and then wiped her mouth just
as she had been taught.
Then she looked at her parents. Her
father’s face was hidden by the day’s
newspaper. Her mother was making notes
as she sipped her coffee.
Tentatively, she spoke. ‘The Parents’
Day is today…’ she her voice trail off.
‘What?’ her mother jerked. She
removed her glasses that perched on her
nose. Then she hit her forehead with her
hand. ‘Sorry baby mummy can’t make it.’
She looked up at her mother with an
astonished face. ‘But mama, I told you_’
‘Yes, yes,’ she interrupted. ‘You will be
performing. But am sorry baby I just can’t
make it.’
She struggled not to cry. But her lips
were shaking terribly.
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‘Oh baby I have to go for a very
important meeting in Uganda.’
‘I told you mama…’
‘Yes I know baby. But I forgot, and now
my plane leaves in an hour, I will not be
back until late in the night.’
‘Everybody is going to be there,’ she
spoke as if to herself. This was a very big
step for her to let herself go before a
whole hall of people. She needed support,
didn’t her mother see that?
‘Sorry baby,’ Purity said soothingly.
She felt like reaching for the frail hand of
her daughter, but they weren’t very
physical, plus, she was a little far down the
table. ‘Look,’ she said instead. ‘Your
father will come.’
She didn’t bother to look towards her
father. She knew he would also have a
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ready excuse. Only her mother would
have made it.
‘John,’ her mother nudged him.
‘Hmm?’ he put the paper down
reaching for his warm cup of tea.
‘It is Parents’ Day at the school and_’
‘What time?’ he interrupted.
‘Huh?’ for a moment she lost him. ‘Oh,
four I think,’ she looked at her daughter
who nodded. ‘Yes, four.’
‘I’ll be there.’ He said gruffly and then
he got up off the table and went to
prepare himself for work.
‘See?’ Purity said smiling. ‘It’ll be just
fine.’
She didn’t see. Her instincts told her it
would not be just fine. She wished that
for once her mother would put her before
everything else. But she didn’t voice this.
Instead, wishing her mother a safe trip,
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she went outside to the car where a
driver quickly took her to school.
It was soon four. All day, she had been
in knots. Dreading that four would not
arrive, then again dreading that it would
come too soon. But she didn’t have a lot
of time to think of these things as Mr.
Gabriel made her play the piece again
and again until it was all she thought
about.
He was happy with himself. He didn’t
know that the girl had known the piece
before hand. And as much as it said a lot
about her ability to learn in such a short
time, such an important and complex
piece for anyone her age, it also said a lot
about the teacher didn’t it?
Bravo Mr. Gabriel. That was truly
sensational! Wouldn’t it be swell to steal the
show right under his fellow teachers’ noses?
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He could not wait. And so teacher and student
locked themselves inside the music room and
the grand piano was the language they spoke.
He won’t come, he won’t come, she
tormented herself as the hour neared. Then;
he will come, he will come, and she was not
sure which one she dreaded more.
She saw him. The participants were at
the back of the stage, but they were all
peeking into the large hall at the
arranged seats for a glimpse of their
parents’ faces. She saw him enter from
the back doors.
He was tall – head above shoulders of
the parents who were around him. And
not just that, but there was an air of
royalty, he was after all a distinguished
politician, a public figure an upstanding
citizen.
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But the girl didn’t indulge in the
pointing and breathless, that’s my father;
that’s my mother that her fellow students
were doing. She simply confirmed that he
had come and then relinquished her spot
behind the curtains to someone else who
needed to check for their parent.
She went over to the piano that stood
at the side of the stage. It was an
upright. The grand piano would be
carried onto stage later. Her presentation
would be the last item on the stage. She
sat down on the piano and soon her
fingers were at it.
She was creating magic. Her own
world where she was a beautiful princess,
where she didn’t need to hide from her
own image…
Without realising it, she had pulled a
few students to her side. Most of them
521
were younger. They sat beside her and
some stood there, just listening. It was
the first time in her life that she had ever
been the centre of attention, granted it
was the music that drew them, yet it was
her playing wasn’t it?
She didn’t bother with the semantics
as more students circled around her. She
played tune after tune, merging them
into one another skilfully. She was even
tempted to play the 9th Symphony but
that would wait for the grand finale! She
was in heaven.
Soon the parents were all seated. After
the salutations by the master of
ceremony, the National Anthem was
played by the band and then the occasion
was underway.
Speeches were followed by the awards
session, which was done by the Guest of
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Honour – a retired ambassador. It was all
a flurry of mindless activity for the girl.
None of it registered on her mind, rather
than to notify her that her time was
nearing.
Soon, it was the drama team’s time on
stage. They were good judging by the
laughter and applause that they
generated from the crowd.
The MC then said in a laughing tone as
they left stage, ‘It is important as the
children exit stage for me to introduce to
the parents a good upstanding member
of this community who is amongst us,’ he
paused. ‘The honourable John Ndati.’
The girl cringed inwardly when she
heard her father’s name. tail wagging
obsequious buffoon, she thought
scathingly of the MC. The applause
reached her from the back of the stage.
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The students murmured beside her, she
ignored them.
‘Sorry I didn’t see you,’ the MC went
on, milking the moment for all it was
worth.
Her father must have given a suitable
reply because she heard the hall erupt in
laughter. He was good at that. He could
move crowds, her mother said. He lived
for it. But he did not understand or even
pay attention to his own child. She felt
her spirits go low again.
But then the MC went on to the next
item. The choir was suitably good. The
applause was rich but not as loud as had
greeted the drama team.
Next was a choral verse by a class
three elocution team. And soon, soon it
would be her. But to her shock, when the
next item was done, she heard incredibly
524
the MC say, ‘and now because of time, it
is going to seven already and some of you
have to cook,’ scattered laughter greeted
that. ‘we will go straight to the speech by
the Guest of Honour, who will be
introduced by the Principal.’
She was too shocked to move. She saw
Mr. Gabriel from the corner of her eye run
off somewhere. She sat there frozen,
unfeeling. It was worse than rejection.
She hadn’t even had the chance to be
rejected. At the back of her mind, she
wondered what the music teacher could do.
Seemingly nothing, for the Principal was
approaching the lectern gathering from the
applause that was coming from stage. The
students stayed conspicuously away from her.
She was glad for that. She didn’t know if the
tenuous hold she had on her emotions could
525
survive a plaintive, ‘sorry’ however heartfelt
and sincere.
The Principal cleared his throat. ‘Ahem!’
then he looked down at the dignitaries’ table.
‘Guest of Honour Ambassador Tomit, members
of the board, distinguished guests, fellow
teachers, ladies and gentlemen, I greet you
all…’ she tuned him out. What a waste of time
she thought suddenly angry. She wanted to go
home. But then she felt someone nudge her
and then she heard the word.
‘… the Master of Ceremony has said quite
correctly that we are out of time, but I think we
have time for this one last presentation, and
am sure when you hear it, you will quite agree
with me. ’
‘Let’s go!’ Mr. Gabriel who had reappeared
mysteriously urged her on her feet. The
curtains were pulled aside and she approached
the grand piano that stood on centre stage. Mr.
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Gabriel was by her side a gentle but firm hand
on her elbow. He was smiling at the crowd as
though he was the only reason that they were
going to listen to this. And maybe he was.
She didn’t look at the crowd until she sat
down in the stool though. Mr. Gabriel sat
beside her ostensibly to turn for her the leafs
of the music piece. They both knew that it was
for show and this made her smile a little.
Perking up, she looked at the crowd and
was floored. They were just so many. And they
were all looking right at her! Looking at her
ugly face, her ugly hands, she couldn’t do this.
She felt the teacher nudge her with his foot.
But she was frozen in terrible fear. But it
was more than stage fright for her. Her life had
been one long sad line of rejection and self pity
that the monsters of self doubt could not be
quelled easily. When they reared their heads,
527
they did so with the single purpose of finishing
her.
She was aware that the crowd was growing
antsy now. Restlessness was creeping in and if
she hadn’t been an eleven year old school girl,
they would surely have started booing.
Mr. Gabriel was noticabely squirming in the
stool beside the girl now. Jesus, he thought
desparately, after all he had done to ensure
she had this chance for her to chicken out now.
He had rushed and whispered in the Principal’s
ear when the MC called him, that this was the
Honourable John Ndati upstanding member of
the community’s daughter. It would not look
nice; it would look nice to let her perform.
And as all these thoughts ran through his
mind feverishly, her eyes fell on her father. He
looked straight at her and didn’t smile or move
a single facial muscle. But his eyes spoke to
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her. They told her cynically, ‘is this what you
brought me here for?’
And she shook her head. Mr. Gabriel, along
with hundreds others, issued a collective sigh
of relief when the girl lay her fingers on the
keys. And when the first note was played, the
rest followed like the sweet harmony she was
playing.
It was moving even to Mr. Gabriel who
hurriedly turned the leafs at the correct time.
Not that anyone was looking, but it was good
to maintain appearances. And she was
beautiful. As she played the music, she felt it
coil around her and carry her off with it. Her
fingers flew over the ivory keys fluently and
without the hesitation with which she did
everything else.
As she drew to the end, everyone was on
their feet in a standing ovation. She didn’t see
them of course. She was still in her own world.
529
And as she wound up, her fingers lingered over
the keys as if reluctant to part like the forced
parting of young new lovers.
The Principal didn’t need to tell the
parents to applaud. Indeed he needed to
tell them to stop. All of them were on their
feet clapping. Some women even dabbed at
their eyes. It was not so much the music as
how she had been transformed on stage as she
played it, that really touched the audience.
‘Was I right when I said it would be worth
your while?’ the Principal spoke over the din
beaming. ‘I was right wasn’t I?
‘That, ladies and gentlemen is the talent we
are nurturing here at Redstone Preparatory.
And I would like the young lady’s parent to
stand, oh raise their hand so that we can
extend this applause to them.’ Who said that
politicians were only in Parliament?
530
The girl was brought to the real world when
the Principal said these words. She looked to
the crowd expectantly at the spot she had
seen her father. She had not let him down this
time. She was sure he would look at her with
pride now. Why everyone else was and she
wasn’t their daughter.
But she couldn’t see him. And standing, she
struggled to get a glimpse of his tall frame.
The Principal was doing the same but trying all
at once to look as though he wasn’t aware of
who the girl’s father was. He was ready to look
as shocked as the rest.
But John Ndati was no where to be seen. He
was not where he had sat. The crowd started
looking around at each other as they kept the
scattered applause now.
And then she saw him. He was at the back
doors. He was leaving! His head was bent upon
his shoulder as though he didn’t want to be
531
noticed, and he was actually leaving! Even
now, he didn’t want to be associated with her.
Her face crumpled and she ran down from
the stage and down the centre aisle in
between the standing crowd. She ran as
quickly as her legs could carry her out a side
door and into the early night.
Her tears streaming down her face, she had
not been able to stop her hands from covering
her ears. She had felt them laugh and point
fingers at her. She had seen them turn and
stare as she ran past and could not help
covering her ears.
Their mouths moved as she ran seeing their
faces merge into a blur and she was certain
they were pointing and laughing and chanting
‘ugly duckling…ugly duckling…’
Solomon’s tantrums escalated after that

evening when his mother beat him. It got to a
532
point where Gideon would walk in on him
pounding his head against a wall more than
once a week.
Once, he watched helplessly as his elder
brother hit his head again and again against
their bedroom wall. He was hitting it so fast
spittle was raining from his mouth. It was as
though the demons in his head were seeking
an outlet. Gideon was sure he would break his
skull when in exhaustion, Solomon had fallen
down onto the bed.
He had looked at his brother anxiously,
afraid to touch him, as he lay on the bed
twitching and groaning in his raw guttural
manner.
His short had ridden up and the scars on his
thighs were visible. Gideon was once again hit
with a heart-rending sadness.
He remembered the day Solomon had been
beaten up by his mother. After he had gone to
533
comfort Solomon, his mother had disappeared
into her bedroom. After a while, she had
appeared looking less dishevelled. She had
obviously taken a shower.
By this time seven had come. She had
proceeded into the kitchen to cook supper.
Gideon had stayed with his brother who had
fallen asleep curled up on his lap.
When she was through and had set the
table, she called Gideon. He woke up Solomon
and told him that it was time to eat supper.
Just then, he heard his father’s familiar heavy
footfalls on the front step.
As he heard the knock, Gideon thought that
his father would be quite alarmed to see the
clearly visible marks on Solomon’s thighs and
learn how he got them.
Clearly, Sera thought the same thing. For
even as Gideon though that, she rushed into
534
the room. She opened the wardrobe – it was
inbuilt into the wall.
‘Get in,’ she hissed at Solomon. And as the
brothers stood there looking at her, one aghast
the other without comprehension, she reached
for Solomon and pushed him into the
wardrobe. After which she closed the door and
locked it. Pocketing the key she turned and left
the room instructing Gideon to follow her to the
table.
Gideon sat at the table forcing himself to
eat. He couldn’t summon the appetite as all he
thought about was his brother curled up inside
the dark wardrobe in the company of clothes
feeling scared and lonely. He fought his tears
throughout.
He knew what his mother would do to him if
he started crying. He feared her. She had been
like the devil herself as she whipped Solo. No,
he couldn’t risk her wrath.
535
‘Where is Solo?’ Thomas Maina asked. He
was drunk and he visibly held himself upright
on the table by effort. The stench of beer
permeated the entire room.
‘He is ill,’ Sera replied in her most acid tone.
‘He is sleeping, he already ate.’
And she didn’t even bother to look at
Gideon. There was nothing he could do about
it. And what could he do? He asked himself. His
father was drunk, he had become a habitual
drunk and had a sprouting beer belly. He could
not tell his father who looked like he was about
to collapse at any moment.
So he kept quiet and became party to the
duplicity.
‘Why were you crying?’ the question to
Gideon, shocked him. His eyes were red and it
was clear that he had been crying. But he had
not thought that his drunk father would notice.
536
‘I am not crying,’ he shook his head but
could not help the tell tale crack of his voice.
‘Where is Solo?’ he asked again his voice
thick with alcohol.
‘Control yourself Thomas,’ Sera snapped.
‘Solomon is asleep.’
‘Is that true?’ he looked right at Gideon. He
was quiet for a while conspicuously avoiding
his mother’s eyes. And then saying a silent
apology to his elder brother, he nodded
weakly.
‘See?’ Sera shot off her seat. She started
clearing the table. They had hardly touched
their food. Gideon had no appetite and nor did
Thomas – albeit for totally different reasons.
When they went to bed, Gideon lay awake
trying to shut his ears from Solo’s sad moaning
songs but again afraid to fall asleep. He heard
from his parents’ room shouting and yelling, all
from Sera. They were arguing again. Then he
537
heard distinctively, his mother saying that it
was time to take the mad child off to special
school.
Gideon was so shocked by this that he was
caught unawares when the door swung open
and his mother stood there. She switched on
the lights. He turned in bed and squinted at
her.
She threw the small key on his bed.
‘Unlock that demon child,’ she told him.
‘Today he sleeps hungry.’ And she stood there
watching as Gideon woke up and did her
biding.
Solomon was crouched on the floor and as
the wardrobe door swung open, he moved into
the corner, cowering away. Gideon called at
him gently stretching out his hands.
‘Pull him out of there!’ Sera snapped
Solomon flinched when he heard her voice and
shrunk from the door. She stepped into the
538
room impatiently and was going to the
wardrobe with the full intention of pulling him
out of there, when Gideon stood firmly in her
way.
For a moment, they stared at each other as
Sera discovered that her son was standing in
her way. Gideon was sure he was going to be
belted at best but he could not stand aside and
watch as his brother was being treated like an
animal. And his docility was what broke
Gideon’s heart. So he stood his ground.
‘Humph!’ Sera said. ‘He is no good, he is
cursed that child, a demon child. One day you
will all see it.’ And with those words, she left
the room banging the door shut.
Her husband was snoring in their bed. She
nudged him rudely in the ribs as she got into
bed. Gideon meanwhile, got his brother out of
the wardrobe cringing when he saw Solo wince
as he stretched his wounded cramped limbs.
539
He didn’t care what his mother said. He
went to the bathroom and got some dettol and
cotton wool and some water. He bathed and
cleaned Solo’s wounds gently and carefully.
Then he applied vasline and told him to lay on
the bed.
He went into the kitchen and served some
of the warm food on a plate. He brought it to
Solo who fed ravenously. All this time he
remained dry eyed and hummed his sad songs
in his deep raw tone.
After he had eaten, Gideon took the plate
back to the kitchen and washed it. Then he
went back to the bedroom and got into his bed.
Solomon was at this time already breathing
deeply in his own bed.
And then came the tantrums. Although his
mother never beat up Solomon again, she
didn’t need to. He feared he and followed he
commands with a sickening bovine docility. But
540
he was not alright and Gideon saw this. The
only person he told though, was Hannah.
One day from school, he had come home to
find Solo in the bedroom trying to put a shirt on
a wire hanger. It was disturbing him. Gideon
placed his bag on his bed and removed his
shoes.
Then he went to help Solo. But as he
reached out to take the shirt and hanger from
his elder brother, Solo suddenly turned and hit
him with the hanger in the face. Gideon sat on
Solomon’s bed his head in his hands. And
Solomon beat him with the hanger until it was
formless. And then he ran out.
All this time, he sat there with his head in
his hands. He didn’t cry and he didn’t try to
fend off the uncalled for attack. In his heart of
hearts he knew he was innocent. But in his
mind he knew he was to blame for everything
541
bad that ever happened to Solomon. And so he
took his punishment as an act of penance.
He didn’t tell anyone what happened. Not
even Hannah. It was his private sin. When
asked why his face had an angry red line
across his left cheek, he said that he had fallen
at school. When asked at school, he said he
had fallen at home.
It happened again the next week. It was a
Sunday and Gideon had spent the whole day at
home playing with Solo. It was in this joyous
moment that suddenly, Solo turned angry.
Gideon never knew and would never know
what had happened to change Solo’s mood like
that but all he knew was that one moment they
were laughing and the next he had backed up
into a wall and his brother stood before him a
rock in his right hand.
Gideon had looked right into his eyes and as
the rock was hurled at him, he remembered
542
asking himself who it really was behind the
mask of the smiling humming docile Solo.
The rock hit his squarely on his right brow.
It cut into his skin deep. Just and inch below
and it would have gouged out his eye. He
remembered looked at his brother dazedly
from the injured eye from which blood was
dripping. He remembered being distracted by
the drops of blood as they rushed past his eye
to his cheek. And the thick dark red drops
reminded his of roaches, thousands of them,
marching down his right eye down his cheek;
and he shuddered even now at the memory.
And then from nowhere, his mother and
father came into view. His mother was slapping
Solomon and saying repeatedly ‘demon child ...
evil child …’ His father though ran to him and
with a cloth, tried to stop the bleeding. The cut
must have been ugly, for he remembered
hearing Thomas curse when he saw it.
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But through all this, his mind was furiously
crying ‘stop … stop beating him …’ but his lips
could not move. He was in shock. He was
rushed to a dispensary. He was stitched and
went home the same day none worse for ware.
But then the pain came when the next week
his father announced that he had found a
school for Solomon. A special school for the
mentally handicapped. And it had boarding
facilities. Solomon was leaving home.
He caught himself touching the scar above
his right eye as the bus moved. A glance
outside the window told him that they had
neared Nakuru.
He could see the lake at the horizon and the
pink line that he knew was actually flamingos.
The bus sped and so did Gideon’s memories.
Solomon’s term calendar was different from
Gideon’s. His holidays came twice in a year.
544
There was on in April and the other in
December till February for the Christmas.
It was during the first month of the year
Gideon turned thirteen when he came home
from school to find his mother in bed with
another man.
When Solomon left the house, it settled into
a surprising tranquil. His mother seemed less
angry at the world and even Thomas was more
often at the house now.
Gradually, their parents stopped arguing all
the time and Gideon was amazed to find that
there was a visible rekindling to their old
closeness.
Could Solo’s absence by the cause of such
peace? Was his presence then the cause of all
the pain and turmoil that home had been all
these years? He doubted it but only Hannah
ever heard these thoughts.
545
‘I cannot answer you that Giddie,’ she told
him in her direct manner. ‘All I know is that am
glad you are not getting beaten up all the
time.’
‘It is not his fault that he gets that way
Hannah,’ Gideon was quick to defend his
absent brother.
‘You know the problem with you?’ Hannah
went on leaning her beautiful face closer to his.
‘You feel too much. You think that its your fault
that Solo was born like that.’
‘No I don’t,’ Gideon said pulling away from
her closeness, thinking exactly what she
accused him of. ‘Let’s change the subject.’
And they had. Hannah was like that, she
was never lost for something to say. She gaily
skipped onto a new topic that suited them both
and lifted his spirits. She was a good friend to
him, and he told her saw.
546
Every month, the Mainas would go to visit
Solomon at the school. It always hit Gideon
what an awful state many of the students were
in. And it made him count his blessings and
thank God that at Solo was not worse. Because
he could have been.
He saw some walking like zombies moaning
to themselves in that sad raw manner that Solo
did at times. They had spittle dribbling down
their mouths and some had clear wet patches
on their shorts – back and front.
Yet each of them had someone who had
come to visit. And they moved with the
unreserved happiness of a child when they saw
the familiar faces from home.
Solomon was no different. Each month they
came, he would run over to them when he saw
them. Usually, Gideon ran over to meet him
and then they would come together toward
their parents.
547
Sera was not comfortable at any of these
visits and she showed it. With a handshake,
she was usually quite done with her eldest
child. But Solo didn’t show any reaction toward
it. Indeed he had a gaiety to him that he had
never had before.
He looked subdued even. Gideon was later
to learn that he was on a daily dosage of drugs
that sedated him. As such, Solo usually came
and then they would all seat in the grass for a
picnic lunch. Most other families did the same.
And then would follow their pathetic
attempts at making conversation with the boy.
He was healthier too Gideon noticed. He hoped
inside that they were treating him well that he
was not being mistreated or anything. And as
he looked at the less fortunate children, the
once with more damage, he wished deep inside
(churlishly selfish) that they would not
somehow infect Solo with their insanities.
548
Leaving was always hard. Not for Solo, or
for the other children no. whenever the bell
rung at exactly 5:30 to signify end of visiting
day, they ran off to their dormitories for a
headcount.
It tore Gideon’s heart to see his brother so
obsequious and docile running like mad from
his family when that damn bell rung. I will
come get you out of here, he would swear. I
will get a good place and then come for you.
Never worry…
Hannah always smiled and called him noble
and gallant when he said this promise in her
presence. And when she held his arm tight in
her hands like that, Gideon knew that she
really meant it.
A surprise hit Gideon in the year that he
turned twelve. His mother got pregnant and
delivered her third child. A girl called
549
Katherine. Thomas was so happy and
emotional, Gideon thought he would cry.
‘Well,’ Hannah questioned him. ‘How does it
feel to have a sister?’
‘It’s probably any man’s.’ was his tight
answer.
Sera hadn’t been sleeping around for
months. Not since she became pregnant
anyway. She had started attending church
meetings and had even gotten close to a
young rector there who counselled her.
She mellowed in her pregnancy and was
even warm toward her husband and Gideon.
She laughed more naturally and showed her
pleasure in people readily.
Thomas reacted to this and came earlier
home every evening – or night as the case
might be. He now had a distended belly that
rivalled his wife’s in the last stages of her
550
pregnancy. He could drink a whole crate of
beer at home and two in a bar with friends.
But when Sera was pregnant, it was a merry
house. But Gideon didn’t let it get to him. He
didn’t trust that it would last. This sort of
happiness for him was glassy, it could break
anytime. And so being a child older beyond his
years, having faced repeated disappointment
from early in life, he was cynical and watched
his mother sceptically refusing to be drawn into
her fake embrace of love.
But little Katherine was a beautiful little
thing. She resembled Sera exactly. And that
alone made Gideon more and more suspicious
of her paternity. So while others cooed and
aahed over the baby, he kept his distance
emotionally. He was not however successful to
skirt babysitting duties but he did these as a
duty.
551
He never formed a close bond with his
younger sister, and this never changed not
even now when they were both adults. But if
there was ever a child that Sera loved, it was
her baby girl. She was never without her.
She even took her to the church meetings
with her and showed her off shamelessly. But
soon, as Gideon had direly predicted to
Hannah, things between his folks started going
bad again.
He never knew what or how it happened,
but the familiar things started again. His father
started keeping late hours. And when he came
home, he would roaring drunk. There were
days when he came home so drunk that they
found him collapsed at the front step in the
morning, the key in his hand.
Sera’s cutting tongue just got sharper and
sharper. Gideon could not remember how
many times she heard her put his father down.
552
Whether he was home or not, she went on and
on about what a useless man she was married
to. What a lazy man she lived with. He was
good for nothing. And what hurt and stuck in
the mind of the young teenager; how she gave
her a mad child.
And that was the crux of their marital
problems. But Gideon didn’t know that, Hannah
would have guessed but he would not have
listened to her. And his parents never sought to
do anything about it.
Sundays were Thomas Maina’s hangover
days. He spent the whole day in bed nursing
dreadful hangover from the binge drinking of
the previous day that he ought to have given
up in college.
Every first Sunday of the month, was
Solomon’s visiting day. And one Sunday, his
father slept right through the whole day.
Gideon tried tentatively to approach his mother
553
and get her to go with him or just take him
there at least but she flat out refused. He
asked for money, and was refused also. She
didn’t care whether Solo was visited or not.
She was taking care of little Katherine. Besides,
it was his father’s fault.
Gideon had gone to his bed and tried to
stop thinking about how Solo would react today
when all his friends were visited and he was
not. He pictured (though he tried not to) him
seated with his knees drawn up his hands
around his legs the way he had done when
their mother had locked him inside the
wardrobe, feeling sad and dejected and
moaning his sad tunes…
He got off his bed and ran outside. He didn’t
know where he was going, until he reached
Hannah’s house panting.
She lived with her mother. Her father had
disappeared a long time ago – she didn’t even
554
know him. At the door, he was let in by
Hannah’s mother who had a ready smile and
such a congenial demeanour that Gideon
wanted to hug her.
The first time he had met her, when Hannah
had invited him over five years ago, he had
whispered urgently to his friend, ‘Thank God
each and everyday for a mother like that.’ And
since then, he had always liked the short
slightly rotund woman. And she, liked him
back.
‘Hannah,’ she called opening the door to let
him in. ‘She is in her room just go right in.’
Again marvelling at how a woman could be
so warm, so loving with a child that wasn’t
even hers, he had gone in search for his
confidant.
Hannah was a lone child. Living with her
mother alone as she did, she had turned out
quite alright. Although Gideon still teased her
555
that she was stubborn and used to getting her
own way as a lone child. And she had called
him a lastborn right back. But that had recently
changed. And neither had Gideon ever been
the last born really. Not in the ways that
counted.
‘Hi Giddie,’ Hannah greeted him
unselfconsciously pulling her jeans up her light
legs and zipping them before his gaze. For a
moment, Gideon was nonplussed. In that
careless moment, he realised that he was a
growing boy and his close friend was a growing
girl.
‘Ahem!’ she cleared her throat
exaggerating it to get his attention. ‘You want
to say hi to me at least before you ogle me
Gideon.’
‘You_I…’ he started looking at her
coquettish smile then he smiled. ‘Hi Hannah.’
556
‘Hi yourself.’ She really was growing up.
‘Close your mouth and tell me what you are up
to.’
‘Oh,’ Gideon said. She was seated on her
bed which was unmade – typically Hannah, and
patted it. He sat himself beside her and then
told her everything.
‘So let’s go.’ She said as though it was the
only natural thing to do and more than that, it
ought to have occurred to him earlier. ‘I miss
Solo too you know, it’s been months since I last
saw him. He probably forgot me by now.’
‘But how_’
‘I’ll ask mother for some money for fare
then we will go see your big bro.’ she stood up
and held her hands open her shoulders raised
waiting for his response. But she didn’t wait
long. Typically, she knew his mind already and
rather than waste time, she went to talk to her
mother.
557
Gideon stood in the girly room absorbing
the pinks and the smells – she was growing.
The picture of Hannah’s favourite movie star
on her wall just above the headboard of the
bed, made him angry for some reason.
Needing to do something, and not feeling like it
was his place to take part in the mother-
daughter conversation, he turned and decided
to make her bed.
He pulled at the thick blanket and saw a frill
lacy pink cloth appear in the jumbled up
sheets. His heart started racing. He looked
quickly at the door and confirming that it was
closed, he reached for the tiny cloth.
It was her panties. His heart was thumping
now as he looked at the cloth in his hands. He
closed his finger over it and felt a surge of heat
in his body. His chest was aching acutely and
he realised that he was holding his breath.
558
Slowly, hands trembling, he raised the
panties to his face. But halfway there, he
expelled his breath in such a rush – whoosh!
that he thought he had surely been heard from
the next house! Panicking, he dropped the now
hot-to-touch material into the clothes hamper
at the foot of her bed.
Then jerkily, trying to steady his breath and
heartbeat and hands, the young pubescent boy
spread Hannah’s bed. Then he looked at his
hands and rubbed them on his jeans as if to
erase the scent, the evidence, of her panties.
And even the thought of the word made his
hard tumescent member twitch in his crotch.
He sat back on the bed and just then, breezily,
Hannah stepped into the room.
‘My, my,’ she said when she saw him. ‘You
surprise me Master Gideon.’ She looked like an
imp and he struggled not to ogle. ‘You made
my bed? Oh you shouldn’t have.’
559
And she leaned in and kissed him right on
the nose. It was all playful he knew but her
hand was on his thigh dreadfully close to his
embarrassing hardness that he squealed when
she did that, jumping out of her reach.
‘Humph! I see you are still touchy-touchy,
Giddie you should grow up.‘ But she said it
good naturedly. ‘Anyway, I have good news.’
And she did. Her mother not only gave them
enough fare to get them to the special school
and back, but she also went into her kitchen
and cooked up a heavy meal for them to carry.
And at Hannah’s reminder (Gideon called it
insistence), she added them money for soft
drinks and some fruits.
And they were on their way. Gideon never
held a fonder memory than when Solo’s eye
landed on him and Hannah standing there with
their small bundle looking like the small
parents they really were.
560
And he had run to them. This time he had
totally ignored Gideon and hugged Hannah
first. Solo’s hugs were more like rugby tackles.
He slammed right into Hannah but as she fell
on her backside on the thick grass, they were
all laughing. And she gave Solo, who was on
top of her, a noisy kiss right on the lips.
‘See Giddie,’ she said impishly. ‘Your
brother is so much older than you.’
And they were laughing at silly things from
then till it was time to go. Solo wouldn’t stray
from Hannah. He kept touching her face, her
ears, her fingers and rolling his eyes, all the
time humming his songs but they were gay
now and light toned rather than raw and
guttural and pitifully sorrowful.
And Hannah played right along with him like
she had never seen anyone who pleased her
more. Gideon almost felt left out. Solo was
ignoring him, he was making Hannah ignore
561
him, but he could not be angry. He was just too
happy to see his elder brother like this. It
brought back memories of when they were
younger and free – the days when things were
good and innocent.
Well soon, it was time to go. The bell went
and this time for once, Solo hesitated. He held
Hannah’s hand in a strong grip as his friends
fled toward a forbidding green gate to
disappear into their dorms.
Then he turned to go also.
‘Solo,’ Gideon didn’t know he had called him
out aloud. But his brother turned hearing his
name and ran to Gideon slamming into him. He
stepped back absorbing the weight of his
brother and then closed his arms around him.
It lasted for a second, and then Solo was away
as the peals of the bell died off.
Hannah was crying. ‘Is it always like this, at
the end?’ she asked. Gideon simply nodded
562
and had to step back again as she slammed
into his arms. He held her as she cried on his
shoulder. They were still of the same height
though Gideon would grow to be a whole foot
taller than her.
‘It is just sad,’ she sniffled wiping her eyes,
calming down. He held her by the shoulders
until she was all cried out. He was also sad but
when he was called onto to be a shoulder to
lean on, Gideon always shelved his troubles to
take care of others’.
As they walked away hand in hand, he
silently, fiercely swore; I will come get you out
of here. I will get a good place and then come
for you. Never worry…
563
18
SHE STOOD IN THE GLOAMING

FIGHTING TEARS. She saw the driver and
joined the crowd of students getting lost
in the midst of indistinguishable uniform.
She didn’t want him to see her. She
knew that he was there to get her home.
Her father had run off when it had come
time to be associated with her. He had
actually disowned her, and everything he
had ever done to her – or not done, this
was the greatest single most hurting
thing that he had ever done to her.
She walked in the crowd, and was soon
lost to the driver. She walked toward the
564
gate and left the school compound.
Sniffling, she wiped her tears. It would
not do to go around with her hands over
her ears either.
She didn’t know where she was going,
but the thought of going home, to that
house, to those parents, was enough to
make her feel sick. She couldn’t go there.
She didn’t have anywhere else to go
though, so she just walked.
She walked to cool herself. Her
thoughts ran around that single image,
seeing her father leave the hall as
inconspicuously as he could. She had
gone up stage under great stress and
fear and she had told herself that this
was the day she would win one battle.
Just one mealy battle in her life; she
would show them that she was something
more than just a grotesque looking
565
gauche child. That she was something
more than an ugly duckling.
And when she thought that, tears
struck her eyes again. She sucked her
breath in quickly to stop it. She didn’t
know where she was going, she just
walked.
And soon, the twilight had gone. It was
night and dark had fallen. When she
bothered finally to take stock of where
she was, she found that she was in some
sort of street, that was dimly lit by
sporadic street lights.
It slowly came to her that she had no
idea where she was. And immediately
following that thought, was that it was
dark. Telling herself to relax, not to
panic, she turned and started where she
had come from.
566
She thought to retrace her steps up to
a point where she could remember
something. But as she walked and
walked, nothing came to her mind as
familiar. She must have taken several
turns, and she now had to admit it to
herself that she was lost.
In the dark, she had no idea whether
to head due west or east, north or south.
And she couldn’t ask. First, there weren’t
many people out who looked trustworthy.
Where am I? she thought desperately.
And the other thing was she was
naturally people shy. The thought of
walking to a complete stranger and
asking for directions, letting herself open
to perusal, to rejection, she just could not
do that. Not today. She would rather walk
until her feet got tired.
567
Luckily, as she walked, she saw a car
drive by. It had a yellow strip on its side
in the universal symbol of a taxi.
‘Taxi!’ she called waving her arms
about. The car kept going and she called
again starting to run after it. It wasn’t
moving fast and the driver must have
seen the waving girl for the car moved
over the side and stopped.
She ran to it happily. Without
bothering to look twice at the driver, she
opened the back door and got in.
‘And what have we here?’ the driver
asked.
The small girl sheltered from so much
had no idea there was anything lewd at
all in his tone.
She breathlessly said her address.
‘You will get the money there.’
568
‘The money there.’ The driver
repeated in that lazy tone of his. He was
looking at the girl through the rear view
mirror. The girl looked at them and could
just make out their blood shot redness
through the dim light.
The car was moving. She noticed for
the first time another man seated on the
passenger seat. He was smoking and
looking out as the car moved. He didn’t
talk.
And they were complete opposites she
saw. The diver was fat and heavy looking
even from her poor viewpoint. While his
partner was slender and short he
disappeared in his seat. And while the
driver seemed to be a talkative man, his
comrade was phlegmatic as he just sat
there pulling on his cigarette.
569
She noticed that they were going
faster now. Then a hand reached out and
lit the overhead light inside the sedan. It
was the driver. He then adjusted the rear
view mirror with his left fleshy hand
which had a fat bronze bungle.
And then she saw his eyes properly
through the mirror. And for the first time
that night, the girl was scared – and with
good reason. Her instincts told her to get
out now! But the car was central locked.
Her efforts thwarted, she
inadvertently looked back at the mirror.
She saw the man smile. she saw it in his
eyes. And then they travelled down. She
looked down and her skirt had ridden up
her legs unknowingly. She pulled at it
desperately as her heart thumped
furiously in her chest.
570
She had never been this scared in her
life. Her parents while denying her some
basic love and emotional support, had
otherwise provided her with plenty of
material wealth. As a result, she had lived
a very sheltered life. She had never been
exposed to danger or violence of any
kind.
The driver laughed. ‘Today Keith, am
gonna be a happy fellow.’
‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked
in a timorous voice clearly scared.
‘Why, girl am taking you home,’ the
driver replied. ‘Where as you said, you
are going to give me payment.’ He
laughed punching Keith on the shoulder.
But Keith didn’t join in the laughter. He
kept mum and went on smoking and
looking outside.
‘My father_’ she began.
571
‘Do you know what kind of payment
am after girl?’ he interrupted her
suddenly forceful. Like a snake, his pudgy
arm shot out and clamped on her leg. He
went on laughing steering with one hand.
‘Let go of me!’ she yelled kicking at his
hand. But the grip on her leg was that of
a vice.
‘Am gonna have fuuuun with yooou,’
he said suddenly running his hand up into
her skirt closing on her thigh.
She screamed. He laughed.
‘Let her be.’ Keith said laconically
without raising his voice. She was
released.
‘No need to fret girl, relax.’ She told
him. And when she went to start
explaining to him all her problems seeing
him as the good one, he raised his hand
in a silent command for quiet. She
572
stopped fussing but moved behind the
driver’s seat so that he could not reach
for her while driving.
‘Let her be Mboch,’ he said. ‘At least
until we reach the house.’
She felt her stomach heave at these
words. The air was suddenly stuffy and
the smell from his cigarette, terribly
cloying. She puked on the floor mats.
‘Shit!’ Mboch cursed. ‘Look_’
‘The house man.’ Keith said when the
driver would have stopped the car.
Grumbling, the fat paedophile drove
on.
Keith was a small time crook. He did
bank jobs once in a while, car-jackings
the gamut of small crime. He was always
the driver. Mboch was his cousin. He was
a taxi driver and a wannabe crook. He
looked up to Keith and Keith in turn used
573
him. He was a good guy, they had good
laughs but he had a problem with his
damn dick. When Mboch got a stirring in
his loins, he forgot everything else.
This was obviously not a good thing for
a crook – any self respecting crook, to be.
And Keith kept telling him. But the man
would not listen. He really could not
control his zipper. And he had a penchant
for children. It was really disgusting. If he
didn’t need the guy so much, Keith would
have moved out long ago.
So Mboch raced toward the digs. He
had a hard on that was serious, he had
not gotten laid in a week. That was long.
Besides, this little girl had spunk. She
kicked! She would be good to tame.
Didn’t they say that when the cow kicked
and fussed, it gave most milk? Well
something like that.
574
He stopped at the house momentarily.
It was a seedy neighbourhood. Houses
were joined and looked like they had not
been painted since independence. It was
a hovel Keith thought. But still it was
better than nothing or the alternative.
And he would soon be gone. He was
meant for great things he knew. Had
always known.
The girl timed it perfectly – so she
thought. When the car stopped, she sat
timidly as Mboch opened her door. It was
not a halfway open when she sprung from
her seat suddenly and ran. But she hadn’t
known that he would be that fast. He
looked fat and lazy but in actual sense,
Mboch was very fit and reacted swiftly
when she bolted.
Before her fifth step, she was in his
clutches. He closed a tight grip on her
575
shoulder and pulled her off into the air.
She started screaming. In a second, her
mouth was clamped shut by a sweaty
beefy hand. It smelled of something she
couldn’t make but immediately, her
stomach started churning again.
He walked to the house, which Keith
had opened. In this neighbourhood,
people minded their own business. It was
always safe to do so. He didn’t think that
they had been heard. Besides, Mboch
normally tired of the girls in a night or
two. Then he dumped them further inside
the slums where they got to their homes
if they were lucky.
It was not the first kidnap that he had
done. However much Keith tried to stop
the man, when he got a stirring, well he
had to do what he did.
576
Keith got into the house to find them
on the sofa. It was a threadbare old thing
with cushions thinner than the velvet that
clothed them when it was newer. Mboch
was on the girl, marauding her actually. It
was disgusting. She had puked for
Godssakes!
‘Mboch,’ he called to him sternly. ‘See
to the car.’
And when he looked at him blankly, he
said, ‘The puke man. Clean the puke out.’
Grumbling, he got off the girl telling
Keith to watch her. She wasn’t going
anywhere. He nodded absentmindedly as
he searched for the TV remote control.
They always looked like this when
Mboch landed on them. They looked
shocked, wide eyed as though oh this
can’t be happening to me, ran though
their minds at breakneck speed over and
577
over again leaving them agape, sort of
mute and immobile.
This one looked at him straight in the
eye though. He could see the teeth marks
on her lips – Mboch was a disgusting
animal, and the thumbprints on her neck.
He looked away from her and went on
searching for the remote. They both knew
what went through his mind. Damn this
girl is ugly.
Still she looked at him. And quiet as he
normally was, used to getting others to
talk while he remained silent to glean and
learn from what was said, he found
himself disconcerted by her bland
unwavering gaze.
‘Follow me,’ he commanded her when
he could not take her look any longer.
And he couldn’t stare back at her without
having the revulsion written all over his
578
face. He wasn’t that bad a guy. Not to
children.
She didn’t ask or question him, but
followed him silently. He led her to a
room at the furthest door of the corridor.
It was usually where Mboch worked his
evil – his bedroom. He opened it and
when the girl looked inside, she shook
her head refusing to enter.
‘Look here girl, I am not in the mood to
argue with you. Save yourself and don’t
fight it.’ It was the most he had ever said
to someone who in all sense had not said
a word to him. He shoved her inside the
room and shut the door. He locked it from
outside.
He thought about what she would look
like when Mboch was done with her, but
he quickly forgot that. He took his mind
to his favourite fantasy, how he would
579
make it big. Finding the remote right
under the cushion where the girl had sat,
he switched the TV on and went on with
his fantasy.
In the year that he turned thirteen Gideon

experienced his first life altering incident. It
was the same year that he came home to find
his mother in bed with another man. He was
the young rector at church. Apparently the
counselling had grown to something more
personal.
For the first time, Gideon allowed himself to
think that he hated his mother. And when he
thought that, he knew that it was true. He
hated his mother. Hannah nodded in her wise
manner finding the only that his smile was
curious.
580
‘Am not happy I hate her,’ he had tried to
explain. ‘I am happy that I have finally
understood it, you know? Accepted it.’
Hannah simply nodded. She always
refrained from saying anything bad about his
mother. So when she kept quiet, it was the
same as though she was the same as cursing
her.
That year was also the year Gideon and
Hannah were in the senior class of primary
school. Gideon was still in the top bracket of
performers, though he had slipped from the
topmost position years back.
Hannah who was in the other class, had not
slipped from the top. She was among the top
three every time. She always joked that he
ought to come to her for lessons. And they
would laugh together for Gideon had no
envious bone in his body for Hannah. He urged
her to perform better everyday. While Hannah
581
insisted that Gideon was the best, he just
didn’t like putting in effort.
The first time Mr. Imbusi entered their class,
Gideon didn’t like him. He was a light skinned
man of average height. And he was handsome.
He could hear the collective sigh that issued
from the girls of his class when he entered.
‘Good morning boys and girls,’ he greeted
them in a warm mellifluous voice that for some
obscure reason, Gideon took umbrage to.
‘Now, I am Phanuel Imbusi,’ he said and
then smiled. His cheeks dimpled when he did
that and again the girls groaned? He looked up
as if he had heard it. ‘And you? Who are you?’
‘Christine.’ Someone said and the whole
class started laughing, the girls giggling like
silly monkeys.
He held up his hand. ‘Not like that. I won’t
be able to remember all your names today.’
582
Gideon caught himself before he said
rudely; so?
‘I will be teaching you writing,’ he paused as
though it was such a reverent subject that he
was awaiting applause or something. Get on
with it, Gideon said silently. ‘And as potential
authors, you are all on a level plane today.
‘For your first assignment, you will compose
a story of not less than two thousand words
about anything you want.’
‘Anything?’ a naughty girl asked impishly.
‘Any topic you want to write about,’ said Mr.
Imbusi. ‘After that, I will separate the authors
from jokers and I shall then learn your names.’
He spoke sternly but smiling. Gideon found
himself grudgingly respecting that in the new
teacher. As he left, the girls started giggling
once more and trying their level best to get his
attention while appearing as though they were
not.
583
He wanted a story? He would get one.
Gideon had been writing short tales on and
off since he was twelve. But they only ever got
as far as Hannah. She was always keen to read
the next tale and encouraged Gideon telling
him that he wrote nice tales. But what did
Hannah know? Besides, she had to be loyal,
her opinion was biased because she was his
best friend.
He went home that evening without
meeting Hannah. The next lesson was the next
day in the afternoon. For some reason, Gideon
wanted to impress Mr. Imbusi. He sat down
with a dictionary and composed what to him
was a passable story. He didn’t like it much but
he rarely liked what he wrote – he was his
worst critic.
It was a lesson plagiarism actually. It was a
tale he had ‘borrowed’ from one of Franklin W.
Dixon’s Hardy Boys. In some cases in fact, he
584
had copied it word for word. But who would
know? So he went to school the next day
knowing he had a very good tale. It was good,
only that he had read it so many times for him,
it had lost lustre, but he knew that for Mr.
Imbusi it would be a good tale. Good enough at
least. He had no idea how wrong he was.
That afternoon, the teacher arrived right on
time. The books had been handed into his
office that morning as he had said. Now, he
carried the exercise books into the class and
after greeting the class, a hush fell over the
students.
He had marked their work already. Gideon
felt another twitch of respect, the man took his
work seriously. Even the girls went silent when
he looked up after he had placed his bundle on
the desk.
‘Now students, I have gone through your
stories and I have marked them. You will notice
585
that I do not mark out of some maximum
figure. I grade your work. I find it crass to mark
written work out of some figure.’ He contorted
his face as though that notion was not only
despicable to him, but it also smelled.
He moved from behind the desk and walked
down the aisle on the left. Each student turned
to look at him as he walked. The girls started
acting silly again. ‘So,’ he said. ‘I have graded
your work from A to F that is from best to
worst. I have plenty of B’s to E’s. I have
though, one A and one F.
‘Now my wish is to read to you these two
works so that you can get an idea of what to
me is good and bad writing.’ He had walked
back to the desk by this time. He picked up a
book. The students struggled to see if it was
their book.
586
‘I will start with the F now.’ And he read the
title of the composition. And in his wonderful
reading voice, he started reading the tale.
Gideon was looking down at his fingers, as
were most of the students. The girls though
were preoccupied with the teacher and most of
them were blatantly staring at him. Gideon felt
like telling one that she was drooling.
He was in his thoughts when something
brought him awake. The story, he listened. It
was his! That is my story, he thought panicky.
F? He was crushed. He could not believe that
his story was the worst. But I write, he wanted
to say.
Then he remembered himself and schooled
his reaction. It would be worse if it was
discovered that it was his story that the
teacher was reading. And he saw from the
corner of his eye, some of the boys were
looking around furtively as though seeking to
587
get the culprit. He looked away hurriedly and
strove for insouciance.
Soon, his torment was over. The story
ended. Some naughty boys started clapping
and the class laughed a little. They were happy
that it wasn’t their story. Bastards, Gideon
thought.
‘Now,’ the teacher said. Gideon held his
breath waiting for him to say that he had made
a mistake. But he didn’t. He simply placed the
book on the desk among the rest and picked
another one. ‘That was F, now I shall read the A
story.’
Now, now, Gideon wished fervently. He will
realise that he is wrong. My story cannot be F,
my story must be A.
But he didn’t excuse himself. He just simply
read the title, and started reading the story.
Gideon was still cursing and struggling to
maintain an indifferent face. Then Mr. Imbusi’s
588
voice started penetrating his thoughts. He
heard the story and listened. Then he was truly
shocked. It was his story! He listened again,
and sure enough, he knew this story word for
word. It was his story! But not the one he had
handed in. He had written this one a long time
before. How had it reached the teacher? Who
was_
His thought was cut by Mr. Imbusi’s voice.
‘That was not from this class. This class
produced no A story, in fact, it produced the
only F story…’
Gideon tuned him out. The next class? He
need not think far who could have had his story
in that class. Hannah. He would kill her!
‘Young man,’ the teacher was talking to
him. ‘What is the answer?’
Jesus Christ, Gideon thought in a panic.
What was he talking about? He looked around,
tried to nudge his desk mate but he could not
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quite catch what he said through clenched
teeth. The other students started sniggering.
‘What is your name young man?’ he asked
in a tone that brooked no nonsense.
Gideon was afraid to tell him. It would not
be good. He would know that he was the
author of the F story and that he was a
daydreamer in class. It could not be good for
him.
‘Young man…’ he said in a warning tone.
‘Gideon,’ he gulped. ‘Gideon Maina.’
And he saw when Mr. Imbusi realised that
this was the F story-writer. Now he would tell
the whole class. God am not an F story-writer,
he wanted to shout. That wasn’t even my
story. My original story was in fact the A story!
‘Good,’ was all the teacher said. ‘We were
wondering why the first story was rated F.’
and as he spoke, he looked directly at
Gideon. He went on after maintaining a tense
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half minute of eye contact. ‘And consequently,
I asked the class if anyone knew the meaning
of the word plagiarism.’
Gideon cringed. He knew the word alright.
And by his reaction, Mr. Imbusi discovered this
immediately. ‘I think you can now answer.’
‘It is to steal someone’s words and use
them as if it was yours originally.’ He
answered.
Mr. Imbusi didn’t smile. He just nodded.
‘That is correct.’ At the back of his mind,
Gideon registered the collective look of awe
from his classmates that he had known the
meaning of the word which none of them had
ever come across before.
‘And that goes also for stealing ideas,
stories, or anything that was said by someone
else,’ the teacher was saying. ‘And we all know
that stealing is a crime don’t we? Well,
plagiarism is a crime too. And as such I cannot
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reward it.’ He quietly looked round the class. It
was obvious that most of the students didn’t
know what he was talking about. But Gideon
knew and that was the point.
‘You will realise after some time with me,
that I like reading. I read everything from
Shakespeare to,’ he looked back at Gideon and
gave a false smile. ‘Hardy Boys.
‘Now, the difference between these two
stories is that the A story is an original tale that
is well written, has nice plot development and
the characters have life. One thing that is very
obvious, is that these two stories were not
written by the same person.’
You’d be surprised, thought Gideon without
humour.
‘Now, you can pick your books from the
desk when I leave. For your next assignment, I
want you to write a story, of three thousand
words that begins with the sentence; ‘My sister
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is a cripple.’ I shall expect this work the next
day after tomorrow, in the morning my office. I
shall bring the books back next week during
our lesson. Second thought,’ he raised a finger.
‘Do this. Why don’t I give you the weekend,
today is Wednesday is it? Use the weekend and
hand in the work on Monday morning.
And so next time, we shall dig deeper into
plots and what plot development is. Otherwise
there being no question, I wish you a good
weekend and happy writing authors.’
As he left, someone asked, ‘Have you
learned our names?’
He turned. ‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘Today I
have learned only Gideon Maina’s name and I
am about to go find out who this author in the
other class is.’
Gideon was left seething. He went to the
desk last to take his book. He couldn’t wait for
the evening bell to go. He would finish Hannah.
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How could she use his story like that? He was
sure it was her. She was the only one who saw
his stories. Unless he had a twin who thought
exactly like him in the next class that he had
never known about.
It was soon six pm. And Gideon didn’t have
to go looking for Hannah. She came running
into their class immediately the bell rung. She
pulled at his hand hurrying him up. Even in his
fury, he noticed how good she looked and
almost gleefully, the eyes that were thrown
their way.
Their friendship was a thorn in the side of
most of the boys who were more ‘cool’. Gideon
was aware that they were jealous of his
closeness to the easily the most beautiful girl
in the whole school.
He allowed Hannah to pull him out of class.
She was breathlessly happy. He decided not to
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light up on her until she had told him what was
making her this jumpy.
Besides, he was secretly glad that his story
was the only A story anyway. He had been too
afraid to hand in any of his works and had
instead resorted to plagiarism. Who would
have thought the teacher read Hardy Boys?
‘What is it?’ Gideon finally asked Hannah
refusing to be pulled all the way home. They
had left the gate and were now on the familiar
path home. In the twilight, she was even more
breathtaking. He was not even angry with her
anymore.
‘I am in love Giddie!’ she said breathlessly.
Gideon didn’t believe his ears. He looked
around to make sure that they didn’t have an
audience.
‘You are shitting me,’ he said when he could
speak. ‘Who is it?’
595
He waited to hear her say the name of any
of several ‘cool’ boys secretly wishing that
she’d say his name. She said neither. ‘You
won’t believe me Giddie.’
‘Try me,’ he said deadpan.
‘I am in love with Mr. Imbusi! Isn’t that
great?’
Gideon hadn’t thought it was great. The

man was his tormentor. He had said that his
story was the worst. That could not be alright.
The man was his teacher!
‘I know,’ Hannah had said when he had told
her this. ‘No need to yell at me Giddie. Its not
like I’ll jump in bed with him or anything, I’ll
just dream it…’
‘Wha?’
‘Come on Giddie be happy for me. Isn’t he
the most handsome man on earth?’
596
‘I thought that was Shawn Michaels,’ he had
said dryly.
‘You know what I mean,’ she had hit his
shoulder. ‘You are just being a wet blanket.’
‘When did you fall in love with him Hannah
huh?’ he asked suddenly angry with her. ‘Was
it after he had read to the whole class your
story? My story? Hmm?’
‘Come on Giddie,’ she said breezily. ‘So I
handed in your story. See? I always told you
your stories were good. You should be happy.’
He grumbled something about copyright
infringement. ‘Thank me Giddie,’ she said
smiling her most naughty smile at him. He felt
a tug at the corners of his lips.
‘Do you know the meaning of plagiarism?’
he asked with forced sternness.
‘Was that what I did?’ she asked still
smiling. Gideon felt himself smiling too. ‘That’s
better now. I hate you being angry at me.’
597
‘You don’t love that guy,’ he said. ‘I mean
don’t love him.’
‘Why?’ she had asked incredulously.
‘He rated my story F.’
Hannah laughed hard. ‘How? I mean why?’
she spoke wiping tears off her eyes.
‘Plagiarism.’ Was his simple answer. And
then he had told her the whole tale as he
walked her all the way to her place. He did this
these days since they left school so late. Plus,
they had discovered a short cut to his place
that he used instead of going round to the rail
tracks where years before, he had played a
sick and cold prank on a kid.
That weekend, Gideon worked on his story.
This time, it was an original idea. My sister is a
cripple. He looked at the simple sentence on
the clean page. First, he put a full stop at the
end. Then he looked at it and looked for
inspiration.
598
Hannah had called him as he sat there
wondering what to write.
‘Hi Giddie,’ then without waiting for his
response, ‘what are you writing about?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Think of something for me too. You know I
have to maintain my reputation.’
Gideon laughed. ‘You are on your own there
girl.’
‘I thought you loved me,’ she wailed. ‘I will
come over and watch the baby for you.’
‘She is asleep now Hannah. Besides, mom is
home she is watching her.’
Hannah groaned. ‘You will write something
Hannah you are smart.’
‘Yeah but your stories are so hot, original
you know?’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow Hannah,’ he said
chuckling.
‘Wait, you think he will fall in love with me?’
599
‘Tomorrow Hannah.’ He cut the phone
thinking the girl was going to be the death of
him. And then he thought about her crush and
remembered Mr. Imbusi. Handsome slave
driver. And then he remembered the
assignment. What to write? He looked at the
sentence again.
Hannah had said that he wrote good stories.
They were hot, she said. Original. And his brain
froze on that word. He had to be original. He
had to write something completely different
from what others would write.
He sat down and thought. Almost everybody
would write a family story, he decided he
would write an adventure story. He wondered if
he ought to flashback on an adventure that
then caused her to be crippled, nah he
thought. Too simple. He would write something
else. And what if he had a sad ending? Most
students liked happy endings. He smiled and
600
picked up his pencil. He wrote non-stop for two
hours.
The next Tuesday, Gideon was antsy. He

really wanted his story to be an A story. He
feared though that the teacher would have
already developed a bad attitude toward him
from the last time’s debacle. He feared most
though, that he would find his work lack lustre.
Or boring. By the time he walked into the class
– right on time, Gideon was shaking inside.
He greeted them as usual placing his
bundle on the desk. The class went silent. He
had a way with crowds Gideon granted him. He
captured attention in a natural easy way that
had more to do with, than simply his looks.
‘So, this time, we have extremely
interesting stories from you. And I must admit,
some shocking ones.’ He looked around and
Gideon waited but the roving eye didn’t fall on
601
him. The teacher instead walked from behind
the desk as was his wont.
‘Now, I asked you to write a story starting
with a sentence. I like this type of stories, I like
them very much.’ He passed by Gideon’s desk
and stopped right behind him. Gideon felt like
ants were crawling down his spine as he sat
stiffly looking down at his folded fingers.
‘As you mature in writing, you will come to
find that sometimes, the first sentence is the
most tricky in any story. I mean when you want
to go somewhere, your first step might
determine the direction you will take, and
therefore becomes an integral part of the
journey, or story as it were.’
The class was rapt. His smooth voice and
enunciation was arresting. ‘Now,’ he walked
back to the front. ‘You have written good
stories as I said earlier. Most of you will notice
that they have changed in grade. Some down,
602
some up – it is inevitable in life,’ he smiled
reaching the desk. ‘I have a newcomer into the
A bracket,’ Gideon held his breath. ‘But I will
save that for last. Since they are only two, why
don’t I read the other one first?’
Gideon expelled his breath. The old girl had
made it back he thought. And just as he
thought, when the story was read, it was
almost familiar to him. The names gave it
away. Hannah had changed the story slightly
to suit the starting sentence. But it was his
story. He couldn’t help smiling. He was aware
that a ‘scout’ had started looking at him keenly
obviously wondering if it was his story.
Soon it was over. And without hiatus, the
teacher picked the other book and started
reading the story. ‘’My sister is a cripple. She
was not born that way though…’’ Gideon’s
smile was now so wide it was obvious that this
was his tale. The ‘scout’ quickly spread the
603
word. Right up to the last sentence, the story
kept a tense classroom gripped to it.
He wasn’t sure if it wasn’t the teacher’s
voice and his skilled narration, but Gideon liked
to think that his story had something to do with
it too.
Dropping the book back on the desk, Mr.
Imbusi spoke, ‘that, I am sure you will agree
with me is very good work. The first story is
also good, but mostly in the way it is written.
The last story is written well but also the tale is
gripping in its melancholy and the ending is
unexpected.
‘But,’ he raised his finger in the manner that
Gideon was coming to get used to. He held his
breath. ‘Even though this two stories couldn’t
be more different than snow and fire, they
seem to have been written by the same
author.’
604
He looked right at Gideon as he said this.
The boy gulped. ‘But,’ he said. ‘Maybe it is just
me.’
Phew! Gideon swore to kill Hannah for sure
today. The teacher though announced that
they should now take their books as he called
their names out. Soon he had only one exercise
book left on his desk – Hannah’s.
Then he turned to the blackboard and wiped
it. Picking up a dustless chalk, he wrote for the
first time at the right corner of the board, the
day’s date. And then in capital letters, he wrote
the title: PLOT.
Even his handwriting was impeccable,
Gideon thought enviously. He opened his book
flipping the pages to the end of his story
anxious to see the A. He saw it alright. Along
with it was written in small letters; See me!
605
19
AT THE MANSION, NDATI WAS IRATE.

Purity was fighting tears. It was past
eight pm and their daughter was no
where to be seen. She had arrived from
Kampala half an hour ago.
She had gone straight to her
daughter’s room to hear all about her
performance. But she had found the room
cold and empty. She had then quickly
rushed to her bedroom where she had
found John on the phone.
606
She had thrown her bag on the bed
and removed her coat impatiently waiting
for him to finish his call. And then she
had rounded on him feverish now. But it
had been nothing compared to the way
she had felt when he had looked at her
nonplussed and said, ‘she is not in her
room?’
For the first time a rage had plagued
Purity so much she had fought the urge
to hit her husband. She was so mad she
was trembling.
‘She is not in her room John,’ she was
shouting. ‘You were supposed to have
gone to her school God, she was
performing_’
‘I went Purity calm yourself.’ John
interjected. He grabbed the phone again
and called his driver. ‘We’ll get to the
607
bottom of this right now. Am sure she is
in the house somewhere.’
Purity clamped her mouth shut before
she insulted him. Her daughter never
went anywhere else in the house except
her room.
The driver had been called. And now,
they were in the study. The driver was
stammering saying that he indeed had no
idea where the girl was. He had waited
for her but she had not appeared from
the hall at school. She was lost.
‘I told you to wait for her you dimwit!’
John Ndati thundered. This was not a
good day for him and it had gotten worse.
‘Yes-Yes sir, I_’ but Purity interrupted
him hotly.
‘You mean you left?’ she asked her
husband.
608
‘I had to do something Purity. Am a
busy man.’
‘Oh, you fool, you cold sad excuse for a
man.’
‘Enough!’ John said sternly. ‘That is
not helping us. We need to find out where
she could be.’
‘She could be anywhere now,’ Purity
said tremulously. ‘She could be hurt,
she_’
‘Purity please.’
‘Sir I am sorry sir but I think…’
John rounded on him with such a
furious face that the driver’s words
slowed to a premature end.
‘You are not sorry.’ John told him. ‘In
fact what you are is fired!’
‘But sir_’
‘Get out of my house!’ he thundered so
forcefully even Purity was terrified. The
609
shaking driver walked to the door and left
the house. Purity rushed to the phone.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked her.
‘Calling the police John.’
He shrugged and sunk into a soft
leather seat. He ran a tired hand through
his hair. It had been a tough day.
When he had gone to his daughter’s
school function, he had thought this was
a good respite. And it had been. He had
been recognised immediately – a
politician’s wet dream, sat down. His girl
had been the show stopper that evening –
he had to admit she was good.
And then the phone call had come. He
was among the few people who owned
cell phones and when it rang in his coat
inside pocket, he knew it was his. He had
taken it trembling a little when he saw
the caller id.
610
He had placed the Motorola on his ear,
‘Yes?’
‘Come,’ the voice had spoken without
preamble.
‘I can’t.’ he had spoken urgently. By
this time the hall was getting noisy, they
were applauding the girl. A standing
ovation, and he was on the phone.
‘Look,’ he had started a stern tone in
his voice.
‘No,’ he had angered the man now.
‘You look. You either get here in thirty
minutes,’ by this time, John Ndati was on
his feet walking toward the doors at the
back cradling the phone and bending
slightly so that he could hear the man’s
voice through the din. ‘Or you are done
for.’
And as he walked outside the doors,
he was not aware that the Principal was
611
calling for him or that the whole hall was
looking for him. Or for that matter, that
his only daughter had just seen him leave
and had jumped to the wrong conclusion.
He told the driver at the vehicle in a
terse command to wait for the child and
then take her home after the function
was over. And then getting into the car,
he drove himself out to the road.
And he had driven straight to the
hotel. He had found the men seated in
the topmost room waiting for him. It
hadn’t been good.
Sweating, and struggling to stem the
flow, he had sat himself down and looked
at the five men.
‘Thank you for coming,’ spoke the
small man who sat himself opposite John
on the oval table. His tone was sacarstic.
612
‘What do you want Justo.’ He forced a
harshness that wasn’t there.
‘You know what we want my man.
Time is running out. We need your
answer.’ The man said.
John looked at the other four men in
the room. They were a group of sharks.
That was how he liked to think of them.
They wanted a trailer load of
narcortics that had been impounded at
the port to be realised. John had the
connections to do that. But he couldn’t,
he told himself fervently, it was just
another hook sinking into his flesh.
Justo, the spokesman, a ruthless
business man of substantial renown
noticed the play of emotions on the
politician’s face.
‘John, you want to get back to
parliament right?’ he spoke in mild tones.
613
‘You know I can get you back. And this
time, you will even get a cabinet post.
You want me to be in your corner John.
‘You benefit, I benefit. But if you are in
the opposite corner,’ he went on
speaking in those same mild tones. ‘I will
finish you. You will be lucky to have a few
cents when am done with you. If you dare
stand for elections, your own
constituents will stone you. Listen to
reason my man.’
‘I need time,’ John had said. He was
backed into a corner and he was feeling
it.
‘I hate it when you say that man,’ Justo
said showing his anger for the first time.
He banged his hand on the table and
stood up. He stood not two feet higher
than John when he was seated. ‘How much
time have we given you in the past?’
614
‘I need time.’ John said.
‘A lot of time!’ Justo went on as though John
had not spoken. ‘You are procrastinating and I
do hate that. We have no more time to give
you now John! I will release the tapes to the
media_’
‘Come on man.’ John Ndati spoke. ‘This is
not easy on me and you know it. I need time.’
Justo sighed. ‘Ok man. I will give you more
time. What about seven days?’ John released
his breath. ‘Yes John, I think seven days is
better than you deserve. Now leave.’
John had been more than ready to do that.
He had got up on shaky feet and driven to
another place first before going home. And he
had been on the phone trying to find a way he
could get that trailer from the ports and still
get out of this unscathed.
He knew why Justo wanted him. It wasn’t
just that he had a lot of damning evidence
615
against him – although that was a major part of
it. But it was more that he was a very
convenient fall guy. He was an MP but he
didn’t have any ministerial portfolio so he
wasn’t unreachable. He didn’t have the
president’s ear, he had nowhere to fall when
they pulled the rag from beneath his feet. And
he had no doubt that Justo would do that.
But what he banked on, was the man’s
avarice. He wanted that cargo and he would
play along with John just as long as he was
certain that it would be in his clutches.
And now, as he sat on the sofa listening to
his wife talking to the cops, he wondered if a
day could ever be any worse than this one.
‘They are saying that we ought to wait until
morning to call them,’ Purity yelled banging
the phone. ‘Can you imagine that?’
‘It’s policy Purity.’
616
‘Policy?’ she yelled at him now. She was
scared and had to vent it out on someone. ‘You
never loved her. You wanted this, you probably
arranged it John what is wrong with you?’
‘Purity you are angering me!’ he got off the
sofa and went to the phone. His wife stood
aside her eyes still spitting fire.
‘Who are you calling?’ she asked looking up
at him.
‘A friend of mine.’ He said laconically. And
then the phone was picked on the other side
and after a few minutes, he hang up. From
hearing half of the conversation, Purity knew
what he planned.
‘Think it will work?’ she asked.
‘It is the only thing I can think about now,’
John said wanting to take her into his arms but
deciding against it. ‘We have to get a photo to
them.’
617
Purity nodded and could not stop the tears
now as they streamed down her cheeks. Her
daughter was lost and it was all her fault. She
wondered where she was, was she safe?
Mboch came into the house with a mild

sweat on his forehead.
‘Cleaned it all out?’ Keith asked angry to
have his revere interrupted.
‘Yeah, cleaned the whole car.’ Mboch
replied testily. He didn’t like being ordered
around but he was in awe of Keith. At times
though, the man stretched it.
Keith sensed the man’s anger. ‘Seat here
man we need to talk.’
‘We can talk later Keith I have work to do.’
‘Always thinking with your prick you fool,’
Keith said angrily. ‘We need to talk about the
work on Sunday. I will need the car.’
618
‘Why can’t we talk about that tomorrow?’
Mboch said grouchily, but he sat down beside
Keith on the sofa.
‘Listen Mboch, you know I have no problem
with you and,’ he looked towards the locked
bedroom. ‘What you do. But man this one
smells funny.’
‘That’s coz she puked man.’ Mboch said
laughing. Keith wanted to knock his teeth in.
‘Listen to me man!’ he said gritting his
teeth. ‘She looks you know from the other side
of town. She smells rich.’
‘So what man,’ Mboch replied negligently.
‘Puss is still a puss no?’ he gripped his crotch
lewdly rubbing it.
‘Don’t do that.’ Keith said moving away
from him.
He rubbed it even harder making Keith
worry that he would open his zip and pop his
thing out. But Mboch just laughed. ‘Listen
619
man,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk about the Sunday job
tomorrow. Now, I have work to do.’
And as he got off the sofa, Keith saw the
bulge in his trousers. He felt a moment of pity
for the small girl. But quelled it. His eyes went
back to the TV and his mind sought the fantasy
once more. But it proved elusive.
Not a few minutes later, it was nine. And as
his idle mind roamed, he saw something on the
TV that shocked him right out of his fantasy
once more. That face, he thought as he
reached for the remote to increase the volume.
As he closed his hand on the remote control,
he heard the scream.
Mboch had entered his bedroom his fly
almost bursting. He wanted to come in the
worst way and this girl would surely get it. Oh,
God it had been such a long time since he had
a hard on for anyone – even the small girls.
620
Perversion, they said, was like a drug. Every
time, one needed more of it, to get to the
same high. He had been despairing that he
had built up a tolerance for raping small girls.
And he had wondered where he would go from
there.
Well now, he need not wonder any longer. It
seemed after all, that he had no wish to move
up the ‘ladder’ as it were. In fact he was quite
glad to stay on the rung he was on. So what if
Keith said she was from the other side of town?
Probably, that was why he wanted her so bad
anyway.
Besides, he would use her for the night then
dump her the next day, or maybe the next day
after that. All depended on how she treated
him or how he mistreated her, he allowed
himself a smile at his own joke.
And it didn’t even matter that she was such
an ugly girl. It only made him hotter. Only
621
made his fists and legs itch to get in on the
action too. She would look worse than a badly
cooked omelette when he was through with
her.
His zip was just too tight. Too constricting.
He opened it noticing the way her eyes
widened when she saw his erect tumescence.
She was crouching by the corner of the
room. She had drawn her knees up and
wrapped her hands around her legs. Oh, Mboch
wanted to say. She looked so sweet. His penis
twitched.
The room wasn’t large by any standards.
With the bed, there was just ample space to
move around. The wardrobe was built into the
wall, and it was open clothes strewn all over.
There was some left over fries on a plate right
on top of the clothes’ pile.
There was a foul smell that emanated from
under the high bed. It was his sweaty snickers
622
and a half empty carton of yoghurt which had
been forgotten there three weeks before. To
Mboch, this filth was the way to be. He kept
lazily postponing the cleaning of his room. And
as he was away from the house every day till
evening, he wasn’t particularly worried by the
smell.
He walked closer to the girl grinning. Oh he
would work her good. She eyed him fearfully
alternating between looking at his mean fat
face to his mean fat penis. Mboch was happy
to note that the scared eyes spent more time
below his belt.
‘Come here baby,’ he said jocularly. He was
always in good humour at times like this. ‘I got
you home, and you promised to pay.’
He reached for her arms. She scratched at
him viciously flailing her limbs but he was
strong. Too strong for her. He simply pulled her
into the air and crushed her small body to his.
623
And as she struggled, he only got harder. He
groaned when he felt his penis rub her crotch
against her skirt.
‘Let me go, let me go…’ she wailed. He only
laughed moving to the cluttered bed.
‘OK.’ And then he dropped her. She had not
time to breath, he was on her immediately. He
was sweating now and she could smell it,
feeling the threatening vomit once more.
He was so heavy, she felt the air leave her
body as he sunk his weight on her. She was
totally pinned to the bed. She felt his fat hand
crawl down the side of her hip to her left knee,
where he brought it inside her skirt. She tried
to twist from under him but there was no
where she was going. His fingers rose inside
her skirt against her inner thigh. She struggled
and managed to clamp her legs together. His
hand was trapped between her thighs. He
624
wriggled his fingers but clenching her teeth
and closing her eyes, she kept her legs tight.
He pinched her suddenly and viciously that
she inadvertently parted her legs as she
yelped. His left knee quickly wedged between
her legs moving high against her crotch. She
wanted to puke. She prayed for it but nothing
came.
And as though to make it worse, his lips
clamped on hers. She chocked on his tongue
which moved into her mouth like an evil snake.
She felt him move his hand from her thighs.
She knew he had it on his hard dick. He was
preparing to move to her core.
But suddenly, she felt her left arm free. She
wondered what to do, and only did the only
thing that she could, before thinking about it.
Her hand crept between their bodies and
made contact with his rigid penis. Mboch
almost orgasmed right there. The sensation
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was too good. And he relaxed reflexively, to
give her fingers more and better access to him.
She was struggling to breath through her
nose as she closed her fingers around his hard
penis. Her fingers crawled to the base, as he
lifted himself off her to grant her access. She
had no idea what she was doing, only that she
must do it. Her instincts guided her as she
heard him groaning into her mouth now.
The fingers went into his trousers, and
when they closed on his balls, Mboch had to
make a concerted effort not to come right
there. The next thing he felt, was pure
unadulterated pain as her long nails tautened
on his scrotum and fiercely yanked.
As Mboch screamed, Keith pressed the
volume button on the remote control. He had
seen the girl’s face on the nine o’clock news.
At first he thought that his eyes were playing
with him, but sure as day, it was her face.
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But as he pressed the button, his eyes
glued to the TV screen, he saw the tube go
blank and then Tom came on determinedly
chasing an even more determined Jerry. He
had pressed another channel. Cursing, he
rectified his mistake, increasing the volume
this time.
The girl’s face had disappeared. But the
newscaster was saying that if anyone had any
idea where she was, they should call the
number that scrolled below the screen. He
quickly memorised it. While with the other half
of his sharp mind, he gleaned from the news
reporter that the girl was Honourable John
Ndati’s daughter.
I knew she smelled funny, he thought. The
next thought was his fantasy and that he could
yet see it come true. And his next thought had
him racing to Mboch’s room. He hoped he got
there in time.
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Mboch hadn’t even bothered closing the
room. He found them on the bed. He was on
top of her and for a moment, Keith thought the
man was in the act of raping the girl but he
saw that he was just beating her up. He called
to him as the man rained blows on the pitiable
girl below him.
‘Mboch! Mboch!’ he pulled at the man who
was now maniacal. When he looked at the girl,
he almost puked. Her face was puffed up. Her
lip was bleeding and her eyes were swollen.
Mboch’s member was hanging out of his
trousers.
‘Jesus man, what the fuck are you doing?’
and because he could not help it, Keith
slammed his fist into his cousin’s gut.
Mboch doubled over clutching his middle.
‘What the fuck did you do that for?’
Keith ignored him looking over at the girl.
She was in shock, staring back at him. Her skirt
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was way up her thighs and her legs were all
over the place. He pulled it down to restore to
her some dignity. She didn’t cry, but Keith was
sure that would come later.
‘You were right little girl,’ he spoke to her.
‘We will get you home ok?’
She looked at him through he swollen eye
and then nodded. She looked back at Mboch
who was still bent over. Keith picked up in his
arms and left the room.
‘Wha?’ Mboch gasped.
‘Seat your arse in front of the TV man.
There won’t be any fucking for you today.’ He
carried the girl who lay immobile in his arms
like wood. He took her over to his bedroom
which was opposite Mboch’s. He placed her on
his neat bed and then got out. He locked his
door.
Mboch was at the corridor. He was standing
straight now, although his face was still
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contorted in pain. ‘So you want her for yourself
man?’ he said. ‘You could have said that_’
‘Listen you oaf,’ he interrupted his
grumbling. ‘I don’t sleep with ugly little girls.
She is worth a lot to me than a fuck and that’s
why I have to keep her away from you.’
‘What are you talking about man?’
‘She is upscale just as I told you.’ Mboch
didn’t follow. Keith led the way toward the
sitting room. Mboch followed, now zipping his
fly. ‘Her father is John Ndati.’
Mboch still didn’t follow. ‘The MP!’ Keith
yelled. ‘Jesus Mboch where do you live?’
‘OK, OK, so she is the daughter of an MP,’
Mboch said seating down on the couch
gingerly. ‘But they don’t know she is here
right? We can still dump her tomorrow.’
‘You are thinking with your dick again man.’
Keith admonished him. ‘This chick is our route
to money, Mboch, money.’
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‘I don’t follow.’
‘Yeah man, you don’t need to tell me that.’
Keith said angrily. He stood up and went back
to the bedroom.
‘Where are you going now?’
‘I think that girl needs taking care of.’ He
said adding, ‘By me. Not you!’
Keith disinfected her cuts and bruises. He
did his best to clean her up. But since he had
no gauze, he had to leave her like that. She
would live. But she looked so bad he thought,
would his plan work?
And then after he had cleaned her, he went
over to the store walking by Mboch who was
still seated on the couch wondering what Keith
was up to. But he had a plan and when he got
a plan, not even Mboch liked to mess with him.
Keith was slow to anger often and quiet-like
but he was a volcano when he erupted.
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Keith went to the small storeroom that was
on the other side of the sitting room from the
bedrooms. It was empty as they didn’t have
much. They spent most of their time out of the
house and rarely even cooked. The store,
which was supposed to serve as a pantry, was
next to the small kitchen.
Keith thought it would do. He got a
mattress – a thin naked mattress that had
been rolled up under his bed and lay it on the
floor of the store. It just fit lengthwise leaving a
width of about three feet to the door. That was
enough room he thought.
He went back for sheets. There were no
extras. He got one of his, and Mboch’s blanket.
He would have to fend for himself.
And when he had made the bed, he made
sure that the shelves – too high for the small
girl, were empty. The room had no window.
There were narrow aeration slits above the
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door. The door itself had a bolt and a latch on
the outside.
Keith tested the padlock, perfect.
He went to his room to pick his hostage. He
found her whimpering on his bed. The shock
had worn off and as he had predicted, self pity
had checked in. He had no time for her tears
though, he picked her again and she came
willingly.
Hardening his heart against pitying her, he
carried her to the store. As he passed Mboch,
the other man felt the urge to tackle him and
take the girl. His balls still stung but he could
feel the life coming back into his dick.
Whatever this scheme of Keith’s was, he
had to fuck that little slut.
Keith locked the door when he finished the
transfer. He had checked that the room was
empty and that the girl had no avenue of
escape. If there was anything he hadn’t done,
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he didn’t know what it was. Now, he was ready
for phase two.
He would call the parents. It was in fact
genius on his part to take this long after the
newscast. The folks would be more worried
now. More ready to listen to him.
He sat beside Mboch on the sofa and
reached for the phone. He dialled ignoring
Mboch and the look of curiousness he was
giving him. ‘Operator,’ he said. ‘I would like to
place a reverse call please.’ He gave the
number and waited as the call was made.
‘Who should I say it is?’ the operator asked.
‘Say, it’s the man who has their daughter.’
Keith smiled to himself as he waited for the call
to be completed. He waited breathlessly to
hear the voice of Honourable John Ndati. He
wondered whether it would be as powerful as
when he heard it on TV or whether it would be
tempered with melancholy, fear perhaps.
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‘Ah sorry sir,’ he heard from his thoughts.
‘they have refused to pay for this call. Thank
you.’
‘Now wait a minute!’ but the phone was
dead. The operator, was on to something else.
At the mansion, the air was dense with

worry. It was now half past nine and the girl
was still missing and the police insisted that
since there was no evidence of foul play, they
ought to wait the night. When they said that
for the fifth time, Purity hang up the phone
screaming a string of profanity.
John’s idea was the only one that worked.
Only it seemed to have worked too well.
Immediately after the nine o’clock news first
item, the phone had started ringing. John had
rushed to it, beating his wife.
‘Yes?’ he had spoken.
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‘I have your daughter,’ the voice said
gruffly on the other side.
‘Where is she?’ John asked after a brief
heavy silence which told Purity that the call
was indeed about their girl.
‘She is with me now,’ the voice took on an
uncertain tremolo. ‘She is going to heaven and
we are praying together now.’
‘Who are you!’ John shouted into the phone
a dreadful fear coming over him.
The man on the other side laughed
gleefully.
‘Tell me how I should know it is my
daughter you moron! Describe her to me!’
But the man simply laughed and hang up.
John was shaking as he replaced the phone on
its cradle. What had he just done? The first
clue to where his daughter was and he had
made the man hang up. He was now_ but his
train of thought was cut by the shrill ringing of
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the phone. He almost jumped out of his skin –
it was so sudden.
He picked up the phone. ‘Yes?’ he was
cautious now. If it was the previous caller, he
didn’t want to make the man hang up
prematurely.
‘I have your daughter.’ It was a woman’s
voice.
Jesus, John thought desperately. What was
this? He felt Purity’s presence at his arm. She
was trying to listen into the receiver.
‘I have your daughter and am not giving
her back. She was mine! Mine! You took her
away from me but now she is mine!’ the
woman was screaming now.
John cut her off. This was going to be harder
than he thought. And the phone had not rested
on the cradle for a minute before it rang again.
Purity picked it quickly. ‘Yes?’
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‘What’s this about price money?’ the voice
on the other side asked. Then as though the
caller was being talked to by someone, he
coughed. ‘I mean a lost person. You giving
price money right?’
Purity hang up on him. And the crank calls
kept coming for half an hour without cease.
They were torn between the urge to disconnect
their line and to keep it in case someone who
had legitimate news about their daughter
called.
It was after a five minute respite, forty
minutes later, when the phone rang once
more. John picked it. Purity had by now retired
on the sofa, her head in her hands. She was
sobbing softly. These calls might be falsehoods
but it had brought to them the reality that she
might not have gotten lost but was being held
by someone against her will.
‘Yes,’ John said his tone weary.
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‘Operator sir,’ the voice said. ‘There is a
caller here requesting a reverse call should I
grant it?’
‘Who is it?’ he perked up hoping to here his
daughter’s name.
‘A man who says he has your daughter.’
John didn’t bother replying. He simply
replaced the receiver on the cradle.
‘Another one?’ Purity asked tiredly.
‘Yes,’ John said angrily. ‘The fool couldn’t
even make the call, he wanted to reverse the
charges imagine that!’
Purity just sank back into the seat. What
she imagined, were the many different ways
her daughter would be killed or molested and
when her husband came to seat on the arm of
the sofa, she yelled at him and told him to seat
as far away from her as he could.
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20
‘HE WANTS TO SEE ME,’ Hannah said

excitedly as they made their way home that
evening. Gideon laughed. ‘You are just jealous.’
She said.
He humoured her. ‘And why would be
jealous Hannah, I don’t want his love.’
‘Don’t say it like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like it’s a dirty word,’ but she was smiling
her bright smile at him. ‘I don’t expect you to
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understand anyway. One day you will fall in
love and then you will see what am trying to
tell you.’
Gideon just laughed more. ‘So why do you
think he wants to see you?’
‘Well,’ she said taking his arm in her hands
and leaning into him. ‘I maintained my good
name_’
‘You stole my story again.’
‘Yes. I mean no. I changed it a bit,’ then she
looked up at him in a cute pout. ‘I couldn’t help
it.’
They laughed together. ‘You are a crazy girl
you know that? This time you have put us into
trouble.’
‘How?’
So he told her.
The next day, they were inside Mr. Imbusi’s

office. He was busy with some work and simply
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pointed at the two chairs at his desk after
briefly looking up. Gideon sat across Hannah
and looked down.
The man went on with his work as they
stewed in the silence. Hannah nudged him with
her foot. He looked at her. She was looking
dreamily at the man. Then as the teacher went
on looking down at his work, she licked her lips
seductively.
Gideon wanted to yelp. He nudged her foot
and at that moment, Mr. Imbusi looked up.
Gideon and Hannah sunk back into their seats
as though a heavy hand had shoved them back
simultaneously.
Gideon stared at a spot on the wall. At the
corner of his eye, he saw Hannah place a long
finger nail at her lips and she started biting at
it. It was so juvenile he could see right through
it. Jesus, Gideon thought. Help me today.
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‘Well, Master Maina, Ms Kheri am glad you
could make it,’ he said it as though they had
had a choice in the matter. If he wasn’t so
shaky, Gideon would have laughed. ‘I’ll get
right to the matter at hand.
‘You Maina, or this beautiful young lady
here,’ Hannah was positively preening! ‘Are
either a very good writer, or a very good fraud.
‘Now, which is which?’ he wasn’t smiling at
all now. And he was looking right at Gideon.
Why me? He wanted to ask. He kept quiet
wondering how he would get out of this. He
didn’t need to feel Hannah’s foot hit his
surreptitiously to know that he could not rat on
her.
‘Well?’
‘I – sir – I wrote my story,’ it was safe. But
he wasn’t getting out easily.
‘And the lady is the fraud?’ Mr. Imbusi asked
shifting his eyes to Hannah.
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Gideon shook his head refusing to meet
either Hannah’s eyes or the teacher’s.
‘So you are the fraud?’ he asked. After a
moment of silence, Gideon slowly nodded. It
would mean strokes but it was better him than
Hannah.
‘Aha!’ the teacher said as though he was a
magician and a rabbit he had promised the
kids had just popped out of his hat. ‘You young
man are in big trouble. I remember last time
explaining what plagiarism was to your class
didn’t I?’
Gideon nodded now looking down at his
feet.
‘So you have deliberately gone against my
wishes.’ The teacher said. ‘The first time I let it
go because, well it was the first time. But this
is something you did knowing very well that I
shall not condone it. Were you testing me
young man?’ he was now angry.
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Gideon shook his head still looking down at
his feet. Get it over with, he wanted to say. It
would not be the first time he had been caned.
No boy worth his salt bragged a ‘virgin‘ bum.
‘I think you will accompany me to the
Headmaster’s office now so that he can have a
talk with you.’ The teacher stood up from his
chair. This didn’t look good all of a sudden.
Why did the man have to complicate things?
He should just have gotten a can and whipped
him. How hard was that?
But no. he was taking him to the Head.
Where he would surely be caned but also
included in the black book. This was six quire
book where wrongdoers names were written.
The rules was if your name appeared thrice,
you were liable for suspension. Nobody wanted
that on his record. Gideon had only appeared
once.
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‘Let’s go,’ Mr Imbusi said all haughty now.
He was standing at the door waiting for them
to get onto their feet.
Gideon stood up, might as well go through
with it quickly. He didn’t look at Hannah and as
he walked to the door, she reached for his arm.
‘Excuse me sir,’ she said when Gideon
turned and looked at her. She looked straight
into his eyes as she said, ‘I am the fraud. Not
Gideon.’
‘Hmm,’ Mr. Imbusi’s smile was back. He
closed the door and walked back to his desk.
He sat in his chair and looked up at the two
students. ‘I believe that that is the case.’
‘You knew?’ Gideon could not say any more.
‘I suspected strongly that it was you doing
the writing yes.’
‘Then why?’ again he couldn’t finish his
sentence.
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The teacher shrugged as if to say why not?
‘You were willing to be the scapegoat, I
thought I’d humour you. But I can see that Ms.
Kheri is a fine young lady, not just beautiful.’
Gideon looked at the smile he sent
Hannah’s way and he thought that it was the
most licentious thing he had ever seen! He was
getting uncomfortable in the office and
doubted whether he would be really missed if
he just walked out.
‘Ah sir,’ he pointed a finger at the door. ‘I
have a class now, so is it…’
‘Yes, yes,’ Mr. Imbusi didn’t look at him.
‘You may leave, am finished with you. You Ms.
Kheri, I still need to have a word with you.’
Gideon avoided Hannah’s eyes as he turned
to go. ‘Close the door behind you.’ He did.
As they were walking home that evening,

Gideon was itching to ask, but he felt he
647
shouldn’t. For some reason, this didn’t feel like
a topic to discuss freely like everything else
they talked about.
‘Well,’ Hannah said after they had
exhausted topics about the weather and all
those other things that they both new they
didn’t want to talk about. ‘Aren’t you going to
ask me what happened after you left?’
Gideon shrugged as though he didn’t care
whichever way. But inside, he was sick with
questions; what had they done? Had they
touched? Had they kissed? Had they had sex?
And image of Hannah on the desk with Mr.
Imbusi between her young legs made him sick.
‘I know you want to ask so am just going to
tell you,’ she paused and Gideon held his
breath. ‘Nothing.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked in a rush of
exhalation.
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‘I mean nothing happened,’ she said gaily. ‘I
mean the man is a flirt so he did that a lot
telling me my hair is good, you never say that,’
she giggled. ‘and that my lips looked soft and
kissable, my eyes… you know, he went on and
on.’
‘And? You know that’s illegal right?’
She slapped his shoulder. ‘And,’ she went
on, ‘I hang on every word he was saying
mesmerised staring at his gorgeous face.’
‘I don’t want to hear this.’
She slapped his shoulder again. ‘But as I
stared at his lips, you know what I saw?’
‘What?’ he asked in spite of himself.
‘Spittle Giddie!’ she said. ‘The man foams at
the corner of the lips when he talks. Yuck!’
Gideon let out a whoop of laughter. So the
handsome man had a flaw. ‘I thought you loved
him Hannah.’
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‘Well, I thought so too.’ She exclaimed in
short saying that she didn’t think so any more.
They laughed and Gideon linked his hand
inside hers happily.
‘Thanks by the way,’ he said.
‘For what?’ she asked leaning her head on
his shoulder as they walked ever so slowly
home.
‘For this morning in his office. You didn’t
have to you know.’
‘Of course I did. You are my friend,’ she said
squeezing his arm. ‘What you did was gallant. I
could not stand by and watch as your
machismo got you a thorough ass whipping.’
‘You know you have to stop using my
stories, and writing your own don’t you?’
‘Do I have to?’ she whined. They laughed as
they walked hand in hand just as they had for
more than seven years.
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The next time Hannah told him that she was
in love, they were in high school. Gideon was
now writing more purposely. He had entered a
competition in his first year and won third price
for creative writing.
His writing still got read by the English
teacher to the class. He was known to the class
as the writer. He started writing poems when
he was a sophomore.
It started interestingly as a dare. It was
valentines that weekend. The deal was that
whoever wrote the best poem, would get this
girl in their sister school as their date. The girl’s
identity of course was to remain a mystery.
It didn’t immediately impress Gideon. He
smiled and laughed along with his classmates –
all teenage boys running on a diet of hormones
and nothing more. It was going to be
interesting, that was for sure.
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They wondered who was going to be the
judge of these poems. They were told that the
mystery girl would read all the poems and be
the judge of what she thought was good or not.
Gideon’s competitive streak was piqued.
But something else perked too – his natural
fear for rejection. It was good enough for his
classmates to simply write a poem in a search
for a date, but for him, it went further than
that. By reading his poem, she would be in
essence judging his writing and its worth.
Gideon didn’t want to come up short.
By this time, Gideon knew that he wanted
to be a writer. He didn’t know whether he
would ever be good enough to earn a living
through it, but it was simply what came most
naturally to him. Writing was what he did when
he was angry, when he was happy, when he
was horny and when he was not. It made him
happy, it made him sad. But it never left him.
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Finally, the competitiveness won. He
wanted to see if he wasn’t actually better than
anyone else. For a moment he thought about
what it would feel like winning, and forgot
about what it would feel like being rejected.
And so he took a pencil and an empty
paper. Of course his classmates were aware of
what he was doing. A buzz started in the class
that he knew nothing about.
He studied the paper and placed the pencil
on it and sought a starting line. He was blank.
For the longest time, all he could think about
was a story that he was burning to write. This
poetry business felt unfamiliar and foreign.
A love poem. He wondered how he was ever
going to start. And then inside the plethora of
thoughts that were running amok in his mind,
he saw Hannah. He saw her naughty smile and
her delightful body, and he felt himself smile at
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the thought. It felt right. And so for the first
time, Gideon wrote Hannah a love poem.
It didn’t win the competition. Another very
lewd piece of writing won the heart of the
beautiful damsel. But he wasn’t even sad about
it.
He had started writing poetry and the first
time was like the opening of floodgates. Now,
he could not seem to stop. It didn’t matter
what the subject, Gideon had a poem for it. He
wrote in rhymes, he wrote without rhymes – he
simply wrote.
And most of these, he wrote love poems. He
could not help it, it just came naturally. And
whenever he wrote these, it was always
Hannah he had in mind.
They kept in touch through letters – Gideon
wouldn’t have it any other way. They were
together during the holidays, whenever they
were both at home. At school, Hannah was
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always waiting for his letters. They made her
day each and everytime.
She replied whenever she could but it was
implicitly agreed that she couldn’t write as
much as he did, or as often. But it didn’t matter
for Gideon wrote for more than just
communication. He wrote because he loved it,
and Hannah loved reading his letters than
writing. Her letters were infrequent and
painfully concise. Ms. Scientist; Gideon liked to
call her.
It was during the August holidays in their
third year of high school, when one day
Hannah came over to visit Gideon. Solomon
was still at the special school but he didn’t
board – it had become too expensive. He
walked to and from school everyday. Sera was
her usual self and so was his father. Their
family was held by little less than the paper
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they had signed their names one on the day
they exchanged their marriage vows.
Katherine was a delightful four year old who
liked to make a lot of noise – when crying and
when laughing. She adored Gideon and was
always screaming and running after him calling
him ‘Giddie!’ at the top of her little lungs.
Gideon watched her when he had to. He
didn’t like it though. But the more he rejected
the girl, the more she bugged him.
The day Hannah came to visit, Gideon was
locked in the bedroom trying to write a poem.
Katherine had banged on his door until she
gave up. She was out with Sera someplace who
still dotted on her daughter.
When he heard the knock, he said in a
bored voice; ‘go away girl am working.’
‘Open this door Gideon,’ Hannah said and
Gideon looked up. It had been three months
since he had seen her.
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‘It’s you, Hannah?’ he said walking over to
the door.
‘You won’t find out unless, oh_ ‘ he had
opened the door and pulled her fiercely into a
bear hug. Then he pulled her and held her
before him by the shoulders.
‘I see someone missed me,’ she said with a
coquettish smile. Then she did a pirouette. ‘You
like?’
He liked and he didn’t need to say it. It was
written all over his huge grin and laughing
eyes. ‘You’ve grown,’ he said instead his eyes
eating her up.
‘Yeah, short.’ She said. Seating herself on
his bed her curious fingers reaching for the
open book where he wrote his poems. Before
he could stop her, she was perusing it and
reading the poems.
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‘Why haven’t I ever seen this before?’ she
asked her head buried in the pages. Gideon
shrugged. ‘Wow, this is nice.’
She showed him the poem she meant and
he nodded dumbly. It was one of the poems he
had written for her. He found that he had his
hands together wringing them like a child
awaiting punishment. He let them fall at his
side quickly.
Then he looked at her. She was something
else. Her face was exquisite. Her nose was
small and pert and Gideon had to fight the
urge to rub his nose against it. Her lips were
curved in a perfect bow and her youthful
breasts rode high on her chest when she stood.
He felt his hormones betray him into
arousal as he looked at the hem of the flowery
dress she had worn, that had ridden up her
chocolate legs when she sunk so carelessly on
his bed.
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To cover an increasingly perturbing
erection, and perhaps to draw nearer her
scent, Gideon sat down on the bed beside her.
‘These are really good Gideon,’ she said
looking at him. ‘Why haven’t you ever shown
me before?’
‘Ah_’ he wanted to tell her that he hadn’t
exactly shown her even now. ‘I started the
other day, I haven’t had the time.’
She looked at him as if to judge the truth of
his words and then in her characteristic
manner, shook her head and said, ‘Anyway,’
she sat up leaning on the headboard. She
spread her barefooted legs before her pulling
her dress down subconsciously. Gideon though
everything she did was graceful. He sat beside
her at the headboard and listened.
‘We are now sixteen Giddie,’ she said and
he almost yelped when her right hand fell on
his which was on his lap trying to conceal
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evidence of hormonal excitement. ‘Don’t you
think its time we had sex?’
Gideon gulped, looked at her his eyes
bulging, then he opened his mouth and closed
it like a fish. His heart had forgotten to beat
and when it did, he almost felt as though he
had been punched inside the chest.
‘Not together silly,’ she said understanding
his gauche reaction. ‘I am in love Giddie.’
He was breathing now. His heart was
beating slowly like the footsteps of an
uncertain spy. What was he venturing into?
‘Who,’ he croaked. And then clearing his voice
began again. ‘Who are you in love with?’
‘Hassan Shide.’ She said with a dreamy
look. And then Gideon understood why she was
telling him. Hassan Shide was in one class
ahead of him at their school. He lived in the
neighbourhood too for Gideon had seen him
660
once in a while. She no doubt wanted him to
help her get him.
She told him just as much her eyes still
dreamy. But where he would do so without any
thought before, Gideon was worried this time.
She said she wanted sex, and Hassan had a
reputation as a libertine. But even as much as
he wanted to tell her, leave him Hannah he will
use you, you deserve better, he could not.
Hassan Shide was the scrum half in the
school rugby team. He was good and he was
known in most of the girls’ schools. That he
was good looking, went without saying. Gideon
didn’t doubt that he would find Hannah
attractive, she was a queen in his eyes.
His lack of athletic ability had never
bothered him more than now. He wasn’t in any
school team as a result. He preferred to seat
down and write or read. If it weren’t for his
naturally lean body, Gideon would have been a
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puffed up ball by the time he was fifteen. It
wasn’t that he could not play, it was just that
he didn’t have the urge to. All he thought
about doing was reading and creating. But he
could not tell that to the girls, least of all
Hannah.
‘You are neighbours,’ she went on. Gideon
wouldn’t have called it that, but he nodded.
‘Will you arrange a meeting, you know
introduce us?’
Again, he found himself nodding.
‘Thank you,’ she flung herself at him and
ended on his lap her hands around him. He
hugged her back and if she were not as
inexperienced as he was, she would have felt
the need he had for her. As it turned out, she
didn’t. She was on cloud nine, already thinking
about how it would be with Hassan Shide.
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As he thought, Hassan had no problem with
Hannah. He introduced the two one day as he
took Hannah for a walk and they both
‘happened’ to pass by Hassan’s place and they
went in to talk.
Gideon never ‘talked’ with the other boy,
not even at school. He knew a hook up when
he saw one. But still Gideon hated the superior
looks he was giving Hannah, measuring her up
like she was some piece of flesh.
Gideon stayed for that first meeting as they
talked and Hassan arranged for their next
meeting. He told her he would come by her
place and they would go out for a movie the
next weekend. One thing Gideon had to give
the older boy, was his insouciance. And he was
fast. Gideon doubted whether he would have
handled it the same way had the roles been
reversed.
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That day as they walked back home, Gideon
had to stomach Hannah’s continuous; ‘did you
see his…’ ‘did you see how he…’ and it went
on and on. Gideon being the good friend he
was, could not help but listen and nod his head
obediently when called for.
‘I can’t wait for Saturday,’ she said holding
her hands as if in prayer. ‘You will be there
won’t you?’
‘Me?’ Gideon said thinking, no way. ‘Why?’
‘Just until he comes over Giddie. My mom
won’t be there the whole weekend. You can go
after we leave.’ She said speaking fast. Gideon
just had enough time to internalise that
Hannah was going out with a womaniser, and
her mother was out for the whole weekend,
and she wanted to lose her virginity. By the
time all these things were hitting him, they
were at Hannah’s place already, and he just
nodded.
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She thanked him and went in to her place
skipping like a small girl. What have I just done
to myself? He groaned inwardly as he turned
and went home.
Saturday, Gideon was in Hannah’s house

from three. Hassan would come at around six.
Gideon had tried to reason with Hannah that
the later they left, they later they would be
back. She didn’t think it was pertinent though
as she reminded him, she had the house all to
herself the whole weekend.
When he arrived, as they had planned,
Gideon hid in the bedroom. They didn’t stay
long though and he could hear Hassan’s
laughter as they left. He would close the door
now and go back home.
He sat on her bed and shook his head. He
was of course jealous of Hassan Shide. It
wasn’t enough that the guy was popular, a
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good rugby player and had all the girls but why
did he have to take his girl too?
It was him who was supposed to go out with
Hannah on his arm. He remembered her short
skirt and tight top, the stylish hair and make
up, the high heels… why was life this unfair.
Hannah was on a cloud. Hassan was funny.
He paid attention to her and was quite
charming. Her instincts ought to have perked
up when the movie changed instead into the
nightclub.
But she was struggling so hard to be an
adult today she couldn’t start with childish
whining about where she was being taken to.
So with her chin up, she followed Hassan into
the nightclub he dragged her to.
The air inside, was like nothing she had ever
experienced before and for a moment, she was
shocked. The music was deafening, the air was
full of smoke and the lights were a dim red and
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blue and green. The place was packed with
revellers of all age, the women in all manner of
undress.
‘First time?’ he shouted.
Hannah, not even aware she did it, nodded.
Hassan just laughed and pulled her by the
hand. There were tables at the far end from the
dance floor and he took her to an empty one.
Soon, a waiter was there.
Hassan ordered beer and a soda for her
after her vehement refusal. She was doing so
many firsts, she wasn’t ready for alcohol too.
He just shrugged as if to say it was her loss.
And as the drinks came, so did his friends.
First it was just a guy he knew or was at school
with who wanted to say hi and then went on.
But soon it was a whole bevy of girls. And they
stuck much longer than the guys had. And the
drinks kept coming.
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As Hassan got drunker, her got more and
more physical with the girls. Hannah was at
this time seated there looking at the picture
before her, totally aghast. He was shamelessly
fondling them before her. He expected her to
compete for his attention. But she didn’t even
know that – and she wouldn’t have if she knew,
after his fifth bottle, he threw the current girl
from his lap and turned to her.
‘I have been ignoring you,’ he said in a
slurred speech. Then he smiled. ‘Let’s go
dance.’
Hannah was still too confused to say
anything but follow him. She thought he
genuinely liked her, she wondered why he was
behaving this way. At the dance floor, he was
his usual charming self and she found herself
relaxing in the jovial aura and being at the
centre of his attention.
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But as they danced, he started getting
physical with her. He ran his hand across her
chest, as if by accident. But then he did it
again and again. Hannah started worrying, she
had decided to end her virginity today, but
they were in front of everyone.
When Hassan’s hand cupped her buttocks
pulling her into him she panicked. Yanking off
of him, she went to the table, picked her bag
and made for the door. At the corner of her
eye, she saw him drain another beer as some
girl draped herself on his back.
But Hassan had sensed her innocence and
he intended to sample it. He pushed the girl off
and went after her. A steady buzz was
humming in his head now. He was horny.
He found her at the entrance. He caught her
by the arm and when she went to start
complaining, he silenced her with many flowery
words which came easily to him especially in
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the state he was in. Soon he had coaxed a
smile from her.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I have ruined your
night, I will take you home.’
‘It is not ruined Hassan,’ she said quietly
and he smiled like a hyena. No, it was not
ruined. It was about to get very good. Wait
until he told everyone the next day.
Hannah was breathless the whole trip
home. She was thinking about how it would be
the first time, will it be painful? She expected it
would be. But he was experienced, he would
know how to take care of her. She shrugged off
the image of him and the other girls. He was
drunk after all. Just wait until she told the girls
at school that she had slept with the famous
Hassan Shide!
She opened the front door with shaky
hands. He was at her back and she could feel
the hot breath on her neck. His hands ran up
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her torso to her breast and she opened the
door almost falling inside the house.
And then he was on her. His lips met hers
on a furious kiss. She could taste the beer and
smoke on his breath and it repulsed her. But
closing her eyes, she forged on determinedly.
She thought he would carry her to the
bedroom or do a similarly romantic thing, but
Hassan pushed her on the couch in the sitting
room and pounced on her. His hands were
every where.
He struggled with her top and gave up on it.
She felt his hands slide to her short skirt which
had ridden up quite a mile. If she had been a
little experienced, she would have known that
Hassan was not.
His fingers were soon at her mound and it
shocked her to find that she didn’t like it at all.
In fact it repulsed her. His cloying breath, his
antsy over eager fingers made her skin crawl.
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Her skirt was at her waist and he was all over
her. She tried to move but he thought her
squirming was out of wanton pleasure.
Her protests were smothered by his clumsy
kisses and came out as moans. It wasn’t until
she pounded on his chest that Gideon thought
this was not completely consensual. He had not
gone home and instead decided to wait for her.
He had sat himself in an armchair not five feet
from where the couple was. He had fallen
asleep and had been awakened when they
stumbled into the house. But they hadn’t seen
him, they hadn’t even put on the lights let
alone close the door.
Gideon, was repulsed to be watching
another man touching Hannah this way but he
was helpless. And he could not move and stay
inconspicuous. So he sat hoping they would
take it to the bedroom.
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They were drunk. He could smell the booze
on them and the smoke. What a movie, he
thought mordantly. He saw Hannah respond to
his touches in the dim light and her groans
reached him piercing into the corner of his
heart where he had fantasies of being with
Hannah.
But when she started hitting his chest, he
perked up. She looked as though she was
struggling beneath Hassan. Or was she
writhing? And then Hassan rose his hand going
to his fly.
‘Stop, stop,’ he heard Hannah say clearly,
desperately.
‘No, my sweet,’ was Hassan’s reply as he
lay back on her. ‘You don’t play with a guy like
that unless you want to put out.’
Hannah’s cry of refusal was smothered by
his lips again. Gideon’s wasn’t. He roared as he
jumped off the armchair so loudly and
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dramatically, that all the drink sublimed from
Hassan’s head. He got off Hannah’s reclining
body sure he had been caught by the army.
And as he struggled to zip himself up, he
could not stop the iron box – the first thing that
Gideon felt his hand close on, from connecting
with his face.
He fell down in pain and Gideon was onto
him. He closed his hands on the boy’s throat
and started squeezing. Hassan felt the breath
leave him and struggled to dislodge his
assailant. But Gideon had had the element of
surprise on his side and he had a tenacity of a
bull dog when he was incensed.
And he was incensed now. He thought of
nothing else as he closed his strong fingers on
the boy’s neck, but to stop him from breathing.
Hassan flailed about the floor trying to gain the
upper hand, his hands were trying ineffectually
to prise Gideon’s fingers from his neck.
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He tried to punch the boy in the ribs but he
only managed to weakly tap him. And that was
when the panick set. He was dying, he thought
and started flailing anew. Gideon hang on and
if Hassan had looked at his eyes, he would
have sworn that he had never seen such cold.
Depthless calm cold.
Hannah ceased sobbing when she noticed
the boys below her. She had been as
astoniched as Hassan to hear him yell out. But
she had also been so happy. Now, she turned
and was shocked to see Gideon strangling
Hassan with his bare hands.
In her mind, she was transported to another
day and another time to a much younger
Gideon telling her with a nonchalant shrug; I
didn’t know. He was going to kill Hassan. She
had no doubt about that. Gideon had it in him,
she had seen it before, she was seeing it again.
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‘Gideon stop!’ she called getting to her feet.
‘Stop, please Giddie you are killing him.’
And at the sound of her voice, it was though
he had been frozen and suddenly granted life.
He took his hands off Hassan’s neck as though
it suddenly burned him. He stood up off the
boy who was coughing and whizzing holding
his neck, tears streaming down his face. He
didn’t speak, calmly, he pointed at the door
and not waiting to get on his feet, Hassan
scampered.
Hannah closed the door behind him and
switched on the lights. She looked at Gideon
and the fear was still in her eyes. But it was
fear for him. She went to him mutely and fell
into his arms. She hugged him to her fiercely.
‘A good thing I stayed huh?’ he chuckled
against her ear. He was fine now, back to
himself. Leaving his arms, Hannah looked up at
him, he was a good deal taller than her now
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and smiled. ‘I will always protect you Hannah.’
He said seriously and she nodded, she knew.
But who would protect him from himself? She
wondered walking back into his arms.
They stayed in each others’ arms for long.
None of them talked, they needn’t to know
what each was thinking.
‘You know,’ Hannah said her heart in her
mouth. ‘I am still sixteen.’
He heard the uncharacteristic catch in her
voice. She never hesitated, she was sure to a
fault. ‘You are sixteen,’ he concurred.
‘And am still a virgin, and I want to change
that.’ She hid her face in his chest and even
when he stepped back to look at her she kept
her face down.
‘He was not the one Giddie.’ She said in a
plaintive tone.
‘It’s OK, Hannah dear I understand.’ And the
beauty of it was that he understood. She could
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be herself with him, she need not try to be
some experienced adult that she wasn’t yet.
Pulling him by the hand she led him to her
bedroom. Not exactly romantic, but Gideon
didn’t really look like he could carry her.
Needless to say, they lost their virginity to
each other that night and endeavoured to hone
their new skills in that weekend.
Gideon smiled nostalgically as he
remembered his first and second and third and
tenth time with Hannah. It had been all new, all
so unfamiliar yet enticing and exciting. He
could not have had it any other way.
His smile faded when he noticed the bus
slowing down. They were in Nakuru.
21
KEITH WAS FURIOUS. He quelled the

urge to slam the phone on the floor.
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‘Didn’t want to talk to you?’ Mboch asked
unnecessarily.
‘Yes!’ Keith said with so much force, Mboch
winced. But he couldn’t help it. Of all the
things that he had thought could happen, he
had not prepared himself to be denied the
chance to even talk to the girl’s parent.
The phone was on lock and could only make
free calls. He didn’t want to go to outside to a
phone booth but it looked like he would have
to now.
He was angry, but this was a setback, not
the end. He had come a long way for this. This
was his way to wealth. Of all the get-rich
schemes he had cooked and taken part in,
none had ever felt this right.
He hadn’t even been looking for the girl.
She stopped them and Mboch was the one who
had thought of bringing her here. And now it
seemed that she was the daughter of a very
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rich influential man, it was so obvious that it
had all happened so that he could finally get
rich.
‘What will we do now?’ Mboch asked. Keith
caught his tongue before he told the man that
there was no we in this. He could well use
Mboch. And even if things came to it, he could
be the fall guy – and why not? It would serve
him right for all those times he had so
disgustingly, wet his wick in young oil. It would
be interesting to see how he would scratch his
insane itches when he was behind bars. So
Keith smiled and let the we go uncorrected.
But if Mboch thought that he had the intention
of sharing even a cent of the ransom he would
ask for…
‘You know these rich folk probably have
several phones in the house.’ Mboch was
saying. But even before he finished his
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sentence, Keith was off the couch saying ‘Of
course!’
He went to the store and opened the door.
He looked at the pitiful sight of the small girl
curled up in a foetal ball. She was still
whimpering. Keith didn’t have time for this. Not
now, he was angry at the rebuff to be gentle
with her.
‘Hey,’ he said and she turned to look at him
squinting. He looked into her messed up face
and spoke curtly, ‘How many lines do you have
at home?’
She was quiet in thought for a while and
then as she went to speak, he saw he freeze
and pull into herself even more as though she
had seen a snake. It was Mboch she had seen.
He was at Keith’s shoulder peeping in at the
girl.
‘Go buy some food man,’ Keith dismissed
him. The larger man looked at the girl licking
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his big lips lewdly, and then turned to leave
the house. Once he had gone, he turned
expectant eyes at her. She was still frozen,
‘don’t mind him. He is gone now talk to me.’
‘There are two lines.’ She spoke in her soft
voice. It really was a nice voice, Keith would
think later. In all her minuses, that was at least
a plus.
‘Tell me the numbers,’ he said. She noticed
that he carried no pen. Shrugging mentally,
she rattled off the number in the study. Keith
recognised that as the one he had dialled. The
one that had been given on the screen.
‘Tell me the other one,’ he said with
uncharacteristic impatience.
She told him and again her voice played
back in his mind the six numbers. They were
etched in his mind. He closed the door and on
second thought, switched off the light. He had
no idea why he did that. And he didn’t waste
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much time thinking about it. He had a call to
make.
Meanwhile, Inspector of Police Simiyu Jindo

was making several calls of his own. He had
also seen the news bulletin. He was confirming
that the Honourable John Ndati had called the
police before going to the media. These
politicians enjoyed the spotlight too much. It
would not shock him if he discovered that
instead of notifying the police, he had gone
straight to the media – shortest way to
limelight.
They kept ranting that the police did not
know how to communicate with the people.
That there was need to bridge the gap
between the civilians and the uniform. So what
did they do? They pointed fingers while using
other means to solve their problems. He
wouldn’t be shocked.
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He finally reached the police station that
Purity Ndati had called and he was shocked. He
refrained from shouting over the phone but
instead asked for the junior officer’s name and
serial number. The man shakily gave in the
information sure he was in hot soup but not
sure why.
Then the Inspector made another call.
When the phone rang, Purity and John both

started. John went to reach for the phone on
the desk then discovered that it was not the
one ringing. The phone ringing was upstairs in
their bedroom.
‘I’ll go get it,’ Purity said getting off the
sofa. He let her go so that he could man the
phone in the study which had gone silent for
the last ten minutes after the spate of calls in
the initial half hour.
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She walked up the large stairway half
heartedly. She didn’t feel like going up to pick
the phone in case someone called downstairs
with news about their daughter. But she could
not seat one more minute in the same room
with John in silence and keep from screaming.
It was all her fault, she kept thinking. If she
had not gone for the meeting, if she had kept
her promise to her daughter and attended her
performance, none of this would have
happened. John was just too unfeeling at times,
he had had something to do? Why had he even
gone in the first place?
She kept on with this destructive thinking
as she trudged up the stairs, one after another.
When she reached the landing, the phone went
quiet. She had taken too long she supposed.
She went to go down but decided to change
into something warmer now that she was
upstairs already.
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She went into the room and got off her
business skirt and shirt. She removed her bra
and grabbed a long thick T-shirt. She was
looking for some pyjama pants when the
phone started ringing again. She almost yelped
in shock.
Forfeiting her search, she picked the phone.
It was the operator.
‘…A reaverse call madam,’ the operator
said.
‘Who is it?’ she asked absently rubbing her
tired eyes with her right thumb and middle
finger.
‘The man who has your daughter.’ The
operator said in a dry tone. As if to say’ yeah
he sounds crazy to me too. But am just doing
my job.’
Purity was of a mind to hang up just as her
husband had done. But as she perked up, she
wondered how he had known this number,
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they had given out the number in the study to
the media house. And then the dread she felt
that her daughter might have told this man the
number, and her instincts screaming its him its
him, made her accept to be charged for the
call.
‘Who are you?’ she asked immediately she
heard the operator telling him to talk.
‘The man who has your daughter,’ she was
told and then she heard him laugh in a manner
that was curiously relief.
She was gripping the receiver in a death
grip. Her mind was on the phone the caller that
she didn’t hear the door bell ring or the maid
ushering in the late visitors. The man was
speaking telling her about how he had no
intention of harming her girl. She cut him
short.
‘What do you want?’ she asked her voice
brittle. She heard him pause as though taken
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aback. He wasn’t used to having his speech
interrupted. Well that was just too bad. She
wasn’t used to having her daughter kidnapped.
‘We’ll come to that err…’ she noticed that
the laughter was completely gone from his
voice now.
‘Am her mother,’ she said reigning in the
urge to call him very vile names. ‘How do we
know you have her.’
‘Madam, Mrs Ndati can I call you that?’ he
went on without waiting her answer. ‘I have
your daughter, she is an ugly thing from some
up class school isn’t she? She has a shawl over
her head to cover her ugly little face.’
Purity closed her eyes feeling the cut of
every mean word he said. Her lips began
trembling, she knew he had her but from deep
within, she dug up a reserve of strength.
‘Let me talk to her,’ she said with forced
calm. She was of a mind to call John but she
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couldn’t exactly tell him to hold until she got
her husband. She would have to take care of
this by herself.
‘Mrs. Ndati_’
‘Let me talk to her!’ she yelled into the
phone finally snapping. ‘Let me talk to her you
bastard!’
Keith held the phone away from his ear as
the woman called him every ugly word from
hell and back. He had expected it to be the
father and had been thrown when the mother
had picked instead. Frm there, he was afraid
he had not had control of this conversation as
he had wanted.
The first time, the operator had told him
that no one was picking up the phone. He had
snapped at the woman telling her to keep
trying. Without a word, she had hang up on
him. He had been fit to yell! He had no idea
operators were this crass.
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So he had tried once more and had been
glad when a man’s voice picked up saying,
‘Operator.’ He would be glad when he wouldn’t
have to hear that name again.
This time, the phone had been picked and
just as he had hoped, put through to the
Ndatis. Only it had been the wrong Ndati. He
stood up pulling the phone with him to the
store. There was nothing to lose by giving her
her wish.
He opened the room and pulling just the
receiver now handed it to the girl. She hadn’t
moved from the position he had left her in. He
didn’t switch on the light though, light from the
sitting room lit up the room dimly, but it was
enough for his purposes.
‘Talk to your mother,’ he said giving her the
receiver.
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She perked up taking the receiver from him.
The coiled cord was now almost straight, it had
been stretched so far.
‘Mama?’ she said. He stood at the door and
listened in unabashedly.
‘Oh, baby?’ Purity was torn with emotion
and she sunk weakly on the bed. She shaking
as she spoke. ‘Are you OK baby, they haven’t
you know, hurt you?’
She shook her head and then realising that
her mother couldn’t see it, she spoke. ‘They
are bad men mama. I am so sorry…’
‘No baby, am the one who’s sorry. Am so
sorry. Mama’s so sorry.’ She whimpered.
‘How sorry are you?’ Keith had the phone
again. Without a backward glance, he left the
whimpering girl and closed the door behind
him locking the padlock with one hand.
‘What do you want?’ Purity asked. ‘Please
don’t hurt her we’ll do anything.’
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‘Well that’s more like it,’ Keith said seating
back on the couch smiling to himself. The
reigns were back in his hands. He heard the
soft crying that the woman was making from
the other side. ‘Listen and listen good. You are
first of all not to mention any of this to the
police. You do that the girl dies.’
She expelled a gasp.
‘Yes, Mrs. Ndati you need to be afraid. And
second thing, is the money for your daughter’s
safe release.’
He kept quiet deliberately letting her stew
and squirm. When she asked, ‘how much?’
He smiled and answered. ‘Why not a
million?’ she gasped. ‘Of course, five million.’
He laughed.
‘Now you can’t tell me that your daughter
isn’t much worth than that ugly thing that she
is?’
‘You bastard.’ She hissed.
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‘You’ve said that already and you know
what lady?’ he laughed. ‘You are right.’
She gripped the phone wishing it was his
eyes so she could gorge them out as he
watched. She felt her body shake as she
strived to keep herself sane. She didn’t believe
that she was having this conversation with
someone, she kept expecting that he would
laugh in his coarse manner and tell her that
she was ajoke in one of those TV shows. But
this was so dreadfully real.
‘Now I suggest you get the MP, and have a
talk with him,’ Keith said. ‘I will call in an hour
to discuss where and when I want the money.
And Mrs. Ndati, no police remember? Oh and
another thing,’ he could feel her holding her
breath. ‘My partner is a paedophile who
doesn’t know the spelling of the word.
Goodnight now.’ He severed the connection.
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Purity, suddenly galvanised into motion, got
off the bed and ran down stairs bursting into
the study in her T-shirt and undies only.
‘A man has got her John,’ she said
immediately she entered. Her husband was
standing at the fireplace, leaning on the wood
mantelpiece. ‘He wants money, five million or
she dies. And no police!’ she was breathless as
she finished her spate of information. She only
then noticed the two men who were casually
dressed, seated by the corner beside the desk.
‘These,’ her husband said motioning to the
two men, ‘are detectives Oscar Tili and Pete
Nduku.’
Nakuru was drizzling. They was little else

Gideon liked less than being rained on. He
took his bags – the rack sack on his back an
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the bag with his manuscript in his right hand,
and alighted.
He ran in the light rain towards a bus. He
was stopped by a man who was waving widely
a large umbrella covering him yelling ‘Nairobi,
Nairobi!’ he was pointing to a minivan – much
like the one he had first boarded to take him to
Mumias that morning.
He made a swift decision, greatly influenced
by the rumbling thunder that promised the
drizzle was only going to get harder. He went
to the minivan the man was pointing at.
There was a small kiosk that stood next to it
with the company logo painted on it. He got his
ticket there and went to the vehicle.
He was lucky. The front seat at the door
was empty. He opened the door and gratefully
got out of the rain. The minivan was a fifteen-
seater, seating three in five rows of seats. At
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the front, he shared the seat with an Arabic
woman and the driver.
He was glad he had gotten this particular
place for it was spacious and he could stretch
his long legs.
He thought nostalgically about how Hannah
would have flat out refused this seat arguing
that it was the front one. She hated looking at
the road in a speeding car. ‘I’ll be the first to
die if we hit something,’ she would always say
refusing to budge.
Hannah finished high school with high
points although Gideon had done better than
her. They had decided that their separation
during high school was too much, and had both
gone to the same University. Interestingly,
Hannah had done dentistry while Gideon had
gone for journalism. She had joked that their
children wouldn’t have to pay for dentists while
he had no free thing to offer.
696
They had known even then that they would
marry. It was a tacit agreement but the both of
them were even more agreed upon waiting.
They went out all the years they were in
College. The usual rough ups and downs in
their relationship – the lowest when they
aborted once in their freshman year, but they
always bounced back together.
When they had worked for a while, at
twenty six, Gideon had popped the question –
or rather made the statement.
He had taken her out to celebrate the
publishing of his first ever work of fiction, a
short story that was published by a renowned
magazine. After the dinner, they had gone
dancing at a night club.
Hannah liked this more than Gideon and
she was touched by his sacrifice. But he had
fun too, and they had a lot to drink. Going back
697
to his place – they maintained separate
addresses, they had fallen onto each other.
Naked on the couch, he had stopped her
when she went to guide his penis inside her
warmth.
‘It’s time we got married,’ he said. He
wasn’t a very romantic fellow outside his
poetry but Hannah understood him perfectly.
‘When?’ she had asked affecting the same
casual tone in his voice. They rarely told each
other they loved the other. To them, words
were not necessary. They were good when
they came but totally unnecessary. As Gideon
told her, only Solo had been with him more
than her. She would smile and tell him, that for
her, no one had been with her more than him.
‘This weekend.’ Gideon had said as if he
was announcing the date of an auction. But
Hannah had nodded laughing with pure joy.
698
And as he pushed himself at her, she bit his
earlobe and whispered hotly. ‘Let’s try
something new.’
Gideon felt the heat surge through him
anew. Whenever Hannah said those words, he
always got something hot. This time wasn’t
different.
‘Let’s count the thrusts out loud,’ she said
breathlessly. ‘In and out counts as one not
two.’
Gideon laughed. She was a crazy woman.
Crazy and beautiful and all his. He nodded and
surged into her saying breathlessly, ‘One.’
Their voices became more and more
breathless as their motions became more
rugged. In the end, Hannah reached fifteen,
Gideon made it up to a breathless seventeen,
they both didn’t see twenty.
Gideon smiled and heard the abrupt
staccato against the window. He wound it down
699
putting the ticket into the outstretched hand. It
was returned to him. The lady did the same,
and then he wound it shut again. The minivan
was full. The driver got in and released the
hand brake.
As the vehicle surged forward slowly, he
buckled his seat belt.
Hannah had been a wonderful wife.
Immediately they got married, they had gone
for Solo and moved in with him into their new
house. By this time, his older brother had
grown into a man of mild manners who smiled
most of the time.
Solomon was a being of habit and after the
first few months, he had settled in to their
routine just fine. He woke up every morning at
seven and had breakfast with the couple.
Hannah left for work leaving the two brothers
at the house.
700
Gideon had at this time resigned from work
and gone into writing full time. The first few
months was hard but Hannah – still his greatest
fan, had stood by him encouraging him and
paying the bills.
Soon though, he had sold a novel. It didn’t
go for much, but it was something. And it made
him even more determined to write the ‘great
one’ as he always told Hannah. Their marriage
life was good, they were both mild tempered
and when things went awry, their good
friendship was always there to fall back on.
It was the second year of their marriage
that was most trying. First, Thomas Maina died.
He had by now long since been sacked and had
gone to live in the country no longer able to
afford living in the city.
They said it was the drink that had done
him in, messed up his life like that but Gideon
was certain that it was all his mother’s fault.
701
And then after the funeral, he had brought
Katherine with him to stay a while. She was an
impressionable fourteen year old then in awe
of her older brother. She liked Hannah who for
her was the picture of beauty that she wanted
to be herself.
Gideon while never close to his sister,
though was pleased to see that she was not as
self centred as their mother who had babied
her all her life. It was something he accepted
grudgingly.
Then one day he had come from a lunch
meeting with his editor to find Katherine
haranguing Solo. She was yelling at him.
‘Don’t ever come to my room again!’ Solo
always did the washing. He had done it without
either Hannah or him asking him to, so they
had decided to let him keep doing it. He had
built the habit. So he had gone into Katherine’s
room to pick her laundry and was bent under
702
her bed when she had entered from the shower
dropping her towel assured that she was alone
on the room.
Gideon watched Solomon leave Katherine’s
room his face looking wounded. And that had
been all for him. He had lived all his life
promising himself and Solo that he would never
have to have that expression cross his face
again.
That helpless look of lack of understanding.
The hopelessness of it, tore at Gideon and he
lashed out, in his typical manner – with utter
cold.
‘Get out of my house,’ he spoke coldly
looking at his sister.
She was wrapped in a towel and she looked
up at him as though he had hit her. Then the
tears welled in her eyes, ‘Giddie…he came into
my room…I was naked…’ she spoke quickly her
words running into one another.
703
‘You do not shout at Solomon.’ He said his
finger still pointing at the door.
She was shaking her head crying openly
now. ‘Am sorry Giddie…I…He shocked me…I
didn’t mean to shout…’
‘Out Katherine. Get your clothes and get
out,’ his voice was completely devoid of any
feeling. Solo was down on the floor his head in
his hands rocking back on forth on his
haunches. He had never been like this for a
long time.
Hannah had walked into the house at that
time. Taking in the stand off, she had ran to
Gideon.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘When I get back you should be dressed I‘ll
take you to the stage.’ And he walked into his
bedroom calling Solo who looked up at
Katherine, then Hannah as if in apology and
704
then followed his younger brother, who was so
much older than him in many ways, trustingly.
When they were gone, Katherine had fallen
into her sister-in-law’s arms and the whole
story came out amid sobs.
Hannah knew how much Katherine – seen
as the mother’s child, strove for Gideon’s
approval. But she also knew how much Gideon
hated Solomon being wronged. He watched
over him like a bear. In fact the only other
person that he protected like that was Hannah
herself.
She consoled the young girl and told her to
dress. Katherine dressed tearfully. When
Gideon appeared, she again tried, ‘I didn’t
mean to…’
‘Are you through?’ he asked. And she had
started packing without a further word. Hannah
had been furious with Gideon but he had been
705
adamant and so Katherine had been on the
next bus to the country to her mother.
That night, Hannah had refused to sleep
with him. She had gone to spend the night in
Katherine’s bed. Gideon had shut his eyes to
sleep but the image that he had managed to
keep at bay for many years had come trickling
into his mind; he saw Solo’s face as his mother
raised the broom stick again and again hitting
his thighs and the eyes that remained dry, the
fear and confusion overwhelming even the
urge to cry.
For once, he had felt the urge to cry but he
quelled it. Even at his father’s burial, his eyes
had remained conspicuously dry. It served
Katherine right. The girl was her mother’s
daughter after all.
Gideon regretted his harsh treatment of his
sister but in time, forgot the incident as
Hannah came back to their bed with the news
706
that she was pregnant. It was good news and
Gideon brightened up immediately. Their
house was back to its normal cheer.
Gideon ran his hand across his eyes. The
drizzle was picking up as he had predicted. The
vehicle though was moving quite fast through
the traffic trying to get to the highway. He
looked at his watch. It was now 3:30pm. He
would be in the city in two hours if the driver
kept this speed, he thought.
Hannah’s pregnancy brought a glow to her.

She experienced massive morning sickness
and was quite choosy about food and smells.
But on the whole, she was bright and happy
and he could not wait to see her with a baby or
her stomach to fill up for that matter.
It was quite inexplicable why three months
later, he was awakened by a screaming
Hannah. The bed sheets were soaked in blood.
707
They rushed to the hospital but there was
nothing they could have done. Hannah had lost
the baby.
The doctor was encouraging and pleasant
telling them that a miscarriage was a natural
abortion. Mother Nature’s way of making sure
there were no mistakes, was how he put it. But
Hannah didn’t want to be told that her baby
was a mistake.
Perhaps the change happened after the
miscarriage, Gideon never knew. But Hannah
was never the same again. She lost interest in
her work, she lost interest in everything that
had meant anything to her. She would seat in
the house with Solo in an endless quiet.
When Gideon had had enough of this – she
was treating him like a pestering aunt, he told
her to take a leave and accompany him to the
countryside.
708
She had nodded silently. The leave had
been granted without a fuss. Hannah had
known what she was doing to Gideon and their
marriage of course but she could not help it.
She kept thinking the miscarriage was Mother
Nature’s way of telling them they were unfit
parents. It was her way of punishing them for
the abortion they had done when they were
freshmen. She kept this to herself of course.
The only person she told was Solo who was a
dear. He listened to her and played with her
fingers.
This destructive thoughts ran in her mind
sickening it without her knowledge. And she
looked at Gideon and wondered if he would
ever be a good father. He was obsessed with
his brother – she had come to see it as such.
And that temper of his… he became an animal
she didn’t know when he was like that. How
709
could she get a child with such a man, a man
who had the capacity for such evil?
She had never forgotten that night Hassan
had tried to date rape her sometime after they
had had a lot of sex, he had told her. ‘I will kill
the man who tries that ever again.’ And she
had believed him.
Now, these things came to her and she
found that she could blame him for everything,
the miscarriage, the abortion – it was easier on
her.
The stay at the countryside had not been a
good idea. Gideon lost his brother for ever that
December and Hannah lost her sanity and he
lost her too.
Now, five years later, he was as empty as
the desert sky. He had a sister he rarely spoke
to, he didn’t know where his mother was or
what she was up to – and he didn’t care, his
710
brother was dead and his wife was in an
asylum.
He had written two books since than and
they had done quite well. The royalties all went
to paying for the best care for Hannah – which
didn’t come cheap. They said that great
suffering makes great artists, he had no idea
how true that was. He had suffered alright but
was he a better writer for it? He wasn’t sure. All
he knew though was that in his lap, sat the
best work of his life.
711
22
KEITH SMILED AT MBOCH. ‘I finally got

them man,’ he said. The other man had just
come in. He had bought fries – Mboch could
live on a daily diet of the fatty food.
‘So how much did you ask for?’ He was
already munching away.
‘One million man,’ Keith lied with a straight
face.
‘Isn’t that a small amount?’ Mboch asked
furrowing his brow.
‘Don’t mind that side of the business
Mboch,’ he said meaning it. ‘I’ll take care of it.’
Mboch shrugged seating back on the sofa.
He was soon digging into a fresh packet of
712
fries, licking and sucking his fingers
disgustingly.
Keith thought five was not a bad figure. He
could not go for a large amount that was
unrealistic. He had to settle for a figure he
knew they could get their hands on by the time
he wanted. Five million was not bad. He could
start with that and build himself into
something. Keith didn’t want to a criminal all
his life. It was such a short life – many of his
cronies had died brutally. He was wise, he
would live. Five was good enough.
‘So I get half no?’ Mboch said nonchalantly.
But his benign manner belied the tension in
him. Keith sensed it. The man was about to
show some uncharacteristic obstinacy.
‘Why not Mboch,’ Keith said smiling. Four
and a half was not bad. ‘But the girl stays
untouched alright?’
713
Mboch nodded, but they both knew he was
being as insincere as the big bad wolf coaxing
Little Red Riding Hood.
‘Give her some food man,’ he told his
cousin. Mboch smiled and reached for a packet
of chips.
He stuck a fork in it and carried it to the
store. He unlocked the door and switched on
the light. She was dozing fitfully. She was
curled up facing away from the door. He
stepped inside the room and nudged her spine
with his dirty boot.
She turned slowly toward him and the door
and squinted up at him. He felt the heat
suffuse through his loins again when he saw
that face – the only thing about her that was
visible. He smiled when she shrunk away from
him immediately her puffed eyes saw him.
‘Here,’ he held out the paper bag with the
fork poking from the top.
714
A shaky hand came out from beneath the
blanket and reached for the packet of chips.
He waited for her hands to get closer and then
he lifted it just from her reach. And then
laughing, he lowered the packet again. And
when she gave him a bored look refusing to
play his game, his face contorted into a
malicious mask.
He reached for her hand pulling it viciously
as he bent his knees. He placed her hand on
his crotch pressing against it. She tried to pull
away but he held her tight. Her hand was in a
tight fist and she could feel him hardening
against her knuckles.
‘You don’t want to pinch me now,’ he
panted. ‘You try that shit now, I might just kick
you to…’
‘Mboch,’ Keith called with a dry tone. It was
obvious why he was taking so long. ‘Leave the
girl alone.’
715
‘You watch out girl,’ he said dropping her
hand. He dropped the chips on her face. ‘You
owe me a ride and I will be getting my
payment soon.’
Leaving her sobbing softly as she picked
the chips from her face and the blankets, he
turned and closed the door. He left the lights
on and looked at her for as long as he could.
He walked back to the sitting room with a hard
on.
At the mansion, Purity looked at the two

detectives incredulously. Her state on undress
didn’t hit her as she rounded on them.
‘Where were you?’ she yelled. ‘Are you the
bastards who told me to wait until tomorrow?
Do you know my girl has been kidnapped?
Kidnapped I said! By some maniac who has a
paedophile friend, where were you! Where
were you…’ she finished weakly and her
716
husband came forward to take her into his
arms.
She sobbed against his chest repeating
what she had been told by the maniac on the
phone. Repeating that he had said they should
not involve the police. This she said giving
them another accusing look.
‘Are you sure it was her?’ John asked her
gently holding her by the shoulder as her
peered into her eyes.
She nodded sniffling. ‘I spoke to her John, it
was her. Oh John what are we going to do?’
‘First, you need to go change into
something warm, and then we sit down and
make some decisions.’
She looked down just then realising that she
was naked except for a T-shirt and a pair of silk
panties. Embarrassed, she turned and left the
room without looking at the two detectives.
717
‘Will you have a drink as we wait for her?’
John asked calmly.
They nodded and John went over to a shelf
for two glasses and a bottle of Scotch. He
poured the drink and handed the glasses over
to the policemen. They murmured their thanks
as they accepted the drinks.
Pete Nduku sat ill at ease. He was fidgeting
and John knew that he was not accustomed to
the opulence of this house. He was a short
squat man. He had a big chest that puffed his
black sweatshirt out. He had bushy brows that
grew so long they almost met. And when he
frowned, they did. He had a think moustache
but shaved his beard. He looked almost
comical that way. What was obvious though,
was that he had no sense of dress.
His partner was the complete antithesis.
Oscar Tili was a slender man of average
height. He was dressed casually also in slacks
718
and a shirt but there was some elegance in the
way the clothes fit him. He had unbuttoned the
cuffs and on the left hand, John could see the
glitter of a golden timepiece.
He was close shaven everywhere on his
face. He was as devoid of hair as his partner
was full of it. He crossed his feet at the ankles
and sat back on the comfortable chair as
though he was used to it. He wore simple black
leather shoes that looked elegant in their
simplicity. He looked outgoing and warm and
more approachable than his partner which was
perhaps wrong. He looked brighter, smarter,
which was also perhaps wrong. Pete Nduku
with his pugilist demeanour looked the more
harsh sadistic of the pair. But that was
probably also not the case.
Purity walked into the study ending John’s
perusal of his late night visitors. She had
grabbed baggy cotton trousers and pulled
719
them on hurriedly. She had also put on an
acrylic sweater.
She looked at the two policemen and her
eyes still blazed with fire. It was not surprising
when Oscar Tili spoke first.
‘You spoke to a junior officer ma’am,’ he
said in his cultured tones. ‘He was just
following protocol am sorry.’
‘And you?’ Purity asked refusing to be
placated by the good looking young man.
‘What are you following?’
‘As we told your husband ma’am,’ he went
on. ‘We are here on the orders of the Inspector
Simiyu Jindo. He told us to come make sure
that your daughter was not in any danger.’
‘Well she is!’ she snapped. ‘She is in a lot of
danger.’
‘And that ma’am,’ is what we want to talk
about. Purity sat back in the sofa thinking if
720
she heard him call her ‘ma’am’ again she
would scream.
Purity repeated everything that had
happened, that she had been told by the
caller.
‘He didn’t say when or where he wanted
this money?’ Nduku asked brusquely.
‘Did I say he did?’ Purity retorted.
‘Ma’am…’ Oscar began.
‘If you call me that again I will shoot you
myself!’ she shouted. The room fell silent after
that outburst. John stood at the mantelpiece
and looked at his wife, placating her with his
look. Then he looked back at the detectives.
‘Now what?’ he asked. ‘And I want you to
know that I will pay the money for my daughter
if that is the only way I will get her back
safely.’
‘Sir that will be a big mistake,’ Oscar said
and the hurriedly went on when he saw that
721
John Ndati was going to interrupt. ‘We have to
catch this criminal so that he won’t have the
chance to do such a thing again. We have to
maintain our cool and try to figure a way out of
this.’
‘You have no idea what to do, do you?’
Purity asked accusingly.
‘Madam_ Mrs. Ndati,’ Pete was the unlikely
speaker. ‘We do not deal with such things
often, kidnapping for ransom is rare in this
country. So, yes we are at a disadvantage
here. We do not have a laid out strategy to
follow or the hi-tech things you see in movies.
‘But what we have is logic. And that is what
we are going to use here. Now this maniac
says he has your daughter… ’
‘He does have her aren’t you listening to
me?’ Purity wondered if she could stop herself
from pulling her hare or succumbing to
madness.
722
‘Well, the only thing we can do now, it to
wait for him to call again. And then we will take
it from there.’
‘Can’t you call some people or something?’
John Ndati asked. But even as he talked, he
knew he was thinking about movies – precisely
what Pete was saying was not at the disposal.
‘We have to keep this on the down low,’
Oscar was back. ‘He said he does not want the
police involved, so we want to keep this as
quiet as possible and that includes the media
too. Hopefully, we’ll get him and your daughter
safe.’
‘What about the other thing?’ Purity
whispered. ‘The paedophile thing?’
Oscar caught himself before he said
‘ma’am.’ ‘He might have been playing with you
Mrs. Ndati to scare you so that you would play
into his hands.’
723
‘Doesn’t that tell us though that they are
only two?’ John asked. He looked straight at
Tili. The detective had thought the same thing
but the reality was they knew nothing.
‘Let’s play it by ear now sir,’ he said
noncomitally. ‘We wait for his call and take it
from there. And you need to get the money
ready. Just in case.’
John Ndati nodded. Just in case. He felt
powerless, he had the police but none of them
had any idea how or where to start.
Nduku asked for the phone and called the
Inspector. He told him everything and the
senior officer gave them their first instruction.
‘We get people to the area around the
school to make discreet questions. Find out if
anyone saw the girl. Give it a radius of two
kilometres.’
Nduku nodded saying ‘yessir.’ But the
problem was that that had to wait until the
724
morning. No one would get anything at this
time of the night. But he made the calls
anyway. They had to be ready in the morning.
And he reiterated the importance to keep this
quiet.
And then they sat back in the study and
waited in silence for the phone to ring.
‘What are these man?’ Keith said to Mboch.

‘You call these chips?’
‘You see the time?’ was Mboch’s rejoinder.
Keith went to the kitchen and dumped the
cold fatty chips in the bin. He looked at the
dirty dishes on the sink and then his sharp
mind quirked.
‘Mboch!’ he called. ‘Did you give the girl a
fork?’
‘Yeah.’ Mboch replied in a bored tone from
the sitting room where he was stretched
before the TV watching a porno film.
725
‘Did you get it from her?’
‘No.’
Jesus, Keith said under his breath. He was
living with a moron. Didn’t the man think with
anything other than his penis?
He went to the store and quickly unlocked
it. The lights were off. He switched them on
with a quick flick of his finger while he stood
well away from the door. But when the light
came on, he saw that the girl was curled in the
blanket facing the wall.
He heard the hum of mosquitoes. They had
smelled her blood from far it seemed.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Hey little girl wake up.’
She turned on the mattress and looked up
at him squinting in the light.
‘You have something I want,’ he said with a
smile. He saw the flicker of fear of flash
through her eyes. His smile broadened.
726
‘You know what am talking about don’t
you?’ he squatted to her level and stretched
out his hand. ‘Give it to me.’
She didn’t play dumb. She just looked at
him for a long silent moment, and then she
turned to the wall and her small hand went
under the mattress. She handed him a white
plastic fork. Her h and was shaking so terribly
that he saw it.
He smiled again shaking his head. ‘What
were you going to do with this?’ then he stood
up taking the neatly folded paper bag at the
lower shelf. Totally upscale, he thought again.
‘Sleep now your parents are playing ball,
you’ll be home soon.’ And then he switched off
the light and left the girl now trembling
feverishly with nerves.
He dumped the waste in the bin, throwing
the fork in the sink. On second thoughts, he
started washing the dirty dishes. He was just
727
passing time letting the Ndatis stew in worry.
Besides, Mboch was not good company now –
Keith could hear the screaming and moaning
coming from the movie he was watching.
When the phone rang, they had sat in so

much silence that they jumped and Purity
actually squealed. It was funny since that was
exactly what they had been waiting for.
It was now 11:30pm. John reached for the
phone and when the operator asked him to
accept the charges, he said yes. They had
decided that since he had no other phone, and
no speaker either, there was nothing they
could do but have John talk to the man so as to
keep him clueless to the police involvement.
Anyway, it was not as though the detectives
were experts in this, or even pretending to be.
‘Honourable Ndati,’ Keith said. He was on
the sofa. Mboch had taken the TV and the VCR
728
to his bedroom to continue his depravity there.
‘Nice to talk to you finally.’
‘Stop your nonsense young man,’ John
Ndati said with his natural coarseness. ‘What
do you want?’
‘I would have thought that your wife had
told you this by now,’ Keith went on in a playful
tone.
Pete rose suddenly and went over to John.
He grabbed a paper and pen and started
scribbling down furiously. John looked at the
two sentences that the man who stood below
his shoulder wrote:
Where is he?
How many are they?
John wondered how he was ever going to
find that out. But he had to try. He cleared his
throat.
729
‘How did you find my daughter?’ he asked
in an inquisitive tone that wasn’t quite steady.
It served his purpose more than he knew.
Keith laughed and feeling the urge to brag
said, ‘Why, the little imp just fall into my
hands,’ he laughed. ‘She was the one who
stopped us you know that?’
‘You and who?’ John asked holding his
breath. He caught himself just before he
asked, how many are you? But the wily man
had the instincts of a wild cat and sensed the
trap.
‘Hey Mr. Ndati, why all the questions?’ he
said all the laughter leaving his voice. ‘You
would not happen to have some cops there
with you would you?’
‘No it’s just my wife and I?’ John said
injecting his usual coarseness.
‘Good, coz you know what I will do to the
girl if you cross me,’ he said clipping the words
730
into a staccato. ‘Now get me the money
tomorrow.’
‘That’s too soon,’ John said buying time, he
looked down at Pete and the man gave him a
thumbs up sign. Keep him talking, seemed to
be the message.
‘Well it’s not too soon to lose your girl,’
Keith said in the same arrogant tone.
‘Tomorrow is Saturday, the banks open until
noon. I will expect the money at 2:00pm
understand? Not a minute later. If the cops are
notified, I kill her. If the money is delayed I kill
her. Tomorrow man not Sunday.’
‘Listen…’
‘No you listen,’ he interjected forcefully. ‘I
am the only thing standing between your
daughter and a maniac who wants to use her
worse than toilet paper. You get my meaning?
So don’t mess with me or play games MP. Get
731
me my cash I get you your girl with all her
body parts attached.’
‘Where…’
‘I’ll tell you in the morning.’ And then he
hung up.
John replaced the receiver and leaned
wearily on the edge of the desk. His head fell
down on his chest. His hands itched to get
around that bastard’s neck.
‘It was not prearranged?’ he heard Oscar
Tili’s voice from the cloud of his emotional
turmoil. He nodded and like an automaton
repeated the conversation he had just had.
‘2:00pm tomorrow?’ Purity asked anxiously.
‘We can’t get that much money by then John.’
Tell me about it, he wanted to say
mordantly but he held his tongue. It would not
do to start taking it out on his wife.
‘So the girl ran away from the school
evading your driver and somehow walked into
732
these guys?’ Oscar was saying piecing all the
information that they had given so far.
‘He said, ‘she was the one who stopped
us…’. Those were his exact words.’ John said
looking at the young well dressed detective.
‘What do you suppose he meant by that?’
‘I think that maybe the little girl got lost as
she was walking, and stopped them to ask for
directions.’ Tili said. Pete was quiet in thought.
But Purity didn’t think that was in character.
Her daughter would have approached someone
to help her as a last resort. She was very
insecure.
‘And do you have any idea why she ran
away?’ Pete Nduku asked looking at one
parent to the other. They both shook their
heads but he noticed that they avoided looking
at him. Could the girl have been running away
from home? He felt the very air in this mansion
choke him. He could empathise with a small
733
girl running away from this opulent coldness.
But looking at the guilty parents, he nodded
and let it go.
‘Well we will get to the school in the
morning, as early as possible. Hopefully, the
early comers will be the late leavers there this
evening. Now we have absolutely no time to
bargain with this guy and I am afraid to tell you
this, but it may come in handy if you have the
money all the same. I hope that is going to be
possible. ’ he had never see that much money
in his life himself. But that was why his two
children were sleeping safely at home.
Purity again fretted at the amount but John
said resolutely that it would not be a problem.
He would get the money in cash.
The detectives stood and after deciding that
there was nothing more that they could do this
night, they left after promising the Ndatis that
they would be at the mansion before six am.
734
And in case they got more information, or the
manic called again, they left their numbers
with the harried parents.
‘John,’ Purity said immediately they heard
the detectives drive off in to the night. ‘How
will we get that much money by tomorrow? I
don’t have that much liquid cash in my
account…’
‘I’ll take care of it Purity,’ he said curtly.
‘Look, why don’t you go try get some sleep?’
She was quiet for a while and then shook
her head. ‘I couldn’t sleep knowing my girl is in
such danger,’ but she got up and walked to the
door, ‘I’ll just grab a shower and maybe warm
some milk.’
He nodded absently as she left asking her
to warm him some too. He sunk into the chair
behind the desk and cradled his head in his
hands. This was a bad day and it had just
gotten to its nadir. Breathing in deeply and
735
then exhaling, like a man who has come to a
momentous decision, he reached for the
phone. He called the man he knew as Justo.
In her little mosquito infested room, the girl

struggled to calm her thudding heart. It beat
so hard she was afraid her tormentors – that
was how she thought of them, would hear her.
Her small hand crept down under the
mattress just as she had done when Keith
asked for the fork. And in the dim lighting
coming from the ventilation slits and below the
door, she looked at the cold metal she held in
her small hand.
It was a metal fork.
When the fat tormentor had tried to rape
her in his room, she had reached for the plastic
fork from the plate he had left on top of the
pile of clothes that were strewn all over his
bed. He hadn’t seen her and when she pulled
736
at his balls, she managed to secret if inside her
skirt pocket.
And then the silent tormentor had come
into the room just as she was sure she was
going to be beaten to death. The fat one had
pinned her arms so that the fork had lain
uselessly in her pocket.
When the fat one had brought the chips,
she had taken the metal fork and for once,
smiled. She had quickly hid it under the
mattress beside the plastic one after finishing
with it. She had thought they would forget it
and had even folded the paper bag and placed
it on the shelf neatly so as not to remind them
that she had had a meal.
But the silent one had remembered. He was
very sharp and she feared him but not as much
as the fat one who wanted only one thing from
her. She wasn’t too young to know what it was
or that she would surely die if he did.
737
So she had gambled when the silent one
had stretched his hand and asked for the fork.
She knew they didn’t know anything about the
plastic one. But what if she gave him that one
and he knew about the metal one too? He
would take them both away and leave her with
no way to protect herself.
And thus her hand had shaken so seriously
as she reached under the mattress feeling the
cold metal, then moving past it to the plastic.
She was sure he had discovered what she was
up to when he looked at her in his quiet way
and she had felt an embarrassing passing of
air from her backside.
But then he had smiled and had soon gone.
She was now holding the metal fork that the
fat one had brought her. She looked at it the
four prongs visible in the dim light. She needed
a weapon of some sort. Her mind worked
furiously and in the end, there was only one
738
way she would have turned the fork into a
weapon. And she got right to it silently, in the
dark wee hours of the morning.
739
23
MORNING CAME WITH THE

DETECTIVES. Oscar Tili was in a neat black
suit and a navy blue tie. He even looked more
immaculate. His partner looked even more
roughshod. His long bushy hair was unpempt
as though he had not bothered to run a comb
through it. His eyes were blood shot and he
wore casual corduroys that had more creases
than crumpled paper. A simple T-shirt hugged
his massive chest.
Detective Nduku, looked the way John and
Purity felt – totally haggard and distraught. At
the sight of the two, it was obvious to the
detectives that neither had had much sleep.
Purity was drinking a mug of coffee that looked
suspisiocly to Oscar as the twenty-something.
740
It was exactly 5:30am. They sat again in the
study as they sipped coffee and waited for the
call. Outside, dawn was creeping in as the sun
made its slow and sure way from the horizon.
Detectives had been dispatched to the area
of the Preparatory School. Immediately word
came, they would be notified. Also, in a
moment of brilliance – since they really were
not used to this, Pete Nduku had asked for the
number of the caller to be traced from the
records of the calls that went via the operator.
It would take time he was told. But he didn’t
have time and had instead told them that he
would expect a call to the Ndati residence, and
then could they please get him the number?
They agreed to do so. With the number, they
could narrow the area where he had made the
call from since every district within the city has
its own pattern of phone numbers, where the
first two digits are used for that purpose.
741
So they sat in the study, all in their own
worlds. All full of anticipation. All daring not to
hope too much.
The phone eventually rang at 6:00am. He
was a mine who liked to keep time, Oscar Tili
thought. John reached for the phone but
immediately, his face changed. He seemed to
grow more hopless if such a thing could
happen.
Keith was talking rapidly without bothering
with preamble.
‘Put the cash in a green bag,’ he
commanded. ‘Then drop the bag on the seat at
Jevanjee Gardens facing Moi Avenue. At
2:00pm, don’t cross me now.’
‘What about my daughter?’ he interjected
quickly when he was sure the other man was
going to hang up.
‘You will get the girl when I get my money,’
Keith said in a hurried tone which sounded
742
uncharacteristic even to John, and
subconsciously, his brain picked on it. ‘Don’t
cross me Ndati.’ Then he hang up.
But not before John heard the telltale blip.
Keith hadn’t called from his house this time, he
called from a coin box. And he didn’t even
have enough coins for the call, the bastard.
Nduku cursed his ill luck. He contacted the
telecom offices and was told that he know had
to wait. He had no option for he didn’t want to
divulge the details of the case. Impressing
upon the man the need to hurry, he hang up
frustrated. He wondered how his men were
faring.
Keith walked from the phone booth and
turned to go back to the estate. He had left to
make the call, deciding that it wasn’t worth the
risk making so many calls from one place. He
knew the Ndatis had not involved the police,
743
but one couldn’t be sure. Not in his business,
where people died young.
The phone booth, which was actually the
closest from the house, took him a long way
from home. Most of the booths had been
vandalised and the telecom people had no use
repairing phone booths on this other side of
the city. They would just be vandalised again
anyway. So his morning call had taken him far
and into the area that Oscar’s men were
making inquiries.
They were all plainclothes. They weren’t
getting anywhere so far and when one saw the
small man at the phone booth speaking as
though he were a drill sergeant commanding
parade, he wanted to go talk to him.
But just as he made to cross the road to go
ask Keith whether he had seen a small girl in
these area the previous evening, his partner
held him back by the sleeve.
744
‘I think we got something Kavu,’ he turned
and followed the man. The problem was that
the people knew they were cops – it didn’t
matter that they were in civilian, and they all
clammed up refusing to assist.
As Kavu turned to check what something
they had gotten hoping it was a lead, Keith
finished his call and looking left and right
furtively, he disappeared into the small
estates, heading back to the house.
He was quite happy with himself. His heart
kept pounding, but that was a good thing. It
was a sign that he was alive. He had expected
the man to start haggling about the money. He
had even been prepared to reduce it to three
million but as he had suspected, his demand
was realistic.
He could taste it. Five million shillings. A
voice in his mind that sounded suspiciously
alike Mboch’s asked him about the half a
745
million. Ah Mboch dear cousin, he thought.
What to do with you?
Kavu followed his partner and they stopped

at a shop. There was an old woman or Arabic
descent behind the counter. She had a black
buibui on that covered her from head to toe,
just exposing her old chipped face. She was
chewing gum and her palms were decorated in
flowery designs with henna.
‘Good morning madam,’ Kavu said cordially.
It was now going to a half past six. They had
been here and hour and their chances of
getting anything grew slimmer by the minute.
He was not even sure whether the subject they
were looking for had come this way at all.
In total, they were twenty. They had spread
in five groups of four, from the school gate.
And then they had further split into two groups
when they got this far. It was almost two
746
kilometres from where they had started but it
had been slow moving. They had stopped to
talk and ask question after every ten feet. The
further they moved, the slimmer the chances
that the girl had been spotted. And thus far, no
one had given them anything – mostly due to
their natural abhorrence to authority. Kavu
thought if this went on, he would give them
what they expected; a boot in the face!
‘Good morning,’ the lady replied. Then
without wasting more time, ‘I saw the girl.’
She kept quiet and so did the two
plainclothes cops. It was as if they were all
waiting for the other to speak.
‘Yes madam?’ Kavu prompted her.
‘Well I saw her and I tried to call the parents
when I saw the news yesterday,’ she shrugged
her shoulders her heavily veiled body
bouncing. ‘But the lines were always busy until
I slept.’
747
‘You sure it was her?’ Kavu asked careful
not to hope for much. He was a professional
after all.
‘She had a hijab,’ she said gesturing to her
shawl. ‘And she was crying. Very sad. And the
uniform of course, was of Redstone
Preparatory. I remember asking myself what a
girl from such a rich school was doing in these
parts.’
Kavu was nodding now. This was the best
lead they had. ‘Did you see where she went?’
‘Ah, she just walked that way,’ she pointed
where Kavu had come from. ‘Then she
disappeared from my view.’ The woman
shrugged as if to say that is all.
‘Thank you madam,’ Kavu said. He turned
and went back the way they had come.
Reaching for his radio, he contacted the rest of
the team. No hiding now, he was on a mission
748
and he would kick someone if it was what it
tool to get to the truth.
In as much as they tried to keep the story

quiet, it leaked to the press. A tenacious
reporter, a weak link at the police station, a
greased palm, it didn’t matter.
It was going to be a mouth watering story,
and the media house could not wait. The
Honourable John Ndati’s daughter had been
kidnapped for ransom, and the cops were
going to try and catch the criminal? And the
ultimatum was today? It was all too juicy. But
they had investigations of their own to carry
out. They wanted to get to the very root of this
story and the tenacity of a reporter on the
scent of a story is second to none. They started
where it all had seemed to originate, Redstone
Preparatory.
749
It was 8:00am. The Ndati’s had each
grabbed a shower and managed to look a
semblance of their usual neat rich selves.
Oscar had received the call that his men
had found someone who had spotted the girl.
He had congratuladted them instructing them
to concentrate their search in that particular
area now. He didn’t need to , they knew what
to do.
He had had a hard time of it though
convincing Purity to stay in the house. She had
been ready to go talk to the old woman herself
immediately she heard the news. She was
convinced that the police were doing
something wrong.
Oscar had convinced her with much
difficulty that although it seemed not to be the
case, she would only make matters worse by
leaving the house. Finally, it had taken John’s
reasonable argument to quiet her.
750
‘He must know that we are here together
Purity,’ He had told her. ‘He is wily and might
ask for you and what happens then?’
Purity had let herself be cajoled back into
the seat. Her shaking fingers had immediately
closed on a ubiquitous mug of coffee.
‘The men will get something soon don’t
worry.’ Oscar told her consciously omitting the
‘ma’am’ after the ear chewing he had received
last night.
Now, the hour was slowly creeping closer.
John looked at the grandfather clock over at
the mantel. He would leave at 10:00am to go
pick up the cash.
Justo had laughed happily when he had
called him the previous night.
‘Ndati,’ he had said. ‘I didn’t expect to hear
from you so soon. Have you thought about our
deal?’
751
‘I will do it,’ John had snapped. ‘But I need
money. I need five million.’
‘Wow, John that is a lot of money…’
‘Cash, by tomorrow or you can go fuck
yourself.’ John had said.
‘Hmm,’ Justo had said. ‘Your daughter?’
And it had crossed John Ndati’s mind that
all this could be doing of Justo. It was just the
type of unscrupulous business dealing that he
was known for. But the man didn’t need to. He
already had too much leverage over John. In
fact even if he refused to come up with the
money, he would still have John by the balls.
‘I take your silence as consent,’ Justo’s
voice came over the line. ‘I can take care of
that for you, you know.’
But John Ndati didn’t want to owe him
anything more than money. Money could be
paid. But a thing such as his daughter’s life, he
didn’t want to owe such a high favour to Justo.
752
‘I will need the money in a green bag by
12:00 noon.’ He had said quietly.
The other man had laughed and John had
felt the shrug as clear as though he were
seeing it. ‘Why don’t you come for it at
10:00am? I will have it ready for you. And John,
don’t cross me.’
John had hang up, the threat said in the
exact words that the maniac who held his
daughter used unnerving him.
At 10:00am, as John Ndati drove to go pick

the money, Kavu hit gold.
There was a man who was seated on a
stone by a wooden kiosk. He was just seated
there seemingly idle. Kavu’s street smart
instincts were piqued. He had seen him there
for three hours now. He walked over to the
man with his team, all twenty of them, they
were done with subtlety.
753
‘Hey man,’ he said when he got to the idler.
‘You waiting for someone?’
‘Not you,’ the man said with uncalled for
coarseness. He knew they were cops and his
anti-authority side rose afore.
‘This guy you are waiting for,’ Kavu went on
stepping closer to the man. ‘Were you perhaps
waiting for him here yesterday eveining?’
The man shrugged moving looking away
from Kavu. He was covered by Kavu’s shadow.
‘Did you see a small girl here in school
uniform?’ Kavu insisted. ‘She must have
passed this way.’
The man shrugged again. ‘Hey move away
from me, I haven’t done anything!’ They had
surrounded him now.
‘Let’s not make this ugly,’ Kavu told him
curtly. ‘You saw the girl.’
‘I have not done anything,’ the man
repeated. He went to stand up off the stone
754
then but Kavu kneed him in the gut. The man
groaned as he sat back one the stone his hand
around his middle.
‘You haven’t done anything? Are you sure?’
Kavu knew what the man was up to of course.
He was a look out. Whenever a job was to be
made on a shop or a store, there was always
someone – or a couple of guys, sent to do
some reconnaissance. They were normally
poorly dressed and could easily pass for idlers.
But Kavu had seen the mini-supermarket
opposite the road, and the manner in which
this man’s eyes kept shifting to it.
They cased a place for a while before
robbing it. And they were usually at their work
the whole day. He must have been here when
the supermarket opened in the morning, and
Kavu was sure he had been here last evening
when it closed. The same instinct that these
crooks used to smell out cops, Kavu used in
755
reverse to smell them out. And this guy reeked
of it.
‘I think we’ll think of something at the
Station,’ he said removing the hand cuffs in his
belt. ‘Talk to me man.’
The man shrugged again and Kavu was
through with protocol. He kicked him in the
ribs. The man fell off the stone holding his side.
‘Bwana,’ he wailed. ‘I haven’t done
anything.’
‘You are not getting me man,’ Kavu said.
‘You saw something yesterday. What was it?’
He raised his boot again. The fallen man
raised his hands, ‘OK, OK bwana. The girl
passed by here last evening. She looked lost
and then a taxi passed and she hailed it. It
stopped and left. That is all I swear.’
‘A taxi?’ Kavu asked puzzled. That didn’t
make much sense. ‘How many people were in
the car?’
756
The man shrugged again and got another
boot for his problems. ‘Two,’ he coughed.
‘There was someone else in the passenger
seat.’
Satisfied that that was all they would get
from him, Kavu reached for his radio leaving
the man behind. He reached Oscar Tili and
related what he had learned.
‘It seems that the kidnapper is a taxi
driver?’ Kavu ventured.
‘Might be,’ Oscar’s voice came crackling
back. ‘Proceed into the estates and try get a
house whose owner is a taxi driver. What
company was it?’
Kavu went back to the man he had left
beside the kiosk. But he hadn’t seen any logo
on the car.
‘Probably a private car.’ Kavu said. ‘It would
make sense if he was driving back home with it
sir.’
757
‘Yes,’ Oscar agreed. ‘Proceed with
discretion, you see anything you know what to
do. Good work Kavu.’
‘Sir.’ Kavu said then replaced the radio.
Their informant had taken the chance to run
off. Kavu looked to the team and gave them
new instructions.
Oscar Tili was speaking. ‘We are getting

closer to the men.’ John Ndati had just arrived
from his rendezvous with Justo and the heavy
green bag now sat conspicuously on the floor
by the fireplace. They had not ventured to
open it. They kept away from it yet it stayed on
their minds like a pounding headache.
Purity was looking at Oscar with her red
sleep-starved eyes. He reported what Kavu had
found.
‘So they are taxi drivers,’ John said.
758
‘It makes sense,’ Purity ventured. ‘I can see
her stopping a taxi more than going to
someone asking for directions.’
She stopped us. The kidnapper had said. It
made sense. ‘I think they are two,’ Nduku said.
‘They saw the opportunity to make some
quick cash when the girl stopped them. Or in
fact,’ he went on. ‘Maybe they didn’t even
think of that until they say the girl’s face on
the news bulletin.’
‘But what did they intend to do with her in
the first place if they didn’t know who she
was?’ Purity asked. And then she remembered
the paedophile and went silent. The men, also
thinking of the same, were silent.
The doorbell rang then. It was opened by a
servant and then he appeared in the study and
whispered into Ndati’s ear. John shook his head
vehemently. ‘Tell them we are not in!’ he said
with visible ire.
759
‘Reporters,’ he explained when the servant
had left the study. ‘They already know.’
‘Fuck!’ Oscar said uncharacteristically. But
he had summarised what they all felt.
Nduku’s radio crackled to life just then. He
listened.
‘The number sir,’ came the voice. ‘The
Telecom guys have found it.’
‘What area is it?’ Nduku asked his heart
pounding.
But when he was told, it didn’t swell his
excitement. The area was too big. In fact
Oscar’s men were in a more concentrated
region. If they hoped to wind this by the
afternoon, they had to try something else.
‘Tell them to try check the records for a
home address,’ Nduku said. ‘The phone bills or
something, they ought to have something.’
‘Will do sir,’ he was told. ‘But that might
take time.’
760
‘We have no time man!’ he disconnected.
‘So what now?’ Purity asked.
‘We proceed as planned,’ Oscar said after
looking at Nduku for a confirming nod. ‘We’ll
set a trap in town for him at the pick up point.’
‘The reporters will mess this all up,’ John
predicted direly.
Hope that they don’t, Nduku thought. For
the sake of your little girl.
At 12:00 noon, Keith finally decided to

leave. Mboch had been antsy the whole day,
his belly full of butterflies. He was not worried
about what Keith was going to do though, he
was just anxious for him to leave so that he
could sink into the girl.
Keith was anxious too. He had decided to
give it till noon to get to town. He didn’t want
to go too early or go too late so that he
761
couldn’t see a trap. So he had decided on a
safety margin of two hours to the time.
He got into the taxi, and calmly, drove
toward town. His hands were shaking a little
and he lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. This
was going to be the day he made big! He could
not believe it. But he reminded himself that he
had to be careful. He had to be extremely
cautious, in case Ndati had crossed him.
At the back of his mind, he knew that
Mboch would rape the girl. But he could not
think about that now. There was no other way
to do it. The girl would occupy Mboch and was
a necessary sacrifice. He on the other hand,
had no intention of sharing the money with
anyone, not even his cousin. He would not be
going back to the house.
He would drive away in the car and dump it
somewhere. It was registered under Mboch
anyway, so he would make a clean getaway.
762
Mboch would be furious at the very least and
at most, he would be in the worst hot soup if
the cops were involved but he had no way of
knowing where Keith was going – he himself
didn’t know where he would go, so there was
no problem there.
Although it was Saturday, the lunchtime
traffic was swelling gradually. By two, it would
be thick enough to hinder anyone who would
seek to pursue him by car. It would work
against him, but he had decided to ditch the
car as soon as possible, and make away on
foot.
Jevanjee Gardens is right in the heart of the
CBD (Central Business District) and it would
offer him a clean chance to run off and
disappear into a crowd.
He slowed down as a man stopped him and
entered.
‘Town please,’ he said.
763
‘Yes sir,’ Keith replied smiling. It would lend
him even more credibility if he were to appear
as a normal taxi driver just doing his bit in
building the nation.
The clever reporter left the Ndati residence

quite happy. It would not help the Ndatis at all
that they had rebuffed him. He had a story to
tell and he would tell it even better now that
they had refused to give him audience.
He rushed to the station and went straight
to the news editor’s office.
‘I have the story,’ he said and went on to
present it. ‘The girl left Redstone Preparatory
yesterday to put it mildly, in a huff. She was
the show stopper can you imagine? She
performed a Mozart rendition which according
to the Principal who has no problems being
quoted – if it will help the Ndati girl, was the
best performance of the whole function.
764
‘The father was called to stand up after she
had finished but when he didn’t, the girl ran off
crying her little eyes out. She then ran into the
night and obviously got kidnapped when she
strayed too far into the neighbouring seedy
estates.
‘The rest of the story is that the parents
have been contacted by the kidnappers for
ransom. We don’t know how much but we can
speculate. The police involvement just adds
spice to the story. We don’t have to specify
how we knew so we aren’t answerable to
anyone there. ’
The editor looked at the man before him
and thought what an unscrupulous shark he
was. But it was the nature of the business
these days. And this was one hot story – a well
known figure, the police in a historical
operation and of course, money.
‘Speculate,’ he told the reporter.
765
‘Ah the ransom?’ he said furrowing his
brow. ‘I’d say ten million.’
The editor nodded. It was a reasonable
figure. Something to shock the viewers, and
within Ndati’s reach. Besides, they would say
that it was speculation – just to be on the safe
side.
‘So what angle are you going with it?’ he
asked already suspecting what the shark-man
would say.
‘The girl is obviously not receiving enough
love at home, she decided to run away and
walks into the wolves’ paws. What we say is
that rich and famous parents are not cut out
for the job, we blame the kidnap on the
parents’ negligence.’
The editor didn’t disagree. It as the nature
of the business these days. He nodded
signalling the end of the meeting.
766
‘Do I go on air immediately sir?’ the shark-
man reporter asked.
The editor now held his temper by a visible
thread. ‘We’ll break the news at the one
o’clock news.’
Oscar Tili and Pete Nduku left the mansion

at 1:00pm. They were driving a few cars
behind the Ndatis’ Mercedes Benz. Purity had
firmly refused to be left behind this time. They
had left instructions with the staff to forward
all the calls to the car phone.
John Ndati had the green bag in the car. He
would take it to the assigned spot at less than
five minutes to 2:00pm. And then his
instructions were to leave the area. But he had
other ideas. So had Purity.
There was a patrol around the area and the
police were on high alert although word had
not been spread around to the usual patrols so
767
as to keep it quiet. The patrol was under the
instructions to observe any suspicious activity
and in particular keep a watchful eye on every
taxi that didn’t have a company logo.
Everything was supposed to be quiet.
Oscar and Pete had discussed this and
decided that their only hope lay in allowing the
men to take the bag and then try and nab
them or follow them.
Kavu was still at work. He had reached the
estates but they were meeting more resistance
here. There was no kind Arabic women to aid
them, and they could not exactly beat up
people outside their homes for information. It
would not look good. But Kavu was running out
of ideas as the hour drew nearer and he was
getting desperate.
He was a man who took his job seriously.
Oscar Tili had briefed him on the rough details
of the operation. But he had watched the news
768
and had the picture of a sad little girl in the
clutches of a maniac. His trigger finger was
itching. It was going to be bloody and he
wouldn’t have it any other way.
The Telecom people were still working on it,
Oscar was told. But if they got something they
would alert them. Actually they had discovered
the man’s post office box number. But that
didn’t help any since it was in the heart of
town. They had to get a house address,
preferably within the hour.
When the news item hit at one, Mboch had

just sat down on the sofa to eat his lunch. He
had returned the TV earlier in the day to its
normal position. He held the plate piled high
with fatty food on his belly as he reclined back
resting his head on the back of the threadbare
sofa. His feet were crossed and placed on the
coffee table before him.
769
He wasn’t even paying attention to the
news reporter. His mind was on the girl.
Actually, he had not gone to her yet. He had
been too busy looking for the damn key! He
could have broken the padlock or the latch or
even the damn door, but he had found that
searching for that key had built his appetite.
It was like a hungry man being told there
was food inside the store if only he could find
the key, which was somewhere in the rest of
the house. It had really increased his already
high libido.
In the end, he had found the small key
inside the toilet. Keith had thrown it inside the
cistern. At times the toilet jammed to flash and
they removed the lid to pull the plunger
manually. He had to have known Mboch would
find it. It was just a game he had been playing
with him. And what a game, it had primed up
770
Mboch really fine. He would have to thank his
cousin when he came.
Mboch had soon after discovering the key,
discovered that he was hungry. So he had
again postponed his ‘date’ with Ms. Upscale-
smell in order to eat first. He had set to
prepare a meal which he had no intention of
sharing with the girl. The only thing he would
be taking to her, would be entering her vagina
not her throat. Although… and he had been
thinking all the ways he could and would have
her, building up the appetite so high he was
practically drooling from the penis, when he
noticed the girl’s face on the TV.
Perking up, he heard the rest of the story.
They had been discovered! And the cops were
involved. He had known this was not good. But
Keith was too hard headed to listen to anyone
but himself when he got to a mind of crime.
771
He banged his fist on the arm of the sofa
putting his feet on the floor. He placed the half
full plate on the coffee table and stood up. The
ten minute news bulletin gripping him. He
heard all he needed to hear. In short all he
knew was that the cops didn’t know where he
was. They would get Keith, but not him. He
was free to get his dues. So why not go get
them?
By the time he reached the store, he had
opened his fly and his rigid penis was
breathing fresh air.
Oscar Tili watched from their unmarked car

as a taxi dropped a man where Kenyatta
Avenue meets Moi Avenue, and the driver
turned into Moi Avenue, away from Jevanjee
Gardens. The driver looked around fishing out
a cigarette from his shirt pocket.
772
Oscar – the driver, turned their car into the
traffic and headed towards Jevanjee Gardens.
He saw the patrolling cops on foot, and some
were so good he had to admit, that it was
really hard to notice them.
The traffic was slow now as people rushed
to lunch and Oscar joined the flow. For a
Saturday, the traffic was rather thick, but they
had time. It was 1:30pm.
He had no idea where the Ndatis were.
They had decided not to communicate. All of
them knew what they had to do, and it was
agreed tacitly that if everyone did as they were
supposed to, then everything would be alright.
He knew of course that the girl’s parents would
try and be heroes. But that was inevitable and
easy to work around as long as the man was
allowed to pick up the green bag.
Most of the occupants of the benches in
Jevanjee Gardens which was a public park,
773
were plainclothes cops planted by Oscar. They
had been there since 11:00am in the morning.
Some lay in the grass, some sat on the
benches and it was all so natural since most of
them did that everyday anyway.
They drove past the gardens and into
University way, then turned left into Muindi
Mbingu Street and turned back to Moi Avenue
via Kenyatta Avenue, and then they did the
cicuit once more.
Pete had seen the blue Mercedes Benz and
Mrs. Ndati’s anxious face on the passenger
seat. They were parked on a soft shoulder on
Moi Avenue, overlooking the pickup point. No
doubt they thought that they could spot the
criminal walking amongst the throng of
civilians.
The street was not crowded. But Pete knew
that if they were to lose their quarry and allow
him to get to the adjacent Tom Mboya Street,
774
which was always packed with people, then he
could easily disappear.
And so it was nerves as Oscar inched the
car closer to Jevanjee as the minute hand on
his gold Rado inched closer to 12.
Keith was on Tom Mboya Street. That was

why had had no idea that Oscar and Pete were
circling around Moi Avenue. He had no
intention of getting on to that road himself. He
knew that the Ndatis had not notified the cops,
but his survival instincts were too well honed.
He would have to figure out a way of
getting that money without going over there
himself. As he double parked on the street, a
parking boy came to his window. Parking boy
was a euphemism for this dirty boy who was
little else than a street urchin.
‘Five bob and I watch the car,’ he said as he
held out a grabby hand to Keith’s window.
775
He rolled it shut without answering the boy
and then opened the door. As he stepped out,
he spoke. The boy looked to be about thirteen
or fourteen. He had kinky unkempt hair that
Keith was certain had lice. He was dressed in a
dirty old shirt that had since faded to an
indeterminate colour, and what Keith
suspected must have once been blue Levi’s.
The boy though looked sharp and the prospect
of getting much more than the five bob he
asked for perked him up.
After the deal was struck, Keith moved from
the boy. At just that instant, as the two turned
away from each other, one of Tili’s foot men’s
eyes were drawn towards them. But seeing
nothing of interest, quickly moved on.
Keith looked at the city clock at the
roundabout. It was 1:40pm. Time was flying,
but not as fast as his heartbeat.
776
Mboch unlocked the padlock and threw it
down on the floor. He was being
characteristically careless, but even more so,
because of his sexual urgency.
The room was stifling in the day’s heat. She
was seated in his favourite posture. Her knees
drawn up and her hands around her legs. The
bed was made and the girl was on the spread
blanket. She looked up at him fearfully. He
smiled. Her eyes were black and blue. Her lips
had a red line across them.
And her dainty feet, were hidden by the
socks she had drawn up to her knees. The skirt
covered her up to her shins. And she had never
looked more edible to him. His member
twitched visibly.
She wasn’t looking at him there this time,
he was sad to see. But that would change
soon. Soon she wouldn’t need to see it, she
would be to busy feeling it. But he had to
777
remember that she was a wily one – certainly
more than the others.
She had gotten one over him. He could still
feel the sharp sting in his balls when she had
tricked him. Well today, there would be no
tricks. No room for error. He was going to get
his dues.
‘Hallo sweetie pie?’ he said in an unnatural
falsetto. ‘You wanta play?’
She moved further against the wall. He
laughed.
‘I brought you something to play with,’ and
then he lewdly stroked himself. She kept her
eyes on his knees. He didn’t like that. Mboch
was by nature a bully and an attention seeker.
He didn’t take it well when he was ignored.
Crouching, he reached out with his right
hand and gripped her lower jaw. She squirmed
and her eyes filled with tears as he squeezed.
778
‘Don’t act high and mighty when I talk to
you upscale-smell,’ he gritted. ‘You follow?’
When she looked at him through the cloud
of tears that didn’t move him, he made her
nod with his hand. Then he smiled. ‘Good,’ he
said. Mboch then knelt on to the mattress
exposing his penis once more.
He was at her feet and he could touch her
knees with his dick if he leaned into her. She
was squirming now shaking her head trying to
dislodge her jaw from the painful vice and at
the same time move from his rigid
tumescence. If she could just sublime into the
wall as she saw on TV, she thought. But this
was reality. She was in grave danger and the
only way out of the room, was behind this
monster.
Her mind was screaming at her. She had to
time it perfectly, and her mind kept telling her
‘now!’ and ‘not yet!’ She was going insane. But
779
one thing she knew was that he shouldn’t lay
on her. If he did, she would not get away.
Mboch moved closer to her slowly taking his
time, confident of the outcome. Plus, he
wanted to keep her in this position for as long
as possible, what the heck he would fuck her
like this. Just prise her little thighs open and
move in. The twitch below told him that that
idea met with total approval.
He was breathing deeply now, anticipating
the moment. To part her thighs though, he
would have to release her jaw. He couldn’t tell
her to do it, he doubted whether she would.
Some did, they feared him so much they
thought by granting him this one vulgar wish,
they would escape death. Later, they prayed
for it.
This one was different. She had spunk. She
wanted him to work for it. And he was willing
to work. Look at how it had gotten him hot. He
780
had never been this hard for any of the girls –
except maybe the first few times when he
started.
She moved her right hand to massage her
released jaw. Her left hand was still tight
around her legs. She was seated close to the
wall on her right where she had faced as she
slept. When he rested his hands on her knees,
the hand fell from her face to the mattress and
she pulled herself toward it as if to get away
from his touch.
Mboch was preoccupied with the price now.
He ran his hands down her calves roughly
dislodging her left hand, and then brought
them up inside the skirt. Though his hands
were running up against her socks, she felt like
vomiting.
Her skin crawling, she closed her eyes, and
her right hand. Mboch was almost salivating.
His eyes were at her knees as he was now
781
slowly but surely parting them. If he thought it
out of character for the girl to seat so benignly
as he did this, he didn’t pay it much attention.
There came a point where they were all too
scared to move. Besides, the girl was shaking
like a leaf. He was skaking too, but not in fear.
No never that. He was shaking with lust.
The girl felt her body tremor and tried to
school it. Her right hand had swept under the
mattress as she leaned into it, ostensibly to get
away from him. He was parting her thighs and
she tried to hold them as tight as she could.
But he was too strong.
His eyes almost bulged out of his socket
when he saw a glimpse of the white cotton of
her panties. He was seated on his haunches,
otherwise, she would have seen the seminal
fluid that emitted from his penis.
Her fingers closed on the fork and then
jerkily turned it in her fist so that the prong
782
side was away from her thumb. She couldn’t
let him lean into her, she thought desperately.
He would be too heavy.
Mboch would have sensed something amiss
from her posture, the way her right hand was
unnaturally hidden by her body, or the way she
looked poised to move. It was almost like the
complete stillness of a ripe fruit before the
stalk broke and it came tumbling down. Or the
way a cat went low on its forefeet before it
pounced. Or indeed the stillness of a sprinter
just before ‘go!’
But all this was academic when her legs
parted fully. Mboch’s eyes widened now as if
he was a ten year old who had just opened his
Christmas present to find it was the toy he
always thought was too expensive to ask for,
but always wished for.
He looked at her thighs and was drawn
naturally to their junction. The panties had
783
tautened over the small mound and he
couldn’t wait to cup it. His penis throbbed
almost painfully and he had to rise to his
knees.
He sensed her motion, as he rose to his
knees, but maybe it was the sight before him
that proved overwhelming, or his hands were
simple stuck to her skin, but when the girl’s
hand came from behind her, his left eye had
only enough time to close instinctively as the
fork – with only two prongs was driven straight
into it.
‘Arrgh!’ He had thought his balls being
yanked was painful. It was like being pinched
on his ear when compared to the searing pain
that tore through his eye and suffused to his
very toes.
The small girl froze for half a moment. The
sight of him before her a fork sticking out of his
left eye, as though some malignant ogre had
784
been trying scoop his eye for a quick hors-
d’oeuvre before getting down to the main
meal, and the fact that she had done this,
stilled her.
And then the part of her that had willed her
into the brutal but necessary action, woke her
up. Scuttling from the bed, she jumped away
from the screaming man.
He had fallen on the mattress, his hands on
his eyes yet not attempting to remove the fork.
He was squeezing his fists against his
cheekbone trying to staunch the flowing pain.
The eye was still dry, but none of it mattered.
It was messed up pretty bad. The prongs had
sunk through the lids deep into the iris.
He sensed her moving and it galvanised
him into motion too. He reached for her foot as
she made to scamper through the open door.
She fell down with a satisfying thud. He pulled
785
her towards him determined to break her little
neck.
She kicked futilely as he pulled her. Holding
onto the jamb with her elbows she refused to
move into the room past her waist. Sensing her
anchor, he wasn’t seeing – his right eye had
instinctively shut and refused to open while the
other one was out of commission, he moved
toward her. And that was when he flailing legs
inadvertently caught the fork.
‘Arrgh!’ he screamed fully. She had never
heard a man scream before but it could freeze
the blood. Suddenly free, she got to her feet
and ran to the door screaming to herself, let it
be open, let it be open.
It wasn’t. She pulled at the door
desperately, feeling him crawling behind her.
She didn’t dare look behind her but she could
hear his grunts as he crawled on his hands and
knees along the corridor toward her.
786
Her mind calmed for a moment as that
portion of it that she had never known existed,
came in control again.
She turned the lock and this time, when she
pulled, it opened. Then she ran out into the
sunny day. She heard his groan and would not
know how close he had been to her.
Pete got the call.

‘They have found the address sir,’ he was
told. ‘It is a house owned by one Mboch
Meshak.’
‘The address, tell me.’ He said as he
scribbled the name. He scribbled the address
next to the name as he was told.
Immediately, Oscar had radioed Kavu, he
related what he had been told.
‘B123.’
787
‘Jesus, we passed that house.’ Kavu
exclaimed. They had gotten to the D’s. ‘We’ll
do it sir. Get the bastards.’
They disconnected, and Kavu ordered the
team to go back toward the house they had
been given. It was about four hundred meters
back, but with the numerous houses, getting
the exact number would be tricky. But they
had numbers, and no time. Kavu led his team
in a full sprint.
It was 1:50pm.
‘I am going now,’ John Ndati said.
Purity merely nodded and sat back as her
husband opened the door and stepped out. He
then opened the back door and got the green
bag out. It was five million shillings in five
hundred shilling notes, bundled in thousand
groups of ten notes. It weighed almost five
788
kilos and he felt every ounce of it as he looked
left then right and crossed the road.
Walking over to Jevanjee Gardens, he
looked around as though expecting to see the
kidnapper at any time. He walked over to the
bench nearest the entrance he had used, and
placed the bag on it.
He tried to differentiate the cops from the
genuine idlers – Oscar had informed them that
they would be there, but he could not. He
stood there feeling stupid, and decided to
move back to the car. He walked slowly like a
cat in the grass that had heard a hiss. Anytime,
he expected to see someone grab for the bag,
or for him.
But he made it without incident, to the car.
He got in and leaned wearily on the steering
wheel. He needed sleep and his body was
screaming it. He ached all over, but more than
that was the knowledge that he know owed
789
Justo so much more. That weighed heavily on
him and ached worse than his tired and
overstrained limbs and shoulders.
Purity looked at him and placed a hand on
his shoulder giving it a tiny squeeze. It felt
forced though, or just an action from force of
habit. There was no warmth in it. How could
there be, when she blamed him for whatever it
was their daughter was in?
He breathed in deeply seeking inner
strength. Then he started the car. It took a
while to join the traffic, but he was not rushing.
Not yet.
Keith looked at the woman. She was in her

early twenties and was exactly what he
wanted. He had stayed in the street, moving
inconspicuously inside the throng of busy
Nairobi dwellers. But all the time, he had been
790
searching, and now he had found her. She was
the perfect person for this.
She was dressed in a black skirt suit, but it
didn’t cover her cheapness. He could always
smell such things, and didn’t she reek of it. She
looked older than her years and her dressing
made her look elegant. A morally upstanding
nation builder. That was just what he wanted.
But deep inside, he knew the blood that
flowed through her veins was tainted with
immorality and a hunger for money. He didn’t
smile, didn’t need to. She was a ‘business’
woman, and he had business for her.
‘I have forgotten my bag up at Jevanjee,’ he
said directly, skipping even any form of
salutation. ‘It is a green bag, you will see it
immediately you step into the park. Could you
kindly get it for me?’
She didn’t bother to play coy. ‘Jevanjee is
far,’ she said.
791
He slipped a five hundred bill into his hand
and if by magic. She saw it.
‘Green bag,’ he repeated showing her one
half of the note. ‘Get it to me. I’ll be waiting
here.’
She made a snap decision, and didn’t
surprise him when she reached for the money.
He would not be surprised if she worked at
night on the streets with much less clothing on
but with even more cheapness. She pulled at
the note and Keith pulled too bending his
fingers slightly so that it tore into two.
‘Bring the bag then get the other half,’ he
said and afforded her a sardonic smile.
She repaid his smile in kind and then turned
and headed back toward Moi Avenue, via River
Road. He watched as her hips swayed, and
thought that he must be right about her night
shift.
792
The clock said 1:55pm. By the time she got
there, it would be two sharp.
The plainclothes man swept his roving eye
again and saw the man talk to the lovely
looking – even from across the road, woman.
He stayed his eyes on them perhaps taken in
by the beauty, and watched as they
exchanged the note, though he was too far to
see it. However, it piqued his interest, and he
watched as the small man walked back down
the street to a double parked car. And it was a
taxi.
She ran right, when she jumped out of the

door. The estate was curiously empty – she
was not to know that word had circulated that
cops were about and mothers had taken their
children and repaired into their houses. But
they were at the windows peeping and
listening with morbid curiousity.
793
If there had been someone outside, she
would have run and explained her
predicament. But as it was, her natural
abhorrence and fear of people made her run
blindly, refusing to go knock on strangers’
doors.
It was uncanny, the stillness outside, after
the violence she had come from. She ran, for
she knew he was coming after her. She
remembered the last time how fast he had
caught her and ran.
She could feel him breathing down her
neck and she ran like mad. It was nerves, and
she told herself this but she was manic now.
She heard the inhuman groan and had to
look back, she couldn’t help herself. Her feet
ran into each other as she turned her head and
she fell down flat on her stomach. He will get
you, her mind screamed. Get onto your feet
now, run! She struggled to get to her feet but
794
she stumbled and was more or less crawling
now. Her whole body was shaking badly.
She heard him, not a foot behind her and a
naughty voice whispered to her, look at him,
come one see what you’ve done to him. And as
though she could not govern herself, she
turned and looked.
He was standing with his left eye oozing a
mixture of blood and white stuff, all running
down his cheek with the aid of tears. He had
removed the fork and held it high in his hand.
His right eye blinked so fast and incessantly
like an epileptic in the grip of a mighty fit.
He had not bothered to dip his fly and his
deflated penis hang docile, like a defeated
snake. And he was groaning, or was he talking,
continuously. He raised the fork and she knew
she was done for.
The fork that she had fashioned into a
weapon. She had bent the two end prongs
795
completely. And then she had spent the whole
night rubbing the remaining two middle prongs
against the cement floor, sharpening them into
lethal points. It was going to be her doom now.
She watched frozen as he came down
toward her as though in slow motion.
And then she heard the sharp report of a
gunshot. She watched as the heavy fat
tormentor was thrown over her to land a few
feet from where she was half on the ground
half on her knees.
She watched numbly, as the men ran to
her. Some went to the fallen man, but she
heard only one thing, the man who held her
kept saying ‘You are safe now. You are safe
now…’
It was 2:00pm.
Keith sat inside the taxi and switched on
the radio.
796
Oscar Tili and Pete Nduku watched the
entrance to the park from where they had
parked – right across the road.
John Ndati, after being hooted at severally,
had decided to move along and now watched
through his side mirror, the entrance to
Jevanjee Gardens in the idling vehicle.
No one noticed the parking boy and his two
cronies. Everyone saw the beautiful lady cross
the road.
Kavu shot Mboch in the back the bullet
going straight into his heart.
She knew the man was a criminal, but she
also knew that she needed that money. She
had a baby, she had given birth to last year. It
was hell feeding it. She had to work day and
night, and Keith was perfectly right about her
graveyard shift. She spent it on her back.
This was easy money, and it was worth the
risk. Anyway, she asked herself, the worst that
797
could happen was that she would be caught,
where by she would deny everything – she
would be telling the truth after all. And she had
dealt with the police many times, she wasn’t
afraid of them. You just has to maintain a stiff
upper lip. That was all. But things didn’t work
exactly as she had thought they would.
She entered Jevanjee and without bothering
to look at the people inside the park, went for
the green bag which she saw immediately.
Men, she knew they were all ogling her. She
ignored them all and walked out of the park
with the bag. Then, stepping into the packed
road, started crossing it.
‘Who is that?’ Oscar Tili asked seeing the
lady walk out with the bag full of money.
‘The accomplisce?’ Pete asked.
‘No,’ Oscar said. ‘It doesn’t smell right.’
‘Do I nab her?’ came the question from the
radio. One of their men was just behind the
798
slow moving lady. Oscar thought about it for
half a second.
‘No,’ he said. ‘ Follow her, keep close lets
see where she goes.’
John was watching from the side mirror and
wondered why the girl was gaily crossing the
road with his money. Where were the cops who
were supposedly everywhere? Why weren’t
they arresting her so she could tell them where
his girl was?
Purity looked on incredulously too, as the
girl crossed into River Road and moved out of
sight. What she could have given to keep her
in sight. And what she would have seen had
she been able to keep her in sight.
John Ndati coming to a quick decision,
drove forward quickly, he would turn into Tom
Mboya Street.
Oscar Tili and Pete Nduku who had the girl
in good sight watched as she moved into River
799
Road. Then the radio crackled and Oscar
prepared to tell the men to keep following her.
But it was Kavu.
‘We have the girl sir,’ he said triumphantly.
‘And his partner is dead. Caught him with his
fly open.’
‘Good.’ Was all Oscar said. At that moment,
he watched as a group of street boys ran into
the road colliding with the lady. She fell down
along with them in one messy heap. And then
they were up and off in different directions.
The bag was nowhere to be seen.
‘Fuck!’ Oscar said opening the door of the
car.
‘Fuck!’ Keith said when he heard the on-
hour news headline on the radio. He had
walked into a trap. The cops were involved,
damn you Ndati, you crossed me. He had to
get out.
800
He started the car and hard the staccato
against the window. Jesus, he had been
caught! Then he saw it was the parking boy,
with the green bag.
The boy was smiling, holding out his hand.
Keith was so happy to see him at that moment,
he could have hugged him. Instead, he opened
the door, took the bag and threw it over on the
passenger seat. He fished out another five
hundred note from his shirt pocket and gave
the street urchin the most money he had ever
seen or held.
Across the road, the silent plainclothes
man, saw the dirty boy arrive with the green
bag and didn’t need to listen to his radio to
know that it had not gone well. He quickly
informed them though that he was standing
across the road from said bag and that he was
going after it.
801
Quickly, Keith moved into the road. Could
have turned toward the roundabout, and away
from the CBD but they would expect that. So
he drove right, away from the roundabout. His
worst mistake.
He saw the man jump into the road pointing
a gun. ‘Shit,’ he said as he swerved to avoid
hitting him. And then he heard the shots. His
windscreen collapsed behind him.
In his racing mind, was the thought; have to
live, I won’t die…
He was lucky, a gap opened up in front of
him, maybe because of the shots. He steeped
on the gas and the car surged forward. But the
determined officer was on his tail sprinting and
shooting with alarming accuracy.
Can’t die today, he thought desperately. He
looked in the rear view mirror at the
determined cop and then winced when it was
shattered by a bullet. Not today… he thought.
802
Have to get off this road. There was only one
way for him to go – to his right toward the less
traffic on Moi Avenue.
But as he turned, his side mirror was hit
and he flinched taking his eye of the road and
stepping onto the accelerator too hard. The car
surged into the turn and left his side of the
road, running head on into the on coming car,
a blue Mercedes Benz.
As John furiously got out of his car, the
running patrol reached the site. Keith decided
it was better to be apprehended alive than to
be shot down trying to outrun them in the
streets. He raised his hands and placed them
on the steering wheel.
Oscar Tili arrived on foot, he had sprinted
over but there was no hair out of place as he
approached with his gun out. No one saw
Purity though as she left the car and went to
the Taxi’s passenger door. She yanked it open
803
and had sunk her talons into Keith’s eyes
before they could react.
‘Where is she?’ she was yelling maniacally.
‘What have you done to her?’
And as the hapless Keith fought to dislodge
the attacker, a TV crew arrived on the scene.
John prised his wife from the kidnapper.
‘You daughter has been found,’ Pete Nduku
told them. He had arrived by the unmarked
vehicle, behind the crashed Mercedes.
Purity barely absorbed this news as she
sunk into her husband’s chest feeling very very
tired.
Despite the camera’s presence, Oscar had
no qualms manhandling Keith out of the car
with more force than was necessary. When the
green bag was removed from the car, the
cameras flew to it, and is they could smile,
then they would have.
‘What is this?’ a reporter asked.
804
‘Is this the ransom money?’ another asked.
But they got no answers, as Pete Nduku took
the green bag and threw it into the car he had
come in. He offered to drive the Ndatis home,
and they agreed leaving their car to the
towers.
Keith was bundled into a squad car that had
arrived. They drove off the crowd that had
gathered for a bit of break-in-routine drama,
left with the cameras and reporters who
sought witnesses. There was a whole lot of
that. There always is in a city like Nairobi.
805
24
‘EXCUSE ME.’
Gideon jerked and looked at the woman
seated beside him.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I need the seat belt
please.’
‘Oh!’ he said rising off his seat to allow her
to pull the harness from under him. He felt her
fingers brush against his trousers as she pulled
the seatbelt. It felt like a jolt and she felt it too
806
judging by the way she jumped, almost
yanking at the safety harness.
And as she secured it around her waist –
Gideon’s came across his chest, he saw that
they were approaching a road block.
With the new road safety measures, all
passengers were required by law to have their
seatbelts strapped on. Due to habit, most of
them didn’t. It usually took the presence of
traffic police to convince them. He smiled
inwards, thinking that this lady was in that
category.
The car slowed down and crept off the road
on to the hard shoulder. The drizzle was just
starting here it seemed. They had travelled
about seventy kilometres from Nakuru. Gideon
was feeling the hunger pangs now. He hadn’t
eaten anything since that early breakfast that
Nancy had cooked. He would have to wait until
807
he got to his house. He consoled himself that it
wasn’t that far yet.
The policeman came to the vehicle and
looked bored as he confirmed that the road
license on the left top corner of the windscreen
was valid. He then walked along the side of the
Toyota Hilux peering into the vehicle making
the passengers squirm guiltily. It was obvious
that his seatmate was not the only one who
thought safety harnesses were for avoiding a
fine.
And the lady, he noticed was not Arabic as
he had first surmised. Her hands were light in
complexion, ashen really and she had a shawl
over her head that he assumed was a hijab.
She was an albino. Her complexion was a
ghostly white and the skin had a scatter of red
blotches. But her face had been spared that
flaw. Her facial skin was white but a smooth
808
white. Her lips looked a glowing pink, aided by
balm.
She was dressed like a nun now that he
looked at her properly. Her hands were fully
covered in a long sleeved beige sweater that
was buttoned at the front. From the collar, was
a cream peter-pan collar that fell on the
sweater. And then the shawl covered her head.
Her legs were covered in a flowing brown skirt
that covered her up to her shoes.
He thought that someone in her condition
might need to cover themselves to avoid the
sun’s rays which was extremely harmful to
them.
‘Thank you,’ she said looking at him. Gideon
murmured an embarrassed response. He had
been caught staring. Ever since he had seen
Hannah naked for the first time, he had never
been so engrossed in a female.
809
But try as he might, he couldn’t stop it. She
had light-coloured eyes he saw. They were
behind clear wire rimmed glasses that were at
once elegant and practical. The stems
disappeared underneath the cream shawl. He
could not see her ears and he wondered how
they looked like. Were they petite and shaped
like a bean? Or were the pointed slightly like
elves? He didn’t dare think that they might be
large or grotesque. Not when the rest of her
was…
The sound of the engine cut into his
uncharacteristic thoughts. The car was moving
back on the road. He was really stepping on it,
Gideon thought without much concern.
He looked away from the lady who sat
beside him. It perturbed him to find out that
she had been staring back at him the whole
time he had been sizing her up. It was so out of
character for him to do such a thing. He
810
purposefully turned his gaze toward the
window and watched as the scenery flashed
past fast.
When she was sixteen, the big girl now,

came home one day to the shock of her life.
Ever since the kidnap ordeal, her mother
had drawn closer to her. It was as though she
had been waiting for such a thing to happen, to
waken her to her daughter’s needs.
She was attentive, and considerate.
Although she wasn’t extremely affectionate,
the girl understood. It had been mush worse in
the past anyway.
She remembered the first time her mother
had hugged her out of joy not fear. She
remembered the first time her mother had
looked at her and said the words, ‘I love you.’
She had been so happy she had fled from her
811
mother to go to her room where she had
proceeded to hug her pillow and weep in joy.
But her father didn’t change. If anything, he
grew even more distant after the kidnap. He
was happy she had been rescued but after a
week, no one would know it.
This time, her mother was also included in
his waning interest. She had overheard her
mother speak over the phone to a friend
complaining about him. She said he had
changed, that he rarely came home before
dark and that he had started having
nightmares.
She also said that, he was losing money.
When the elections were held again when she
was twelve, and he won, he came alive again.
But soon, he was down in the doldrums again.
She kept well away from him, as she had
done all her life. She still had nightmares about
the performance fiasco. She could see the
812
mean faces, millions of them and she was
running between them as the parted for her.
And they kept pointing and chanting, ‘ugly
duckling…ugly duckling…’ and she would run
covering her ears and run. She normally woke
up after jerking her foot involuntarily in the
dream.
These, she shared with no one. Her new
closeness with her mother was good, but it was
a little too late. Her insecurities had already
taken root and grown into small trees. She
could cut them down, but the roots were too
deep. Plus, in her heart of hearts, where all her
fears looked for dwelling space, she knew that
her mother was keeping close because of her
guilt at the kidnap.
But whatever, the reason, she milked the
attention for all it was worth. She kept playing
the piano and soon Ms. Reech was coming for
813
lessons from her. She didn’t not give another
performance ever again though.
The thought of going home and
announcing, ‘I will be performing next week.
Who’ll come?’ didn’t excite her. Her father
would not care whether she went on the moon.
But her mother – who she loved dearly, would
remember the last time, and cancel even a
meeting with the president himself to be there.
But it would be out of guilt, and so she played
only for herself and occasionally, for Ms.
Reech.
She was coming home from school. She
attended a day school because her mother
would not dare be parted from her for more
than a day. And she didn’t think the idea of
leaving home was so good. It was oppressive,
and at times coldly unfeeling, but it was the
only home she had.
814
That day, she had been approached by a
guy. He wanted her to go out with him. It was
the first time she had ever been approached
by a guy. She hadn’t grown into a graceful
swan. She was still the ugly duckling who
abhorred the mirror. She was aware that it
must have been desperation on his part that
made him ask her out. But she was seriously
thinking about it. She knew what he wanted of
course – she had learnt that in a rude
unforgettable way.
Sometimes she woke up with a thin sweat,
having been running from a fork-toting Mboch.
She wished for the old lady to return, but
she didn’t. She had said that one day she
would find a man that loved her, and she liked
to tell herself that she had. It would have been
nice to confirm though. She wished there was
a way she could conduct a séance or
815
something to see the old woman who set her
at such ease.
Deciding to allow the guy to take her out,
she turned into the corner towards the house.
She was skipping like a small girl wondering
how he would start to touch her. Her
experience with Mboch while scaring her
terribly, had not marred her completely. Her
hormones flowed just as hot and rampant as
any other teenage girl’s.
So she skipped and opened the gate. The
watchman saluted her and she waved gaily at
him. It was 5:30pm and the evening was
growing into a dull orange gloaming.
So what if he wasn’t her ideal guy? She
asked herself. So what if he looked around first
to make sure they were alone before he talked
to her? So what if he didn’t walk with her or
offer to pick her deliberately spewed books
when his friends were around? So what if he
816
laughed with the rest when someone made a
joke about the ugly girl with the grotesque
bifocals?
She had reached the door when she
stopped skipping. Her father came out of the
house leaving the door as it had been – open.
She lowered her gaze as he neared her. She
knew he would grunt a greeting and pass her
toward the carport.
She hoped that was what he would do. The
alternative was that he would start yelling at
her for walking home. He insisted that she be
driven home and to school each day. But she
was a teenager not a child. She needed her
freedom.
But none of these things happened on this
evening. Her father walked past her without a
word. She had tensed herself waiting the
grunt, preparing herself for the raised voice,
but he didn’t talk. At the last moment before
817
they reached each other, she ventured a
furtive look up at him.
She feared him and had always done so.
She tried to hate him for his lack of interest in
her, she tried to be indifferent, but she always
came back to the first emotion she had grown
up feeling toward her father – fear.
She had stopped skipping and could barely
move her legs as she passed by him close
enough to smell him. Curious, she could not
quit catch the whiff of cologne that always
hang on him. Her humming had ceased and so
had her myriad thoughts of the boy at school.
He passed her in silence. He didn’t even
grunt his usual greeting. Despite herself, she
was hurt. And her gay mood was completely
stripped off her. How could he manage to do
this to her day after day? When was it that she
would learn to face it with her chin up. When
would it stop hurting so much. It wasn’t as if he
818
was acting out of character, she knew he
would probably snub her – the biggest mistake
of his life.
But it sliced into the patchwork that was her
heart and broke it all over again. She turned at
the lowest step and turned to look back at his
retreating back.
He didn’t look back or sideways. He walked
straight up facing ahead. And curiously, he was
walking toward the gates not toward the
carport.
‘Father?’ she called in a slight voice. It was
as though she wasn’t brave or familiar enough
with him to shout his name out. But it didn’t
help. He didn’t look back.
She froze at the step and her eyes were
now glued at her father’s retreating back. He
was so resolute in his steady march. What had
happened? She wondered. Had her mother
chased him? They shouted and argued a lot
819
but she had not suspected that things had
gotten so serious.
‘Father?’ she called in a louder voice. Her
heart was thudding now in slow deep thumps.
Her tears dried up and she was completely
terrified now. This was not natural. In the
gloaming, her father’s figure was almost like
an apparition, a trick of the light that would
disappear when one stopped squinting, or
crossing their eyes.
He didn’t turn, or he didn’t hear. Needless
to say, the march proceeded. She felt her foot
step back off the step and move cautiously in
the direction of her father’s back. The gate was
fifty yards from the front door. The road was
tarmacked and closed by Jacarandas.
The leafy trees had grown in such a manner
that their leaves bent over the road and
touched. In the twilight, it looked as if her
820
father was going down a tunnel lit by a dim
orange.
The fear creeping in her voice now, she
shouted. ‘Father!’
And then finally he turned. He was at the
gates now. The watchman was yet to salute
him and all these things were registering in her
mind. But they were preceeded by the figure of
her father as he stood there, looking at her. It
was like the distance closed and she could see
right into his eyes.
There was a small sad smile in them. And
then, he raised his hand and waved. Once and
then he was gone. Just like that. And in terror,
she moved up the steps backward like a
zombie.
She walked into the house through the
open door and went into his study. She was
guided by an instinct that she had no
inclination claiming.
821
And as she pushed the door open, she saw
him there. He was sprawled on the floor by the
fireplce, his eyes looking up unseeing. She
moved into the study on rubbery feet her
curiosity morbid. She saw the left side of his
head was a large freagmented hole where his
temple had been. On the right temple, was a
clean neat hole from which red thick blood
oozed sluggishly.
She saw the splattered brain on the carpet
but none of this registered. It would though,
much later and she would feel her skin crawl
and her stomach heave then.
Now, she just moved closer to him. He was
in his full suit. His legs were splayed apart and
in his right open hand, was the hand gun. She
went closer to her dead father and reaching
him, she crouched and closed his glassy eyes.
She had no idea why she did it, she only
knew that she must. And then, her eyes drawn
822
to the pistol, she took it holding it in both her
hands to support the weight. Then she stepped
back and that’s when the study door was
swung open and her mother rushed in.
She found her standing over her dead shot
father, with the gun in her hand, he face an
ashen ghostly white and her eyes frozen into
numbness by her shock.
Her mother screamed. ‘What have you
done Mary?’
‘So you are going to Nairobi?’

He turned away from the window and
nodded. It was such an obvious plot at making
conversation, he wondered if she wasn’t trying
to pick him up.
But the idea itself felt ridiculous when he
looked at her. Her eyes were a hue between
light brown and grey. They looked right at him
823
in a rapt manner that gripped him instead of
repelling him.
It was as though she saw right into his very
soul, if such a thing was possible. He was not a
man afflicted with fanciful thoughts, he might
write about such things, but outside his stories,
Gideon was a man who liked fact.
He was a whiff of hair. Her shawl had moved
back off her forehead a little. The hair was
totally devoid of melanin and was a dull yellow
like the colour of diluted tea. Her brows and
long lashed were also the same colour. He was
staring again, he discovered.
‘You don’t talk much do you?’ she asked
doing some staring of her own.
‘Am sorry,’ he smiled wanly. ‘I am not
normally this way.’
‘Normally you aren’t quiet?’ she insisted.
824
‘No,’ he shook his head smiling genuinely
now. ‘Normally I don’t stare at strangers like
that.’
She held out her hand ready to remedy
that. ‘Then we should be introduced.’
He smiled broadly, ‘Yes of course,’ he said
clasping her smaller hand in his. ‘I am Gideon
Maina.’
Gideon’s used a pseudonym for all his
writing. So whenever he met a stranger, he
was never compelled to act out a politeness
that he didn’t feel – in case it was a fan. Very
few people knew that the writer Solomon
Maina was actually Gideon Maina. He liked the
anonymity it gave him. He detested sticking
out and it suited him perfectly that he could
walk among a crowd of people in the streets,
go shopping and have no one know him.
But as he introduced himself to this
intriguing albino, he felt like adding the fact
825
that he was a writer. Mercifully, his lips sealed
shut after he said his name – force of habit.
She smiled as though tasting the name in
her head, and then she did taste it. In a sweet
soft voice, she repeated his name, ‘Gideon. It
sounds so strong.’
He had never thought his name sounded
strong. But he was now enraptured by this
lady. At the back of his mind, he knew he ought
to start talking back, but he couldn’t. Not yet.
Instead he just smiled his lip curving at the side
in response to her compliment.
‘Pleasure to meet you Gideon Maina,’ she
went on when he just kept silently staring and
smiling. ‘My name is Mary. Mary Ndati.’
‘Mary sounds so… I don’t know, holy.’ And
they laughed together their hands still in the
other’s.
And she looked holy. The thought that she
looked like a nun wafted to him again. She was
826
as white and snow – didn’t the bible say
something like that somewhere?
And her smile was so gentle he felt her
kindness as though she had patted his cheek
maternally. He had never taken to someone
this quickly. The only people he had ever loved
had been his brother and Hannah. And it had
been inevitable with Solo – they had grown up
together. With Hannah, she had always been
there. If he had met her later in life, Gideon
doubted he would have even liked her let alone
marry her.
His relationships with people took time.
Mostly, it was due to the fact that he never
gave it any effort. He preferred to sit back and
let others try and understand him. If they
could, then they’d be friends. If they couldn’t,
then too bad – which was actually good enough
for him.
827
But this Mary Ndati had something coming
off her that he could not resist. He had tried to
snub her but now, he was gripped. And he
realised, he was still gripping her hand.
Laughing sheepishly, he let go of her hand.
But she kept his in hers for a long second
before releasing it.
Mary looked at him and wondered. It was
still too early, but she wondered all the same.
The old lady had told her the last time she had
ever seen her in her dreams as a ten year old
girl, that the day would come when she would
meet her man.
At Twenty five, she had forgotten the dream
and come to think of it as one of those things
that would never happen. But now as he sat in
the mini-van, with this man’s warm hand in
hers she remembered the dream and her heart
swelled.
828
She had always been shy toward people –
especially strangers. Growing up as an albino,
being called ugly, and feeling ugly, she had
never overcome her insecurities. But this man
looked at her differently.
He didn’t look at her face and wince in pity
or look away revolted. When she had asked for
the safety harness, she had avoided his eyes
knowing that was what she would see when he
looked at her face properly for she had
purposefully kept it hidden.
But when he looked up, his eyes had
seemed to go to hers and a shocking thing had
occurred. It was like two dogs that came upon
each other over a bend, and stand still gazing
at each other prying into each other’s
thoughts.
He had not been horror-struck – she was so
used to the reaction, she could sense it
blindfolded. And as his eyes remained on hers,
829
they had not been filled with pity either. They
looked curious if she could pin a word to it. And
when he looked away from her to gaze at the
window, she had known it was not in disgust.
He was just a reserved man, and no doubt
was shocked at his own audacity. She had felt
his eyes move over had face like a lover’s soft
caress. And she had looked back, making bold
caresses of her own. If she had been told that
she would be ogling a man who was not a foot
from her, she would have laughed at the
inanity. But she found herself doing that and
more. When he turned away from her, telling
her that he didn’t have an interest in
continuing this staring down they were doing,
she almost said; ‘look back here you, I haven’t
had my fill yet.’ But she settled with drawing
him out with her words.
She was sorely out of her league there. She
didn’t know how to flirt – she had never learnt.
830
But while she was sure that her words sounded
gauche and transparent, she just could not
help herself. And it had paid. He was talking to
her and smiling, and she was looking her fill.
Mary Ndati was a nurse. She had come from
a three day seminar in Nakuru that had been
about the care of comatose patients.
She was a foremost authority on that having
mostly worked with patients in comas. Her
woes hadn’t ended as a girl. Even when she
had gone to college and studied nursing, it
had been difficult. The names hadn’t stopped –
they had only been veiled better. And the
hurting never stopped too.
But she was doing what her heart wanted
and so she excelled. She made friends but her
heart was never into it. When she graduated, it
had taken the name of her mother to get her a
job at a small hospital.
831
Purity Ndati had become a very successful
lawyer at this time. She had remarried three
years after her husband’s death and had a
small girl. This one was blessedly a beautiful
chocolate coloured girl.
Mary had never gone to visit. She had
moved out after her father’s death. She would
never forget the way her mother’s eyes had
widened when she saw her over her father’s
body, or the accusation in her voice.
It had been discovered by the coroner of
course, that John Ndati had shot himself. He
was supposedly in financial straits and some
people even rumoured that he was being
controlled by some criminal minds.
But the damage had been done. Purity had
grudgingly, bought a small house and installed
her daughter in it. The only thing she had
asked was that Mary move out only after she
832
was eighteen. She celebrated her eighteenth
birthday, alone in her two-bedroom bungalow.
She had gone to college living by herself
and she had never moved from the house to
date. She loved its familiarity and its isolation.
Inside the warm living room, was her upright
piano, which was as familiar to her now as her
melanin-free wrist.
‘You don’t talk much do you?’ he asked
echoing her earlier words. She smiled her kind
smile as she was brought back to the present.
‘What do you do?’
‘I am a nurse,’ she answered not bothering
to mask her hubris.
She was very proud of that achievement.
Her first job, she had been given the most
menial tasks, the dirtiest, but she like to take
care of others. She had done it, without
fussing. Soon she was working more directly
with the patients. But when she would have
833
been happy with this, she was summoned to
the head nurse’s office.
It had been short. Looking down at her
desk, the older woman had said. ‘We have a
problem Ms. Ndati. You cannot keep working
with the patients, there have been complaints.’
And she had gone very still. Her white face
had gone ashen.
‘The patients are not at ease around you,
you don’t offer them a warm feeling, you know
with your…condition.’
‘Who is complaining?’ she had asked biting
her lip. When would this stop haunting her?
The head nurse had shrugged her
shoulders. ‘the patients, the nurses and some
doctors.’
She had had to go. But to the hospital’s
credit, her recommendation had been sterling –
of course, so had her work been.
834
It was by pure luck though that she had
gotten her next job. The nurse who had been
working with the coma patients, had been
involved in an accident. She had slipped into a
coma herself. Mary had been looking for a job
around that time.
Not many nurses liked that work but when
Mary was told that was the only thing on offer,
she jumped at it. And she had fit in perfectly.
Being a quick study, she soon had it down pat.
What pleased her most about it though, was
that her patients did not complain about her
and neither did the rest of the staff. It was a
much bigger hospital than the first one she had
worked in and the nurses were too busy to
bother much with her anyway.
And so she worked and she read about
patients in comas. He natural preoccupation
with death from her childhood days, had risen
835
again. She wondered what happened when her
patients were in comas.
What was going through their active brains
when they lay there twitching at times
sometimes still as frozen fish, yet breathing.
Always breathing.
‘You are a nurse.’ Gideon repeated as
though he had just learnt the word.
‘What?’ she asked. ‘Don’t I look like it?’
Gideon shook his head. ‘I just thought you
were a nun.’
‘A nun?’ she laughed. ‘I am no nun.’ Was
that too obvious? She thought desperately.
God, this was beginning to embarrass her.
Gideon watched the blood flood her face
giving it a ruddy glow. She blushed beautifully.
He looked at her and couldn’t stop his finger
from tweaking her chin.
‘You have a very kind smile,’ he whispered.
His eyes were on her lips and despite the balm
836
she applied to stop the cracking, she felt them
dry up. Her upper lip felt curiously as though it
were stuck to her teeth!
‘I am…’ she could not meet his eyes and
looked down at his lap where the bag lay.
‘What do you do yourself?’
‘I am a writer,’ he told her without thinking
even for a moment that he should deceive her.
And as he had known she would do, her eyes
perked up.
‘A writer?’ she looked up at him with awe. ‘I
have never met a writer before. Wow. Have I
read your work?’
He smiled at her genuine exuberance. She
looked like a girl barely out her teens. He
wondered how far from her teens she was.
He refrained from asking though. What he
said was, ‘no I don’t think you have read any
of my stories.’
837
She looked at him as though she wanted to
argue the fact. But she shook her head looking
back at his lap.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘Do you have something
with you that you’ve written?’
He nodded and felt his fingers opening the
bag without waiting for his command. He
fished out the spring file and was almost
bashful now.
She saw it and was almost floored. She
couldn’t wait to open it.
‘You have to believe in the living dead and
spirit world to appreciate it,’ he said as though
that would make her shake her head and have
him return his story in his bag. But she just
nodded and held her hands open waiting for
the manuscript.
‘It is not finished,’ he said finally placing the
thick file on her small hands. He was curiously
anxious to have her read it and yet he found
838
himself fearing the rejection again. It had been
a long time since he had felt this mixture of
feelings.
What if she didn’t like the story? He asked
himself. It was his best, he liked it himself. But
what if she didn’t? Then he wondered, what if
she did? And that was the reason he gave her
the manuscript. He wanted her to love it.
As she turned to the first page, Gideon
could not look away from her. Mary Ndati didn’t
read in moving vehicles. Her eyes were weak
and they would smart so. But this once, she
had to. Her exuberance was not forced or fake.
She had never met a writer before, and being
an avid reader, it was an awe inspiring
moment.
And as her eyes flew over the words, she
was keenly aware of the man who sat beside
her. She could feel the warmth of his thigh
against hers. She felt the motion of his chest
839
against her shoulder when the vehicle jerked to
the right. She saw his smile when she herself
smiled. They were as aware of each other as
antsy horny teenagers.
But soon, the words took her prisoner. She
was drawn into the grim ghoulish world that he
had painted in the story. The world of the dead
who lived on, and she breathlessly followed the
main character as he made startling and scary
discoveries.
Her eyes were forgotten and her worries
too. The man was not forgotten fully. But she
relegated him to a warm shadow that hovered
behind her, reassuring her with its presence.
Assuring her that she was alive – that she had
form and shape.
Gideon watched her read. He was almost
jealous of the manuscript now. He had not
known it would take her attention like this. He
840
wanted to talk to her, to look into her grey-light
brown eyes and wallow in her kind smiles.
Outside, the drizzle had increased to a
heavy rainfall. The heavy raindrops pelted the
car limiting the driver’s sight as the wipers
swished back and forth furiously.
841
25
IT WAS 5:00PM. Mary Ndati was still

engrossed in the tale she was reading. She
looked up at Gideon occasionally as if to say; ‘it
was you who really wrote it?’ and then she
went back to the pages. And she was a fast
reader.
842
Gideon apart from feeling slightly snubbed –
he couldn’t help it, was at total ease. In fact if
he thought about it, it was the first time since
the debacle of last evening that he was feeling
fine.
The driver though, was having a hard time
of it controlling the vehicle on the slick wet
road. The rain was still coming down hard and
the sky was a dense grey. Thunder rumbled
occasionally and the rain didn’t let up.
It was difficult to see and he had his
headlights on. They were about 70km from
Nairobi. The vehicle was really flying down the
dual carriage. He had been sparing it a little
but once they hit the one-way, he was really
stepping on it.
He was sleepy - he had been up most of the
past week. A man’s work was never done and
since the more you drove, the more you got
843
paid, he had been putting in extreme hours
this week.
But he was a seasoned driver and when you
plied one route five times in a day, you got to
know it like the back of your hand. Nothing
could go wrong especially as he was on the
dual carriage which was a smooth pothole-free
road – or so he thought.
He had to get to Nairobi fast. He stifled a
yawn. He would have to sleep tonight. He
really was tired. Jerking suddenly, his eyes had
crept shut, he swerved to the right toward the
parapet that separated the two sides of the
road. Over correcting, he swerved back to the
left the vehicle skidding a little on the slippery
surface. The passengers were rocked and
grumbled their displeasure.
But he had it under control. Mary raised her
head, noticed that the vehicle was going rather
fast considering that she could not see as far
844
the next car – which was fifty yards ahead. But
shrugging, she went back to the riveting tale,
always aware of the man seated beside her –
aware more, that he was aware of her too.
The driver dozed again. It was inevitable, he
was too tired. A time comes when one must
sleep and for him, that hour was nigh.
Unfortunately for his fourteen passengers, he
was at the wheel at that time.
His eyes crept shut and when he jerked
them open instinctively, he was just behind the
lorry that had been ahead of him. And
belatedly, he saw the red lights. He was
braking!
He swerved to the left his foot shooting to
the brake pedal. The vehicle turned sharply off
the road. The wheels locked, it slid off the wet
surface, the momentum taking it in a fast skid
right off the hard shoulder and through the
weak metal grating.
845
The passengers who were all wide awake,
watched in silent horror as the car went head
on into an abandoned quarry that stood ten
yards from the road.
With the seasonal rains in full, the deep
ravine was full of water. So the vehicle took a
softer tumble into the murky cold waters. It
stood on the water for a moment like the
cartoons do when they find themselves
suddenly running into air. Then the front,
heavier end started leaned into the water and
the vehicle submerged.
The driver of the lorry that had suddenly
braked, didn’t see the damage he had
inadvertently caused behind him and he went
on his merry way.
A very keen driver who had been hundred
yards behind the PSV and moving cautiously
noticed the broken metal grating. He slowed
down and stopped over the hard shoulder.
846
Fastening the buttons on his jacket, he got out
of his Peugeot.
He saw the clear tire marks grooved into
the wet mud and ran to the quarry. He was just
in time to see the white tail of the van
disappear in the water. He could make out the
shiny yellow of the back number plate.
The rain was coming down fast on him. If he
had been anyone else, he would have
attempted to dive into the waters and rescue
the ill-fated passengers. But he was a doctor.
And as such he was pragmatic and he ran back
to his car and called the first hospital he could
think of.
When the vehicle hit into the metal grating,
the violent jerk had sent Gideon’s head hard
against the body of the car. He lost
consciousness – along with many of the other
passengers. He had no idea the car was
sinking.
847
The 1tonne vehicle – when empty, sunk with
a languid lack of rush that was almost sadistic.
He had heard somewhere that every time you
are in a car, you should know you are in a
steel, moving coffin.
Well this coffin was interring itself into this
wet murky burial place with a deadly finality.
When it had sunk fifty feet, the vehicle
snagged itself against a narrow shelf. There
were many such shelves along the walls to the
very bottom arranged so that they looked like
a mad man’s idea of giant stairs. It had come
to the edge of the shelf on its hind wheels so
that the heavier half of it was leaning into the
space.
The frigid cold of the water, awakened
Gideon. There was a pocket of air still in the
vehicle. The water reached his neck. It had
completely submerged Mary, but he didn’t see
that.
848
What he saw, once his mind came to
complete wakefulness, was that he was going
to drown! Gideon had a phobia for deep
waters. He could swim, but he had never
attempted to do any diving.
Being inside this unyielding medium in
which he could not breathe and miles and
miles of space, blue space and nowhere to go
but down, down… it was a nightmare he had
woken to!
His heart was pounding furiously as he
struggled to open the door. But it was jammed,
the pressure from the water was too great. He
couldn’t open the door. He was trapped here to
die. And what was worse, he had been given
some small reprieve by a completely sadistic
deity.
The air he breathed would soon be no more.
The water was rising and he could feel its cold
fingers wrapping themselves around his
849
Adam’s apple ready to squeeze the life out of
him.
He refused to die like this, strapped into a
seat like an animal, while the murdersome
water had its way.
Struggling with the unyielding door again,
he decided that that was completely futile. He
coughed as the water reaching his chin, went
into his mouth. Shit, he thought furiously his
heart beating wildly. He banged at the door in
anger and then he noticed the window.
Like a leper who had just seen Jesus, he
perked up. His trembling fingers went for the
lever. He tugged on it, but the window
remained shut. His head was now raised to the
roof so that the water lapped at his throat with
a sick tickle. He wondered how it would look
like, him laughing his head off while he battled
to open a snagged window and tried hard not
to cry.
850
He realised then, with the part of his mind
that remained operational despite his
breakdown, that he was tugging at the lever
instead of pushing it. What he was doing was
trying to close a shut window instead of
opening it. No wonder they made them
electronic so that you just pressed knobs, he
thought insanely.
Praying silently, he tried the reverse side.
The lever moved. His heart pounded fiercely.
His left temple was throbbing harshly. He
sucked in a rushed breath when the water
flowed into the car through the open window,
completely ridding him of air and sending him
into utter panic.
He wound the window down maniacally. His
lungs were already aching from the breathe
they were denied. The widow down, he
struggled to get out. He could not. He was
stuck to his seat!
851
Jesus, he thought madly. I can’t die like this.
His lungs were screaming now and he was
almost swallowing water. His eyes bulged. He
tried to get out of the car through the window
but try as he might, he was stuck. It was the
devil, he thought. He was holding him by his
waist forcing him back into the seat every time
he tried to get off. Stay, he seemed to whisper
in his clogged ears. Stay and pay for your
sins… And in his delirium, a voice of reason
beckoned.
Frantically, he couldn’t help it, he unclipped
the safety harness that kept him tied to the
seat securely.
And without a second thought, he moved
into the space and kicked into the water. His
eyes could make out dimly in the murky waters
the precarious position of the car. And more
than that, he saw that the dark beneath his
852
feet, promised colder and much more expanse
of water there.
He could hear it beckon. Come, come… and
he felt himself start to sink. Snapping out of
the sick trance, he schooled his nervousness
with Herculean effort. Looking up to the less
dim waters, he kicked and relaxed his body
accepting the natural buoyancy to take him to
air.
His lungs were bursting and he had started
to swallow sips of water, when he hit air. He
coughed and went back into the water, gulping
a mouthful of the sick-tasting water.
He emerged into the air again and made for
the side which was only ten yard off. But the
quarry didn’t gradually undulate. It was an
abrupt drop, so the waters were deep and he
had to swim all the way.
He was bone-tired when he got there.
Pulling himself up and out of the water with
853
effort, he sunk onto the muddy bank. The rain
was still falling consistently. He started
shivering involuntarily with delayed shock.
His mind was blank. He couldn’t think. And
then he seemed to be thinking non-stop. It was
as though a light had been switched on in a
previously dark room. His mind raced furiously
on so many things he couldn’t grasp his
thoughts.
And then inevitably, he thought about Mary.
And then his mind froze. Thinking about Mary
Ndati, naturally reminded him of his
manuscript!
Shit! It was still down there! He was not a
doctor, and even if he had been blessed with a
doctor’s pragmatism at that time, he could not
have stopped himself. He got onto his feet
stumbling back unsteadily like a child just
learning to stand.
854
He removed his shoes by stepping onto the
heels with his other foot and then he ran, took
a deep breath and dove neatly back into the
water.
The doctor saw it all from his Peugeot and
could not believe his eyes. First he thought he
was dreaming when fifteen minute after he had
stopped, he saw a figure hit the surface,
submerge, and then rise once more. Then he
had looked on incredulously as the figure swam
and got out of the water. He had just been
readying himself to get out to him, when he
had seen the man get up, kick off his shoes
and then incredibly dive into the waters once
more.
He got out of the car and ran to the
abandoned quarry. And there he saw the shoes
confirming that he had seen what he saw. He
could only assume that the man had gone back
to try and rescue someone, but wouldn’t it
855
have been easier to have come with them in
the first place? Or maybe… but he didn’t know
what to think. One thing, was for certain
though, he was going to be in the rain for a
longer time now.
Gideon felt the water clothe him again like
an unwanted body suit. He discerned though,
at the back of his mind, that the water was
warmer than the surface. And he pulled toward
the vehicle as swiftly as he could.
He struggled to keep his mind empty of all
the scary thoughts of drowning. It was easier
now because the one thing that he cared more
about than drowning, was his manuscript.
He saw the Toyota reclining precariously on
the shelf. He noted that it was going to go
down soon. His whole head was pounding now.
But he refused to think about that. His lungs
though made their displeasure painfully
obvious.
856
He reached near-blind for the door. He
pulled himself into the window and hanging
half in half out, searched blindly with his hands
for the manuscript. Incredibly, it was on her
lap. His hand closed on the PVC file conscious
not to disturb the wet pages. Apparently, Mary
had closed it before they went down – or as
they went down, just before she lost her senses
anyway.
He could respect anyone who respected the
written word enough to do that subconsciously.
But now, he had to get out. He was starting to
feel the fingers of fear closed over him again
now that he had what he had come for. Soon,
he knew, they would start squeezing.
He pulled at the file but it seemed stuck. He
pulled it again but it wouldn’t yield. He got
further into the car, his legs dangling out to
check what it was snagged on. Then he saw
the white bony fingers tightly gripping the file!
857
With a creeping dread, he tried to prise
them off the file. He had pulled her left fingers
off the file and was easily pulling it from her
right hand. He started moving backwards away
from the car, when he felt a cold strong hand
clasp his wrist.
Reacting instinctively, he jerked at his hand.
But it wouldn’t yield. And when he looked up,
he saw her ghoulish white face through the
murky waters looking right at him! Her sad and
kind smile emerged. Aaah! He swallowed
water.
Panicking, he hit at her with the file,
struggling maniacally to get out. He wasn’t
even aware the he was suddenly free, until he
banged the back of his head of the roof of the
door in his hasty retreat.
He felt the vehicle move creepily like a
bored rusty seesaw. He tucked his manuscript
into the front of his trousers and pulled out into
858
the water. His heart pounding, sure that there
was something after him, swimming close to
his feet just waiting to grab him and pull him
down, so he could stay and pay, he peddled
like a motorboat.
When he hit air, he was shivering and
coughing and mumbling incoherently. He
pulled himself to the muddy shore and yelled
out in renewed panic when he felt a hand close
on his wrist.
The doctor pulled the shaking man out of
the water. He had to take care not to slide in
the mud as the rain pelted them mercilessly.
Gideon fell on his back facing the grey
clouds as his chest rose and fell rapidly. He
was shivering and whispering endless words
like a deranged man.
The doctor knew he had been exposed too
much and he was in a terrible risk. He could
859
not wait for the ambulance. He had to get this
man to hospital.
His fingers had shrivelled and he started
feeling the pain now. He saw the man bend
and check his pulse at his neck looking at his
watch. Then he bent and said something to
him. But whether it was the rain or the water
clogging his ears, he couldn’t hear a thing. And
then it didn’t matter because he lost
consciousness.
The doctor frantically tried to get the man
to stand and go to the car but he was looking
at him as though he didn’t hear him. And then
he went unconscious.
He was a heavy man and the doctor was not
necessarily Hercules or even as healthy as he
wished his patients to be.
So, mindful of whatever injuries the man
might have sustained, he held him under the
armpits and pulled him as fast as he dared in
860
the rain and to the car. No one had stopped to
check what was going on.
The rain had a big role to play in that. Most
motorists didn’t even see anything a miss
because of the reduced visibility, and those
that did, preferred not to get wet.
So no one saw the doctor struggle with the
unconscious man and deposit him into the
passenger seat, which he adjusted and pushed
back. He ran over to his side and got in, closing
the door. He got rid of his wet thick jacket. His
shirt was dry, but his slacks were plastered to
his skin.
He put on the heater, checked that the man
was alright, and stepped onto the accelerator.
He looked at his passenger from the corner of
his eye noticing that even as his frozen fingers
thawed out, and a healthy red returned to
them, they gripped the file still tucked inside
his trousers tightly.
861
Gideon was stretchered into the hospital
still out of it. His mind was a plethora of
thoughts that ran into each other in a swift ebb
and flow such that Gideon had no idea whether
he was dreaming or whether he was alive.
But he caught snippets of conversation as
his mind hovered on the brink of wakefulness.
‘Barely a scratch…lucky to be alive…a
miracle…’ and then he swam further into the
depths of the dense fog that smothered him.
And then he dreamt.
She came to him in his house. And the easy
if strange camaraderie that had existed when
they first met was there. He was on his bed
and she was seated on a seat beside him.
They talked and laughed with each other.
But she kept her face hidden from him. She
had pulled the shawl over her face and Gideon
wondered at her bashfulness. It must have
been her natural shyness, or maybe she feared
862
exposure to the sun. Either way, he didn’t pay
it much mind. She was here and she seemed to
like him. He was happy.
Then she stood up suddenly. She started for
the door of his bedroom. At the door, she stood
bent down slightly, he hand on the knob. Then
she turned her head slightly toward him,
keeping her face down. He could see it, but
she would not meet his eyes.
And reading her body language, he got up
off the bed. He walked slowly toward he
chattering away like a monkey. He had no idea
what he was telling her. He just could not stop
talking.
And when she opened the bedroom door, in
the manner of dreams, instead of stepping into
his familiar corridor it opened to the outside.
She stepped on to the grass, her sandaled
feet disappearing into the thick tuft of green.
She was in a long white dress that flowed
863
gracefully as she walked step by dainty step.
As he followed, he thought she looked like a
saint in one of those movies. She moved like a
ghost – slightly gliding over the grass, her
dress flowing behind her.
He felt the softness of the grass on his bare
feet. And still chattering, he walked faster
toward her. The sky was a clear blue with
scattered white clouds. It felt like early
morning or twilight. But judging by the warmth
in the air, he thought it was evening.
She moved just two steps ahead of him the
orange light making her look all the more
surreal. He hastened his step to reach her. But
try as he might, he could not get to her, she
kept ahead of him and incredibly, the margin
seemed to be increasing.
‘Wait for me,’ he told her.
‘Just follow,’ she replied.
864
And he did, hurrying up. The grassland led
them straight into a forest that for the life of
him, Gideon could not say he had seen before.
He wondered how far they had walked. He
made to look back.
‘Don’t look back.’ His head swung ahead at
the quiet but firm command. And incredibly,
she was even further ahead of him. Her feet
barely touched the ground now.
They were into the trees now and Gideon
felt the air become cooler. His feet felt wet –
the undergrowth here was dewy. He trudged
on determinedly though still talking non-stop.
He looked up at he canopy as they went
further into the forest and was amazed to find
that she was now twenty yards ahead. He
trotted slightly calling to her.
But she stayed ahead, occasionally calling
to him. He had stopped chatting so incessantly
865
now. A dread was coming over him, but as long
as he could see her, he felt he was alright.
And then he noticed that they were in
denser wood. His feet stepped in less
undergrowth here and more dead leaves. He
felt the crunch more than heard it as he
walked on.
He heard the rumble of thunder and was
aware that it was about to start raining. He felt
a cold breeze draft past his face and he
shivered. Mary, a white wraith now, glided fifty
yards ahead.
He called her and recieved the same
patient and kind answer. ‘Follow me.’
He heard the thunder rumbling again and
he couldn’t help himself, he looked back. And
the sight that hit his eyes shocked him so, that
he almost fell down. It was the sight of nothing.
There was absolutely nothing behind him as
though the world began a few meters behind.
866
And as he watched, the forest was being
eaten rapidly into this nothing.
Soon, it would reach him. He felt sure he
would not survive then. He turned expecting to
see the reassuring if increasingly disturbing
white figure of Mary. She was nowhere to be
seen.
Gideon ran. He called Mary as h e ran
making furtive glances over his shoulder,
telling himself it was his imagination but the
nothing kept creeping in closer and closer. He
had to outrun it, he had no choice.
The trees moved past him merging into a
blur as he raced forward. His heart was
thumping wildly, and the centre of him that
knew what was happening, tried hopelessly to
get him out of this nightmare into wakefulness.
But there was no reprieve, no escape.
The thunder rumbled harder now and the
light was dim. The sky, when the leaves parted
867
enough fo him to see it, was fully covered in
grey poignant clouds. It started raining. At first
the drops came singly, and he was sheltered
by the thick canopy but then, they started
falling heavily and they hit at him as he flew
from nothing.
Suddenly, he came to a clearing. The trees
were behind him and he was walking on an
open land devoid of vegetation. The soil was
quickly getting muddy as the rain fell in
heavier drops. He daren’t looke back and so
step by quick step, he went onto the mud path
forward. And then he saw it.
It was the abandoned quarry. He was just
suddenly at its bank. It was full of water and it
seemed to flow at his feet like that of a river in
its youth stage.
It even made a roar, and he wondered how
this could be when this was basically a large
868
pool. Why was the water flowing to? But he
could not answer that as just then, he saw her.
She was on the other side of the quarry. In
her white she looked dry and holy. She was still
looking down at her feet. She raised her right
hand and beckoned him; come.
Gideon was in a trance. But as he stepped
closer to the water, he panicked. It was moving
much too fast and loudly, and he could
remember the feeling of it closing around
him… she beckoned him with more force now.
He thought, he had never seen her as
animated before. She seemed almost angry
with him.
He didn’t want to anger her and stepped
closer. But then thunder struck and his foot slid
and went into the water! He fell on his back
side and frantically used his elbows to pull
himself back.
869
It was raining furiously now. He was scared
of the water and looking back, he saw that he
had been right. Nothing came and all but the
last trees had become a void. It was just
emptiness. It was worse than the water and it
was coming closer.
But the water was noisy. And he was afraid
of its cold fingers closing over him. He stayed
on his back in the rain willing himself to wake
up out of the nightmare. But he could not. And
then he didn’t want to.
For over at the other bank, she raised her
head and looked at him. He saw her pale white
face clearly and looked into her depthless
eyes. She smiled her kind sad smile at him. He
felt his heart cease to beat.
She beckoned him gently, come. And he
did. A moment before the whole forest become
nothing, he stepped into the water.
870
He struggled to swim to the other shore. He
had to get to her, she was his salvation. But it
was as though he was dressed in lead. He
peddled with his feet and pulled with his
hands, but he didn’t move forwards. Instead,
he was sinking. He struggled now to just keep
a float, kicking and flailing his hands, but he
went down.
He broke air with a sudden effort. ‘Mary, ’he
called into the rain. ‘Help me, God am so sorry,
help me!’ but as he looked at the other shore
she was no where to be seen. She had
deserted him. He felt the water devil pull at
him insistently.
He thrashed and kicked but his heads
submerged. Again, he broke surface wildly
searching for the white figure of Mary. And
then he saw. On the other shore, on a rope
that seemed to have been tied on thin air, was
871
a body swinging. And as he squinted, the body
oscillated and he saw the face of his brother!
Solomon was looking right at him with
glassy accusing eyes, his tongue out of his
mouth swaying; left – right…left – right.
Gideon shot up. His heart thudded painfully
as he opened his eyes. He was unmistakeably
inside a hospital room.
There was a window at the side and a
waning grey told him it was still evening. He
looked around and saw the manuscript on the
table by the window.
Voices reached his ears; ‘just one…’ ‘a
miracle I tell you…’ ‘all that time in the
water…’ ‘and barely a scratch…’ ‘when…
tomorrow?’ ‘yeah…its too soon…’
He got off the bed. The room was dim. He
felt alright and he wasn’t interested in
spending more time in the hospital. He was
feeling fine. Barely a scratch he thought. He
872
walked over to the window and took the
manuscript. The voices had moved on.
He opened the door a crack and then
moved into the corridor. He was still fully
clothed. Tucking the manuscript into his
trousers, he started walking toward his right,
guessing that was the way out.
He didn’t think what he would say if he was
caught. He didn’t thin about the dream. And
most of all, he didn’t think about Mary. It would
have been too much.
In the end, it was actually too simple. No
one paid attention to him as he left. They
probably thought he was a visitor – he was in
his clothes. Thanking his lucky stars and
refusing to think, he walked out of the hospital.
873
874
26
GIDEON WAS LUCKY. He had checked his

pockets only to discover that his keys weren’t
inside. He must have dropped them in the
water.
But his neighbour, Mama Bingwa had a set
of spare keys. He had left them with her when
he went off to the country. She had actually
offered to water his plants and he had
reluctantly accepted. Now, he was thankful for
the woman’s insistence.
Mama Bingwa was a large vociferous
woman. When she spoke, her chins shook. Her
rotund body stood barely above five feet. But
she had a heart of gold.
Previously, when Gideon had moved here –
when Hannah was institutionalised, he had
found her ways odd and not a little intrusive.
875
Being the introvert he was, it had grated upon
him each time the large woman would come
cackling endless gossip about the estate to
him. But she was blind to his blank stares and
deaf to his rebuffs. And they had become
uneasy friends – the unease totally on his part.
She loved talking to herself and many
people thought she was a little fried in the
head, but her warmth was endearing. It was
7:00pm when Gideon arrived at the estate. It
hadn’t even rained here. It was like he was
from another country. He wondered how the
past two hours had flown by so slowly. He felt
as though he had been in through a decade of
action.
He was just thinking how he ought to go to
Mama Bingwa’s and how he would manage to
extricate himself gently from her company
when he got his keys, when he saw her.
876
The woman had just turned into his
doorway when he got there.
‘Hallo Mama Bingwa,’ he greeted her.
‘My son is sick,’ she said not looking back at
him, as she opened his door. Her son was sick?
That would explain why she was coming to
water his plants so late, he thought.
She got into the house without a backward
glance, bending to pick up a paper off the floor.
Gideon wondered what it was as he entered
behind the usually jolly woman.
It was shocking really, her seeming coldness
toward him. Her son must have her really
worried. He kept away from her – not one to
infringe on peoples’ private space. Besides, it
was even better for him, that she was not in a
loquacious mood today. He wanted to be by
himself.
Passing straight to his bedroom, Gideon
passed by the woman who had negligently
877
placed the paper on the coffee table. She was
mumbling to herself about her son and things
he could not get.
She did this every time. She had
monologues that could carry on for hours. That
was why people thought she was a little mad.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked pausing at the
door to his bedroom.
‘No. My son is sick,’ she said looking at the
plants over the mantel. Then she turned and
went to the kitchen to fetch water. Her
demeanour didn’t invite further conversation.
He didn’t push it.
He sunk on his bed and placed the
manuscript on the bedside table and for a long
moment, stared at it. His mind went to his
grandfather, and he thought about what a jerk
he had turned out to be.
He thought about his mother and wondered
how long it had been. He didn’t even know
878
which town she lived in. And he thought about
Katherine. He really ought to improve their
relationship, he thought. And he even thought
about Hannah – his beautiful insane wife. But it
was all a ploy to avoid thinking about the only
thing that really mattered. Mary Ndati.
And he could not deal with it yet. He got off
the bed and went into the sitting room.
‘Mama Bingwa?’ he called as he walked
down the corridor. But the room was empty.
Mama Bingwa had watered his five money
plants and rushed back to her son.
He shrugged thinking it was none of his
business and went to the coffee table. He
picked up the paper. It was a notice from the
landlord. It had no doubt been slipped under
the door. It was an ultimatum to either pay his
rent or have his door locked.
He had forgotten all about his rent. For the
two months he had been in the country, he had
879
not paid a single cent. But the landlord was a
good man. And now that he was back, he was
not unduly worried about it.
Sinking into an arm chair, he threw the
notice back on the table. He raised a foot on
the coffee table and rested his head over the
back of the chair.
His hand crept for the remote control. He
switched on the TV. He knew he was trying not
to think, but he also knew that he couldn’t take
it now. It would come, but he had to try and
postpone it as much as possible.
On the TV, the 7 o’clock news had gone
halfway. He heard the dying statements about
some Cabinet Minister’s run in with thugs. His
mind was in limbo and he looked at the TV but
didn’t really see it.
Then he heard the next news item. ‘…news
just coming in, there has been a serious
accident off Nairobi highway involving a Toyota
880
mini-van in which only one out of the fourteen
passengers and the driver, survived. Rescue
efforts…’ he switched it off quickly. And then
for good measure, he went to the TV set and
switched it off from there.
He tried but he knew this time there would
be no stopping it. And when it came, it came in
a riptide that floored him. He sat down wearily
on the armchair and covered his aching eyes
with a tired hand.
Mary Ndati. He had abandoned her in the
car. He had left her there to drown as he made
away. And then as if that was not enough, he
had come back into the water to rescue, not
her, but his damn manuscript. And he could not
get himself to regret that action – that was
what was making him so guilty.
And it was almost a physical ache. He felt
his throat work painfully as he fought tears.
The sad kind smile came swimming before his
881
eyes and he had to groan. He bit his fist hard
to stave the tidal wave of emotion.
‘Am so sorry,’ ran through his mind again
and again. ‘Am so sorry. I could not have
helped myself.’ And he would have done the
same thing if the same were to happen again.
He felt the void that ought to have been his
heart and wondered when he had lost all his
humanity.
He fell asleep where he sat still wondering
and repeatedly apologising to a dead woman
and dreadfully afraid to fall asleep.
But in spite his fear, he didn’t dream, not
the previous nightmare or any other dream. It
was as though he blacked out and when he
recovered, it was early morning. He felt fine for
a man who had just slept on an armchair.
Thoughts came into his mind but there was
only one that stuck. He had to go meet Gats
and Polo at the Publishing House offices. He
882
went to the bedroom and cursed when he saw
that the manuscript was still wet. He could not
take it like that. And his phone had gotten lost
along with his luggage.
He decided to go without it. He would meet
the men and tell them he had been in an
accident, they probably knew already from the
news anyway. And then he would explain about
the manuscript, tell them it was unfinished too
but that he could finish the story in a week.
He knew if he sat down on it, he could be
through in less than that time. Gats knew he
was as good as his word, and Polo although
restive by nature, trusted Gats. They would go
along with him.
Feeling the better for that, Gideon left his
house pulling the door closed behind him. It
was 8:00am and there were a few people
walking outside. On of them was his neighbour,
Mama Bingwa.
883
He went to talk to her but noticed
something peculiar. She was holding her head
and crying. She was mumbling to herself and
she passed him as though he weren’t there. He
looked after her receeding back wondering
where she was off to at this time, and why she
was crying.
Shrugging, he turned and headed down
toward the bus stage. He saw Bingwa seated
on the front steps at their house. He was
cradling his head in his hands and looked
forlorn.
‘Why is you mother crying?’ he asked the
boy.
He shrugged his slight shoulders. His eyes
were on the road, at his mother’s back. ‘She is
sad,’ was all he said.
Gideon turned back looked at the huge
woman then turned to the boy. But after a
884
moment of wondering what to say, he started
feeling self-conscious and just went on his way.
At the stage, he got onto the bus with other
commuters. They had to stand since it was
already full, but that was alright – he did this
almost everyday.
The bus slowly made its way into town and
Gideon smiled when the conductor failed to ask
for his money. He wasn’t the only one in the
crowded bus not to pay, nor was it a first for
him either, but it cheered him up tremendously
after the night he had had and waking up to
Mama Bingwa’s unusual lugubriousness.
But his lady luck must have stopped smiling
at that point. Or maybe because it was
technically thievery, she disserted him after
the conductor turned his back on him.
The bus slowed down at his corner and
Gideon smartly stepped off it. But as he got on
to the road, a car sped by him and he had to
885
jump out of the way as it zoomed past missing
him by a hair’s breadth.
He was breathing faster now, his heart
thudding in the excitement as he made his way
down the busy cobble-stoned paths.
He thought about his story and he felt his
mood lift. It was exciting to be discussing its
publishing, and Gideon was relishing the
meeting with the two men. He was slightly
early – it was 9:00am, Gats had said 10:00am.
But he could wait in the office. He remembered
that he hadn’t eaten since the previous
morning, but he didn’t feel hungry. Besides, he
could have coffee or something in the
Publishing House.
After the meeting, he would grab a meal.
The street got thinner as he got to the less
busier side. He was walking along a sidewalk,
when he saw a woman get out of a shop and
walk ahead of him. He had not paid attention
886
to her face and really only noticed her after she
was walking in front of him.
She was short and slight. She had a skyblue
sweater on and a flowing skirt that reached her
shoes. Her head was covered by a shawl. And
that shawl was what caught his attention. His
heart was pounding now as he fought between
the urge to run away or to run to confirm that
the woman really wasn’t Mary.
And when he thought it, he chided himself
at his thinking. She was dead. This woman had
to be someone else obviously. But he could not
get himself to walk any faster. He dreaded her
turning, and yet again craved it.
She removed her hand from the front of her
sweater and he saw that it was a milky white
colour with red blotches. He felt himself slow
down. His breathing was laboured now. She
suddenly turned into the road and Gideon
stopped in his tracks. She was an albino.
887
But as he saw her clearly, he breathed in a
sigh of relief. It was clearly someone else. In
fact, now that he came to think about it, she
was slightly fuller than Mary. And Mary was
dead, he told himself sternly.
He resumed his walk and turned right at the
end of the block and then he met her face to
face!
He had almost run into her. He stood
transfixed as he looked at her too shocked to
speak. And she also looked like she had seen a
ghost. He didn’t indulge in the sarcastic nature
of his mind.
He looked at the white ghost face before
him. There were red marks on her cheek and
forehead – he knew how she had got them,
from when he hit her.
She was dead! He looked around to see if
anyone else was seeing what he was. But
everyone else was busy doing what they had
888
been doing. His heart resumed beating in a
single frightening thump.
And then she smiled her kind smile at him
and he couldn’t take it anymore. He turned into
the street and ran. He ran a whole three blocks
until he was sure he was as far away from the
ghost as he could. He told himself that the
ghost could probably pop up anywhere but he
was frantic to get away so that he could breath
in and out and reassure himself that he was
not mad.
He stopped at a park and relaxed. She was
haunting him! She probably felt he had killed
her… stop it! He commanded his mind. He was
just seeing things, he told himself harshly.
Gideon struggled for sanity as he sat on the
bench. He was there a whole thirty minutes
before he could stand without shaking.
It was time to go see Gats and Polo.
889
At the Publishing House, Gideon got his
second rude shock of the day. It really was
becoming worse than the proverbial Friday the
13th of August.
He had just made it to tenth floor of Nestle
House where the Publishing House had its
offices, when the clock struck ten.
He made his way down toward Polo’s office.
He knew the way as he had been here many
times before. He didn’t greet anyone, though –
he never did, his eye was on the boss’s door.
And when he reached it, he saw Gats come
towards it from inside. And then, not ten feet
from him, he said to Polo, ‘forget Maina…’ and
the rest of what he was going to say was lost
as the door swung shut with a sickening
finality.
Gideon stood rooted at the spot and
wondered at Gats’ treachery. What was going
on? Had they completely given up on him? But
890
Gats had seen him. And that could only mean
one thing, they had another writer.
And Gideon didn’t matter now that they had
struck gold. He felt like puking as he stood
there conscious that he looked like a fool. He
considered storming the office but decided
against it. He had his own pot of gold seated at
home. He wasn’t a nobody. He had published
four times already. He could get another
publisher and to hell with Gats and Polo.
Turning, he walked away. He would take his
story to another publisher. It was good – he
knew it. Publishers would fight for it, and when
it sold big, that would show these two fools. So
he walked out deciding to let them think they
had bested him.
It went to tell you that you could not trust
anyone. He would be getting another agent.
When he got home, Gideon Maina was not
shocked to find that the door had been nailed
891
shut. A notice was stuck on the door. It was the
landlord. Jesus! Couldn’t a man even seat in a
house for a day?
He would get the man his money, and he
knew that the landlord knew that too. This was
just proving to be a messed up day.
He turned off too angry to even talk. He
decided to go for a walk and clear his head.
There were just too many things running up
and down it was a wonder he hadn’t gone
insane already.
Gideon held his hands behind his back and
bent his head and walked. He sung to himself
trying hard to calm down. He had to get his
head settled right.
He walked for long with no idea where he
was going. His thoughts roamed from the
previous day’s occurrences and this morning’s.
He wondered at Gats’ treachery – that hurt him
the most.
892
But a voice that had an irritating tone at the
back of his mind, kept insisting that it was
payback. He was suffering for his sins of the
previous day. He knew that the mind was a
strong thing and could create realism where
there was none and draw parallels where there
weren’t any.
He decided that his mind had created the
ghost of Mary Ndati and given her wounds for
good measure. It was his intense guilt that was
messing him up. She was dead as was every
other person who had been in that vehicle. The
only difference was that he was blaming
himself for her death.
He just had to relax. He would get the
money to his landlord, get into his house and
get a good long sleep. Then he would finish his
story, and then get a publisher. One thing at a
time – that was the way to get past this. It was
893
just a phase, he had been through a lot in his
life, he could deal with this.
He smiled feeling for the first time that day
in control of his life. When he bothered to
inspect his surroundings, he discovered that he
had gone a long way – he had no idea where
he was.
He was on a path covered with dried
eucalyptus leaves. They were all over. There
looked to be nothing but bush, and he
wondered where he was. He would just have to
walk further until he saw something familiar, or
get to the main road that this path was headed
to.
He went on the path climbing slightly and
suddenly, a sound wafted to his ear. He stood
still and listened. It came again. He turned to
the right off the path and walked over the thick
undergrowth following the music that was
894
coming from a distant and he could not make
out exactly what it was.
The undergrowth opened suddenly, to a
bushy compound. He saw a detached house
that was fully covered in creepers. If he had
not seen the small Fiat Uno that stood at the
side of the house, he would have thought it
was deserted. And of course the music which
he was certain was coming from inside the
house.
He wondered who owned this beautiful
house and allowed it to become such a
haunted looking place.
Following the sounds that had a sad lyrical
tone of a child’s music box, he walked over to
the front door. It was open, and he walked in.
She was seated at an upright piano and Gideon
was not shocked to see her h ere.
His loitering had had direction and purpose,
only he had not known it.
895
‘Come in Gideon Maina,’ she said without
looking up from the keys she was fingering
expertly. ‘This is where I call home.’
‘How is this possible?’ Gideon asked when
he was a foot behind her. What he wanted to
ask was; is this possible?
Mary shrugged. Her fingers slid over the
ivory keys expertly. She was in the brown
sweater and flowing royal blue dress she had
seen him in earlier. She didn’t have her glasses
and she had removed her shawl.
He looked at the cornrows she had plaited
her yellow hair in. even her skull was white.
Then she stopped playing and turned on the
stool and for the first time looked at him.
‘I am here aren’t I?’ she asked in her kind
voice.
He had never looked into eyes that were
more expressive and arresting. He saw the
sadness there that had been with her all her
896
life. He saw her excitement and a form of
anticipation. And he saw her innate kindness,
he couldn’t take it.
He saw the scars across her face and his
eyes went to her sandaled feet which peeked
from the hem of the dress in embarrassment.
‘Am sorry,’ he said and he had never meant
any words more in his life.
‘Look at me Gideon,’ she said smiling. When
his eyes rose she said. ‘You have nothing to
feel sorry about, I understand.’
And her kindness was so true that he felt
completely forgiven and it lifted the weight
from his chest that he felt lighter than air. He
started laughing, and she laughed along with
him.
‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘How is this possible?’
‘Don’t question it,’ she told him.
897
‘But-But how long…?’ his words dwindled to
nothing as he couldn’t get himself to finish that
sentence.
‘I am going to be here for a long time.’ She
said in a clear voice. He smiled brightly at that.
The smile that set her heart fluttering and heat
suffusing through her.
‘You must make a pretty good nurse,’ he
said. She nodded idly and they looked at each
other, both thinking the same thing. Was this
limited to sight only? He stepped forward
hesitantly, and she kept seated waiting for him.
And when he got to her and touched her by the
shoulders, a thrill ran through her.
He saw that he had felt his touch. And she
felt as consistent as any normal living thing. He
pulled her off the stool and into his arms. She
couldn’t have got there faster if she tried.
Naturally, their lips sought each other. He
touched her white cheek and assured himself
898
that it was not as cold as it looked. He kissed
her softly to make sure that he could, and then
to confirm it, and after that it was a plea for
forgiveness for understanding which Mary
Ndati returned fully.
‘You are not going away,’ she whispered
raggedly holding him close.
‘No am not,’ he replied although it hadn’t
been a question she asked but a decree.
And in his mind, he thought that perhaps
they needed to talk first but he could not
believe that he was holding a dead woman in
his arms and she was grinding up against him
as animated as anybody.
When she touched his crotch and cupped
him urgently, he thought that perhaps there
were more ways to talk than one. He raised her
dress and finally saw her calves, and much
much more.
899
27
IT WAS GOOD. They had not expected it

and that made it all the sweeter. It made it
more special.
‘We have to talk,’ Gideon whispered into her
ear. She was curled up against him, her head
on his chest. They were in her bed and he had
no idea what time it was. All he knew was that
it was night and he was feeling light-headed.
‘Why did I think you’d say that?’ she
mumbled kissing his nipple.
He moaned appreciatively. ‘We really
should have started with that first you know?’
‘I could not wait,’ she said. Leaning in her
elbow, she looked down at him in the dim light.
She spoke, ‘You still think am a nun?’
He laughed and stretched to the lamp at the
side of the bed. He did it slowly, to give her
900
time to stop him, or cover herself. She did
neither.
He looked at her in the muted light. His
hand reached for her face and he caressed her
cheek smiling when she leaned into his hand
like a content cat.
‘You are no nun now’ he said. He caressed
her whole face looking at her keenly, as though
he wanted to memorise every curve of her
skin. ‘Tell me about yourself.’
She sighed. ‘It is sordid Gideon, you are not
the only one who has led a hard life.’
He nodded mutely. He had not told her that
he had led a hard life, she must have surmised
that on her own somehow. He watched her
face as emotions ran through her expressive
eyes. And finally, he saw trust.
She started talking. And out came the
undiluted tale if abbreviated tale of her life.
She told him about her rich busy mother and
901
her rich busier father. He listened as she told
him about the first time she had tried to kill
herself.
She told him about her preoccupation with
death ever since. And then as though sensing
that was a tricky subject here, she skimmed
over it. She told him instead of the completely
difficulty of growing up an albino.
She had been rejected by her parents, she
had not had any friends and she had hated
herself even more. She would not look at the
mirror for the grotesquely whit face that had
looked back at her had utterly disgusted her.
Mary Ndati told him about the cruelty of her
schoolmates and breathing in to gather
resolve, told him about the function at her
school.
She told him about her piano and the way
she had found solace in the sad tunes she
played. She told him about her father’s
902
appearance and disappearance from the school
hall. And her subsequent kidnap, came flowing
off her tongue.
She was looking right down at him as she
spoke. He caught the tears that dripped down
her face with gentle fingers. When she told him
about Mboch’s lecherous behaviour, she felt
warmed when he tightened his hold on her.
He was so strong, and she felt secure, for
the first time in years. My love, she thought,
but she could not tell him that. Not yet.
Her sadness at the life she led in a mansion
a rich ignored girl who had been born with a
curse poured out of her very heart. She told
him about her father’s suicide but didn’t tell
him about the seeing him pass into thin air at
the gate. It was not the right time for that. Nor
did she tell him about the old woman.
And she told him about moving out and
living alone.
903
‘It was the best thing I ever did,’ she said
smiling tremulously. ‘You know, I had a crush
once.’
He perked up.
‘OK not exactly a crush, but it came close.
He was a really cool guy, he was on the school
basketball team and I think he was the Game’s
Captain or something in high school.’
His thoughts went to Hassan Shide from his
own high school and he wondered idly where
the boy had ended up in life.
‘He talked to me once,’ she went on reliving
the memory. ‘And I knew that he was doing it
just because he was desperate. No it’s OK,’ she
said when he went to speak. Feeling his
tightened grip was enough. ‘I got used to it a
long time ago Gideon. I was born ugly after
all…’
‘You are the most beautiful woman Mary
Ndati.’ He interjected forcefully.
904
‘Well,’ she gave a small laugh. He decided
to let it go, he would convince her in due time.
She was going to be around for a long time
after all, she had said. ‘He didn’t think so, and
the whole school didn’t either. He wanted to
get laid and he thought that I might be an easy
mark. He understood you see but he didn’t
know that I might genuinely want him too.’
‘If he was such a cool guy on school why
wasn’t he getting any?’ Gideon asked.
‘Shh…’ she said silencing him with a finger.
‘Let me tell this OK? Yeah so he knew I would
give in to him easily if he kept showing me
some attention. It was little but for me, it was
nothing I had ever had before. So it was a lot.’
She held out her hands to show him how a lot it
was. He smiled feeling sad for the small sad
girl she had been.
‘I agreed when he asked me to go to his
place one weekend when he was alone. He
905
could not take me out or anything you see, first
I was you know, and I could not imagine
getting permission to go out from my mother –
my father had just died and it was hell on her.
‘So, anyway, I accepted and went to his
place. He was nice really – he was always nice
when we were alone. When other people came
was when he had to act like them, he needed
to be one of them. And that meant being on
egg shells around an ugly…’
‘Mary…’
‘OK, around an albino girl with dense
bifocals. As I was saying, I went to his place
and he was considerate, I actually touched him
first you know?’ she laughed. ‘And then we
began kissing and he touched my breast and
that was when I felt I couldn’t go ahead with it.
‘He was of course shocked and he tried to
coax me but I wasn’t butting. I didn’t feel him
anymore.’
906
‘Why?’ he asked curiously.
‘He was ugly…’
‘What?’
‘Well he was, I was just closing my eyes to it
and looking at his attributes, you know the big
name at school and all that.’
‘He was ugly?’ Gideon asked incredulously.
She nodded. ‘He was an albino.’ She said.
He looked at her for a long silent moment
and then he smiled. She smiled too and then
they started laughing together. They did it so
naturally, they could have been together for
years. It hit Gideon again how quick he had
grown close to this unique woman.
‘And so you stayed innocent,’ he said.
‘Until today, until you.’ She nodded. He was
quiet. He had thought she had been innocent,
but physically, it had not been obvious. She
hadn’t flinched from him as Hannah had – the
only other virgin he had ever bedded. She had
907
stayed with him and matched his motions step
by step. Probably when they die, virgins are
looser, he thought to himself lewdly. I have
made love to a dead woman! He thought and
he hugged her to him even more.
‘I knew you were too young for me,’ he said.
She laughed hitting his chest playfully.
‘Tell me about your sordid life,’ she said.
And he knew that she had been through a
difficult thing telling him about her past. He felt
even more special having been the one she
chose to share with her pain. She was right,
her life had been a sordid one. He could not
imagine what she had gone through.
Solomon had also been rejected and
ridiculed, but he for the most part had never
felt it directly like she had. Solo had not
understood it when people ignored him, but
Mary must have felt the pain each time a face
turned away from her. He could not imagine
908
living such a life. He held her tight accepting
her narration for what it was – a chance for her
to shed her past.
‘What happened to your rich and busy
mother?’ he asked.
‘She is still rich and busier I think,’ Mary
said her smile fading. ‘She remarried after
father died. She is happy now I think. She has a
child you know? A daughter, beautiful and
normal.’
‘Do you ever see her?’ he asked feeling his
heart break for her.
‘My mother?’ he nodded. ‘No. Just the odd
greeting card.’
They were quiet for a while. She was
looking at the lamp, and he was staring at her
lips. They were a light pink and were full. She
caught his eyes and when he dragged them up
to hers, she leaned into him and they kissed
once more.
909
From there, he just had to make sure she
would never be a nun. She let him.
It was a long while before any of them could

breathe, let alone talk.
‘You know Mary,’ Gideon said solemnly.
‘Yesterday, I was…’
‘I know Gideon I know,’ she said. She held
his face between her hands and looked into his
eyes, willing him to see her very soul. ‘I know.’
Then she smiled and nuzzled his nose
playfully. ‘Besides,’ she said. ‘You are yet to
tell me about you Gideon Maina.’
He smiled. He turned so that she lay under
him this time. Then looking up at the
headboard and then back into her expectant
eyes, he told her his story.
‘I am the second born of three children,’ he
started. Deep inside, he knew why they were
doing this – exchange of life history, they didn’t
910
think it would last. Gideon himself knew
somehow that she would not be around for a
long time as she had put it. They wanted to
cram everything into this small period of time
that they had been given.
She had told him her story, and so he told
her his. ‘… Solomon was born with a brain
disability. It affected his speech and so he
could not speak. But he could hear and
understand things.’ She gripped his right wrist
in her left hand tightly. He smiled slightly.
‘But that wasn’t all you see. He was not
alright. He would get into moods where he was
outright mad, insane but most of the time he
was just a happy confused boy.
‘Our folks didn’t know he could not talk until
I started talking first. Then they went to a
doctor and confirmed his condition…’ and as
he talked, tears gathered in his eyes so that
they became glassy.
911
He told her about the reading lessons by
their mother and her cruelty towards Solo. He
told her about his tantrums the way he’d bang
his head against walls as though he were
exorcising demons.
Gideon felt the warmth in his eyes and
looked at her through the tears in his eyes as
he spoke in a hoarse voice. He told her about
the trial it had been growing up with Solo,
trying to understand him fiercely fighting for
him and at times not being able to.
‘…at times Mary I found myself walking with
him on the roads and he would be scratching
himself, rolling his eyes, you know doing funny
things. And I would feel the eyes on him, and
then I’d feel them on me, and I would feel
angry at him for doing that…for embarrassing
me…’
‘Oh, Gideon.’
912
‘And it would pain you know,’ he spoke his
face a mask of the real pain he was reliving. ‘I
would feel so guilty, I mean he was my big
brother he couldn’t embarrass me, and yet it
was there at times, I just couldn’t help it. I
wanted to tell him to act normal didn’t he see
everyone staring?’
‘Gideon…’ Mary mumbled her tears running
unchecked. She touched his cheek gently. ‘You
didn’t have many friends did you?’
‘No. There was no space for that. They
would make fun of Solo or at least find him
weird and I couldn’t condone that. So I
preferred solitude and after sometime, I came
to treasure it I guess. There was one person
though who I could not shun.’
And then he smiled as he told her about
Hannah. It had been a long time really since he
had appreciated everything that Hannah had
913
done for him. He would make a point of going
to see her soon.
Mary felt the surge of jealousy when is face
lit up and his eyes gradually dried as he talked
about his wife. His best friend. She couldn’t
help it. He was her soul-mate – how else could
this be possible?
Then he told her about his parents. His
father’s easy going nature that his mother took
advantage of every time she wanted to
unleash her cruelty on her children. He told her
about the beating Solo had received and how
she had locked him in the closet so that his
father wouldn’t see him.
He came closest to actually shedding tears
but force of habit, stopped them just at the
precipice.
‘…father was a drunk fool,’
‘No Gideon,’ she said. ‘You don’t mean
that.’
914
‘Yes he was,’ Gideon insisted. ‘He was being
cheated on in his very house, his very bed but
he could not stand up to her. I have been very
lenient on him and his memory Mary but it is
time I admitted the truth to myself. I had a
weak father.’
‘Your mother…’
‘Mother was a promiscuous witch,’ Mary
flinched as though the words had slapped her.
He softened his tone and went on with his tale.
Naturally, it went to Hannah. She noticed that
when he spoke of her, he could not be angry or
bitter. He was just sad and nostalgic.
And he told her everything in his steady
hoarse voice, his tears brimming but not daring
to fall over. He told her about the abortion,
Hannah’s miscarriage and subsequent
depression. He told her about the trip to the
country where he had thought things would
heal but which actually came apart for good.
915
‘Hannah was raped,’ he said in cold clinical
tones like an unaffected reporter. ‘It must have
been one of the many things, coupled with her
depression that led to her breakdown. And
then my brother died,’ he was quiet for a while.
‘Things just seemed to be in freefall from
there.’
But he had managed to get them into some
semblance of order. The writing, he told her,
was what had kept him sane. Only his writing.
He lived for his writing and he tried then to
explain about the manuscript and the accident
but again, she shushed him with a thin finger
on his cold lips.
‘How did he die?’ she asked. She didn’t
need to tell him who ‘he’ was. He knew she
meant Solomon. For a long time, he was quiet
and she was sure he would not talk. Perhaps it
was not yet time for that – she had kept things
from him too that were not for now. But after a
916
very long moment, where she was silent he
started talking.
It had been a hot afternoon that day.

Gideon had been in the fields all day with some
distant cousins, preparing the land for tillage
the coming month. He had been doing this
everyday the past week now. He felt guilty
abandoning Hannah like that to her grief but it
wasn’t as if she noticed his absence. Besides,
she only seemed to want Solomon around.
That day though, the sun had come too
bright and too hot for Gideon. So he had left
the field earlier than he normally did. He left at
3:00pm leaving his cousins and workers at it.
He walked the half kilometre back to the
homestead. The houses were spread all over
the half acre where his grandfather had built
his own house. His own house, his father’s, his
917
uncle’s and even Solo’s were built so that the
old man Solomon Maina’s was in the middle.
When he entered his house, he knew
immediately that Solo – his brother had been
there. He was a habitual being and he loved to
do things in one monotonous way. It was the
way his brain worked. When he walked down a
path, he avoided its pothole and ant hills in the
same direction in the same manner each and
every time he walked that path. It had
bothered Gideon when they were children at
times even irritating him but he was used to it
now.
The curtains in the sitting room were drawn
to the centre. Only Solo did that. Hannah and
everybody else he knew, drew them to the
sides of the window but his brother always
drew them to the middle.
For a moment he was stabbed by an insane
jealousy at the amount of time Hannah was
918
spending with Solo. But she had been through
a rough time. The miscarriage had hit her
badly. Besides, Solo was as harmless as they
came.
As he walked toward the bedroom door,
Gideon experienced a moment of uneasy
trepidation. His gut coiled and he felt a chill in
his bones. His house was a two-bedroom one.
The roofing was done by iron sheets and he
had not bothered to put a ceiling boards. This
was a temporary house. Customarily, his
grandfather would split the land to each of his
sons when he died. And that was when he
would build a permanent home, after he had
been given his land – for his father had already
died.
He pushed the door slowly as though
fearing to enter. What he saw proved his
instincts right. Hannah was on the floor. She
919
was splayed her legs spread and her hand
forming a pillow for her head. She looked dead.
He rushed to her and kneeling, lifted her
onto his thighs. He slapped her cheek gently
but firmly calling her name.
Then the smell reached him. He looked
down at her legs and saw that her skirt had
been ripped. It covered one thigh leaving the
other open. He raised the material and saw the
dried fluid stuck on the inside of her thighs. Her
panties had been torn at her left hip and hung
on her right thigh. There was no blood, but
there was a lot of dried fluid and the telltale
smell of semen.
He shook her now his heart thudding. Her
lip he saw had been cut as though she had
been jabbed. And there was dried blood inside
her nostrils.
He was shaking now.
920
‘Hannah? Hannah please wake up.’ He
shook her more vigourusly holding her around
the shoulders. Her eyes fluttered open and the
tears there streamed down her lovely face. His
heart broke.
‘Who did this to you?’ he croaked. His tears
were welling fast in his eyes and she was
getting blurry. ‘Who did this Hannah?’
She looked at him as though she didn’t
know who he was. Then her lips parted. He
didn’t get what she said and shook her again
demanding an answer.
‘Who raped you Hannah?’
‘So-Solo…’ and then she couldn’t go on. She
looked up at him as though defeated with life
itself. Gideon though was so shocked he had
sunk onto his bum. He did this?
‘Your brother?’ Mary Ndati whispered.
Gideon didn’t answer. He was deep in the past
921
and he spoke with the emotions of a tape
recorder.
Gideon had lowered his wife’s body and
walked out of the bedroom. Hannah had
known, she had suspected his cold side would
one day destroy him but she was too weak to
stop him – she could not even form a coherent
thought. She was into much pain and shock.
Gideon walked straight to the cow shed. He
got some rope. It was made by several sisal
cords weaved together to form a very strong
but light rope. It was used but not very old. It
was still strong.
Taking the slender end, he inserted it into
the eye on the fatter end and pulled it
adjusting the size of the loop thus formed. He
walked to Solomon’s house which was just
beside his. He called him.
He heard his voice dripping with ice and it
shocked him but not entirely to his senses.
922
Solo appeared smiling gaily at his brother.
Gideon wanted to smash his face in. Instead he
told him curtly to follow him.
Gideon went back into his house. He stood
in the sitting room and gave Solomon the rope.
He told him to get onto the table. Solomon did
trustingly.
‘Tie it over the rafter,’ he ordered coldly like
an automaton. He watched as his brother tied
a knot over the rafter such that the loop hang
down. And as he ordered him to adjust it the
proper length, his mind replayed his mother’s
word; ‘he is a demon child, you just wait and
see.’ Well he had seen hadn’t he? But he
would get rid of that demon now once and for
all. He had tried to exorcise his demons by
banging his head against walls? He would do it
for him.
‘Put the loop around your neck.’ He said.
Solomon didn’t know what he was doing, but
923
he trusted his brother wholly – with his life. He
did as he was told still smiling his silly smile.
And when he had the loop tied tight around
his neck, Gideon calmly pushed the table off it
legs. It fell onto is side leaving his brother
hanging there his legs in air.
He then stood in front of him watching as he
thrashed about. He looked in his eyes as the
sick silly laughter left them and the confusion
crept in. He watched as the look he had told
himself he would protect Solo against, came at
his hand.
But he remembered the beatings from Solo.
He felt the scar on his brow itch and ache
anew. He watched as the thrashing ceased. His
eyes never left his brother’s as his hands fell
numbly from his neck.
He watched as his throat worked froth to his
mouth as he chocked. The sickening sounds he
was making etching deep into his head so that
924
they would haunt him all his days. He watched
as Solo bit his tongue and his eyes filled with
tears.
Gideon didn’t know he was crying. He stood
rooted to the spot, his hands behind his back
watching his brother chock to death. And his
eyes filled with tears that overflowed. He
watched as Solo’s face became blurry.
And then when he was finally still, his dead
eyes staring right at him, his body started
swaying; left – right… left – right. A demon
child no more.
‘No Giddie!’ Hannah screamed. She had
opened the bedroom door and crawled into the
sitting room but she was too late. Her energy
fully sapped, she fell on the floor unconscious.
‘I was the demon child,’ he said in his
hoarse voice. Mary was hugging him to her so
tightly she felt his voice rumbling against her
925
chest, setting a resonance in her heart so that
she was trembling with it.
‘I killed my brother Mary,’ his voice cracked.
But still he would not shed his tears. ‘We
buried him the next day. I told them it was
suicide, no one argued – he was a mad person
after all.’
‘Gideon…’ she spoke brokenly holding him
tight wishing he would return her hug.
‘And no shed tears for him. He was buried in
disgrace as deserves a suicide,’ he was quiet
for a while then went on his throat aching. ‘No
one knew except Hannah. But again maybe
everyone knew…I moved back to the city and
soon after, Hannah lost it. She started accusing
me of murder, she accused me of killing our
child and it escalated into full mad fear so that
she was afraid I would kill her. I noticed she
was losing it and I had to lock her in the
bedroom…
926
‘But soon it was impossible to deny it any
longer. She was becoming a threat to herself
and me. I had to get her institutionalised.’
‘Am so sorry Gideon,’ Mary said.
He wasn’t listening. He was coming back
from that place he had gone in order to tell his
story clinically.
‘I am the demon child,’ he said viciously.
And then he smothered her holding her so tight
she breathed with difficulty. She put her head
on his shoulder and hugged him back. Trying to
give him absolution – that which was hers to
give.
927
28
HE AWOKE TO THE SOUND OF PINK

PANTHER. It was morning, and the room
looked lovely – in a womanly way, in the light
of day.
He got off the bed and walked to the living
room, following the music. He smiled as they
gay tune hit his ears.
Surely, as he had suspected, Mary was at
the piano playing the music. She was smiling
and swaying to the tune.
‘Aren’t we happy this morning,’ he said
walking over to her.
She smiled looking over at him as her
fingers flew assuredly over the keys. ‘With
good reason.’
928
When he went to pass by the coffee table,
he saw the day’s paper. It was opened to the
obituaries and he sat down as his eye saw the
photo on the right bottom corner. He sunk into
the sofa raising the paper and didn’t hear the
music stop.
Mary took the paper from him straddling his
lap facing him. She dumped it on the coffee
table behind her.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he said his mind still on
the picture in the paper. Mary looked deep into
his eyes with a troubled and scared look.
He had seen Mama Bingwa’s son Bingwa.
He had died and was to be buried the next day
at the Langata Cemetery.
‘But I saw the boy,’ he was telling Mary. ‘He
looked fine if a little sad. I can’t believe it.’
‘Maybe he passed after your meeting,’ Mary
offered gently.
929
He nodded thinking that must have been
what happened. ‘I can’t believe it.’ He said
again.
‘Gideon…’ she said trying to woo him from
matters of death.
‘I must attend the funeral,’ he said. He
looked at her and she looked back at him and
then she looked down. He was aware that she
was scared to think about death, so was he. It
was a rift that divided them. They both felt its
taboo more than ever before.
‘OK,’ she conceded. ‘I’ll go with you.’
He nodded wondering if anyone else could
see her. He went to ask but shut up. He didn’t
want to remind her of their difference and
imminent parting. He could feel it, and so could
she. This was not going to last.
But she was determined to live each
moment they had to the full. Seating herself
930
properly over him, she touched his scar over
his eye.
‘If you had a second chance at life,’ she told
him. ‘What would you change?’
He leaned back and laughed when she
nibbled at his neck. She liked the sound – he
giggled like a little girl and so she nibbled some
more. He accepted the caress giggling until he
couldn’t take it anymore.
‘Well?’ she said seating back on his thighs.
‘What would you do different.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I guess I’d start with
Katherine. I have never made her feel loved. I
think I’d change that. It was never her fault she
was loved by mother… and I would try and
explain things to Hannah, ask for her
forgiveness.’ He exhaled deeply.
‘My brother,’ he said. ‘If I had a second
chance I’d…you know,’ he bit his tongue with
his molars. ‘I’d try make him understand that I
931
was the demon child not him. I would give him
life…’
They were quiet and then Gideon looked up
into her eyes with a sad smile.
‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘What would
you do different?’
‘I would go see my mother and her new
family,’ she said without any uncertainty. ‘I
would try and make friends with my sister
without fearing how she would see me.’
He hugged her tightly. And she hugged him
back.
‘You’ve given me that,’ she told him. When
he looked up at her expectantly, she kissed his
nose and whispered. ‘You’ve given me courage
and pride. You’ve made me into a swan.’
‘Oh Mary,’ he said brokenly hugging her
tight. ‘You were always beautiful.’
She nodded and because she felt it was the
right time to tell him, whispered in his ear. ‘I
932
was promised you’d come. You are my soul
mate and I love you Gideon Maina.’
He felt his heart swell and he gathered her
tighter in his arms. He could not say anything
but he didn’t need to. She knew what he felt
even better than he did.
They got into her Fiat Uno the next day and
drove over to Langata Cemetery. Mary didn’t
want to but she knew it had to be done.
The day was grey. Clouds hang over the sky
obscuring the sun. It looked like it would rain in
the afternoon.
When they got to the Cemetery, Gideon was
hit by a sense of déjà vu. And then he realised
why. It was his dream. The dream he had had
on his last night in Eshihaka when
unbeknownst to him, Chumo had been raided
by his grandfather for the final time.
933
He felt cold all of a sudden and didn’t notice
Mary hurrying up to catch up with him. He
walked through the graves as sure as if he had
been here before, and he had been. He had
been here in the dream he had tried but could
not remember the next morning.
He tried to recall how it had ended but it
was hazy. It was as though he remembered
things when he saw them and not before. Like
he knew to go right when he spotted a dried up
willow tree its leaves blowing in the cool
breeze. He knew to turn left when he saw a
marble headstone.
He walked faster now not knowing where he
was going or what awaited him, knowing only
that he had to see it.
And then his heart thudded painfully when
he saw the fresh hole dug fifty yards in front of
him and the people around it.
934
His dream was unfolding right before his
eyes. As he walked slowly toward the
congregation of mourners, he saw Katherine –
who was at the end, turn and look at him. And
then his mother turned too.
He walked closer and closer seeing his
relatives – uncles and cousins, turn to look his
way. His dream unfolded telling him what was
happening just as it happened but nothing
more. But he had a dreadful feeling of
foreboding.
What was his family doing here? They had
obviously come for a funeral. But who were
they burying, and why had not been told there
had been a death in the family? He could feel
Mary walking behind him like a shadow and in
a way, her presence gave him the strength to
go on.
Katherine was crying and so was his
mother. He had never seen her cry and he
935
discerned – at the back of his mind, that she
was looking quite thin.
They were all dressed in black. A coffin lay
beside the open hole and a minister was
speaking.
‘What is going on?’ he asked when he was
two feet from his sister. He didn’t look at his
mother the antipathy he felt toward her had
not dulled with time. Katherine was looking at
him with a blank look, the way one looked at a
newcomer. And more than that, it was though
she was looking right through him.
‘Katherine?’ he turned back and saw that
indeed Mary was behind him. Tears were
streaming down her ashen face.
‘Mother?’ he turned back. But she didn’t
respond.
The minister went on delivering the usual
funeral sermon. He turned and looked at his
relatives in turn but none seemed to recognise
936
him. He felt a dread like no other and his heart
pounding, he walked over to the coffin.
His dream unfolded as he walked and he
remembered going to the coffin. From there,
he would have to discover for himself. He did.
When he looked into the glass at the head of
the closed coffin his face crumpled and his feet
gave in.
He fell to his knees looking at the ashen
face inside the coffin. He felt himself go cold
and hot at the same time and his mouth
worked wordlessly.
Inside the coffin, dead as a doorpost lay
Gideon Maina.
How could it be, he asked himself. Dead?
How? He remembered the accident and
instantly the words from the news reporter
floated to him; ‘…sole survivor of the crash’.
Sharply, he lifted his eyes.
937
Mary was standing beside Katherine. They
were both crying, and holding hands. She was
the sole survivor he finally understood as
incredibly as it sounded.
He looked at her and she looked right back
at him. She mouthed; ‘am sorry’. But Gideon
wasn’t angry, he was just too confused.
And then he looked back at the coffin where
his body lay. And he recalled the dream, the
only thing he had kept from Mary. He banged
his fists upon the coffin ineffectually. They
couldn’t see or hear him, and his hands
seemed to be going through the wood like
water. He was ceasing to exist even to himself.
Mary’s shocked white face told him that she
was noticing it too. Am dead? He asked
himself. And then he shouted it out his tears
finally overflowing his eyes and falling to the
ground.
938
939
BOOK THREE
THE
MIDLANDS...
940
"Lend me a looking glass;
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why then she lives."
King Lear,
William Shakespeare
29
MARY WAS INCONSOLABLE. She sat by

herself in her house pining away for her lost
love. The only thing that kept her from trying
to kill herself was the lack of guarantee that
she would meet him on the other side.
She cried herself to sleep on her bed curled
up with her pillow tucked in her hands. She
breathed in his scent and could still see him in
the bed. She had never known hurt before.
He came to her in her sleep. She was
deliriously happy when he appeared beside her
bed. He was seated on the chair there
watching her on the bed. He didn’t look up into
941
her face but his voice was as a soothing as she
remembered it.
She smiled and chatted away telling him so
many things she had not told him before. He
just laughed in that manner of his that set her
heart on fire. She tried to go to him, but at that
instant when she got out of bed, he got off the
seat.
He walked to the door and stood there
waiting for her. She went willingly. His eyes
were averted from her.
The door opened outside to an open field.
She followed him running to catch up with him.
His strides were languid and measured but he
seemed to always be ahead of her.
When she called him, he stood and
beckoned her; come. And she did. He was her
soul mate and he had come back for her. In her
bed, she was smiling.
942
Soon, they came upon a river and as she
watched the flowing water, she suddenly felt
his absence. She looked around quickly but he
was nowhere to be seen. Feeling panicky, she
called out his name.
And then she saw him on the other side of
the river. He beckoned her, come. And she
smiled. Instinctively, she knew she would not
be coming back when she got into that water.
But she would be going to Gideon – nothing
else mattered but that.
She stepped closer to the water and for a
moment, felt a slice of trepidation across her
heart. It was something the old woman had
told her a long time ago. ‘If I look at you, you
will have to come with me…’ Now, she thought
she knew what she had meant. But why was
Gideon still hiding his eyes? Didn’t he know she
wanted to come with him?
943
Without knowing it, her foot moved back a
shaky step. He beckoned her, come. But now
her head was shaking and she was trembling.
Then he looked up at her suddenly. She
gasped. It was not Gideon, it was the face of
her worst nightmare. She could not make out
the features but she didn’t need to. The fork
jutting out of his left eye was enough ID.
She was shaking all over now. The river
seemed to swell and the cold water touched
her feet. She shuddered and jumped back. In
her bed, Mary Ndati was flailing about trying in
vain to get out of the nightmare.
‘Come.’ He said and she slid forward toward
the waters. She tried to resist the force that
pushed her forward but it was hopeless.
‘Gideon!’ she screamed. ‘Where are you my
love?’
She was crying now. And across the shore,
the ghost of Mboch summoned her vigorously.
944
She was on her bum now. She tried to resist
the force but she was on the slippery banks
and her body was simply moving toward the
water slowly but surely.
‘Oh please no,’ she cried but it didn’t help.
She tried to anchor her feet in the soil or grab
onto something but she kept sliding into the
water. Soon it touched her feet and she
shuddered as if she had been electrocuted
when she felt the cold against her skin.
She was pulled into the water feet fast and
felt it move fast over her body. She thrashed
about but there was only one direction she was
going. It was as if a malignant demon resided
inside the water and was pulling her to it.
‘Gideon!’ she cried as she submerged. She
thrashed and her head bobbed out of the cold
heavy waters. ‘Save me!’
She went back under the water and
frantically kicked until her head broke at
945
surface again. She was coughing and crying
where was Gideon? Where was her soul mate?
She looked at the shore where her nemesis had
stood and called for her love.
And then incredibly, a figure appeared. Still
suspended in the water, her head barely afloat,
she saw the curved old figure of the old woman
of her dreams.
‘Help!’ she called desperately.
‘It’s OK child.’ The old woman said and Mary
trusted her.
‘You were right,’ she said giddily happy. ‘He
came, my man came and he loved me…’
‘Then what happened?’ she asked.
‘Then he died,’ Mary said sadly. ‘I have to
get to him, I cannot live without him don’t
grant me an empty life I wont have it.’
‘But you still have things to do child,’ the
woman said in her characteristic warm languid
tones.
946
‘No,’ Mary was adamant. ‘Let me drown
here like I should have the other time if I
cannot have him.’
‘He is not yet gone,’ the woman spoke. ‘He
has a foot in the grave.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Mary said.
‘Put air in his lungs child,’ the woman said
fervently. Mary had never seen her this
animated. She was like a woman possessed.
‘Get air into his lungs child. He needs to
breathe!’
‘But_’ her words were swallowed as she was
pulled into the water. There was no fighting it
this time. Mary screamed and swallowed water
as she was pulled into an undertow that
threatened to rip her apart.
And down she went. It was as though she
was in a giant toilet bowl that had been
flushed. She went round and round swallowing
water and choking…
947
She woke up panting. She coughed and spit
water. In her bed, she was totally wet. She put
on the light and saw that her whole bed was
soaked. Water dripped from her bed to the
floor. What was this? She knew it could not be
sweat – a five tonne cow could not sweat this
much.
Put air in his lungs…He needs to breathe!
The words came to her suddenly and she
stumbled and hit her head against the closet
door. Her heart was pounding and she wanted
to cry. She could not stop coughing and she
was very confused.
She got out of the soggy nightdress and put
on jeans and a t-shirt. She went into the
kitchen and made a cup of tea. She sipped on
it and glanced at the clock. It was 12:30am.
She shivered. She couldn’t do it.
But then she remembered the dream and
trembled even more. The old woman’s words
948
…get air into his lungs… Jesus, she thought.
Could she do it? Did she have a choice?
He is not gone yet…he has a foot in the
grave. That cinched it. If there was a chance
that her Gideon was not yet gone, she had to
do everything in her power to make sure that
he stayed with her. In the end, there was only
one thing for her to do – there had been only
one thing for her to do.
She went to the tool shed and took a hoe
and a spade – tools she had never used on her
own compound. She put the tools in the Fiat,
put on some boots and started the car. She
closed her eyes for a second waiting for a sign
that what she was doing was wrong, but all she
saw was Gideon’s face. He was telling her;
‘you’ve always been beautiful.’
In the end there had been only one thing for
her to do.
949
Langata Cemetery has one thing in common
with other Cemeteries in the world. It is a
spooky place at night. And to make matters
worse, there was a full moon peeking behind
clouds. Showing itself and then hiding in a
bizarre peekaboo – now-you-see-me; now-you-
don’t.
Masta was a robber. The name was not his
by birth. But he would hold it until he died. He
had a group of five and the six of them simply
called themselves the six bandits.
The six bandits had been responsible for
some small time robbery for a couple of
months. But since Masta had acquired three
guns for his group – two pistols and one AK,
they had graduated into armed robbery.
They were becoming a nuisance in the
Langata area and as such had entered under
the police microscope. But what helped them
950
was the sly nature of their leader Masta. He
was as elusive as slippery eel.
For weeks, police had been baffled about
his hideout. Money changed hands and
whispers were passed on but no one knew
where the six bandits lair was.
And that was the beauty of his operation.
He believed himself to be a mastermind right
there with Dedan Kimathi. He robbed to feed
his men – wasn’t that noble?
Twisted reasoning notwithstanding, the six
bandits were getting to be a thorn in the cops’
side.
On the night that a shaking Mary Ndati, as
pale as a ghost herself was driving to the
Cemetery, Masta and the six bandits were
holding a meeting in their hideout.
They had been staking out a house and
reconnaissance had showed them that there
were dogs on the premises. The meeting was
951
about that. Masta was sure they would get a lot
of money from the maisonette. He wondered
how they would get past the dogs though.
And the youngest member Noel – he was
only sixteen made a suggestion. ‘We could
employ a decoy,’ he said wise beyond his
years. And Masta loved the sound of that. So
did the rest of the bandits. But before they
could proceed with discussing the logistics,
they heard an engine coming.
They dove to the ground and moved flat as
snakes into the taller grass. The three gun-
handlers had the guns ready. This was always
a big fear for any robber. The six bandits were
no exception. They lived with the rancid fear of
the day they would be discovered. And daily
news of killings and shooting down of robbers
by police didn’t make for good bedtime stories.
They wondered now, as their hearts raced
whether their proverbial forty days were nigh.
952
Masta was not ready for a shoot out. So far he
had only fired his gun once in a guard’s thigh.
He had never killed anyone. And that was
mostly why the police had not turned on the
heat on him pretty seriously. And he wondered
now, what he would do if these were police
who had come ready to kill them.
Concealment was their best option, and he
signalled his team to lay as low as possible into
the long grass. The thought came to him that
he was lying on top of a grave – it would be
funny to die over a grave, but he cast the
thought away.
The car passed not fifteen yards away from
the hidden men. He watched as it moved up to
a fresh grave a little along the way and then it
stopped just beside it. And as his eyes strained
in the dim light – the moon had gone into the
now-you-don’t phase, he saw the most bizarre
thing of his entire life.
953
Mary Ndati got out the car feeling a cool
breeze against her cheek. It had been dull the
whole day but it had not rained. She went to
the back and removed the tools.
She was thankful for the cool breeze, she
knew she would be sweating in not time.
Gathering her wits and praying that she was
doing the right thing, Mary struck the hoe into
the soft earth.
‘What?’ Noel whispered.
‘Shhh.’ Masta told him. He signalled them to
lay back and be quiet. The moon came out
from behind a cloud and gradually milky
translucent light showed them the woman. And
they collectively gasped. She looked like a
ghost. Her skin was terribly white as though
she had applied chalk on it. And she was
digging up a grave? Thankfully, the moon went
behind a cloud once again. But the six bandits
were all horrified.
954
Mary Ndati, oblivious to her mortified
audience, went on with her labour. She was a
strong woman. Her work entailed a lot of
menial work. She had to carry and lift patients
to shift them and some were extremely heavy.
She was also lucky that the fresh soil was
soft. The humidity that day had ensured that it
remain moist. Her hoe struck into the ground
and she shovelled the soil out with the spade.
She cleared her mind and concentrated on
what she was doing. The moon appeared to
show her that she was progressing and then
disappeared again in a monotonous repetition.
But every time the light came she was glad
to notice that she was moving fast. And finally
she was inside a hole that came up to her
shoulders. She used the spade predominantly
now. The six bandits watched as the soil
moved out of the hole incessantly dropping to
the sides.
955
The were all frozen in a morbid rapt
attention. What was this ghost up to. Their
minds conjured up all the things that could
happen in the next hour but none of them
came close to what actually happened.
When she struck the wood, Mary almost let
out a whoop of delight. This must be the
feeling the gold digger had felt when they
struck gold.
She removed the light soil over the coffin. It
was a built like a suitcase and she had to get
the soil off the whole of it to open it. It took her
some more time but the reward was almost in
her hands.
She was invigorated. The lid opened easily
enough and the moon decided to now-you-see
and she saw the cold shrunken face of her only
love. Now was not the time for sentiment
though. And as if agreeing with her, the moon
went now-you-don’t.
956
Mary had no doubt that she was getting
some help from the old lady. She had barely
broke a sweat from the digging and now, she
pulled Gideon’s heavy body from the cushioned
confines of the coffin as if he weighed half his
weight.
She managed to get him out and standing
on a step she had made, held him by the
armpits and pushed him up to the surface. She
had to stand on tiptoe to get him up to the
middle of his back.
The six bandits gasped again when they
saw the white dead face appear from the
ground. Then the ghost appeared holding onto
the body so that it would not slide back into
the hole.
And then as the moon disappeared, they
saw the ghost – as they now thought of Mary,
pull at the body.
957
Mary heaved and thankfully, Gideon’s body
moved completely out of the freshly dug hole.
She lay him supine on the ground and felt his
neck and face. He was so cold.
She removed the cotton from his mouth and
threw it into the hole. The smell of the
embalming fluid wafted to her nostrils. But she
had to ignore it.
Put air in his lungs… she leaned over him
clutching his nose in the universal CPR position
and breathed into his mouth. Breathing in
deeply, she again tried to resuscitate him.
The moon came again and when the six
bandits saw what she was doing, they had to
look away. Noel, who couldn’t help himself,
farted. The shock was too much. The fart in
itself, was not too loud. But the night was silent
and it carried to Mary. She jerked her head
toward the tall grass her heart slowing.
958
She made a snap decision. She had to get
out of here. Standing up, she reached for
Gideon’s armpits and dragged him much like
the doctor had done from the accident site to
his vehicle.
She got him into the Fiat with difficulty and
by the time he was on the passenger seat,
sweat was dripping down her face.
She took the tools and threw them in the
back of the car. Then she climbed into the
driver’s side. Pulling at the seat lever, she
adjusted it so the back fell low.
Wiping her forehead with the t-shirt she
wore, she started the car. The sudden sound of
the engine kicking into life was so rude in the
silence of the night and she could not wait to
get out.
But she schooled her nerves and her foot
stepped onto the accelerator with ample calm.
The car drove past the six bandits who were
959
still in the grass. They would never forget that
night, and as the Fiat’s headlights disappeared,
the number plate flashed in Masta’s mind like a
photo.
The smell from the embalming fluid was
cloying and Mary jerkily wound down her
window. She drove steadily but fast. She had to
get to her place quickly.
‘Don’t worry Gideon,’ she told the corpse. ‘I
won’t let you go.’
She turned the corner and got a shock.
There was a road block up ahead! It hadn’t
been there an hour ago when she had driven
this way. And the sickness of it was that it was
a one-way road. She could not turn back.
Her heart pounding she drove on, the car
moving in a crawl now. She saw the spikes that
had been placed on the road leaving a small
space between them. She wondered if she
could just gun the car for it.
960
But she dismissed that thought. It would
attract undue attention toward her and she
didn’t need that.
So she crept closer to it her heart thudding
so hard it was painful. Her right temple was
threatening to explode. Her eyes squinted in
her head lamps. She saw that no one stood at
the metal spikes and entertained the hopeful
thought the policemen were napping or
something.
But as she got to the spikes, she saw a man
dressed in fatigues appear from her side of the
car.
‘Hallo,’ he said in a loud voice that made
Mary start reflexively. ‘Driving so late?’
She didn’t answer. She didn’t think that her
voice was steady enough and tried to affect an
annoyed silence. The policeman got the point.
When he was just outside her open window,
he switched on his flashlight pointing the bright
961
light over her roof so that he wouldn’t blind
her. In the spill, he clearly saw her but the rest
of the vehicle remained in shadow. And she
saw his face too. She noticed the instant he
discerned that she was an albino. She saw the
telltale look of revulsion that ran through his
face and then he signalled with his light for her
to proceed.
She had never been so thankful she had
been born an albino. With such ill luck, the
officer was probably thinking, who would want
to be a criminal?
She smiled thinking that this was a good
omen. She must be doing things right. She held
Gideon’s cold right thigh and squeezed it as if
to reassure him.
‘We’ll be alright my love,’ she said. ‘Soon,
we’ll be home.’
962
She struggled with the heavy body dragging
it to the other bedroom. She might have been
getting help from the spirit world, but her limbs
were no less tired for her labour.
Mary Ndati looked at the body on the bed.
She unlaced her dirty boots and threw them
aside. She had no time to waste.
Get air into his lungs…He needs to
breathe… And so she did. Tilting his head back
so his tongue wouldn’t collapse into his throat,
she blew air into his mouth.
Each time she did, she bent her cheek to his
lip hoping to feel some warm breath. At the
same time, she looked at his chest checking for
any slight rise. Then she blew again. And she
checked and then she blew again. She was like
an automaton programmed to perform just
these actions.
She blew then checked. She did this for two
hours without cease. Her tears were running
963
freely now and she was mumbling
incoherently, urging Gideon to breathe. Asking
the old woman to help her.
At four in the morning, she blew weakly into
his mouth. She turned her cheek mechanically
and didn’t even look at his chest. Then when
she was going to blow again, she felt it. It was
a flutter, just a tiny waft of air against her skin.
She put her cheek back not believing it. And
true, she felt the breath again. She looked at
his chest and watched in wonder and
happiness as it rose then fell. It stayed down
for a long time and then rose again. He was
breathing!
She sat up and laughed hugging him and
thanking everything under the sky for this. Her
tears were now those of joy. She wondered
how ironical it was that Gideon had made her
the happiest in her life yet she had never cried
more in her life than when she met him.
964
‘Now Gideon,’ she said to her unconscious
guest. ‘I have to get you into more suitable
clothes for your stay here.’
965
30
GIDEON WAS EXHAUSTED. He had

walked aimlessly for the whole day after
leaving the Cemetery. He had no idea where
he had gone to exactly. H had just been
plagued by an urgent need to walk.
966
His tears had dried up but his thoughts had
not lessened. He was dead? He kept asking
himself. And gradually it became more of a
statement than a question. He knew how it had
happened. The dream was like a palpable
memory. He was sure he passed into this world
when he fell into that water.
Mary Ndati had been someone’s sick idea of
torture. For he felt the pain twice now. He
missed her and it pained that they would never
be together again. And he was dead.
Finally, after walking for God only knew how
long, in a land that had suddenly become
marshy and hilly, the air shrouded in mist and
fog, he had fallen down into blackness.
When he awoke, it was dark. It was pitch
black and Gideon’s first thought was that
documenters of hell had no idea how dark it
was. He had never been in a darker night. And
he felt a chill in his bones, there was a cold
967
breeze in the air and a sound that he couldn’t
discern but set his heart to a thudding
resonance.
And it was getting closer. He was lying
prone in the ground. The stout grass of the
marshland cushioned his body. In the dark, he
had no idea where left began and right ended.
He crawled on his front, reluctant to leave the
relative comfort of the ground.
He had moved a few paces ahead, when the
land came to an abrupt end. His heart started
thumping anew. He was on a cliff of some sort.
He had no idea how far down a drop it was for
all he saw when he peered over the edge was
even darker night.
All he knew for sure was that the edge was
almost ninety degrees if not more. He lay on
the soft ground wondering where this was.
There was no rest in piece for him it seemed
968
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust… The
minister had been so wrong Gideon thought.
He was not ashes and neither was he dust. But
in a while, he would wish to be.
The sounds got closer still and Gideon could
now discern them as footfalls. They were deep
and heavy as though a thousand heavy men
were marching. He wasn’t far from right.
They came from his right. He watched as
torches of fire moved below him held by not
less than a hundred men. It appeared he was
on a ledge not ten feet above the footpath that
the marching men were on.
They were dressed on black veil that hid
their faces from the light of the torches they
carried. In their right hands were long spears
that were of their height and even longer. The
metal points gleamed in the light.
Gideon moved subconsciously even lower
into the grass to conceal himself from these
969
black marching army. The footfalls were now
right under him. He could feel his insides
trembling from the beat as the hundred feet
stamped the ground synchronously.
He wondered who these were. But he knew
enough to prefer to stay concealed until they
had passed. But then another sound reached
his ears. He pricked them like a cat trying to
discern it.
It was a cry, a small plaintive whimper of a
child. And as improbable as it was, it came
again and this time Gideon could discern
several whimpers. It was the sound of children
crying and sniffling hopelessly sad.
He strained his eyes and risked peering
over the edge. There was a wagon made of
wood that was being pulled on well oiled
wheels behind the black men. It was being
pulled by two muscular animals that looked like
wolves – very big wolves, the size of calves.
970
What shocked him though was the small
bodies in the wagon that he could just make
out in the dim light. It was the crying children
he was certain. Where were they being taken?
He lifted his head further off the grass and one
of the animals stood.
He sank immediately back into the grass his
heart pounding. He heard a deep bark and
then as a long second passed silently, the
animals resumed walking. The children went on
whimpering in fear and the march went on.
He lifted his head furtively and suddenly felt
a heavy hand between his shoulder blades
push him back into the ground.
‘Move a muscle and I will cut you,’ he head
the harsh whisper on his ear as a cold blade
touched the back of his neck.
He stayed still. His captor – who Gideon had
initially thought was one of the black marchers,
stayed still too. Gideon noticed then that he
971
was also waiting for the marchers to move on.
He could still hear the resounding thuds as the
feet thumped drawing farther from him.
Then viciously, he was turned to lay on his
back. The blade came back swiftly upon his
neck.
‘Who are you?’ he was asked in the same
harsh whisper.
‘I don’t know,’ Gideon stuttered. And he was
telling the truth. In this world, he didn’t know
who he was at all. ‘I don’t know where I am
from or where I am now.’
He saw a flash of teeth. His captor was
grinning supposedly. In the dim light he could
not make much of the face above him. It was
just a dark shape.
‘You are a newcomer,’ he was told.
‘Welcome.’
972
And then he was pulled up to his feet by the
man who he suspected must have the strength
of a bull.
‘Come we’ll take you.’ He was told and
shoved back from the cliff edge. Then, Gideon
noticed the other figures in the darkness. They
were flanking him and the big man. Their
presence unsettled him greatly. Who were
they? Where was he?
‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked
tentatively.
‘Soon, you will see.’ The man replied
laconically. And Gideon wanted to ask; and
what were those black men? And were those
crying children in bonds or was I dreaming?
And did those dogs stand to the height of
calves? But he kept quiet. He felt he would
have his answers soon enough.
They walked down hill and were soon upon
a foot path that Gideon assumed wound up
973
beneath the ledge he had perched a few
minutes ago. They walked in the dark and in
total silence.
Soon they were at huge gates. They stood
to the height of two grown men. They were
made of thick wood and looked as impregnable
as lead.
His captor knocked twice with his burly fist.
A small window slid open and a small light
flashed. The burly man showed him thumb and
the window was shut. The gates then swung
open, just wide enough for the party to slide
through.
Gideon’s eyes bulged as he looked around
him. It was like he had stepped into a tale.
There were stone house arranged down a road
that was paved with cobblestone. Streetlights
that were shaped like old lanterns, perched
upon black poles and shed a muted light.
974
It seemed that he was on the main road
that entered into a town of some sort. It was
deserted though in this darkness. Gideon
followed the men down the narrow road
through identical buildings up to a hundred
meters and then turned right with the party.
They walked for another long stretch of
open field before they reached a lone building.
It looked dreary in the dark and was larger
than the rest. His captor swung the heavy door
inwards and they stepped in. Gideon felt the
unsettling presence of the others right at his
back.
They entered a wide hall that resembled a
court of some sort. There was a dais at the
front and benches stood in tandem down the
rest of the large room. They walked over to the
side where a door stood alone.
The door opened and before Gideon knew
what they were about, a pair of hands shoved
975
him roughly through it. He went into the
darkness his foot steeping into air. He realised
as he rolled down the flight of stairs, that this
was some sort of basement.
‘Tomorrow, you will be judged,’ came the
harsh whisper from the door when Gideon had
hit the hard surface with a thud. And then as
Gideon watched the shadowy portal, the door
creaked shut.
He groaned as he turned onto his back. He
had come tumbling down a flight of fifty steps.
His body was complaining. His head was aching
and he was still as confused – if not more, as
when he first discovered that his body was
being buried at the Cemetery.
‘Hallo.’
Gideon yelled in shock. His heart had frozen
and his breath was closed in his chest. He had
jumped to a sitting position facing where he
thought the sound came from. His eyes were
976
wide open but there was nothing to see in this
darker than dark basement.
‘Hallo,’ came the voice again.
The confirmation that he had heard right
the first time didn’t help matters. He felt his
heart resume beating with a painful kick that
made him close his hand over his left breast.
His chest was burning and he expelled warm
air filling his lungs with the cool dank air of this
enclosed space.
‘Hallo,’ he managed in a small voice. Gideon
wondered if he would survive this night. If he
didn’t die from getting killed, the fear would
certainly finish him.
‘Who are you?’ the voice in the dark corners
of the room asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he repeated his answer.
‘Ah,’ the voice said with noticeable warmth.
‘You are a newcomer.’
977
Gideon nodded in the dark mutely. Then
realising that he could not be seen, said. ‘Yes I
have heard that before. Where is this?’
‘You don’t know?’ the voice came again this
time a little mocking. Gideon didn’t have the
strength to be angry though.
‘No, I don’t know.’ He said in a defeated
tone feeling his ribs ache from the fall.
The owner of the voice struck a match in
the dark, the little light so bright Gideon had to
shield his eyes.
‘I had to make sure you were new,’ he said
as Gideon saw the flame catch on a wick of a
candle. ‘One can never be too careful these
days.’
In the dancing candle light, Gideon could
make out the features of the man. He was old,
his face wrinkled, and his hand slightly shook
as he placed the candle on a flat spot on the
dirty cement floor.
978
He was seated down like Gideon was too.
He leaned against the wall though. He had
watery eyes that Gideon could not quite
discern in the light from where he sat. But
when he smiled, showing more black gum then
teeth, Gideon felt he had finally met a friend in
this horrifying place.
‘I am called Gideon,’ he said kindly and a
reverent manner because he thought that was
what he was supposed to do.
‘Names are of no importance in this world,’
the old man spoke swallowing some sounds in
the manner of people who have lost most
teeth. It was a soothing tone. ‘But I shall call
you Gideon, newcomer.’
‘And what of you?’ Gideon asked. ‘What is
your name? And what is this place?’
The old man smiled. ‘You ask me many
questions newcomer, Gideon,’ he said it
979
Gidhon. ‘But I can only tell you this.’ He paused
and his eyes glittered.
‘I am a servant of God. And you are in the
world of sin. There many like me I was not all
alone. But I am now.’
Gideon felt his heart slow down again. He
was not a very pious person by nature but he
feared the religious world all the same.
‘This is the land of the second chance,’ the
old man preached. ‘God gives every man a
chance to redeem himself and the hard
hearted one, a second chance…
‘This used to be a good place Gidhon the
newcomer. Men used to make peace with their
maker and pass on to glory from here but not
now.’ He snarled the last word and Gideon who
had inadvertently leaned forward gripped by
the old man’s words, moved back as if lashed
by a whip.
980
‘Now, it is a land of death and killings. It is
the land of the witches and the witch hunters.’
That caught Gideon’s attention and he
immediately remembered the old witch
Chumo. She had been telling me about this
place. All her ramblings now started making
sense.
‘Is there a way back?’ he asked the old man
breathlessly. ‘Is there a way back to life?’
‘This isn’t death,’ the old man went on with
obstinate calm. ‘You are not yet dead. You are
in transit, you have been granted a second
chance to right some wrongs. You have only a
foot in the grave…’
‘So I can get back to…to where I came
from?’ Gideon asked seating up now.
‘If that is what the Maker wishes newcomer,
then that is what shall happen. But you cannot
stay here indefinitely. Everyone must leave at
some point.’
981
‘What are these wrongs that I must right?’
he asked breathlessly, thinking that indeed
there was a way out of this.
‘Only you know this Gidhon not this old
man,’ he said reminding Gideon of what the old
witch Chumo had told him in the hut on that
day that seemed ages past. You are marked…
she had said. …remember, only you can make
the choice… he wondered what choice that
was. And then the idea came to him.
‘Tell me about the witches and witch
hunters.’
‘There was harmony here in these lands,’
the old man spoke. ‘These are the land
between the birth place and the final resting
place. The Middle Lands the folks called them.
These are the Midlands and there was peace
and harmony here once. Until a witch decided
to practice her magic here and a witch hunter
decided to carry the hatred of the birth place
982
into the Midlands. They fought and each side
gathered followers.
‘Soon, the Midlands was separated into the
two factions – the witches and the witch
hunters. They have hunted and killed each
other for ages. And now, Gidhon you have
come at a very bad time. A war is brewing and
both sides need followers, men who can wield
weapons.’
‘I saw an army of men dressed in black
when I arrived,’ Gideon said in a whisper as if
afraid that the very walls would hear. He had
by now moved close to the old man. ‘Who were
they?’
‘They are the witches,’ the old man said.
‘They come for the children.’
‘What for?’ Gideon asked breathlessly
curious.
‘Some said that they used to train them into
witch apprentices who would later take over.
983
You see in the Midlands, there is no
procreation. And so children are very precious
– and some chose to use them as one would
money.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘The only way one gets here is from the
birth place and the only way to get out is by
being killed or when the nothing comes for
you,’ he raised his hand when Gideon would
interrupt.
‘The witches make sure that certain people
have a prolonged life and in exchange, they
have the children. The nothing you see, picks
anyone indiscriminately. And when it comes, it
cannot be fought. When the witches do their
magic though, it can be diverted elsewhere
and so they are necessary for the continued
survival of the witch hunters too.
‘But word has it these days that the witches
are slaughtering the children. They need their
984
young blood for some Godforsaken reason that
I know nothing about. Of course this has
incensed the witch hunters who now want and
end to the whole witch race.’
‘Jesus,’ Gideon muttered. ‘Where am I?’
‘The Midlands,’ the old man said as though
he had forgotten. ‘There are many such places
you know. You are taken where you are needed
most.’
‘But you are sure you can go back?’ Gideon
asked what to him was the most important
question.
‘You can go back, you can go forward, all
depends on what the Maker wants.’ The old
man answered cryptically.
‘And can you come back to the Midlands
after you have gone forward?’
‘No one ever has,’ the old man said. ‘You
have a lot to learn Gidhon, and a short time in
which to learn it. All I can tell you is that you
985
are the key to your future. No one else can tell
you what your path is.
‘You know they say that this is the land of
witches and witch hunters but I tell you now
newcomer that there are only two factions in
this land and that is the righteous and the
unrighteous. People have forgotten their God
and they shall be punished. You Gidhon,’ He
looked straight into his eyes. ‘Must decide.’
Then as Gideon was about to another
question the old man shushed him. ‘We have
talked for too long and the candle must also
rest.
‘Shut your eyes now newcomer. You shall
find that the time here flies on much swifter
winds than where you come from.’
Indeed when Gideon opened his eyes, he

felt as though he had just shut them. Yet it was
day. He could tell by the sounds coming from
986
the door on top of the steps. The basement
was not as dark as it had been in the night. But
it was very dim. He wondered what the old
man must have done to deserve this dark
sentence.
A servant of God he had said. Gideon looked
at him but could only make out his shape in the
dim light. But the old man was awake.
‘They have come for you,’ he said.
‘Remember my words Gidhon. No one knows
but you.’
Gideon nodded and thanked the old man for
his kindness. Indeed his head had still been
bobbing as he thanked the old man when the
door was pushed open. He heard heavy boots
descend the steps and then he was held in
strong hands and then carried up the steps.
The light stung his eyes when he got into
the hall. It was not bright at all though. It was
the light of an early morning and he wondered
987
what time it was. Looking around, he noticed
that what he had thought of as a court, was
actually a church.
The pews were arranged in neat rows at the
nave, and what he had thought of as a dais,
was actually the chancel where the priests and
choir would sit. Now, there was a group of old
grey haired men seated there.
He was being pushed on from the back of
the church and he saw head turn as he walked
along the centre aisle. The church was full. And
when they got to the altar, Gideon was lowered
onto a seat his feat and hands cuffed to the
frame of the iron chair.
He was facing the congregation and at his
flanks were the ‘priests’. He was shaking
despite himself. This was what had the captor
called it? Judgement?
‘This is a newcomer,’ he heard the sudden
booming voice from right behind him. The
988
speaking man was standing behind the altar.
‘We all know the dire times we are in and we
need all the manpower we can get. And so,
newcomer will you name your stand.’
Gideon was flummoxed as the thousand
pair of eyes shifted to him. He shook his head
his throat working. The old man had not said
any of this.
‘You refuse to answer?’ the voice boomed
behind him and Gideon trembled. He saw at
the corner of his eyes his captor reach for a
thick blade from the floor. He was a burly man
with a hairy chest, built like a buffalo. His face
was in a cold sneer that sent the shivers up
Gideon’s spine.
‘No-No-sir,’ Gideon stuttered. ‘I have not
refused to answer, I have no idea what to say.’
‘Say newcomer,’ the voice spoke in
exaggerated patience. ‘Whether you will join us
989
and fight for truth or whether you are against
us and believe in sin?’
Were these holy men? Somehow Gideon
doubted whether they belonged in the same ilk
as the old man. And besides, why was he then
in the basement if they preached the same
word?
Gideon looked around the church and
wondered when last its pews had been filled
with joyous singing people with love in their
hearts.
Now, all he could see was hatred in their
faces. And the men all carried weapons. This
was no church he thought. These men were
desecrating this building and they were all evil
no matter what they said.
He had to get to the truth. Presently, he had
no idea where he was going or why he was
here. But he knew that to do that, he had to
keep his neck firmly on his shoulders. He didn’t
990
want to be sent out of Midlands into the final
resting place where no one had ever come
back from.
‘Speak newcomer!’ Gideon jumped. ‘Tell the
Midlanders your stand.’
‘I am searching for someone,’ he spoke
truthfully trying to look at the senior men at his
sides. ‘Am looking for an old woman who goes
by the name Chumo…’
‘Names are nothing to us.’ He was told
sharply.
‘Yes,’ he spoke quickly. ‘The old woman has
a scar, her left eyes is sewn with leather
thongs.’
The whole congregation fell in a very loud
hush. And then they started murmuring as one
in a confusing cacophony until Gideon felt his
mind would burst. The heavy gavel banging
behind him was blessed as silence once
991
reigned in the Judgement Hall – he would not
think of it as a church.
‘You newcomer, have no respect for these
people of God!’ he heard behind him. ‘You dare
to announce at your judgment that you are on
an errand to the Devil’s servant, a witch! This
shall not be condoned. Not in this land of God’s
people.
‘You newcomer, shall be put to your death,
immediately!’
Gideon felt the hand immediately uncuff
him. He was talking so fast he was not making
sense even to himself. A murmur had risen in
the hall once more and Gideon had no chance
of being listened to.
He was lifted off the metal seat and thrown
onto the altar. He had no control over his limbs
as they were held in place by strong hands. He
was lying supine on the massive oak altar. His
992
eyes flooded with useless tears as he thrashed
about helplessly.
He cried for the hopelessness of it. His tears
fell in his fear and in ability to do anything
about this situation. He was going to be put to
death by people he didn’t know and for
reasons he knew nothing about.
And his pleas were not being listened to. His
feet were held down by two men on both sides.
A hand was at his shin and another on each
thigh. His hands were uselessly pinned over his
chest held there by one man. He thrashed and
tried to kick but it was useless. They were as
strong as animals and tired, he lay his head
down.
And he saw the burly man who had
captured him come up to the altar. He was
grinning his glow-in-the dark grin. In his right
hand was a large heavy machete. Gideon felt
another set of hands on his forehead pinning
993
his head to the table. He knew where that
animal meant to run that blade into.
He turned his tear-filled eyes from the ugly
man as he raised the machete. His heart beat
fast and his throat worked. His mind filled with
images of his head falling off his body. His
throat felt as though a million imaginary blades
had already started the work.
He felt the shadow of the blade as it
reached the peak of its arch.
‘The sinner must now die!’ the voice came
sharply and Gideon’s eyes saw a startling
image. At the doors at the back of the church
where Gideon was looking at stood a face as
familiar to him as his own.
In wonder and shock, and with all the air in
his lungs, Gideon shouted. ‘Solomon!’
994
31
THE FUNERAL HAD BEEN MORE THAN

SAD. Mary had cried the most in the gathering
of mourners. Katherine had had to hold her
when the body was lowered in the gaping hole.
And when it was all over, after Gideon had
disappeared – faded into air like a hazy
memory, and the minister had delivered with
finality the simple words; ashes to ashes and
dust to dust, Katherine had clung on Mary’s
hand.
Mary knew she was curious about her. She
offered the two women – Katherine and her
mother a ride in her car. They accepted and
Mary drove them to Katherine’s house.
995
She learned that Katherine was a journalist
– a rising star at only twenty. And her mother
lived with her. Sera Maina was a thin woman
who seemed so forlorn and withdrawn that
Mary found it easier to feel pity for her than
any hatred from what she had been told about
her.
‘Gideon influenced me,’ Katherine said as
they sat in her living room drinking some juice.
The day was still dreary and it looked like it
would fall. ‘But I am not a fiction writer.’
Mary smiled nodding slightly when Sera got
off the seat and excused herself. She
disappeared down a corridor.
‘How did you know my brother?’ Katherine
asked leaning forward.
‘We were very good friends,’ Mary said
truthfully but noncommittally. She could not
very well tell her the truth, that she had met
her brother on a Public Service Vehicle and not
996
two hours later the vehicle tumbled into some
pond and he died coming to her later the next
day.
‘Doctors say that he died from internal
bleeding from a wound he sustained on his
head.’ Katherine reported still wiping her eyes.
‘It is consistent with what happened I
guess,’ Mary whispered feeling again the
surging need to cry deep in her chest. She held
herself with visible effort.
‘You two were close?’ Katherine asked
gently. She wasn’t probing. In fact Mary got the
impression that she just wanted to hear what
her brother had been like since they had never
been close.
‘He told me about you,’ Mary said
understanding the other woman’s silent need.
‘He said he would have liked to do things
differently with you. He regretted not being
997
there for you Katherine. He loved you very
much it was just…’
‘It was just mother, I know.’ She spoke. She
looked at the corridor where her mother’s weak
figure had disappeared. ‘I could not help it
Mary. She loved me and she was my mother, I
could not deny her…’ she sobbed.
‘It is OK Katherine,’ Mary soothed her heart
going to the younger woman. ‘I think in his
heart Gideon knew it too and it pained him to
have treated you so badly all these years. Trust
me, he was thinking of patching things up
between the two of you.’
Katherine looked up at her with teary eyes
silently asking, really? Then she looked down
at the fingers she was wringing on her knees.
‘She is ill you know,’ Katherine said. ‘She
has full blown AIDS.’ She took in a deep breath
to compose herself before continuing. ‘She-She
lived a fast life and well it has punished her.
998
She will die soon and I am all she has. I cannot
throw her out…’ her voice cracked.
‘No, no you cannot.’ Said Mary moving to
seat next to the younger woman and holding
her close.
‘Even though she was evil and bad when we
were young,’ she sniffled. ‘She is still my
mother and she has no one else.’
‘It’s OK,’ Mary soothed. ‘It’s OK.’
After a cleansing cry, Katherine took her
head off Mary’s shoulder. She wiped her eyes
with a hankie.
‘She asked me never to tell Gideon about
her condition. She is proud like that and well I
knew it would not help anything by telling him.
But you know I always thought he would be
around. I could tell him tomorrow or next
week… oh my God why did he have to go?’
Mary held her close feeling sad for the
woman. At least she had had him before he
999
went, but her sister had been born with him in
the same house but had never really been with
him.
‘You know growing up, Gideon had been a
father to me,’ Katherine said nostalgically. ‘I’d
follow him everywhere as soon as I could walk.
I idolised him. You see father was never home
much and our eldest brother…’
‘Solo?’ Mary whispered to let her know that
she knew.
‘Yes,’ Katherine sighed. ‘Well he was not
born alright and I had no one else but Gideon.
But I noticed that I was never good enough for
him. All my years I have only wanted him to
love me back you know? He was the father I
had and I needed his affection.
‘When I was a teenager, my father had lost
his job and we went to live in the country. You
know how folk are like in those places, they
gossip a lot. Well that was when I first learned
1000
that things between my parents were worse
than they seemed. And I came to understand
Gideon’s antipathy towards mother.
‘She had a scathing tongue, and she
badmouthed him to me many time. She called
him names, but I figured that since she called
everyone names, it was just normal for her. But
they really despised one another. And well I
think Gideon’s antipathy toward me was sort of
a spill effect from the hatred he felt toward
mother.
‘I struggled to get him to see that I was not
like that. I was brought up by mother but I
grew up to see what was going on around me
and I am not a selfish person Mary. Neither is
she. Not nowadays. Maybe it’s the age or it’s
the terminal illness but whatever it is, she is a
changed person.’
1001
Katherine looked down perhaps feeling for
once that she had said too much to a complete
stranger.
‘You are a kind hearted woman Katherine.
Your brother was proud of you.’ Mary
whispered meaning every word she spoke.
‘I just remembered,’ Katherine said
suddenly. ‘Hannah doesn’t know yet. Jesus,
who is going to tell her?’
‘I will,’ Mary said without hesitating. ‘I will
tell Hannah.’
Katherine looked at her and then smiled.
‘You are a nice person yourself Mary,’ she said.
‘I hope he understood how unique you are.’
‘I hope he did,’ Mary had muttered the tears
coming back. And it had been Katherine’s turn
to hold her.
Now, she sipped on a cup of tea watching
Gideon on the bed. It was morning. Mary had
cleaned her bedroom and replaced the wet
1002
beddings with dry ones. She had changed his
clothes into some heavy t-shirt she had and
some cotton track pants that were too big for
her. She had bought them the previous year
and dumped them in a drawer after trying
them on once. She had looked like a poor zany
clown.
She watched as the man on the bed
struggled in his sleep. She saw his eyelids
flutter and he moved about the bed as if in the
grip of a bad dream. At one time, he had
arched his back his lips falling from his
clenched teeth in a macabre grin. His limbs
were frozen as though he was being held
down.
Sweat was forming on his forehead and she
had rushed for a wet cloth to cool him. Then
she had seen him kick at some imaginary
adversary. Then he had stopped moving so
vigorously. Now, he lay there calmly but still,
1003
his eyes fluttered endlessly as though he were
trapped in the dreaming state of REM (Rapid
Eye Movement).
‘Where are you?’ she whispered touching
his dry lips. ‘What are you seeing?’
Gideon wanted to cry from happiness as he

watched Solomon extricate himself from the
door way and make his way into the church.
The ugly burly would be executioner, had
dropped his machete as surprised as everyone
else in the congregation how the newcomer
knew Solomon.
He walked to the altar where the man was
still being held by the men. As he walked
toward him, Gideon could feel the air surge
with tension. The Midlanders’ eyes went to him
as he walked forward.
It was obvious the emotion in their eyes was
nothing less than reverence. Yet this was
1004
Solomon as he had looked on that fateful day
that he had made him hang himself – that he
had hang him.
But he was someone big here. It was
obvious in the way he walked with the poise
and composure that he had never had when he
had been Gideon’s older brother. He had none
of the docile confused fear in his countenance.
He was a self assured man as he walked
toward Gideon. And he looked arrogant. His
brother…
‘How do you know my name?’ he asked
when he was but a step from the altar.
The whole hall was quiet now. A pin would
break the eardrum if it dropped here as they
waited for Gideon’s answer.
All those years he had wished Solo would
say just a simple word, any word. All those
times Gideon had sat down with him and asked
him what he was thinking. All those times he
1005
would have given anything to know what went
through his brother’s mind. And now he was
here before him. He was talking and he didn’t
sound very kind either.
‘Answer me newcomer.’ He said in a harsh
tone.
Gideon sensed the executioner adjusting his
grip on his machete as though he were waiting
for the word to cut off this newcomer’s head.
‘Ah,’ Gideon started. He just knew that
telling him that he had been his brother in the
previous world – the birth place, and that he
had been mentally handicapped and that
Gideon had killed him would not save him his
neck. And Gideon needed his neck.
‘Perhaps we could speak privately?’ Gideon
finished on a weak squeak. He had never
thought himself a weak man but he had never
thought himself to live beyond the grave
either.
1006
‘He is a charlatan!’ someone yelled.
‘He is with the witches!’ another yelled.
‘Finish him!’ said the voice that had
sentenced him to death. Gideon saw the old
man – his face covered by thick white beard,
his face contorted in rage and hatred. He was
dressed in a blue velvet robe with red lining.
He reminded Gideon of a bishop that used to
preside over sermons in their church when
they were children. But that had been a kind
man with a sincere and ready smile.
This one was an angry old man filled with
too much hatred in his heart. He was the chief
judge and he looked down at Gideon with eyes
that wished they could kill.
He felt the large machete rise once more,
and then a finger from Solomon stopped him.
Just a raised index finger and the slight
movement of his brow was enough to over rule
1007
the chief priest’s decree? What was Solomon to
these people?
He smiled down at Gideon. ‘You will follow
me.’
A murmur rose in the church. He raised his
hand and Gideon was suddenly free. He had
been straining against the hand so hard that
when they left him he had to catch himself
before he rolled over the side of the altar.
‘Surely Solomon,’ the chief priest was
speaking his beard working. ‘You don’t mean to
do that. Can’t you see that this man is a
charlatan and he has dared insult us by
mentioning the name of the sinners?’
‘I heard him mention no one’s name,’
Solomon said softly and coldly. Gideon could
have been looking at himself. Not Solo. ‘You
will tell me whether you will do as I say or if I
will be required to repeat myself high priest.’
1008
‘No, no of course not,’ the older man spoke
obsequiously. ‘You are most wise as always.’
‘Good,’ Solomon said after staring hard at
the man. ‘Now, newcomer, follow me. You shall
not go to your final resting place this morning.’
Gideon got onto his feet shakily. He righted
himself and staggered after Solomon – he
could not think of him as his big brother yet it
was him. He felt confused even more as he
walked behind Solomon watching as the eyes
turned to them the single emotion on the faces
of men and women alike; pure unadulterated
hatred.
He walked after Solomon into the day. It
was still dreary and the sky was full of grey
heavy cloud. The sun seemed to shine from
another planet. He wondered what he would
tell Solomon as they walked at a brisk pace
toward Gideon knew not.
1009
‘The days are always like this,’ Solomon
muttered to him as his boots clicked on the
cobblestones. ‘This is the most light we get.’
‘Why?’ Gideon asked inanely.
‘You don’t ask that in the Midlands,’
Solomon told him curtly. ‘You find things here
and you join the cogs in the working of the
engine.’
Gideon was still looking around at the
narrow streets and the identical buildings
feeling like he had dropped into a medieval
world when Solomon kicked open a door. He
ushered Gideon in and followed booting it
closed behind him.
On the streets, they had met no one. And
Gideon knew what was really pinching him
about this ‘homey’ place was the lack of
children’s faces. It was odd. The only people he
had seen were adults – full of hate.
1010
The only children he had seen had been on
a wagon the previous night heading toward he
had no idea where, and mewling pitifully.
‘Seat,’ Solomon said laconically. This was
some sort of office. There was a heavy desk
with a seat behind it and two wooden straight
back seats on the other side. Solomon
motioned at one of them.
Gideon sank into the hard seat thankfully.
Right now, he was happy to be breathing.
Solomon went round the desk and sat down.
The room was opulent as the rest of what
he had seen of the town was bare. There was a
rich rug at the centre. The wood panels of the
floor were varnished and shone in the gloomy
day. The walls were painted a thick cream and
there was elegance in the simplicity.
A trophy head perched above Solomon’s
chair. It was a large dog’s head. The brown
eyes were frozen open in an everlasting
1011
menacing gleam. And the mouth was bared in
a snarl. The ugly vicious teeth had been
polished and they gleamed more than the
floor.
As he sat there staring up, the dead head
looked right at him and Gideon’s active
imagination could see the dog jumping down at
him the rest of its body ripping through the
cream wall.
‘That is a witch-wolf,’ Solomon said pride
dripping from his words. ‘I caught it myself.’
‘I saw them yesterday,’ he said. ‘They were
pulling a wagon,’ he looked right into
Solomon’s face. ‘The wagon had bound
children crying pitifully.’
‘I know,’ Solomon said simply.
‘You give them to the witches.’ Gideon said
accusingly.
‘Do not use that tone with me,’ the man
spoke with cold deliberation. Gideon found that
1012
his fear was coming back in a tide. ‘We know
that the witches are getting our children. They
used to apprentice them and train them and it
was no problem then because we coexisted in
peace. We needed them, and they needed us.
‘But they started getting greedy. They want
to help themselves only.’
‘You mean they kill them.’ Gideon said
repeating what he had learned from the old
man in the basement.
‘They have always killed them,’ Solomon
said in an amused tone. ‘But now, they do so
for their own need only. We do not benefit. We
cannot have that.’
‘Jesus,’ Gideon muttered feeling for the
umpteenth time that he was in hell.
‘That name will not help you much here,’
Solomon told him with a smile that didn’t reach
his eyes, making him look colder for it. ‘You will
find out if you stay in the Midlands long enough
1013
that only you care about you. And nothing is
more true.’
‘So now, it’s a war?’ Gideon spoke.
‘We have to wipe them all out,’ Solomon
confirmed.
‘But what about the coexistence?’ Gideon
asked.
‘We can do what they did for ourselves,’
Solomon said and then seeing Gideon’s
confusion went on. ‘The nothing comes every
once and again to take someone. It is
indiscriminate and final.’
‘Why do you call it the nothing?’ Gideon
asked thinking about his dream and the
nothing that had seemed to eat up the world
behind him as he ran toward the ghost Mary.
Only to drown with the man seated before him
now swaying from a rope as the last thing he
saw.
1014
‘The nothing,’ Solomon said leaning toward
him and whispering. ‘Has no form or shape. No
one has ever seen it. It comes when we see the
sun, and when it takes, it disappears with
finality.
‘The witches know when it is to strike and
who it is to strike. They can divert its direction,
and so if an upstanding citizen of the Midlands
was to be the next, the witches would divert it
to the other filth in our society.’
Gideon remembered the old man’s words
the other night in the basement. He had said
that there was a time he was not alone. But
now I am alone…
Gideon had a good idea who these filth of
the society was.
‘You see now the witches take the children
and instead of diverting the eyes of the
nothing, they guide it to the important people
1015
killing us one by one.’ He looked at Gideon,
‘We cannot have that.’
‘But the children yesterday…’
‘There is a traitor amongst us who gives
these children to the enemy.’ Solomon said.
‘We have to fish him out before we go into war.
‘I know many things newcomer,’ Gideon still
felt rankled when he was referred to by that
name especially by Solomon. ‘I arrived here a
long time ago and I was part of the making of
most of the things you see.’ He smiled. ‘I see
my face cheats you. Don’t judge a Midlander
by the condition of his skin. That will be your
gravest error. The ones we call children are at
times older than they grey-haired ones.
‘I am wise. I know when the nothing will
come, I knew you would be arriving and got the
burly one to welcome you. I knew the children
were being taken out and that is why they call
me Solomon – the wise one. But of the few
1016
things that I do not know, what itches me most
is how did you newcomer know my name?’
Gideon looked at his brother and thought
that he understood it now. He had been sent
here as a form of punishment for killing Solo.
He had been sent here to seek some form
absolution. He was at the mercy of this man
who he had protected so many times as
children and he was ready to pay, if only to lay
to rest the guilt that had gnawed at him each
and every day since that fateful day.
He looked into his eyes and told the wise
one everything. Everything that had happened
and he didn’t skip anything. When he was
through, he was feeling the tears flowing down
his cheeks. But for once, he felt that he could
go on now. Whatever the man did, he could get
on now and finally rest in peace in the next
world. He had no doubt whatsoever that he
would die today.
1017
Perhaps Solomon would do it himself. But
when he wiped his eyes and looked at the wise
one ready to take whatever came his way, he
saw the other man smiling. It must have been
the first genuine smile he had seen from
Solomon and he looked just like the old Solo he
had grown with that Gideon felt the insane
urge to hug him.
‘Some people live all their lives in the
Midlands wondering what they were before or
where they came from,’ Solomon said. ‘See,
not everybody here knows what they were
before the came here. They say that those who
remember are most likely here for a small time
– a certain purpose, and will soon be gone. So
they waste their days here preoccupied with
thoughts of another life, another world.
‘I on the other hand newcomer, Gideon,
have learned to live without such problems in
my mind. I have no idea where I came from or
1018
what I was before and I have never had the
interest to know. You know why? Because I
have no interest of ever leaving the Midlands.’
Gideon looked at him silently.
‘You on the other hand have full memory of
what you were before you came here. And I
can see it in your eyes. You are thinking of
going back aren’t you? You have someone
waiting for you no doubt.
‘I ask you now brother,’ he smiled as though
the word gave him insurmountable pleasure.
‘What happens when you get back and your
body is in the coffin? What happens then? You
choke to death under six feet of ground and
then you go straight to the final resting place
but what a way to die.
‘Can you imagine it? Lungs aching as you
lose air, your hand hitting against the sealed lid
of the coffin your nails scratching at it trying
with no hope to push heavy ground up, trying
1019
to get just a whiff of air. And the realisation
that you are dying for good now…how did I
look like dying upon the rope brother?’
Gideon had known that the man would do
this. It was his right after all and Gideon felt it
as part of the due punishment. His throat was
working as he fought to meet the eyes of the
smiling Solomon.
‘Am sorry Solomon,’ he croaked defeated.
‘No,’ Solomon said holding out a hand. ‘You
have nothing to be sorry about. I did rape your
wife didn’t I? A man must do as he must
brother even here in the Midlands.’ He looked
right into his eyes when he said this. Then he
smiled. ‘Interesting though you say it, I have
found that I am not exactly governed by my
loins here in this world. We do have women too
you know and they too have needs.’ he
laughed when he saw the incredulous
expression on Gideon’s face.
1020
‘I am happy here and if you sent me here
then I must thank you. You say I was a mad
person?’
‘No Solo,’ Gideon said earnestly. ‘Mentally
handicapped not mad.’
‘Only a mad person would put a rope
around his neck because his brother told him
to.’
Gideon accepted the slice of pain through
his chest as due punishment. But he was not a
masochist – it pained.
‘Don’t pull a long face,’ Solomon said. ‘You
have come at a good time. We are at war and I
think you can help our cause.’
Gideon wondered at his words – totally
opposite to the old man’s. He looked up at
Solomon as he pulled on a drawer and brought
two steel mugs over the desk. Then he turned
to a small cupboard over at the corner and
removed a bottle of clear liquid. He opened the
1021
top and the smell of pure ethanol permeated
the room. He poured a tot into each mug.
‘Yes brother, I think you will be of great
help.’ He took his mug and in one swig turned
its contents into his throat.
Gideon reached tentatively for his when
Solomon motioned it. He sipped at the drink
and immediately felt his head rise and his bile
rise to his throat. He couldn’t drink anymore.
He was not much of a drinking man but he
could tell that the drink was too potent.
‘It is drunk in one swig or not at all,’
Solomon said with his characteristic smile. He
really was a handsome man. Gideon thought
that if he had been born without an
abnormality, he would have probably ended up
with Hannah.
And that thought, brought back Mary Ndati.
Now she was what they meant when they said
you were meant for someone. He would gladly
1022
have given up all his life with Hannah for a
week with Mary. Hannah was a good person
and he had loved her with everything that was
in him – mostly because he could not do
anything but love her. But Mary was his soul
mate, as she had said. She understood him and
he understood her and if he could reach her
beyond the grave then he would.
‘You know all the days I have lived here,’
Solomon said. ‘I have never seen anyone make
it back. They always go forward. Leave the
past in the past brother we have work to do.’
‘What would you have me do Solomon?’
Gideon asked ready to pay his penance.
‘We have to discover who this traitor is,’
Solomon said looking down at him. He walked
around the desk and perched before Gideon on
the other side of the desk. ‘You say you are
looking for the witch with one eye. I shall show
you how to get to her.’
1023
‘Where is she?’ Gideon asked in excitement.
‘In the witchside of course brother,’ he said
smiling. ‘You will go there and pretend to be
one of them. You will keep your eyes open and
your ears perked. And you will discover the
traitor.’
He stood up. ‘When do I go?’ Gideon asked.
‘I abhor wasting time,’ Solomon said. ‘You
will go tonight.’ And then he took Gideon’s mug
and downed the hard liquor in a gulp.
1024
32
THE CARETAKER SAW THE MESS FIRST.

It was at 8:00am during his usual rounds when
Mr. Oti came around the open hole where
Gideon had been lain.
He was a portly man who stood five feet
five inches from the ground. He had a large
girth and a beer belly that was the size a
pregnant woman in her full term. But his heart
was as big as his girth.
1025
He was a jolly man with a booming loud
voice. When he spoke, his heavy jowls danced.
He had been working for the City Council for
the past thirty years of his fifty two years. And
in all this time, he had worked in one ‘weird’
job or another – as his wife put it.
First, he had been a sweeper, and then
when the streets got more and more dusty,
and the Council less and less interested in
making them clean, he had been switched from
seeping the streets to sweeping the Council
offices. This had gone on for another five years
and then Oti, now quite senior, had been
elevated to cleaning the Council Public toilets.
By this time these were not toilets that
served as toilets anymore. They were dens
where street muggers met and only the very
desperate would use for any form of
execration.
1026
When his oldest son, Odhis graduated from
University and got a job with the ministry of
water as an engineer, the family had been very
happy. Mostly though had been Mama Odhis
whose main happiness stemmed from the fact
that her husband would now stop working his
‘weird’ jobs. It didn’t help when other women
were boasting of business men for husbands.
Someone asinine woman had in fact told Mama
Odhis with not a little temerity that she would
rather have her husband rob people than wash
their excretion.
But her Oti had adamantly told his family
that his work had educated all six children and
it had kept food on the table. Bottom line, he
would not quit. But luck had smiled on him or
Mama Odhis’ prayers had been answered
finally.
Either way, Oti received a pay increase and
a more respectable job description. Due to his
1027
advancing years the said, he would now work
as the caretaker of the Langata Cemetery. He
had held this job for the last ten years.
During a family function the previous year,
his wife – who was as rotund as Oti himself,
had commented on his work. She still thought
it was weird, being so close to the dead like
that, what if a spirit invaded him? But at least it
was ‘cleaner’. She said, ‘don’t you think its
lucky you stopped cleaning toilets, they are
such a mess these days.’
‘If they had not moved me,’ he had said
sternly, jowls trembling. ‘Those toilets would
not be in such dire straits right now.’ The
family had groaned in defeat. He was an
obstinate man, but he loved his job and they
loved him.
Now, he walked as he nibbled on roasted
maize. He was humming to himself and was as
usual, upbeat.
1028
He stopped at the open hole and stared
down at it in shock. His work which as his wife
said was much cleaner, entailed weeding and
planting flowers. But anyone who went to the
Cemetery would immediately wonder if there
was such a person as a caretaker.
It wasn’t that Oti was less of a worker. But
he had grown old and his body was not as swift
and ready to bend as before. And the pay was
little – the guys up the council had discovered
that people didn’t really mind whether their
dead were resting in neat grounds and so Oti
had not been paid three months’ salary.
Oti was a kind hearted man, but he hated
being made a fool of. The council didn’t mind
whether he worked or not, and it was his innate
sense of duty that got him early in the morning
every morning to the Cemetery.
He bent and peered into the hole. He
thought to himself that this must be the work
1029
of grave-robbers. It was not the first time he
had heard of such a thing. But he had never
seen it in his decade of diligent service.
The coffin was shut and light sheet of soil
covered its lid. He shook his had thinking this
was way beyond him and went to make a call
to the police.
The Cemetery soon flooded with cops as
word passed that this grave-robbers had made
away with the corpse. Further investigation –
as far as the small headstone, revealed that
the deceased was one Gideon Maina.
It was a puzzle now and the cops didn’t
have to look far to discover how it had been
done at least. The tire marks were still fresh in
the soil. The robber hadn’t bothered to conceal
their act. It was weird and it spelled voodoo to
the cops. Most of them were of that mind.
Sergeant Tim Sege, officer in charge of the
investigation ordered, ‘comb the whole grave
1030
yard. I want to know any clues we might have
about where this body went. And someone
inform the family before they see it on the
news.’
Masta was angry. In fact, he was livid. He

and the six bandits had had to break parley
this morning when the cops arrived.
He was angry because their hideout would
certainly be discovered now. They had run off
with the pistols but they had buried the AK. It
would not do carrying it around in the town in
broad daylight. So they had to risk it’s
discovery, and it had not cost little money.
Besides, if it was linked to any crime or
killed anyone, Masta and the bandits would be
in trouble. And who in the hell knew what it
had been used for before he purchased it? It
had probably killed a Somali warlord for all he
knew.
1031
They were seated under a tree at a public
park cursing severally.
‘We have no choice but to go under,’ the
young Noel said.
‘Yeah,’ a team mate concurred. ‘We have to
forget the job we had planned to do on that
maisonette now.’
‘Wish ghost had not come there last night,’
another lamented. ‘We will never get another
lair like that.’
‘To make matters worse,’ the bright Noel
said. ‘Now the cops will include the Cemeteries
in their dragnet so we can’t go to another one.’
‘What do we do?’ they all looked at Masta
for the answer to that one.
‘I think boys, we get some retribution,’
Masta spoke. ‘We get the grave-robber and
inflict some injury.’
‘But, the ghost?’
1032
‘That was no ghost,’ Masta snapped.
‘Ghosts don’t dig, and ghosts don’t drive. And I
will tell that ghosts don’t wear women’s
watches on their wrists.’
‘So now what?’ Noel asked. ‘How do we find
this grave-robber?’
‘Now, that is what we should be talking
about,’ Masta responded.
Mary Ndati was unaware of all the fuss at

Langata as she got into her car. She was going
to see Hannah at the St. Monica’s Mental
Institution in Karen.
It was around nine in the morning. Gideon
was still in his world mumbling gibberish and
eyes fluttering like the wings of a moth. But he
thrashed less now. He was breathing properly
and to the best of her knowledge, he was
comfortable.
1033
What worried her most was that his body
had no food. And outside the hospital, there
was no way she could give him nutrition. And
she could not very well march into a hospital
with her patient who it would be evident had
died two days ago.
She had no choice but to nurse him at her
place. It was safe and she could take care of
him well enough she was sure. He had not yet
become incontinent, which in itself could mean
many things, but to Mary, it was a good sign.
What was left was to hope fervently that he
came back to her before his body wasted away
from lack of food and he died naturally even if
his spirit was still alive somewhere. She
whispered a prayer for him every hour. Not a
pious person by nature, she had to believe in
something and she chose to believe in a
merciful God that allowed second chances.
1034
And if anyone deserved to be happy, she
thought unabashedly, it was her.
She put the car in gear and drove off. She
would come back as soon as she had seen
Hannah. She could not leave him alone for
long. She didn’t thin it wise and she wanted to
be the first thing his eyes saw when he woke.
She wanted to welcome him back with a
smile and an open heart. She lived for that
moment.
Karen was not a far drive and she was there
in the hour. News of the grave-robbery would
hit the TV at one o’clock. So she went oblivious
to the pandemonium her exhumation had
wreaked.
She was received at the comfy reception by
a young nurse.
‘I am Ms. Bishi, the matron.’ She said
holding out her hand .
1035
Mary shook the outstretched hand rising
from the soft cushions. ‘I am Mary Ndati.’
‘You said you are a nurse?’ Ms. Bishi asked.
The secretary who had first met Mary, had
gone with these details of the unannounced
visitor.
‘Yes,’ Mary said. ‘I work at Mater Hospital. I
specialise with coma patients.’
‘That is quite some task,’ Ms. Bishi said.
‘Let’s go this way.’
Mary was glad to follow her. This courteous
talk sounded pretentious to her ears and she
was largely unpractised in such things. At least
they would now get to business.
The woman showed her to a seat as she
went round to the other side of the modern
fibre-glass desk. The matron picked up a file
and put on the glasses that were lying on the
top of the desk.
1036
She made a quick perusal and then
grabbing a ballpoint pen, quickly appended her
signature to four leafs. A TFT computer screen
was on a table behind her. This one was
wooden and looked as solid as the larger one
looked fragile.
Having finished her task, the specs came off
once more but she dangled them on her finger
instead of putting them on the desk.
‘Would you like some tea Ms. Ndati?’ she
asked. Mary got a sneaky suspicion that the
woman was procrastinating.
‘No,’ she shook her head firmly still smiling.
‘I do not care for tea matron. I really need to
speak with the patient Hannah Maina.’
‘There is a problem Ms. Ndati,’ she said
avoiding her eyes.
‘Is she here or isn’t she?’ Mary asked losing
it.
1037
The matron looked shocked by her raised
voice and Mary struggled to reign in her
temper. It would not do to antagonise the
woman.
‘I really need to see her matron,’ she said
more smoothly. ‘Is she here?’
‘The problem is that there are five Hannah
Mainas in the institution,’ the matron said. ‘It is
a common name you know?’
Yes, she knew it was a common name. Now
what would she do? She wondered. She had no
idea what Hannah’s maiden name was, she
had no way of contacting Katherine to find out
other than going to her place. And she didn’t
want to leave Gideon unattended to all
morning.
Gideon. ‘Check in the patient’s records for
her spouse,’ she said. ‘The name should be
Gideon Maina.’
1038
The matron turned in her modern black
swivel chair and restored the computer from
standby. She checked the pertinent files and
came up with positive results.
‘I found her,’ she said looking at the
patient’s record that included a mug shot that
Mary was too far to discern.
‘Good,’ she said with genuine gratitude. ‘I
will see her now.’
‘Sorry,’ the matron swivelled back to face
her. ‘Hannah is a very special patient. Let me
go on,’ she raised her hand when Mary would
jump into the conversation.
‘Hannah is the type of patient who has
baffled her doctors and the nurses who attend
to her. We have no idea how to peg her. She is
a very rational woman with high IQ – you knew
she was a dentist?
‘Well, yes. As I was saying, Hannah
oscillates from absolute sanity to absolute
1039
madness with no grey area almost uncannily.
She will be pulling her hair, mumbling and
acting violent one day and the next she is fine.
‘In the beginning, we thought that this was
random. But after two months, we discovered
that she was always lucid on one day of the
week come rain or shine.’
‘And that day is not today,’ Mary mumbled
feeling that was where they were going. The
matron shrugged.
‘She is always very sane on Thursdays,’ she
said. ‘Today, I can assure you that she will
neither understand you, nor help you in any
way. But of course all that depends on what
you came for.’
‘So I have to come tomorrow?’ Mary asked
feeling dejected all of a sudden.
‘As I said, Ms. Ndati,’ the matron spoke
kindly. ‘It all depends with what you came for.
If you come tomorrow, she will be a ready
1040
participant in any conversation you might want
to have with her – not just a cabbage or a
raving lunatic. But if you insist, then we will
grant you access where of course the patient
will have to be in a strait jacket and orderlies
will be present.’
‘She is that bad?’ Mary whispered aching for
Gideon all over again.
The matron nodded. ‘She gets that bad.
Come tomorrow Ms. Ndati she won’t go
anywhere.’
‘Will 8:00am be fine?’
‘Eight is OK Ms. Ndati.’
Mary smiled and stood up. ‘Thank you
matron,’ she said stretching her hand to the
older woman. Ms. Bishi stood too and took the
hand.
Mary walked out of the Institution feeling a
little low. She had been so pumped up full of
air and now she felt like a deflated balloon.
1041
She got into the car and reversed it. She
headed back to her house again. She would
have to come back the next day and check on
Hannah. She really wanted to have a talk with
other woman, not just because Gideon had told
her that he would try and explain things to her
if he had another chance – although that was a
large part of it. But the other thing that was
pinching her, was the age old feeling of rivalry.
She wanted to ‘check’ Hannah out.
The night was dark. As dark as the previous

one. Gideon wondered for the umpteenth time
what he was doing, but told himself yet again
that he was doing as he had been told to do by
Solomon. And he owed him big time. It was
time to pay. So whatever Solomon said, went.
He had come with Gideon only as far as the
marshes. There, he had instructed Gideon to
1042
follow the narrow winding path. It would get
him over to the witchside soon enough.
It the pitch black, Gideon walked an looking
all around furtively. He was compounded with
the fear of the unknown, he had no idea what
he was in for – only that perhaps he was in way
above his head.
But who cold he complain to? Solomon the
wise, his brother, who had saved him was the
one who had sent him on this errand. He had
begged the other man for a weapon, a
machete or a blade of any kind but Solomon
had only shaken his head.
‘Where you are going,’ he had said smiling
his lip-only smile. ‘A weapon will grant you sure
death. The only shield you have is to have
none.’
And so here Gideon was, battling anxiety
and the urged to release his bladder. And his
eyes straining to see in the dark. Solomon had
1043
also refused to give him a torch. He had said
that a torch would only attract attention toward
him.
His feet felt for the way in the darkness, and
instinctively, he maintained his way on the slim
road. When he steeped aside from the dirt
road, his feet sunk into soft grass of the
marshes and he corrected back into the path
quickly.
His senses were taut. His ears were perked
up like a scared cat’s. But he could not hear
the silent flight of owls high above him. They
watched his passage and flew above him all
the way – at once guards and invisible guides.
He arrived suddenly. The village was not
fenced off either naturally of artificially with a
gate like the witch hunters’ village. The homes
were the same dreary buldings made of grey
stone and they were all dark. Not a flicker of
light shone in the windows. And thus Gideon
1044
was no t aware that he was coming into the
village until he was a few feet from the first
house and quite literally stubbed his foot on a
backdoor step.
He wondered if they were all asleep. He had
come for more than five kilometres and he
guesstimated that he had walked for three
hours. But he remembered the words of the old
man – time moves here quite fast when you
close your eyes.
He walked, drawn by a heavy pounding. It
was some sort of drum and there was a deep
humming that accompanied it. It was a sound
that could only have been made by a family of
homicidal wraiths in his worst nightmares.
He passed between buildings walking
silently and unseen in the dark – or so he
thought. The owls had perched over the
rooftops and when he moved, they moved with
him – as silent as shadows.
1045
Presently, he came to an opening. It was a
quadrangle of some sort. There was a group of
houses all around it. He was standing in the
shadows between two houses now in a crouch.
There was a gathering. About a hundred
cloaked figures sat around creating an empty
circular space in the middle.
They were seated on the ground, their feet
crossed. Their spears – the points ever
gleaming, lay over the crossed limbs. There
were torches standing on poles all over the
sides of the quadrangle and one raised high in
the very centre. The black figures were
illuminated in this light and looked no less
scary up-close than they had the previous
night.
He crouched further into the shadows
watching. This was some sort of mass or
service. There was a tall figure heavily cloaked
in overflowing black robes, a hood on his head
1046
hiding his head. He was mumbling and the
crowd hummed in reply in that zombie-like
manner.
As he watched feeling his heart slow into a
painful thudding, he saw the figure stretch out
a hand. From one of the houses, a flurry of
motion and then a black figure came forward
with a robed member. This new comer was
short and the robe covered the whole of it such
that he had no idea whether it was man or
woman.
Then the figure gripped the top of the robe
and lifted it off the standing body. And Gideon
gasped. Covering his mouth, he watched
feeling his bladder increasingly asking for
relief.
The short body was actually a child. It was a
girl and she was totally naked. She looked to
be about ten years, her chest was more or less
flat and she stood with her hands bound
1047
around her front so that they acted as a fig leaf
that hid her young femininity.
She was looking down and her shoulders
shuddered every once in a while in what
Gideon strongly suspected was whimpers. The
sound of her soft hopeless crying didn’t reach
him though. The crowd had hit their deep bass
humming and even though it had a low pitch, it
nonetheless assaulted his ears.
Then suddenly, the hooded figure
unleashed a long ugly sword from its robes. He
muttered something in that unintelligible lingo.
The crowd hummed louder than before and as
he let out a silent scream, Gideon saw the
blade rise and cut a clean swathe through the
trembling girl’s neck.
The head fell at his feet and he reached for
it as the body left headless, stayed upright for
a long silent moment, before it tumbled to the
ground.
1048
Gideon watched dumbfounded as the figure
took the head and raised it over itself and then
peeled the hood off. The figure – whose
features were not discernable at all, looked up
as the dripping blood from the severed head
bathed its face.
And then suddenly dropping the head, it
turned and ran into a house that stood
opposite to the house where the girl had come
from. The crowd let out a cheer which from
them was so sudden and the most shocking
sound Gideon had ever heard. His feet felt
heavy and his eyes sore as he watched the
wolves emerge.
They were five. They came to the middle
from every direction but his and as the crowd
fell back, they fell onto the body that was once
a little ten year old girl and tore it apart. The
birds didn’t hide in the shadows much either
and Gideon saw them move down gracefully
1049
and close their talons on parts of the flesh and
make away with it to feed aside.
Gideon felt as though he had been fighting
an expert pugilist the whole day. He was born
tired and he wanted to vomit. Curiously, his
bladder was empty. He had wet himself.
‘Hope you enjoyed the show,’ a voice said
at his ear and just like the previous night, he
was down on his belly and a heavy hand held
him down. He was in the witchside.
Mary came to the house and immediately

went to check on Gideon. So much for thinking
he was not incontinent she thought as the
smell of concentrated urine hit her nostrils
when she went into the bedroom.
She smiled as she went to work. It was what
she did and she didn’t mind it when she was
doing it for a patient at the hospital, and she
certainly didn’t mind doing it for Gideon.
1050
She had to struggle with him to change the
sheets. But the wetness had crept into the
mattress.
She decided to take him to her bed. Using a
large polythene paper that had come with her
business suit from the laundry as a
mackintosh, she made her bed ready.
Then it was the heavy work of transferring
him to her bed. It was done after much heaving
and panting, she realised that she was alone
with him now. If there was any spiritual
assistance, it was all going Gideon’s way.
She looked at him as he lay in her bed and
wondered again what he was going through.
What had made him let go of his bladder when
she was certain he had not drunk anything for
two days now. While it wasn’t out of order, but
she felt that Gideon was in the grip of
something terrible.
1051
He was lying in the bed on his back. His
eyes were still fluttering. His breath was
coming in shallow breaths and his pulse rate
was high. His face was contorted in a frown as
though he were scared of something.
She shook her head mumbling a fast prayer
for him once more. Then she went to the other
bedroom and got the mattress off the bed. She
took it outside in the backyard to dry in the
sun. Then she dumped the sheets in soapy
water to soak.
She sat down at the piano and her fingers
ran over the familiar keys. She would go see
Hannah and clear Gideon’s debts for him. But
as she hit the first soulful note, she thought
about herself.
Didn’t she have a debt to pay too? She hit
the notes forcefully as she bit into her pink lip.
Her heart soared as the tune took her. She had
to make amends too. And she would do so
1052
now. Just after this song, she thought. And
when it ended, another soulful tune took its
place.
1053
33
HE WAS THROWN INTO A DANK ROOM.

For the second time in as many days, Gideon
was a prisoner of two different people – if he
could call them people.
He wondered if Solomon had not sent him
to sure death. He had said, ‘just say the same
thing you said when you were at the altar. That
will give you time.’ And then his smile ceasing
he had whispered, ‘Don’t fail me brother, I
want the traitor found.’
Well Gideon had done what he had been
told to do, but he felt he was in danger of
losing more capacity to do anything.
No wonder the witch-hunters wanted to
finish the witches off. That had been the most
inhumanly disgusting thing Gideon had ever
seen. And killing your brother? A voice asked in
his head.
1054
He would never be free of that guilt. He was
here because of that – he was now sure more
than ever. But he had to discover if he had
some way to pay enough for it to get total
absolution. Maybe he was sent here to help
Solomon fight this war – whatever it was,
Solomon was the key. The wise one he was
called.
Well if he was wise, how comes he didn’t
know the traitor? Or was that why he had
landed in the Midlands. The old man had told
him that there were several Midlands and this
was just one of them; he was here for a reason
he knew.
The thought of the old man prickled him for
some reason. Servant of God he had called
himself. And he looked peaceable enough,
even kind – what was his story? Why was he in
incarceration? Did Solomon have something to
do with it? No, he thought. He is a good man
1055
who wants an end to this barbarism by the
witches.
But the one thing the Gideon knew was that
he didn’t know much. And even then, he didn’t
realise how much he didn’t know.
‘Come,’ he was told. He was lying on his
side, curled up into a protective ball on the
hard floor of the room he was in. It smelled like
a place that needed cleaning a year before and
then had started leaking.
He looked up at the door where a black
figure stood in the shadow of a torch. He had
assumed that he would be given the respite of
the whole night like the witch-hunters had
done.
But this really was the other end of town.
Getting onto his feet he walked toward the
door. He noticed that the figure stepped aside
getting far as if he was worried Gideon might
lunge at him. He had thought of that but it
1056
would not help him much in his quest. No, he
would need cunning here more than physical
prowess.
He heard a growl and then out of the
darkness, came the mean brown eyes identical
to those he had seen in Solomon’s office. The
teeth dripped saliva and blood as they were
bared in a silent snarl.
He didn’t have to hear the sharp, ‘this way!’
for him to get away from the doorway. He
watched as the beast, whose eyes stood at his
chest when it looked at him, entered the room
he had been locked.
If he had been a man given to swooning, he
would have fainted. The thought that he had
been sleeping where those animals lay – that
he had been asleep in the wolves’ den so to
speak, was completely unnerving.
He had to be told to follow this time to get
his leaded feet to walk after the black figure.
1057
They went into what Gideon was certain was
the house the murderer had run into with blood
all over his face.
The doorway was low and they had to bend
at the waist and the knees to get in. Inside, it
was dimly lit by two candles. Something about
them was familiar. And then it hit him. These
were the blood red candles that the witch
Chumo had given him to ward off the blood
seeking humanoid wraiths with the red eyes.
‘You made it,’ came the voice. Gideon
peered into the shadows cast by the candles.
At the very corner of the room was the
figure of Chumo. She was seated with her feet
crossed and cloaked in black like the rest of the
mad witches. But the mangled eye was visible
when she looked up at him. The leather thong
that shut the lid forever was even more
conspicuous in the shadow somewhat.
1058
‘I ought to have known,’ Gideon snarled.
But the old figure hushed him.
‘Don’t make too much noise young one,’
she spoke in a weak voice. ‘You will attract
others.’
Gideon looked around despite himself and
discovered that they were alone. The other
figure had disappeared mysteriously.
‘What are you?’ Gideon asked his words
dripping with loathing.
‘Do not judge what you don’t understand,’
the woman spoke.
‘What I don’t-’ Gideon looked over his
shoulder and then with great effort lowered his
voice. ‘I understand that there are a bunch of
lunatics murdering children here…’
‘Don’t look at the skin of a person in the
Midlands,’ she spoke harshly as if impatient
with him.
1059
‘I have heard that from another,’ Gideon
spoke. The old woman was silent. She looked
at him in an uncanny stare.
‘Tell me about this other.’
‘What for!’ Gideon thundered again raising
his voice. ‘Besides am sure you know him.’
She nodded as if in agreement. ‘The
Midlands have changed,’ she told him.
‘I have heard that too,’ he said affecting a
bored tone.
‘The witches and the witch-hunters are no
longer worthy of this place,’ she said as though
he had not interfered.
‘But the witches are much less deserving of
it from what I have seen,’ he whispered.
‘Judge what you know child,’ she said again.
‘They use the blood to get back. Yes,’ she said
when she saw his curled brow. ‘To get back to
the beginning, they end another with purity.’
1060
‘You mean they go back to life?’ Gideon
whispered.
‘You are not dead,’ she said. ‘But yes, they
go where you think, are you tempted? Do you
want to go back and see the one for who your
heart beats now?’
His heart was beating now. ‘Why am I
here?’ he asked.
‘Only you know that,’ she said. ‘You have
the choice. It is yours.’
‘I was sent,’ he said with sudden conviction.
‘Who gives you the children?’
‘You know that too,’ she said with a little
laugh. ‘Open your eyes and see. You have all
the answers to your questions.’
‘My brother is here,’ he said without
knowing why he told her.
‘You see him?’ she asked and he nodded.
‘Why?’
1061
‘I don’t appreciate your word games old
woman tell me what I need to know,’ he
whispered hotly.
‘You tell yourself, you know everything.’ She
said. And then as if taking pity on him she said.
‘Who needs the children? Who do the children
serve? Make your choice now.’
‘You are evil,’ Gideon hissed. ‘I choose to
stand with the witch-hunters. And we will crash
all of you. When we come, I shall personally
finish you.’
The old woman laughed at the threat. ‘But
am not here,’ she said. Gideon looked at her
without understanding. ‘Close your hand over
that candle.’
Gideon walked over to the furthest candles
and shielded its light. He watched in
astonished horror as the old witch Chumo
seemed to levitate and then move right across
the room behind him. He jumped looking
1062
behind him but he had released the candle and
the old woman was in her previous position
laughing.
‘Where are you?’ he asked in a whisper still
astonished.
‘I am with my love, with my nemesis child.’
She said in her typical cryptic manner. ‘Make
your choice wisely…’
‘I have,’ he interrupted.
‘Look for your brother where you buried
him, and pass my regards to the wise one. Now
go and do as you must.’
And with that, she disappeared from the
room. The candles fluttered in the night and
then snuffled out.
Gideon stood in the dark room his heart
pounding. What was he supposed to do now?
He needed proof that a traitor was ‘selling’ the
children. Who would know about that in this
Godforsaken place?
1063
And the answer when it came to him, was
almost too spectacular.
Sergeant Sege congratulated his team

profusely. They had not discovered anything
else about the grave-robbing but they had
come out with gold no less.
The diligent officers had uncovered an AK47
and ten rounds of ammunition wrapped in a
black paper bag and buried under the
gravestone of one Samson Tole born Feb 10th
1934 – died Mar 23rd 1989.
And after combing that particular area with
a fine comb, they had discovered the lair of the
six bandits. It was a wide trench actually, that
the had dug out – or had found, and they
covered it with twigs and leaves.
In the bushes, the camouflage was good
and if it had not been for the discovery of the
rifle, then they would not have found it.
1064
Quickly, the grave forgotten for a while, it
was rushed to the station. And now, Sergeant
Sege had just received news from the lab guys
that the assault rifle had been very busy. It was
responsible for at least five recent deaths that
they could ascertain.
Like a magician’s hat, it didn’t cease to
amaze as it conjured up another piece of
delight – the full thumbprint on its butt. Voila!
Sege had thought with glee.
They were working on the print now and he
was hopeful that they would have someone to
arrest soon who would then lead them to the
rest of the gang – one way or another.
Mary Ndati got into her car after one too

many songs. She took a deep breath and then
exhaled as Ms. Breech had taught her to do
before starting to play. And up to now, she did
it subconsciously.
1065
She started the car and shifted into gear.
She had made sure that Gideon was alright and
would be comfortable for another hour or so.
She sent a small prayer for him again and
pulled out of her hidden home into the lonely
road.
She was sweating mentally and her heart
beat non-stop as she drove toward Langata.
She had never come this way before but she
had the directions. She had been given a long
time ago and even as she had told herself she
would never use them, now that she needed to
go there, she found that she knew her way.
When she got to the house, she looked as
the imposing black gates. Deciding that she
would not be there long – her watch said
1:30pm, she parked beside the gates so that if
another car came in, it would not be blocked.
Then getting out of the car, she pulled her
already overly long dress down. And then
1066
wishing she had her glasses – she had lost
them in the accident, for fortification she
walked to the gate.
There was a bell by the right top corner and
she pressed it. What greeted her were the
heavy barks of dogs and judging by their
increasing volume, they were running toward
the gate.
She stood there shifting from foot to foot
feeling so small and so scared.
Purity Dwombo heard the dogs bark as the
shrill bell rang. She waited for the servants to
go to the gate. And when she heard the brief
knock on the front door, she called her
daughter.
‘Go check who it is Shirley,’ she said to the
eight year old bundle of energy.
She was laying back on the couch. Her head
was resting over the arm while her stretched
feet were on her husband’s lap.
1067
He was reading a magazine while he
absentmindedly massaged her bare feet. It was
a nice feeling and she was relaxed. Her
daughter flew past from her room to the door
and she had to call to her to walk – not to run!
The front door opened into a foyer from
which, the living room where the couple was
reclining peacefully on the sofa.
When the door opened, Mary was
flabbergasted. She looked down into the
prettiest girl she had ever seen. The small girl
was peering up at her inquisitively.
Jesus, Mary thought floored. She is a
beautiful child. As she looked into the brown
eyes, the chocolate smooth skin, the orange
rind cheeks and the ebony black hair, she was
plagued by all her past demons of
insufficiency.
Her insecurity bubbled up inside her so that
it was like the feeling of vomit rising up her
1068
oesophagus threatening to burst out in a
disgusting putrid shower of shame.
‘You want to come in?’ the girl spoke in the
voice of a confident child. A child who has been
taught to appreciate herself and is appreciated
in turn. A beautiful child – everything she had
never been.
You have always been beautiful the voice of
Gideon Maina reached her frozen senses and
thawed her glassy ashen face into a tentative
smile for the girl. And wonder of all wonders,
the little princess beamed up at her.
‘Yes,’ she heard herself say. ‘May I come in
please?’
And the girl held the door open as she
stepped in.
‘Who is it Shirley?’ Mary heard the thick
bass of whom she presumed was the girl’s
father ask.
1069
Then the girl had suddenly raced past her
and into an adjoining room leaving Mary to
follow slowly. But what the girl shouted to her
parents made her step falter and she had to
stop lest she fall.
‘It is an albino papa!’ the girl screamed. ‘An
albino has come mama!’
Gideon took both candles and stuck them

into his pocket. He had no idea why he did it,
but it seemed like the thing to do.
He stood at the door and peered outside.
The night was calm. There was no one about.
Apparently, after the gathering, the witches
retired early.
Gideon had no idea what time it was. But by
now, he was beginning to understand that it
flew by pretty fast whether the eyes were
closed or open.
1070
He stepped out into the dark leaning his
back along the wall seeking to melt into it. And
soon he wished he could.
‘Hey!’ Gideon jumped letting out a surprised
yelp that was smothered by a swift hand
clasping over his mouth such that the only
sound he expelled was a tiny squeak.
He wondered what this meant but before he
could turn toward the figure completely
enshrouded in dark, he felt the other hand as
swift as the one that covered his mouth reach
into his shirt pocket. And then it was gone.
Gideon wondered what had just happened.
He touched his shirt pocket wondering what
the witch might have stolen from him but his
hand closed onto a solid object. He felt it
through the material of his shirt and knew
without a doubt that it was a lighter.
1071
He was curious but thankful all the same,
enough not to look his gift horse in the mouth
anyway.
He was certain now that he was doing the
right thing. If he wasn’t, the dark figure would
have reported him not rewarded him with this
curious gift.
He walked across the quadrangle in a fast
noiseless flight. He was a bent figure cutting
across the soft grass. His foot hit something
and he froze. But it hadn’t made a lot of noise.
He squatted to throw the object away.
But when he held it, he felt the cold wet
sliminess of it and was sick to the core of his
soul. His fingers roamed over the sticky half
bony surface with parts of torn flesh and he
knew what he was holding.
As certainly as though he were looking at it,
he was certain that in his hands, was the
1072
remains of the head that had been severed
from the girl’s body.
He threw it as far as he could cursing
immediately his rashness. If it made noise, but
his strained ears didn’t catch any din of a skull
falling onto the ground. What he didn’t know,
was that an awakened owl, had caught the
snack in midair and had rushed off to feed.
He stood up wiping his hands on the back of
his jeans. Then deciding quickly which house
he was looking for, he walked right to the door.
It was locked from outside. But the witches
must be beings of trust for the deadbolt was
just returned but there was no padlock on the
latch.
Feeling glad and lucky at the same time,
Gideon took the cold metal in his hand and
then breathing deep turned it gingerly. It
moved smoothly and soundlessly. It was
1073
greased. He pulled it back and turned the knob
of the wooden door.
He felt his heart beat wildly as his eyes
strained desperately and futilely to see through
the dark. There could be an army standing ten
feet behind him just waiting for him to
incriminate himself so to speak before
pouncing – or taking him back into the wolves’
lair.
Never mind that, he told himself. He had
work to do. Solomon was counting on him. The
door swung inward silently on well oiled hinges.
He stepped inside quickly and as noiselessly
as he could. He shut the door behind him and
reached inside his pocket.
He struck the metal wheel and the flame lit
up instantly. The dark room was bathed into
light and what Gideon saw was heart-rending.
In crude concentric circles, there were about
1074
fifty grubby children’s faces looking up at him
with fear in their eyes.
He cupped the light and took a tentative
step closer. He watched wide eyed as the faces
looked up at him in undisguised curiosity.
There were boys and girls and their hands were
bound together with ropes. Their necks were
also tied with a ropes that were then joined
forcing them into a convoluted human
centipede.
He struggled no to utter the wounded sound
that itched his raw throat. He reached for the
closest boy and held his hands.
‘I’ll get you out now,’ he whispered. ‘You
don’t have to suffer any more misery.’ They
were just kids. Children for the sake of God. At
that moment, Gideon found that he was angry
enough to take on all of the witches and their
bloody wolves. But he sobered instantly. He
1075
had better do what he had come here to do
before it was too late.
The boy whose hands he held motioned
with his head toward the dark corner of the
room behind the door. Gideon turned there
seeing from the ambient light from his cupped
flame a wicked looking sword – it was bloody.
Realising it was the sword that had been
used to chop of the girl’s head earlier, and
thinking that it had probably been used for that
purpose many times before, Gideon picked it
holding it with ill-disguised disgust.
He cut into the boy’s binds. The boy looked
to be about nine years and he had an innocent
and sweet face. He smiled at Gideon when his
hands were free and Gideon quickly severed
the bonds on his neck too.
This would take too long he realised. There
were not less than fifty. There was no other
blade so that the children he freed could help
1076
set their mates free though. So the bit between
his teeth, Gideon went to work.
But as he cut the bonds of the fourth child,
a small girl – smaller than the one who had
been beheaded, he noticed that the first boys
were assisting him by undoing the bonds of
their mates.
They did it with their bare teeth and fingers.
The bonds were made of tough synthetic fibre
and were not easy to bite into nor undo with
bare hands. But soon with them helping out, he
had them all free.
He stood at the door and held a finger to his
lips. The children had formed a single file
behind him that coiled in the room like a snake.
The boy he had released first was behind him
and he held out his hands looking up at Gideon
with a small smile.
Looking into the warmth and innocence,
Gideon had to smile too. Wondering if it
1077
wouldn’t be too heavy, he placed the sword
into the small hands. But the young soldier
seemed to handle the weight well.
His ears perked for any noise, he opened
the door once more. He had extinguished the
light and had returned the lighter into his
pocket. The door opened noiselessly as before
and he stepped outside. He ushered the
children out holding a finger on his lips. He
didn’t need to tell them that though. They all
knew what was at stake – discovery was
certain death.
Gideon went ahead preferring to lead the
way rather than be a watch out back. He
motioned though for the boy – who held the
sword fiercely in his arms, to go back. The boy
nodded and went back. He had to pray that
they would get out of witchside without
mishap.
1078
They made their way slowly – trying to
balance the trade off between speed and
silence. They made their way quickly enough
and without much bad luck.
Gideon felt that it was taking much longer
getting out of this place than it had getting
inside! But then just as suddenly as he had
found himself inside witchside, he found
himself out of it.
At one time he was between buildings,
crouching low trying to merge with the
shadows, and the next moment, he was in the
open heading toward the marshes.
He had chanted in his mind like a mantra –
let the wolves sleep, much like let the sleeping
dogs lay and being a writing man, the
inadvertent humour of his thoughts wasn’t lost
to him.
And especially seeing as he had beaten the
bastards! If they had had their way, they would
1079
have finished him by now. But he was still
breathing and ready to fulfil his promise to
Solomon.
Even though they had made good time and
were silent in their escape, there were others
in the air who were just as swift and much
more silent about it.
The six bandits left town. They were no

more closer to finding out how they would find
out where the woman lived, or where she had
taken the body after disinterring it.
But one thing they were certain about, was
this was bizarre. In fact way beyond that. This
smelled of voodoo. And deep inside, none of
them wanted anything to do with that
wraithlike grave-robber. But they were
brigands. The six bandits and they had a name
to protect.
1080
It was the brilliant Noel who suggested they
go back to the house in Langata.
‘We have nothing else to do,’ he had said.
‘Besides, idling around makes us more like
sitting ducks.’
They concurred with that. And to add onto
it, Masta had decreed that they ought to split.
‘Groups of two,’ he ordered. ‘I will go with
Noel and check out the maisonette. See if
there is another way through the dogs that we
haven’t thought about. Of course the job has to
be postponed now because of the heat from
the cops but if we can find a clear way to get
in, we will.’
They had agreed with this saying it was the
best thing that they could do at the time.
Masta had noticed that Obim was rather
anxious and jumpy. He ignored it though, and
with Rastafarian salutations - the clenched fist,
they parted ways.
1081
Noel and Masta were strolling through the
Langata area – the more salubrious and
wealthy parts of it, when the boy piped up.
‘You noticed that Obim was shaking.’ It was
not a question. It was as though he knew for
sure that Masta would have noticed it. Masta
was glad for the trust and confidence in his
leadership.
As it were, he had noticed that the man was
fidgety at the very least.
‘You know what it is don’t you?’ Noel said
conversationally. Masta nodded though he
hadn’t figured it out yet. ‘The AK has his
prints.’
‘Fuck!’ Masta exploded. ‘I told the moron to
use gloves.’
‘He did,’ Noel said taken aback at the
reaction of their leader. He was sure he was
telling him something he knew. ‘But he slipped
1082
yesterday. The whole ghost stealing a body in
a moonlit night thing was pretty unnerving.’
‘That is just good,’ Masta said feeling
anything but good. ‘Do they have his prints?
Has he ever been caught before?’
‘Honestly I don’t know.’ Noel said. ‘But since
we have been together, I don’t think he has
been.’
Masta was quiet as he pondered the new
problem that had presented itself. He wasn’t
even aware they had gotten to the house.
‘We are here,’ Noel said looking at the
imposing black gates.
Masta snapped out of his thoughts and
when he did, he was shocked. Barely looking at
the high gates and fence that Noel was
inspecting visually for signs of weakness, he
walked over to the small five door car that was
parked just beyond the gates.
1083
It was facing away from him and he could
see the number plate clearly. And it matched
the photo in his mind. He smiled as he walked
towards it.
‘I think my friend,’ he said to Noel. ‘The
gods have just smiled at us.’
1084
34
HE LOOKED AROUND. This seemed far

enough. In fact, the edge he had lay on
watching some of these children get ferried
across, was right above them.
He stopped his troupes and gathered them
around him. He sat down on the grass by the
path and found that he was now the height of
most of them.
‘Now listen to me,’ he whispered. ‘I need
you to tell me the identity of the person who
has been giving you off to the witches.’
He was greeted with silence. In the dark,
only the faces right in front of him were visible.
But he could make out eyes and facial
expressions which told him that the night was
coming to an end.
1085
He had no idea whether that was good or
not – to be found by day out here in no-man’s
land.
He struck the lighter once more to see
better. The grubby little faces seemed to come
closer to him. He felt like a favourite pied piper
come to woo the children away with story – or
questions in his case, instead of song.
‘I need you to talk to me,’ he looked at
them again and wondered. ‘Can you speak?’
He heard a giggle that was so unexpected
and so sweet a sound, his heart swelled. It was
the youngest of them all. He called to her and
she came to him on unsure little feet. She
looked to be about six years.
She moved between his raised knees
leaning on one of them. Her hands were in
front of her dress playing with a button there.
You innocent little thing he thought. He tickled
1086
her under her chin and smiled when she
giggled.
He turned serious however. ‘Tell me who
gave you away.’ He said looking into the eyes
around him. But they just stared back at him.
And in their stare was something that would
have made him unease weren’t it for their
small diminutive bodies and stature – and the
suffering they had been through.
The girl in his arms shrugged when he
looked at her.
‘Come on,’ he said encouragingly. ‘You
must know. Guys please try and remember.’
But they kept silent. Gideon felt a thousand
spiders crawl down his spine and he turned
back sharply. He looked into the eyes of a
dozen ten year olds who were just at his back.
And then shaking his head, he turned forward
and again looked at the other eyes there
becoming more visible as dawn came.
1087
They looked at him with disturbing silence,
these children. And then the words from the
old witch and Solomon came to him; do not
judge by skin…
He heard the snarl! He looked up just in
time to see the wolves line up above them on
the ledge. He looked around him his first
instinct to protect the children. They were
huddled around him looking at him with those
unblinking eyes.
‘The sword!’ Gideon said sharply to the
small boy who still held it. ‘Give me the sword.’
The wolves seemed to be waiting for each
other as they stood there gazing down, their
eyes glittering with malevolence.
Gideon took an uneasy step back his eyes
trained on the ledge ten feet above them. He
stepped onto a foot and the child yelped.
Gideon instantly removed his foot
apologising instantly. And then as he was in
1088
this unbalanced state, he felt something bite
sharply into his other leg. He yelled in pain and
fell down.
He looked up and saw the boy who had
been standing behind him lick blood that
dripped from his mouth. His eyes had gone a
blood red and the child was not a child
anymore. Gideon watched as all around, the
small bodies shed their sweet demeanour and
became scary little beasts. And they had
surrounded him.
He turned just as the boy with the sword
crushed it with a man’s strength where his
head had been. And as he rolled away, he
heard the wolves leap.
Another kid fell on his injured leg and its
fingers tore into the wound. Gideon yelled in
pain kicking at the child. The wolves were
around him now. Still rolling he reached for the
1089
lighter knowing he had no much time to do
this.
As the wolves surrounded him, the children
fell back slowly. He struck the lighter and at
the same time reached for the small leg of one
of them. Holding on tight, he pulled the kid and
pinned it down with on knee.
The candle was out and its wick lit
immediately. As he had hoped, the light gave
pause to these evil creatures that sought to
finish him.
The wolves growled as they paced around
him, watching him closely. They stood at a six
foot radius, the smell he remembered was
what kept them at bay. The children were
behind the wolves and they formed a circle of
their own.
It was obvious they meant to box him in
until the candle wore out. He held it out in his
1090
right hand turning his head every which way to
ascertain that they were at bay.
He had too many questions and he needed
answers. He had started to suspect something,
but he needed confirmation. He would get it
now.
He looked at the child under his knee. She
was on her belly, and his knee was across her
back holding her firmly to the ground. Pulling
her hair, he raised her head and saw her face.
It was the little girl who had giggled when
he tickled her. Who had stood trustingly
between his knees. Jesus, he thought, what am
I doing.
The girl was shedding pitiful tears as she
winced in pain. Gideon felt his knee relaxing on
her back. And then suddenly, the creature
moved thrashing violently. He had half a
second of indecision before his knee came
1091
back down strong. The child moaned in a raw
guttural cry that coiled his guts.
And his candle fluttered then went off. In
the surge of activity, he must have breathed
too hard at it. He shook as he watched the
flame die. A stream of white smoke snaked off
the wick. By this time the wolves were snarling
two feet from him and the red eyed creatures
in children’s bodies were among them.
He steadied his hand and struck the lighter.
It didn’t catch. He struggled to school his
nerves – he wanted to look behind. He struck
the lighter and this time a flame lit. With an
extremely shaky hand, he lit the candle.
And when it lit, he swung it around like a
shield. But the creatures stayed their ground.
They didn’t move closer, but they didn’t move
any further.
He looked down at the squirming girl. Her
hands were at her head trying to lift herself off
1092
the ground ineffectually. Gideon took one of
those hands and twisted it back in an odd
painful angle.
The ache in his leg was enough to blanket
his guilt. These were not children. They were
demons. …who needs them most? The old
witch had asked. Well he was going to find out.
‘Tell me who gave you to the witches.’
Gideon asked. He twisted the hand further and
the small girl let out a pitiable cry. He was
again plagued with uncertainty. What if she
was just a child?
Then he brought the candle closer to it. The
creature squirmed vigorously and let out shrill
cries of a crazed siren. Gideon wanted to cover
his ears – the cries were too sharp.
But they convinced him finally that he was
not dealing with children here. He twisted the
arm further.
1093
‘Tell me what I want to know,’ he snarled
adapting his coldness.
‘You know,’ the creature moaned in the
same raw voice. No child could have talked like
that. ‘You know, he knows, we know…’
‘What does all that mean?’ he brought the
candle low again and held tight as it squirmed
and let out the shrill cries.
‘He knows,’ the thing screamed.
‘Give me a name.’ he said coldly pulling the
tender arm until he heard it snap.
‘Names are of no importance in the
Midlands,’ the thing shrilled.
‘How do I know him?’ Gideon went on with
the insane interrogation. All around him, he
was aware of the beasts – of both species.
‘He knows you,’ the others let out a shrill
cry and Gideon felt that his captive was
breaking. He increased the pressure and pulled
1094
at the unhinged arm mercilessly. ‘He knows
me, he knows…’
‘What?’ Gideon asked when the creature
went silent. ‘What? Tell me now.’ He was going
to lower the candle once more when he heard
the air move.
It was the sound of heavy wings flapping
close. And he didn’t need to hear the loud
hooting to know that danger was afoot.
He looked up and shielded himself just as
an owl’s talons sought his face. He felt the
claws dig sharply into his arm and he yelled in
pain. The candle fell from his nerveless fingers
and dropped onto the head of the child setting
its hair ablaze.
He watched amazed as the head seemed to
incinerate and sublime into a twisted black
mass as the body twitched screaming that
shrill scream. The smell that reached his nose
was worse than death.
1095
The owls were not done with him. He felt
another swoop low and the talons closed over
his shoulder blade holding tight. Reacting by
reflex, Gideon held the tough leg and bit into it.
The owl screeched releasing him but the next
pecked his cheek its beak tearing into his flesh
until he felt the hard bone hit his teeth.
Crying out, he waved his hands maniacally
punching the screeching bird in its belly. He fell
on his back in a stumble as he sought to get
up. Instantly, the wolf nearest to him, was upon
him. It stood with its paws on his chest leaning
its massive weight on him.
Gideon couldn’t breath of even more a
shoulder and thought that it would not matter
either way in the next few minutes. He
wondered briefly if the next world would be
kinder than the Midlands, as the wolf’s bared
its teeth that dripped with saliva.
1096
Opening it ugly fetid mouth, it lowered it
massive head toward his neck. Gideon found
that he could not meet its gaze and shut his
eyes waiting for his neck to be ripped open.
As he waited for the sharp teeth though he
heard instead a great war shout. And then
blood spluttered over his face. He felt the
heavy body over his chest leave and fall away.
He opened one eye and watched in the wane
light of dawn as a man wielding a sword cut a
clean swathe into the congregated crowd of
murdering creatures.
Gideon watched as without discrimination,
Solomon’s blade cut into the creatures in the
children’s bodies and the beasts alike.
He sat up and saw the children run off on
their small feet in exaggerated speed as
though someone had pressed fast forward. The
beast ran back toward the witchside but the
children simple ran off into nothing.
1097
Gideon watched wide eyed as they seemed
to combust into gas as they ran away from
Solomon’s cutting blade. And then when they
were all gone, Solomon came to him. He was
barely panting and he had not broken sweat.
‘Come brother,’ he said giving Gideon a
hand. ‘You are a very lucky man.’
‘Thank you Solomon,’ Gideon said
breathlessly. He looked at the severed head of
the beast that had meant to kill him. It was cut
clean at the neck.
‘I thank you,’ Solomon said. ‘Now I have
another trophy.’ And he smiled at Gideon. He
picked up the head by the fur and gave it to
Gideon. ‘Please do me the honour of carrying
it.’
Gideon accepted numbly. He was still
flummoxed. ‘Those children, those creatures,’
he said. ‘What are they? Where have they
disappeared to?’
1098
‘They are not like you and me,’ Solomon
said. ‘They show the path to the other worlds,
their blood is a guide. And they move from
world to world at will. They feel no pain and are
not innocent in any stretch of the imagination.’
‘So that’s why the witches needed them,’
Gideon spoke. ‘To guide them to another world,
the previous world.’
‘You saw this,’ Solomon said. It wasn’t a
question. ‘You did well my brother.’
‘Yes but I didn’t get the identity of the
traitor,’ Gideon said with self loathe. ‘I was so
close.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Solomon said
gripping his shoulder. ‘We have found the
traitor. That is why I came for you.’
‘You have?’ Gideon looked sharply at his
brother. ‘Who is it?’
Solomon laughed as though to tell him that
even he found it amusing. Then he told him.
1099
Purity Dwombo got off the seat in a flight.
She ran to the foyer and there, stood before
her eldest daughter clutching her hands
together at her chest. She stood there and
waited.
Mary, a hand still on the door looked at her
mother. She saw a man handsome carrying the
child in his arms appear behind her mother.
‘Purity?’ he asked.
But she didn’t look at him. Her eyes were on
Mary and in that posture with her hands
clasped together against her chest, it was as if
she was pleading with Mary.
Mary felt her throat work as though she had
tried to swallow a whole apple. She wanted to
say a few million things all at once. But one
made the top of the list.
‘Sorry mama,’ she said her lips trembling.
She went to say it again but the words were
1100
smothered against Purity as she threw her
arms around her daughter.
‘It’s OK baby, ‘Purity soothed hushing her
and rocking her as though she were a child
again. ‘You are home now.’
Mary cried on her mother’s shoulder as she
was rocked holding tight to her. ‘I love you
mama.’
She had realised that she had always
wanted to hear her mother say those words to
her, but now, she wanted to hear herself say
them. She was no longer an empty shell. She
was mending, and Gideon had started the
process.
‘I love you too baby,’ Purity said. ‘I have
always loved you.’
‘I know,’ she sniffled and finally the ugly
duckling was a swan.
1101
Meanwhile, Masta and Noel were outside
inspecting her car. An idea sprung in Masta’s
mind.
‘You will go with her, find out where she
lives and then come back and tell us.’ He told
Noel excitedly.
‘Are you sure?’ Noel asked a little anxious.
‘I would go myself but you are much
smaller.’ He talked as he picked the lock on the
back door of the Fiat.
The roads were deserted as is usually the
case in most posh estates. Most folk either
stayed in their houses or moved around in
vehicles. Masta knew that the key to this was
to appear natural.
He didn’t once look around as he worked on
the lock. And he talked to Noel so that it
appeared more natural. Chances were that if
anyone saw them, they’d assume at the very
1102
least that it was their car – Masta was willing to
bet that it didn’t belong here as much as them.
He opened it slowly stepping back to let it
arc upwards. Then, he looked around. The
coast was clear.
‘Get in!’ he whispered urgently. Noel didn’t
think twice. He might not like the plan, but he
knew better than to go against Masta’s
command. He got into the small space behind
the back seat.
Curling up in a foetal position, he just
managed to fit in the small confines.
‘Just relax,’ Masta told him. ‘Find out her
digs and then meet us at the park same place
tomorrow morning.’ Then hardly hearing Noel’s
answer, he slammed the door shut. Then he
looked around and deciding that it would not
be safe to linger, left Noel to his fate.
1103
‘Come in baby,’ Purity said turning toward
the living room door. She guided her daughter
with a hand around her shoulders. She looked
up at Dwombo’s kind face and was relieved
and encouraged by the understanding she saw
there.
She sat her daughter in the sofa, seating
next to her. Dwombo sat on the armchair
opposite them holding the child on his lap.
Purity made the introductions.
‘This is my daughter Mary Ndati,’ she told
Dwombo. ‘My first daughter.’
Dwombo smiled but remained silent. ‘And
this is my husband Dwombo and our lovely
child, your sister Shirley.’
They looked at each other their eyes saying
the things that their lips could not fashion.
Shirley in her usual gay manner broke the
silence.
1104
‘You are my new sister?’ she asked leaving
her father’s lap.
‘No,’ Mary shook her head smiling kindly. ‘I
am your old sister.’
Purity smiled as she watched her two girls.
One she had thought was lost to her forever
and the other new and fresh the one she
meant never to repeat the same mistakes she
had made earlier with; both who she loved very
much.
A tear dropped down her cheek as she
watched Shirley trustingly put her hands in
Mary’s outstretched ones. But it was not
Shirley that she was worried about. She
worried about Mary and as the hands met, it
was as though she were the trusting child and
Shirley the kind adult.
‘You are an albino?’ Shirley asked. Purities
hand went to her lips and Dwombo made to
interrupt, but Mary silenced them with a laugh.
1105
‘Yes,’ she said smiling through her tears.
‘Yes, I am an albino. And some people think
that we are not normal, that we are not…’ she
looked down at their joined hands then looked
up again. ‘…beautiful. But we are the same, all
of us we are all people and when we can be
loved and love back.’
She felt her mother’s hands come around
her again. But she did not relinquish the child’s
hands. And Shirley looked at her as if in deep
thought.
‘You are not that bad,’ she said and Mary
laughed. She cried and she laughed for another
ten minutes as her mother held her and as she
held her precocious little sister’s hands.
Outside, Masta was leaving having planted his
human tracking device.
‘It cannot be,’ Gideon said. ‘He is a servant

of God.’
1106
‘We were all shocked but it makes perfect
sense,’ Solomon said. They were walking back
toward the witch-hunters’ town. ‘He is the only
one of his ilk that remains. All the rest were
taken by the nothing. But he remains, you
know why?’
‘The witches divert the nothing from his
door?’ Gideon surmised.
‘Yes indeed,’ Solomon said slapping his
back. ‘You catch on quick brother. He is our
traitor, he has been in cahoots with the witches
for a long time now but we are finally onto
him.’
‘How did you find out?’ Gideon asked.
‘Didn’t I tell you brother?’ Solomon asked. ‘I
know everything.’
‘But before…’ Gideon wanted to know how
he had suddenly come to this knowledge.
‘Never mind that brother,’ Solomon said.
‘He will pay for his sins.’
1107
‘You will kill him?’
‘No,’ Solomon laughed again. ‘He will do it
to himself, that’s how we will know for certain
that he is a traitor.’
When Gideon went to question him, he
raised a hand and stood stock still as though
he were listening to the wind.
‘We are being followed,’ he whispered
urgently.
Gideon stood also and looked around. He
didn’t see or hear anything. He looked back
where they had come. It was morning now but
in the dim light of the Midlands, he could not
make out what lay further than two hundred
meters of flat land. Was it the witches?
‘You have something of them,’ Solomon
spoke in the same raspy whisper. ‘They follow
something you have.’
‘What? Who?’ Gideon asked flummoxed.
1108
‘The black owls,’ Solomon said. ‘Hurry
whatever you have throw it to the mist! They
must not get to us.’
The candle, Gideon thought. He reached his
back pocket and removed the remaining
candle. He gave it to Solomon.
‘Throw it!’ Solomon hissed so viciously
Gideon winced.
Taking aim into the mist, he threw it as hard
as he could.
‘Good,’ Solomon said. ‘Let’s run a little.’
A little turned out to be a kilometre at half
sprint. Gideon was panting by the time
Solomon slowed down to a brisk walk.
‘You guys never tire?’ Gideon panted.
Solomon just laughed. ‘You get used to it,’
he said. ‘If you are lucky, otherwise you die.’
Gideon swallowed when he remembered
how close he had come to losing his neck just
1109
that morning. He remembered the old man of
the basement as he thought of him.
‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘You said that the old
man will not be killed?’
Solomon nodded. ‘He will do it to himself,’
he repeated what he had said.
‘How?’ Gideon asked struggling to keep
pace with him.
‘Well he dealt with the witches for his life,’
Solomon said slowing down as he talked. ‘But
now, thanks to you, they are angry because
the have been thwarted.’
‘The children,’ Gideon said as though the
word tasted vile.
‘Yes,’ Solomon nodded. ‘Now all we have to
see is how he will survive when the nothing
comes for him.’
‘You know when it is coming.’ Gideon
whispered.
1110
‘Tomorrow,’ Solomon agreed. ‘The one who
calls himself God’s servant will meet his end.’
‘Jesus,’ Gideon said under his breath. ‘And
the children? I still don’t understand that.’
‘There are things brother,’ Solomon said.
‘You will be glad not to understand.’
Gideon kept quiet as they walked toward
the gates which were just visible up ahead.
‘Tell me,’ Solomon said. ‘How did you
escape the wolves’ lair?’
‘How did you…’ and then he remembered
that Solomon knew everything. And therein lay
the paradox. How comes he didn’t know some
things. He decided to do an experiment.
‘I managed to work the latch from inside the
room, and just before the beasts came in I
sneaked out into the night and went to rescue
the creatures I thought were children.’ Gideon
lied.
1111
Solomon looked at him but he seemed to
swallow the lie.
‘I have not thanked you for saving me
Solomon,’ Gideon added. ‘Thank you, I owe you
my life.’
Solomon beamed at that and his grin was
sincere as he patted Gideon on the shoulder.
‘You are worth saving brother.’
They walked to the gates and were
momentarily let in.
1112
35
SHE STAYED FAR LONGER THAN SHE

HAD EXPECTED. Mary was happy. Her mother
had married well. Dwombo was a good man
and Shirley was such a princess it was hard not
to adore her.
The hours flew by as she was embraced by
her new family. She laughed and initiated
conversation and Purity wanted to cry with
happiness when she saw that her daughter had
finally embraced life.
But soon, she came to her senses. It had
the feeling of Cinderella’s ball when she had to
leave. It was as though this was a dream world,
something that she didn’t deserve and could
never be a part of.
Her mother knew how she felt and didn’t
want her to leave. Dwombo stated that the
guest room was free and could be readied
1113
immediately. But she had to think about
Gideon. He had given her this after all.
For an afternoon, she had been truly happy
and although it was tempting to spend the
night, she knew that she could not. She had to
go back to her lonely house and her lonely
existence.
But not for long. She was convinced that it
was not too late to live a happy life that she
hadn’t known when she was growing up.
‘Please say you will come back,’ Purity
whispered as they embraced at the door. Mary
could hear the fear in her voice. ‘You will be so
good for Shirley and me too baby. I miss you.’
And when Mary nodded whispering a teary
yes, she found that she told the truth. She
would be back. She would live a more open
outgoing life. But now, she had to take care of
Gideon. He was the key.
1114
She left after many hugs with her mother
and Shirley who insisted on being included. But
she smiled and laughed when the older women
cried and clung to each other. But there was a
clean air. Mary was cleansed and she had a
light heart as she got into her car.
It was evening. She was suddenly panicky
and she reversed quickly without the
knowledge that she had a passenger in the
vehicle with her.
She drove fast to her house. Once there,
her heart beating she ran into the house barley
closing the car door. She left the front door
open wide and rushed into her bedroom where
she had left Gideon.
She let out a soft scream when she saw
him.
Gideon was feeling increasingly weak. He

had stopped bleeding from his wounds but
1115
they looked ugly. Solomon had simply told him
that they would not kill him.
‘You don’t die in the Midlands from illness,’
he had said and left it at that.
They had come back earlier in the day. He
had lead Gideon back to his ‘office.’ But inside,
he had been taken to a door he had not
noticed before. Behind it, was the most
comfortable room he had ever seen.
It looked straight out of his best
imagination. There were three reed settees
arranged around a low wooden table. There
were comfortable looking cushions on them
and the on the floor was a thick wide rug.
At one end, stood a huge fireplace with a
wooden mantel piece. The walls were painted
another cream where they had been plastered
but along the side where the fireplace stood,
the wall was bare. The beautiful natural stone
was elegantly en sync with the whole setting.
1116
It had the feel of a mountain cabin. The only
thing that lacked, was windows that let in a
beautiful view of a mountainside.
‘Welcome to my humble home,’ Solomon
had said. He walked over to the mantelpiece
and reached for the wolf’s head which he had
forgotten all about.
‘Think it’ll look good up there?’ he asked.
Then before Gideon answered, he said. ‘Yeah? I
think so too.’
He led Gideon along a corridor to a room
that fit into the rest of the décor. He felt their
boots fall against the wood panelling as they
went to the room.
There was a large wooden bed that looked
too comfortable. Gideon didn’t need to be told
to lie down.
‘Shut your eyes,’ Solomon told him. ‘I will go
prepare this trophy. When you open your eyes,
it will be much later. Sleep, you will recover.’
1117
But Gideon was increasingly feeling worse.
The wound on his shoulder was ugly and the
one on his cheek felt raw to the touch. And
they ached badly. He wondered if there was
truth to Solomon’s words about never dying
from disease here. Well what happened? The
pain in his shoulder and cheek would not just
go away.
He had to get something to put on them. He
wondered what they used for methylated spirit
here. He remembered the ethanol in Solomon’s
drawer. It would smart but he would have
disinfected his wounds at least. The bleeding
had stopped but he had to take care they
didn’t become septic.
It was alright to say that he would not die
but he wasn’t sure about losing a whole limb or
one side of his face to infection.
He struggled onto his feet. He swooned and
had to hold onto the frame of the bed so as not
1118
to fall. He sat down gingerly and held his head
in his hands. He took a deep breath feeling his
head stop spinning.
He stood up slowly this time. He was very
weak. He knew his body was getting sick. He
walked to the door and opened it. It had been
quite some time since Solomon left. He wasn’t
sure if he was around, he hoped he was.
He wanted to ask the man for some food.
He was not hungry, nor was he thirsty. But he
was bleeding, and he was feeling faint, that to
him meant that he had a body that used food.
He had not seen anyone eat least of all
Solomon. That was another curious thing about
the Midlands.
He walked out of the room holding himself
upright with his hands at the jamb. He stepped
onto the corridor spreading his hands on the
walls to support himself.
1119
He stepped onto the wood a slow step by
slow step. His boots made a soft click as the
heel touched the floor.
He made his way to the front door past the
cosy sitting room. But there was no sign of
Solomon. Maybe he was in his office, Gideon
thought.
He opened the door and stepped into the
office. But Solomon wasn’t here either. He
moved to the desk in his weak tentative steps,
his hands outstretched like a tightrope walker.
The desk was cold when he touched it. He
sunk into Solomon’s seat heavily. It was so soft
and comfortable and for the umpteenth time,
Gideon felt certain that Solomon was some sort
of lord here. It was the only way to explain the
opulence of his home compared to the barren
look of the rest of the town.
And then there was that swagger he had.
And that confident look and all-knowing smile.
1120
And what was it he was called? The wise, the
one who knows everything.
Gideon reached for the bottle of ethanol. He
took out a mug and filled it halfway. Better to
go overboard than to use less. He opened the
bottle feeling the smell of ethanol permeate
the room once more.
He opened his shirt and bared his shoulder.
Then clenching his teeth gingerly so that he
spared his left cheek, he poured the liquid onto
the shoulder. He winced as it cut sharply into
him. He waited for a minute and then doused
the wound again. He wanted to feel it but it
was too painful. He would have to be satisfied
with this bathe.
Then satisfied he had done the best for his
shoulder, the pain was receeding into a dull
ache as the nerves became numb, he turned to
his other wound. He bent his head to the right
1121
and then with a shaking left hand, he poured a
drop of the alcohol onto his wound.
He winced and his head fell on his wounded
shoulder as he jerked it reflexively. He cursed
throatily as he held his head steady. He poured
another drop and clenched his teeth so hard
his head was trembling.
Satisfied, he shut his eyes and the rest of
the alcohol went into his mouth. He held it
against the wounded cheek feeling it burn. And
then when he could not take it anymore, he
swallowed the potent drink in one gulp.
He returned the bottle after sealing it. The
mug went into the drawer and as he went to
shut it, his eyes saw a bunch of keys. The drink
was potent and he could feel the effects almost
immediately but the pain in his body held the
drunkenness at bay for a while.
1122
Anyway, he reached for the bunch of keys.
There were about twenty keys. He wondered
what doors they opened.
Perhaps it was the mild inebriation that
made him act against all good reason, but
when Gideon stood up, he had the keys in his
hand.
He walked around the desk slowly, allowing
his limited strength to move through his body.
He reached for the door and saw how he had
missed it. It fit into the rest of the wall
perfectly.
In fact, only the knob sold it.
Gideon turned it and his eyes met the evil
malevolent eyes of the wolf that perched over
the mantel piece. Solomon had been busy it
seemed. It told Gideon that he had been out of
it for quite some time.
The wolf looked like his partner in the office.
But for some reason – maybe because this one
1123
had been about to tear into his neck, he
seemed more dangerous, more evil somewhat.
It was as though the dark eyes saw him.
He looked away from the dead stare and
walked toward the corridor, keys in hand. His
eyes were opened for more concealed doors.
He told himself that he was looking for food –
that was what he would tell Solomon if he was
found, but the truth was that he was snooping.
He walked down the corridor to the last
door on his left. He felt that it was what would
be the master bedroom. He turned the knob
but nothing happened. He took out the keys
and looked at them.
Deciding to start on one direction and work
his way down the ring, he inserted the first key.
It didn’t open the door.
1124
Mary ran to the bed tears springing to her
eyes. The pillow and the sheets aroung his
neck was filled with blood.
She was certain that his neck had been slit
open. But when she touched him gingerly, she
saw that his neck was intact.
Quickly inspecting his pulse, she was glad
to hear the steady beat against her fingers.
She rushed to the bathroom. She got some
cotton wool and methylated spirit and her
surgical thread.
She took off his shirt and saw the weird
wound on his shoulder. She washed it with a
wet warm clean towel. Then his face and he
saw the wound on his cheek.
She looked closely at the wounds and
wondered what could have inflicted them. She
heard the clear sound of a bird calling. It was a
hoot of an owl. Looking sharply at the window,
1125
it was wide open and the curtain was being
blown inside by an early night draught.
She hurried over to the window and shut it
cursing herself again for staying out too late.
She doused the cotton in the spirit wondering if
some large bird had done this. It looked
increasingly likely that he had been pecked by
a large bird on his cheek and the wound in his
shoulder could have been from fierce claws
sinking into his tissue.
She looked back at the window she had
closed her brow furrowed. But the wounds had
stopped bleeding. She could see the clots. But
she had to clean it and so it would open again.
She went about her work steadily and
efficiently.
Then she bandaged his shoulder and used
band on his cheek. She went and dumped the
soiled cotton. She had stitched his cheek, but
his shoulder looked alright, if a little ugly.
1126
She came back to the bed and changed the
beddings. She noticed then that he felt rather
warm to the touch. He was becoming feverish.
She fought not to panic and got a basin of cool
water and a clean towel.
She placed it on his forehead and sat beside
him for an hour painstakingly monitoring his
progress. At nine in the night, she walked past
the sitting room to change the water when she
noticed the front door was open.
She went to close it and then remembered
the car. She walked down the steps and shut
the door. She had left the key in the ignition
and took them locking the door. Then as she
walked round back, she noticed the back door
was not shut. She pushed it wondering when
she had opened it last.
She must have left it open when she took
out the tools after leaving the cemetery. But
1127
she didn’t think so. Anyway, she told herself.
She had more important things to think about.
She closed it and walked into the house
shutting the front door. She changed the water
in the basin and went back to her patient not
suspecting that she had a second guest.
Sergeant Sege was home when the call

came. His wife groaned knowing that work had
again, interrupted what had promised to be a
nice quality time with her husband.
It was just past nine.
‘You got a match?’ he asked.
‘Yes sir,’ the man on the other side said.
‘Well,’ he said impatiently. ‘Do we have a
name?’
‘Better than that sir,’ the junior officer
announced. ‘We have a name and an address.’
‘Out with it,’ Sege said.
1128
He listened committing the information to
memory.
‘Good man,’ he said. He looked at his wife,
she glared back at him. ‘Look, we can get him
in the morning early as the sunrises.’
‘Yes sir.’
And Sergeant Sege got a beaming smile
from his wife that rivalled the time when he
had come home carrying her lost kitten.
Gideon got the door finally open with the

nineteenth key. If he had started from the
other side, he would have opened it with the
second key.
He pushed the door open and peered in
cautiously. The room was bare. There was no
furniture inside. It was like he had not decided
what to do with it. One thing Gideon was sure
about, was that this was not his master
bedroom.
1129
He stepped into it nevertheless. He would
not lock the door for nothing. His eyes strained
against the dim light. It was getting late he
knew. He could feel the cool breeze of evening.
Well, he thought. There was nothing here.
He turned to leave and then he caught a gleam
at the corner of his eye.
He turned sharply and saw across the room,
opposite the door he had entered, a hidden
door knob. It was metallic, and it blended into
the wall better than the door from his office.
Feeling his heart race, Gideon crossed the
room and reached for the knob.
He turned it. Nothing happened. The door
was locked. Just his luck, he sighed. He brought
out the keys again. He was holding the key
that had opened the door behind him. So now
he had nineteen keys. He wondered which side
to start with this time.
1130
He did a mental inky-pinky-ponky but he
didn’t finish the childish rhyme and arbitrarily
choosing a key, he slotted it in the keyhole.
He turned the key. The door unlocked. He
released a shaky breath as he turned the knob
again and pushed the door open.
Then he heard the click cluck of boots
against the wood panels. Solomon was back!
He froze as he heard the boot-falls come

closer. Click cluck. What would he do? He
thought panicking. He could not just appear
suddenly and say that he had been searching
for food.
He stood there frozen as he wondered what
Solomon would do when he found him here as
red handed as they come.
And then as he listened, the boots stopped
in a resounding cluck! Gideon wasn’t
breathing. He strained his ears. He heard a
1131
door swing open. And then it closed again
sharply and the boots marched faster away
toward the office.
He knew that whoever that had been, he
had just stopped at the door to the room
Gideon had been sleeping. He doubted
whether it was Solomon. In fact now that he
thought about it, the boot-falls had not been in
keeping with the slow confident swagger of
Solomon.
So if it wasn’t him then who was it? He
stood still breathing through his nose as he
waited for the man to come back. He was fully
alert now. Both the inebriation and the illness
had left him. If he was drunk, it was with
adrenaline.
But the sound of boots didn’t return. He
pushed the door he stood at and peered into
the room. The door opened to a case of stairs
that went down into some form of basement.
1132
He descended the stairs slowly. The dim
light didn’t spill in here and he struck his lucky
lighter. The light bathed the stairs and he
concentrated on where his feet went.
Momentarily, he was at the lowest step. A
sickly putrid smell wafted to his nose.
He looked up and gagged. There were all
over the floor. Bodies and more bodies. They
were strewn all over. His light fell on their slain
bodies. All had been cut across from the
shoulder down to the hip. And back from the
other shoulder forming a crude X.
And as he watched, it was as if the smell
became stronger. It was as if it had the help of
the visual aid and was not making him sicker
than he had felt. His brow was wet and he was
shivering where he stood. The dull ache in his
shoulder had started throbbing again.
The haphazard manner the bodies had been
arranged thawed his mind and coherent
1133
thought started filtering in. He walked further
into the room cringing when he felt this boot
sink into yielding flesh. But there was no
helping it. The whole floor was piled with
bodies.
Except the centre. He uncapped the light
and watched wide eyed as the dancing light fell
on a curious prop in this macabre stage. It was
a bed. It had a gilted frame that had a weird
winding design.
The mattress was full and had a deep red
spreading. This was someone’s idea of a
bedroom? And then he remembered what he
had thought earlier about this being the most
likely place where a master bedroom would be.
Was this Solomon’s doing? It seemed so.
And what was he then? The one who knows his
mind told him. He know you…you know him…
he knows me…he knows… the creature in the
small girl’s body had said.
1134
The one who knows… he was the one who
had given the witches the children! Of course it
was him. What had the old witch said, who
needs the children most? He wondered about
that. If it was Solomon, then what did he use
them for? He had said that some things Gideon
would be glad not to know, but he had to know.
You know…he heard the witch’s voice tell
him.
He nodded. Yes I know, he thought. I know
that Solomon is some sort of evil lord of the
Midlands. He is not the reason I was sent to
this Godforsaken place. He is no t my brother
anymore than I am his.
I cannot save him from himself. But what
did I come here for? There must be a reason
why he was in Midlands. He was certain of that.
You know… the witch whispered in his ear
again. It was so realistic he thought she was
there.
1135
He looked at the bodies again. What was
Solomon? He asked himself again. He bent low
and looked at the open mouthed ashen face of
one of the dead. He had been dressed in a
simple robe. The robe of a clergy man. He
looked closer and yes he saw the glitter of a
crucifix around the man’s neck.
The old man of the basement. The servant
of God. These were the others he spoke of.
They had all perished leaving him. And he was
to die tomorrow.
That was why he was here! His heart
started beating and he stood up on his wobbly
legs with resolve. That is why am here, he
thought. He walked toward the stairs thinking it
through. I was sent here to save him. The man
of God cannot die. He is the only one left, I
must save him.
I am not here for the war or for Solomon, he
thought. But still the guilt would not leave him.
1136
He wondered whether he would ever be free of
it.
He walked back to the top and locked the
door behind him. His slow step took him to the
corridor. But by now he was not just shivering,
he was sweating profusely. And he was as hot
as a kettle. He knew what this was – fever.
What do they use for aspirin here, he
wondered. In this land that had no electricity,
yet had streetlamps, there was not much
promise of modern amenities like a simple
aspirin.
He was feeling very sick and weak. He
stopped at the door to the room he had slept in
– in the exact spot that the boot wearer had
stood in. He went into the room and sunk on
the bed. He would shut his eyes a little and
then when he had enough strength, he would
do what he was sent here to do – get the old
1137
man from the basement and look for his way
back home.
He would just shut his eyes for a minute
until he had regained his strength, he thought.
But when his head hit the pillow, he blacked
out.
36
MARY JERKED AWAKE AT SIX. She had

stayed up all night tending to Gideon. She had
finally fell into a weary slumber at four in the
morning.
1138
She checked him and was glad to conclude
that at least he was on this side of the grave.
She smiled to herself at her thoughts.
Getting up, she went to take a shower and
prepare for her meeting with Hannah. She was
getting worried more and more with each day
she had to wake up to him still being in a
coma. He could get dehydrated and with the
lack of nutrition, she could be killing him as
surely as if she buried him alive.
But she stiffened her back. She had to hope.
Most of all, she had to believe. And was her
wont these past few days, she said a prayer -
a long one, for him this morning. She hoped
that she would not wake up the next morning
with him still out of it.
She wondered what she would do when
worse came to worse. If he stayed the week
under, she was obliged to get him to hospital.
But that smell right with her. She guessed time
1139
would have to tell and hoped fervently that it
would not come to that.
She was ready in the hour and after a final
prayer by his bed and after checking that he
was breathing and his wounds had not turned
septic, she took a deep breath and walked out.
Presently, she had reversed the Fiat and was
out – this time she had made certain that the
window in the bedroom was close; she didn’t
want any nasty surprises when she came back.
Noel got out of the pantry where he had
been curled up the whole night. He had thrown
some rugs on the floor and slept on them. It
had been very comfortable compared to some
of the places he had had to sleep in.
And with all the fruits he could steal, he was
not complaining. He had fallen into a deep
sleep and only the sound of the car’s engine
had woken him up.
1140
He had told himself that he would go back
to town the same way he came. But now, that
he had been left, he saw the wisdom of it. He
was sure to memories the way of he left on
foot rather than hidden at the back of a car.
Plus, this gave him time to snoop. He got up
and stretched his limbs. The house really was
beautiful. He walked into the living room and
looked around searching for sign of another
person.
Nothing indicated that the lady lived with
anyone else. He tiptoed to her bedroom not
exactly sure why he was being so furtive. He
peered into the bright room and saw lying on
the bed a man. He looked big and he was
asleep.
Noel’s heart was thumping hard. This, he
was certain, was the man the woman had
exhumed at the cemetery the other night. Was
he alive? He appeared to be breathing – the
1141
steady rise and fall of his chest being any
indication.
The boy stepped further into the room. The
man didn’t open his eyes. But he sure was
breathing. Was he asleep? In that case
wouldn’t it be wise to leave? But Noel’s feet
didn’t listen to his feverish mind.
He wondered if the woman was a witch or a
miracle worker or a confluence between a
ghost and an angel.
The man’s eyes were fluttering rapidly as he
had seen some blind people do. Maybe he was
blind. The eyelid sometimes parted enough for
him to see just the white of his eyes.
And then he let out a blood curdling moan.
Noel’s foot turned back toward the door. The
man then started moaning louder and started
thrashing all over the bed. There was foam
between his lips. His eyelid parted further and
1142
the whites looked right at Noel. The boy farted
and jumped out of the bedroom.
He did not linger in the house for the
breakfast he had envisaged. He turned to the
back door and jerkily opened it tearing away
from the house. He did not stop running until
he got to the main road some half a kilometre
away.
He kept looking behind his back for a
zombie with white eyes that had an urge to kill
him. But he was alone and he got to town
unharmed. He had trekked a very long distance
and by the time he was seating down to talk to
Masta and the rest, it was going to nine.
Mary Ndati got into St. Monica’s Mental

Institute right on time. She went staright to the
matron – Ms. Bishi’s office.
1143
The older woman was there in her crisp
modern office, looking crisp and smartly
modern herself.
‘Tea, Ms. Ndati?’ she asked motioning for
her to take a seat. But Mary was antsy today.
And she didn’t want to stay out long. The guilt
of what had happened the previous day while
she was out having fun weighed heavily on her
still.
‘No thank you,’ she declined politely.
‘I gather only one thing will appease you
this morning,’ the older lady said pleasantly. It
was easy to like her – when one had all day.
‘Yes Ms. Bishi,’ Mary said struggling to stay
civil. ‘I really need to talk to Hannah Maina.’
‘I’ll get her ready,’ the matron said and
picked up a phone. It was a slim holder, ivory
in colour and in keeping with the rest of the
office; ultra modern.
1144
She issued some terse commands and
certain they would be followed, replaced the
phone receiver. She smiled at Mary.
‘I’ll lead you to the veranda,’ she said
getting to her feet. ‘She will meet you there.’
What she called the veranda, was actually a
terrace that over looked a green valley just
beyond the Institution’s compound. There were
two comfortable rocking chairs that had been
placed there overlooking the green scenery.
There was a coffee table made of papyrus
reed woven delicately, between the two seats.
The day’s paper sat over the glass top.
A cool breeze hit her face as she sunk into
the comfy chair. Promising her that Hannah
would be out momentarily, the matron went off
to her glassy office.
Mary took the paper and sat back in the
seat enjoying nature, feeling the breeze soothe
her. The story was on the third page. She
1145
cringed as she read the details painted in lurid
diction by the journalist, of her midnight
adventure.
Grave-robber was the nicest term in which
she was referred to by the journalist. The
article went on to surmise on what she had dug
out the body for. And again, voodoo was a kind
word. She was painted as a vampire that had
by now fed on the embalmed tissue of the
dead man.
She rocked back as she went on reading
with incredulity now, about the police finding
the hideout of a hitherto notoriously ‘invisible’
gang. It appeared that her desecration of
Gideon Maina’s final resting place had not been
all bad. Unless, she was one of the gang. Of
course in the article, the journalist refrained
from referring to any specific gender and wrote
‘person X’ when he didn’t just go ahead with
the name-calling.
1146
She was wondering now who these other
guys could be. Were they in their hideout that
night? Did they see her? It could be a big
problem if they did. But it had been night and
besides, they would have no way to know her
place.
And Gideon… she jumped cutting her train
of thought. A soft hand lay on her left shoulder.
‘Are you Ms. Ndati?’ she heard the soft
tones of a tired but surprised woman.
She turned to look behind and was
astonished.
‘Mrs. Maina?’ she croaked. The woman
nodded. She was gorgeous. Her skin was
choclate brown and her face even looking worn
and her hair all shaggy and unmade, was
exquisite. She looked like a princess out of bed.
And this was her worst?
Mary discovered that she was staring. In her
efforts to correct herself, she overcorrected.
1147
She went to get up so that the other woman
wouldn’t have the added advantage of height,
but she forgot she was on a rocking chair.
It swung back as she went forward and
would have landed in a disgraceful heap on the
floor if Hannah hadn’t reached forward and
caught her.
‘Ah-ah-ah,’ Mary stuttered righting herself.
‘Ah, thanks.’
Hannah smiled a small curve of her perfect
mouth. She managed to look even lovelier. She
was one of that rare species of women, who
looked beautiful the moment you saw them
and stayed so even days later – only it seemed
Hannah could get better with time.
She knew she was gawking and she knew
she would despise herself later for it. But she
could not stop herself. And then the tentacles
of the past insecurities, the feeling of
1148
inadequacy, the feeling that she was just too
ugly, started creeping up her neck again.
She shut her eyes and took a deep breath.
She opened them and still Hannah was staring
at her in a manner that was totally
intimidating. She was seven years her senior
Mary reminded herself.
‘Are you Ms. Ndati?’ Hannah asked again.
She looked very lucid if a little pale.
‘Yes, yes am sorry,’ Mary nodded fearing
her tongue was forever nerveless and when
her voice came, fearing she wouldn’t stop.
‘It is not everyday I get a visitor,’ Hannah
said and then she smiled a purely impish smile
that made her look much younger. ‘Although I
have been told it is not everyday that I am in a
position to get visitors.’
Mary smiled back at her and remembering
herself, stepped back and motioned Hannah to
the other seat. Hannah stepped forward and
1149
sat. Mary took her seat once more and for a
moment, the ladies let the breeze capture
them and take them in to a peaceful somnolent
aura.
‘You are here about Gideon,’ Hannah said
quietly as though she didn’t want to intrude
into Mary’s thoughts.
Mary turned and noticed that Hannah had
the paper in her lap. She had obviously read
the article.
‘Am sorry Hannah,’ Mary whispered back.
‘I was too mad to go bury my husband that
day,’ Hannah said in the same flat whisper.
And then her shoulders started trembling as
her lips shook. She lowered her head as her
whole body was raked in sobs.
‘You know,’ she said as she cried. ‘He was
the only thing that made sense to me. In all the
years of my life, he was my most constant
thing. And now,’ she sobbed heavily and Mary
1150
placed a hand on her shoulder feeling terribly
weak and helpless.
‘Now,’ Hannah went on determinedly. ‘I am
mad six days a week. And I have come to
detest this single day where my sane mind
remembers all my past insane actions of the
week. I want it to go too, so that I will wallow in
the bliss of total madness…’ she sobbed for
five whole minutes while Mary wondered
whether or not to call for assistance. But soon,
she gradually stopped.
She gripped the paper, wiping her eyes with
the back of her hand. She looked at the article
through her teary eyes. She was now sniffling
pitiably.
‘Who would do such a thing?’ she asked
looking at Mary suddenly.
Mary was lost for words. She could not meet
Hannah’s tearful eyes and shook her head
looking down. Hannah stared at her for long
1151
but when she would say something, a nurse
appeared behind them with a tea tray.
‘How are you this morning Mrs. Maina?’ she
said cheerfully noticeably failing to notice the
tears on her face. She turned to Mary. ‘And
you, our guest I hope it’s a nice morning you
are having.’
‘Thank you Jane,’ Hannah whispered her
eyes fluttering to the nurse’s face and then
back to the open field over the terrace.
Mary whispered something kind and Jane
placed her tea and biscuits and left after
ordering them to enjoy.
Mary served the tea and gave Hannah a
cup. She took hers and sipped at it quietly.
Hannah did the same and then placed her cup
back on the table.
‘Nice people here,’ Mary said feeling
Hannah wanted to say something but she was
hesitant.
1152
‘I peed on Jane’s sweater yesterday,’
Hannah said looking down.
Why? Mary wanted to asked and caught
herself just in time. However, Hannah seemed
to read her mind. She smiled at her then joked,
‘I was mad!’
They laughed. It was a fitting sound Mary
thought. She looked at Hannah and the other
lady smiled warmly taking her tea.
‘Why did you come to see me Ms. Ndati?’
Hannah asked putting her empty cup of tea
back on its saucer.
‘I came to tell you that your husband had
passed,’ Mary spoke tenderly.
Hannah nodded breathing in deeply. ‘How
did you know him?’ she asked on an expelled
breath. She didn’t look at Mary, instead, her
eyes were glued to the panoramic view. Then
as Mary struggled with her tea – she had
swallowed too fast and it burned her, she
1153
looked back and stared straight in her eyes.
‘Are you the other woman?’
Mary looked down and then up and then
finally into Hannah’s eyes. She decided to say
the truth.
‘Gideon and I have known each other for
three days only,’ she looked away. ‘He was
quite a man.’
‘You love him?’ Hannah asked. Mary nodded
her eyes drawing back slowly to Hannah. She
smiled. ‘Aren’t you rather young?’
Mary laughed. ‘He said the same thing,’ she
looked into Hannah’s eyes. ‘He is my soul
mate.’
‘I just met him earlier,’ Hannah said as if
finishing Mary’s thought.
Mary nodded and then went quiet. Then she
looked up again. ‘You know he was sorry for
everything – he always wanted to tell you that.
1154
He said he wished he could explain things to
you.’
‘He blamed himself for my condition,’
Hannah said. ‘Did you know he kept me locked
up in our house until I tried to murder him? I
see he has. You two must have really gotten
close.’
‘I hope you are not offended…’ Mary said.
‘No,’ Hannah interrupted. ‘Not at all. If
Gideon trusted you, then you are trustworthy.
He was a quiet man. Quite reserved – always
had been. It took long for him to form bonds.
But when he formed them, they didn’t break
easy. And that is the reason he will never be
the same after what happened.’
‘You mean when he took his brother’s life?’
Mary whispered feeling the raw pain inside
again as though Gideon were confessing it
right then.
1155
Hannah nodded and seemed like she would
cry again. ‘Gideon loved Solo more than
anything in the world, to be driven to do that…’
she could not continue.
‘He told me about,’ Mary spoke, paused and
then forged ahead. ‘About the rape.’
Hannah shuddered as if she were reliving
the memory. Mary thought for an instance that
she had overstepped boundaries asking the
other woman to recall such a painful thing.
‘Solomon,’ she said clenching her teeth
literally. ‘Was a mad maniac. He was an insane
lunatic that should never have seen the outside
of an asylum.
‘He took advantage of my trust, he violated
it. He forced himself on his in-law. He was a
pathetic man.’ She paused breathing in deeply.
Mary reached for her hand and held it feeling
she had done something good when Hannah
held it tightly. Her eyes were gazing off to the
1156
horizon as though she could see what she was
describing, way over there.
‘He came to the house that day when
Gideon was not in. He usually came and we
would spend time together,’ she sniffled and
looked down, uncharacteristically abashed. ‘I
was probably quite a flirt…’
‘No,’ Mary said gripping her hand tight.
‘None of it was your fault.’
‘But he suddenly jumped on me that day. I
thought he was playing and tried to shoo him
off playfully. But I think he got the wrong idea.
Soon he had me on the floor and he was so
strong I could not fight him.
‘I tried to scream but I was thinking about
so many things at the same time I could not
concentrate you know?’
Mary who never forget the terror of being in
the grips of Mboch’s lecherous clutches,
nodded with understanding.
1157
‘He was so heavy I could not breath. And
then I told him I would tell Gideon,’ Hannah
went on still gazing afar. ‘But he laughed and
said that I was a tease, that I had got it coming
to me a long time, denying Gideon his rights…
and then he did it.’ She started sobbing then
but Mary didn’t even notice it. Her mind had
frozen on the one thing Hannah had said.
‘He told you that you were a tease?’ she
asked incredulously.
Hannah nodded sobbing silently. ‘He said
many things to me that I do not want to
remember.’
‘But,’ Mary started. Then she kept quiet as
the picture unfolded and finally made sense to
her. ‘It was his grandfather!’
Hannah nodded. ‘That old man is a lunatic,’
she said again. ‘He is the reason why am
here…’ and then as though Hannah were
1158
seeing her for the first time, she turned and
stared at Mary.
Mary looked back at her. And finally she
understood why Gideon had killed his brother
so coldly and Mary closed her eyes and said
another prayer.
‘Oh Gideon,’ Mary heard and was not sure if
she had said it or whether the words came
from Hannah.
‘We’ll go in the afternoon,’ Masta decreed. ‘I

want to make sure she is there when we go.’
Noel had just finished updating them on his
adventure. And with frozen attention, they had
heard about the body that now seemed to be
very much alive.
They wondered what all that meant. And of
course they strayed into voodoo and Masta had
to cut the debate short. If they went on
1159
thinking that the woman was some great
sorcerer capabale of bringing life to the dead,
then they would be too scared to do what he
had in mind.
He had to be avenged. The discovery of
their hideout was not a minor setback. Even if
the AK had not been found, they would still be
out of operation of a while. The police search
would force them into aestivation, not to
mention the lack of a secure den.
And he had every intention of punishing
that wraithlike woman who had started all this.
He needed the others’ help and it would not do
to have them thinking that the woman was
some god of life and death.
And so, he interrupted their silly talk. He
wanted to surprise the woman. He thought of
her as ghost-woman. They would attack late in
the afternoon when she was sure to be home
and at her most relaxed state.
1160
‘The whole place is so secluded,’ Noel had
said, and that made Masta smile. It was fate,
he thought. The ghost-woman will pay.
‘Let’s meet here at three in the afternoon
and then we will start for her place.’ Masta
said. ‘Go.’
They dispersed and headed their separate
ways.
Sergeant Sege and a group of ten officers

were waiting for Obim at his old mother’s
place. When he came from the meeting at the
park with the rest of the six bandits, Obim
walked into a very neat, very well-placed net.
He was whisked away the moment his
elderly mother confirmed his name. She went
back to sleep immediately they left. She was
old and sickly and had better things to do than
worry about her rogue son and the police.
1161
There were down at the station in fifteen
minutes. Obim was frogmarched to an
interrogation room and cuffed to a single metal
seat bolted to the floor.
‘Let him stew in his own heat for a while,’
Sergeant Sege ordered. ‘We’ll get him soon.’
The light woke him up. It filtered through

the slits between the curtains on the windows
stinging his shut eyes.
Gideon turned uncomfortably on the bed.
His eyes gradually fluttered open and then
closed tight when the blaring light stung them
hotly.
He wiped his smarting eyes and turned
again groaning. He woke up gradually as he
took in his surroundings. Images came back to
him in a swift relentless tide and he shot up
fast.
1162
The reel of memories ran like a movie in his
mind with the final picture being the burial
place he had found at Solomon’s basement.
And then he remembered the old man. The
nothing!
It comes with the sun… Solomon had said.
The light! He turned sharply to the window.
Trembling slightly, he walked to the curtains.
He turned it aside and looked up into the sky. It
was as bright as a hot equinox day.
The nothing was coming! He had to save
the man of God.
Turning, he took the keys he had slept with
and flew out of the room. He got out of the
office and stepped onto the empty streets.
He found it funny that in this world, light
was feared and thought of as a harbinger of
death, while dark and gloom were friend. He
knew the streets would be devoid of people as
they would be cooped up in their houses,
1163
probably under their beds – seeking their loved
darkness, trying to get as far away from the
light as possible.
They all feared the nothing. No one had
ever seen it and no one ever would. The sun
shone and they hid, and then the nothing
came. Only those it took, saw it.
Gideon had a good idea what the nothing
was. He could still see the bed placed right in
the middle of all that rotting flesh. That was
where someone found peace and quiet to
sleep. That someone was as cosy with death as
a friend. That person could only be Solomon.
Gideon had to save the old man. If this was
the last thing he would ever do, then so be it.
But he could not let the man die and be the
newest decoration in the basement a crude X
sliced into his torso.
He found the church easily enough. It had
been the first building here and the town had
1164
grown from there. It was at the very centre of
the witch-hunters’ town. The witch-hunters and
the witches, Gideon thought. They were no
different from each other. It was a wonder why
they wanted to fight at all.
Inside the church, he made for the door to
the basement. He found the burly man who
had sought to cut his neck not a long time ago
standing guard before it. He had fallen asleep
feeling weak and sickly, but he found himself
to be in good health. He could feel the strength
in his body but could he fight this giant?
The burly man was standing at ease with his
huge arms crossed over his chest. The
machete was leaning against the wall by his
foot.
He looked up at Gideon as he entered the
doors of the church. He smiled a sick smile that
displayed an ugly row of yellowed teeth.
1165
‘You are not supposed to be here
newcomer,’ he said. ‘Nobody should be out
when the sun comes to visit. It brings the death
you see.’
‘And what of you big man?’ Gideon asked.
‘Aren’t you in as much danger from the nothing
as I am?’
The man guffawed. ‘The wise-one will
protect me,’ he said.
He didn’t know, Gideon thought. What game
was Solomon playing here? That he was the
nothing, Gideon was sure about. But it seemed
no one else knew. And he wanted to keep it
that way. What was he planning?
‘He knew you would come you see?’ the big
man said. ‘I came to look for you earlier at the
house.’
So it had not been Solomon, Gideon
thought. Just as I imagined.
1166
‘I come from there now,’ Gideon said. ‘I
come from seeing him. He has sent me.’
The big man laughed. ‘Try something else
newcomer I am not stupid.’ But Gideon tended
to think that he was. He was big and would
probably cut him into half with on swing of his
wicked blade, but the man had no cognitive
strength. At least he hoped so.
‘Look big man,’ Gideon said affecting a
servile demeanour. ‘You can crash me with
your bare hands and kill me with a single blow
from your fist, you have nothing to worry from
me.’
‘It is not that I worry newcomer,’ the big
man said grinning. Gideon’s unctuous praise
got to him. ‘I have to follow orders. And they
are that no one is to go in.’
‘And what about when the nothing comes?’
Gideon crept closer slowly. He could make out
a small X behind the burly man, on the door. It
1167
was blood. It marked the spot. The blood was a
guide to the bringer of death. The children’s
blood.
‘I told you, the wise-one will guard me,’ the
big man said harshly.
Gideon sensed that he didn’t quite believe
that. Not that he doubted Solomon the wise-
one, but more like he feared the nothing more.
And Gideon had to capitalise on that.
‘I have the keys to that room here now big
man,’ he said. ‘I have been sent by the wise-
one to prepare the old man.’
‘Prepare him how?’ the man asked despite
himself.
‘He is the last of his kind,’ Gideon said
improvising as he went. ‘He cannot go as easily
as the rest. He is much stronger. The nothing
will use more force.’
The big man flinched obviously unsettled by
this news.
1168
‘It is said that all who see the nothing
perish,’ Gideon said twisting the knife. ‘You
shouldn’t be here big man.’
‘I told you newcomer…’
‘And I am telling you that I am from the
house and Solomon the wise is cooped up in
there.’ Gideon shouted noticing the big man
flinch. ‘He will not come out in the sun. No one
in the Midlands will come out in the sun. You
will die here big man! Right where you stand.’
He was now obviously shaken. ‘How do I
know you are not making it up?’ the big man
asked.
‘How do you know that I am?’ Gideon shot
back. ‘Look,’ he said walking toward the door.
‘I have work to do, if you love your life you will
get out of here.’
He made to push the man out of his way but
the big man probably from habit, stood his
1169
ground. Gideon wondered if he hadn’t gone too
far with the bravado.
‘Let me pass,’ Gideon hissed affecting his
coldest stare.
The big man looked at him and Gideon felt
him reach for his weapon. ‘You are a brave
man newcomer,’ he said slowly.
‘So are you big man,’ Gideon told him. His
face could have been cut out of stone – it was
so rigid. He was clenching his teeth so hard
that his jaws were aching.
‘What were you sent here to do?’ he asked
suspiciously. But he was thawing, Gideon could
tell.
‘Why don’t you go and ask the wise-one,’
Gideon retorted. ‘He is in his house hiding from
the sun like everybody else!’
Suddenly the big man laughed. ‘You know in
the whole of Midlands,’ he said with swelling
1170
hubris. ‘We are the only ones out of their
house. We are the bravest men standing today.
‘You know I have never been out in the sun.
This is my first time,’ he offered Gideon his
large hand and Gideon had no option but to
take it. He felt the strength in the man’s grip
and was thankful that he was managing to
outwit him. He could never have matched him
in a physical confrontation.
‘Open your door,’ he said moving finally.
Gideon nodded curtly maintaining his
aloofness. He brought out his bunch of keys
and curse. He had no idea which key was which
and he had forgotten the two that had already
worked on other doors. Somehow he didn’t
think the big man would be feeling so chummy
if he started trying out all twenty keys.
He checked at the corner of his eye but the
man was standing there. He didn’t mean to go
1171
anywhere. This brave man business must have
really gone to his head.
Gideon tried the first key. The door stayed
locked. He tried to insert the next
surreptitiously, but he knew the big man had
seen. He tried the next and it also didn’t open
the damn door.
Gideon could almost smell the blood on the
door. It was a fresh smear – a child had died.
He was sweating mildly as he tried the third
key. It didn’t open the door. He felt more than
saw the big man curl his fingers onto the
machete. He moved from Gideon’s view and he
could feel him breathing behind him.
He was shaking visibly now as he tried the
fourth key. There was silence in the church,
silence in the whole sunny town. Everybody
was raked with fear. But no one more than
Gideon. He thought to turn back and chat the
1172
big man some more but he knew that he was
now a goner.
He trembled as he turned the key. It didn’t
open. He heard the grunt from behind him and
knew that the big man was raising the blade to
swing down in a wide arc straight for his neck!
He turned the key again nervously leaning
into the bloody door. Open, he cried and as
though it had heard, the key entered the slot
properly and turned the lock. The door swung
back from his weight and he stumbled in.
He heard the solid thuck as the machete hit
the door jamb sinking into the wood. It had
swung in a horizontal arc flying past the spot
his neck had been a microsecond before. He
stood on the first step, his heart thudding as
the big man started laughing behind him.
He paid the man no heed and descended
the steps slowly still shaking with adrenaline.
1173
The place was dank and dark. There were no
slits that let in the light of the sun.
But the old man was seated at his usual
corner with his candle on. Gideon made his
way to him more surely after he had
descended the final step.
‘I greet you newcomer,’ the old man said.
And Gideon wondered if he remembered him or
if he thought he was just another newcomer.
And then he said, ‘Gidhon.’
Gideon smiled. ‘I have come to get you out
of here,’ he said with urgency. ‘The nothing will
be out soon.’
‘I know this,’ the old man said patiently.
‘Don’t you see my candle is on? I shall have no
more use for it after today.’
‘Don’t speak like that,’ Gideon said. ‘I have
come to rescue you.’
‘Why Gidhon?’
1174
‘Because it is what I was sent here to do old
man of God,’ Gideon said impatiently. ‘I
thought first that I was sent here to make
amends with my brother or try and save him
from something…’ his voice dried out into
silence like an exotic stream.
‘You have seen your brother?’ the old man
asked.
‘Yes,’ Gideon sighed. ‘But he is not what I
thought he was. He has become something
else. I cannot save him from himself. I can only
save you.’
‘Why do you think that you were sent here
to act saviour?’ the old man asked in his usual
quiet bedside manner.
‘I have no time for your parables and
conundrums now man of God,’ Gideon said
impatiently. ‘I must get you out of here, the
door is marked with blood.’
1175
‘It will guide the bringer of death here,’
Gideon nodded thinking, we are getting
somewhere now. ‘But who will save you
Gidhon?’
‘I don’t know old man,’ Gideon whispered. ‘I
know only what I must do.’
The old man shook his head sorrowfully.
‘You are not the saviour Gidhon, that is not
your work.’
‘You have your theory,’ Gideon said finally
losing control of his nerves. ‘I have mine. Now I
have to get you away from here before the
death comes to get you. What happens to me
is not your concern and neither is it mine. I
came here to pay for my sins and I shall pay
one way or another.’
‘There is forgiveness Gidhon, ’ the old man
went on. ‘God is forgiving and just. Ask him to
forgive you, but first you must forgive yourself.
Don’t fear the unknown that comes with the
1176
light. I don’t. I shall indeed be happy to die
today so that I shall seat beside my maker and
glorify His name for all eternity. You must
believe Gidhon that the Midlands is not the
end. You must believe.’
‘You are not dying today old man,’ Gideon
said furiously. ‘What about the sacrifice of all
your kind. Was it for nothing that they all died,
that they were all slaughtered? You have to
live and rise up with others that remain who
will listen. You have to take back this town that
was snatched from you. You must make those
who killed your brothers pay. And to do that,
you have to live.’
‘Who am I to avenge the deaths of my
brothers? Who am I to sanction the end of life
which I did not create?’ the old man asked.
‘Only the Maker can punish. Only He can stop
the destruction of the Midlands. And He does
things according to his own calendar and
1177
agenda. You cannot seek to fathom it. Not
even if you live all the days of Methuselah will
you understand Him. And you know what
Gidhon, it is not your place to understand.’
‘Let’s get out of here old man,’ Gideon said
standing. ‘We are wasting time.’
‘And where do you seek to take me?’ he
asked.
‘I don’t know that yet. I was figuring you’d
have ideas. Look, you cannot just sit here and
await death. Doesn’t it say somewhere the God
helps those who help themselves?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then let’s help ourselves by getting out of
here,’ Gideon said. ‘We will decide our next
cause of action after we are out of here.’
The old man looked at him for a long silent
moment. Gideon willed him with his eyes to get
up off the floor and escape this unjust death
sentence.
1178
After a grunt, as if to say he would play
Gideon’s game, he stood up gingerly. But he
didn’t stand like an old man. And when he
walked, it was in the graceful walk of a much
younger man.
They walked together up the stairs, the
candle burning forlornly at the floor. Gideon’s
heart was racing, but he was upbeat. He felt he
was doing the right thing. He had to thwart
Solomon.
If he was the bringer of death, the one who
knew it all, then he was trying to rule the whole
of Midlands. He had managed to pit the
witches against the witch-hunters and now a
war was inevitable. Gideon knew that in that
war, only Solomon the wise-one would emerge
winner. He would rule the ones who remained.
And in a sense, Gideon feared more for
them than those that would die. The only way
to stop Solomon, was if the old man escaped
1179
and was allowed to keep on with his work. If he
could recruit others who sought a different way
and then fight Solomon, then the Midlands
would return to what they said it had been
earlier – although he could not see it as being
anything else but a dreary cold dark place
where death was life.
The old man was the key he was sure. And
his work was to ensure that he didn’t die. After
that, he knew not what would happen to him –
only what he hoped.
He reached the landing and turned the knob
of the door. It wouldn’t open. He tried again
but it was locked. He flung himself at it yelling
and shouting but the door wouldn’t budge and
his ears, he kept hearing the big man’s sick
laughter when he missed Gideon’s neck.
1180
37
SERGEANT SEGE ENTERED THE

INTERROGATION ROOM. It had been two
hours since they had dragged Obim in. The
Sergeant had allowed him time to himself to
think and rethink his steps and to get scared.
Now, he walked into the room with a file. He
dropped it onto the metal desk before the
suspect and then he sat down on the other side
of it.
‘What is your name young man?’ he asked
conversationally.
Obim looked down and kept mum. Sege hit
the desk and shouted, ‘What is your name?’ his
voice bounced of the walls of the small
windowless room. The sudden violence startled
Obim who was really just a scared boy acting
brave.
‘Am-am, Wallace Obim,’ he stuttered. ‘But I
have done nothing wrong.’
1181
Sege raised a hand. ‘Tell me about the gang
you belong to,’ he said.
Obim’s lips trembled as he looked anywhere
but at the sergeant, shaking his head.
‘I don’t like repeating myself Obim,’ the
sergeant said curtly. ‘Tell me your gang’s
members’ names now!’
Obim went on shaking his head pitifully. He
was caught between the hard arm of the law
and the loyalty to his partners.
‘You think you are in this with anyone else?’
Sege asked. ‘You think that anyone can help
you now? Obim, your finger prints are all over
an assault rifle that can be linked to several
bank robberies and has gunned down a police
officer.’ It hadn’t but the effect that lie had on
Obim was priceless.
His eyes glazed over and he appeared
breathless. He was shaking his head furiously
1182
now, as though he didn’t want to hear what he
was being told.
‘We can pin these crimes on you and you
will go down trust me as the biggest catch the
police have ever had for ten years.
‘You know what we did the last time we had
a big catch?’ he waited for Obim to raise his
scared teary eyes up to his. ‘We hanged him.’
‘I know you were not the leader of the gang.
I want to know the leader and everybody else
you have been with and I promise that things
will go easy on you.’ He smiled. ‘e.g. you will
not be hanged.’
‘It wasn’t me,’ Obim muttered. ‘I didn’t kill
anyone.’
‘How did you get the weapon?’ Sege asked.
‘Masta did,’ Obim said with a weary sigh.
‘And Masta is your leader?’ Sege was
scribbling on the notepad.
1183
Obim nodded. ‘He got the AK and two other
pistols.’
‘How many are you in the gang?’ the
sergeant wanted to know.
‘Six.’ Obim answered sniffling.
‘The names Obim.’ He was told. The poor
fellow gave them all. He knew he was being a
great rat but he had never killed anyone and
he would not go down for murder for anyone.
Not even the whole gang. There reached a
time when a man had to stand for himself.
‘Where are they now?’ Sege asked.
‘I don’t know that,’ Obim said. ‘I swear to
God.’
‘Did you have a job you were planning
today?’ he asked. The suspect hesitated and
the sergeant knew that there was something
there. ‘Where are you going to hit?’
1184
Obim shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he
said. ‘Honest. It is only one guy who knows
where the house is.’
Sergeant Sege sat back as he listened to
the whole unfolding tale that finally unravelled
the mystery of the grave-robber.
‘So you are planning a little revenge hit is
that it?’ he asked when the tale had been told.
Obim nodded. ‘But I don’t know where it will
be, all I know,’ he added helpfully – eager to
please. ‘Is that we are supposed to be meeting
at two at the park first.’
Sege nodded smiling genuinely for the first
time. ‘Nice job Obim,’ he said. ‘Am sure you
won’t hang.’
‘Where is he?’ Noel asked after Obim. They

were seated under their usual tree. He was
feeling increasingly nervous – like they were
being watched.
1185
Masta, was also antsy. Obim’s sudden
disappearance was not a good omen. He
palmed the Berreta in his jacket pocket. Where
was the bastard?
Instincts told him that more likely than not,
he had been nabbed. If the rifle had had his
finger prints, and the idiot had a record, then
the cops had him. And they would squeeze him
for the names of the rest of the team. They
would not squeeze him for long, he thought.
The man looked softer than a sissy sometimes.
But underlying these feelings, was the great
urge to punish the ghost-woman. He was
feeling it like a hard on. They would have to
proceed as they had planned. If Wallace Obim
had ratted on them, then they would deal with
that later.
Now, they had to leave and the sooner the
better. Obim didn’t know the directions to her
house. None of them knew – only Noel. So even
1186
if he had ratted them out, they would have no
way of stopping his revenge.
But they had to leave now.
‘I don’t give a fuck where Obim is,’ Masta
said being uncharacteristically crude. ‘We have
a job to do, I think we should get on with it. We
just start earlier is all.’
They all looked at Noel. He shrugged and
turned for the road. ‘Follow me,’ he said.
On his CB radio, Sergeant Sege ordered;
‘follow them.’
Mary Ndati was playing the piano. She had

come back from the hospital and had found her
patient still out but alive.
She thought back to the visit. It had not
been like anything she had expected it to be.
Hannah was such a lovely woman and so
outgoing – it was hard not to like her.
1187
And her revelation that day had been
shocking as well as educational. Gideon’s
grandfather had raped his wife. He had then
murdered his brother thinking that he was
responsible.
Hannah had seen the act and thought
Gideon had murdered him out of a cold heart
and it had tilted her tremulous mind further off
the precipice. Coupled with the loss of her
child, and the brutality of her violation, she had
had a mental breakdown.
But on the days she was sane – every
Thursday, she was very normal. Mary had
asked her if she minded her visiting her again
the next week. Hanna had smiled her
wonderful smile and told her that she would be
counting on it.
They had parted company shortly after one
o’clock. Now, it was going to three and as she
played the piano, she recalled Hannah’s
1188
curious words of farewell; ‘tell him I understand
now.’ And then she had turned away and
walked back to her room.
Mary had stood there watching the
retreating back and wondered if she had heard
the other woman correctly. Had she sold
herself somehow in their discussion? Had she
let slip the fact that she was the grave
desecrator? She didn’t think so. So much for
insanity, she thought.
As she hit the keys again, two things
happened simultaneously that froze her heart.
She heard a hard pounding at her door.
‘Open up!’ someone shouted. It was a shout
of authority, like from a police officer, or a
confident robber. ‘Open this door right now!’
But as she wondered which side of the law
the voice belonged to, and the wisdom of
letting them in, she heard a blood curdling
scream from the bedroom.
1189
She had no debate now. She rushed to
Gideon. He was still one the bed but the
comforter and the sheet had been flung aside
as though he had thrown his arms in the air.
Now, they lay at his side lifelessly. She
approached the bed in a cold sweat. The door
pounded as her heart did the same. She
reached Gideon and felt for a pulse.
There was none!
Gideon and the old man were back on the

floor. Gideon was in deep thought wondering
when the nothing would come and what he
would do when it did.
He had been tricked by the burly man he
had thought was a scatterbrains. And he rued
his premature judgement. Now, he was all
locked up and he had no way of freeing his
charge.
1190
The old man, remarkably, was dozing
against the wall. One would think it was a
routine day out for him. In fact he looked as
though he were wallowing in ennui – not facing
what was potentially his last day in the
Midlands.
As for him, Gideon could not sleep. He could
not even settle. He kept jerking as every sound
startled him. He kept asking himself, when is
he coming? How do I save the old man? But
these questions had no answers.
The one who knows all. Solomon, Gideon
thought. What have I done to you?
Look for your brother where you buried
him… those were the words of the witch. He
wondered why he had just remembered them
and then the point proved moot for at that
instant, the door creaked open.
It let in the sunlight that spilled down the
stairway in visible beams. He saw Solomon
1191
descend them in his swagger, a bloody sword
in his right hand. In the light, his face was not
visible. But Gideon knew it was him.
‘Here comes the nothing,’ the old man
whispered behind him in something akin to
awe.
‘This is Solomon,’ Gideon said aloud.
Solomon laughed as his feet touched the last
step.
‘This is the brother you spoke of Gidhon?’
the old man whispered. Gideon nodded without
looking away from the bringer of death. The old
man’s words though stopped him cold. ‘He has
no brother.’
‘What?’ Gideon asked his words dying out
when the bringer of death stepped on to the
floor. He was away from the glare of the
sunlight enough to be seen. Gideon watched as
he stepped closer to them. His face was
peeling off right before Gideon’s eyes.
1192
It was as though he had worn a mask and it
was coming off like water paint in the rain as
he came closer. Gideon watched as the face of
Solomon – his brother, washed away revealing
a hideous black face that looked like it had
been curved out of obsidian.
‘Jesus,’ Gideon muttered shocked.
‘I told you that name would not help you
here,’ the thing said in a deep raw voice. ‘I see
that you have been busy newcomer.’
‘Solomon?’ Gideon said quizzically.
‘You have no brother here,’ the old man
whispered urgently. ‘You saw what you wanted
to see.’
And as he watched, the last of Solomon’s
familiar face fell off like crusted paint revealing
the most hideous face he had ever seen. It was
black like soot, yet it shined like a mirror. It
looked rigid and unyielding like rock. It’s eyes
were red orbs that shone incandescently. It had
1193
no lips, so that its row of yellow teeth were
visible in their evil glory.
The hand that gripped the sword was made
of the same black stone. His feet were not
human. They were wider and had three toes
with protruding talons. Gideon expected to see
a pair of horns and a tail tapered with a clover
shaped tip.
But this black devil was polled and had no
tail.
‘What are you?’ Gideon asked in dread.
‘Not Satan,’ the old man answered. ‘But he
wishes to be.’
The black creature turned sharply toward
the old man. It snarled at him. When it opened
its mouth, a thin snake’s tongue appeared.
‘I am the bringer of death,’ he said. ‘I will
take the old man now.’
Gideon stood before the old man shaking
like a leaf. ‘You will have to go through me.’
1194
And the creature walked closer and it stood
at seven feet. Gideon had to look up as it
grinned down at him.
‘I want dominion over the Midlands,’ it said.
‘All those who worship me shall live. All those
who don’t shall perish. I will kill the old man
now!’ it swung its mighty hand and Gideon
found himself flying to the wall.
He hit it with his back and slid down like a
rag. His eyes were open as he looked on
helplessly. He tried to get to his feet but they
were too heavy to move. He could not help as
his eyes stayed glued to the bloody unfolding
scene.
‘You see that light?’ the creature said
standing before the old man. ‘That is the bright
future if offer you.’
The old man who was standing ramrod still
shook his head vehemently. ‘Those are the
fires of hell! Your home devil go back there!’
1195
The creature made a sound that passed for
amused laughter. And then it’s eyes cooled
into embers and it looked straight at the old
man.
‘Get down and your knees and serve me,’ it
commanded. ‘Or perish like those of your ilk.’
Gideon struggled to get to his feet. ’Stop!’
he said. ‘Solomon, if you are in that thing, you
can fight it. Fight it Goddammit!’
The creature looked at Gideon and paused.
Gideon found strength to get up on his wobbly
feet. ‘Fight it Solo,’ he encouraged. The old
man could not die. He was the only hope that
the Midlands had. ‘You can do it.’
‘Your brother is not here,’ the old man said
again sparing Gideon a backward glance.
‘Shut up old man!’ he said impatiently. He
knew what he was doing. ‘You are not going to
die!’
1196
‘You are not the saviour Gidhon!’ he said
forcefully. ‘If it is the Maker’s will, let what
happens happen.’
‘You are not supposed to die,’ Gideon went
on. ‘That’s why am here, so you can save the
Midlands.’
‘No one can save the Midlands,’ the
creature boasted. ‘It is mine!’
‘No!’ Gideon shouted. ‘Solomon! Shut that
thing up! Come forward Solo_’
‘Gidhon!’ the old man yelled to shut him up.
‘You are not my saviour. I am going to meet
my saviour. It is as it was planned.’
Gideon wanted to ask him how he knew but
the old man read his mind. ‘I don’t know
Gidhon, I believe.’
‘Get down on your knees now!’ the creature
cried impatiently.
‘No.’ the old man said standing straight.
1197
‘No!’ Gideon shouted seeing the sword rise
in an arc.
‘Get down on your knees and worship God!’
the old man commanded in a booming voice
that stopped Gideon short.
But not the creature. The sword came down
in a vicious swathe cutting into the old man
diagonally across the chest. And again from
the other side. He fell down at the creature’s
feet on his back, gave a final jerk and then lay
still.
His eyes were facing Gideon and he was
looking right into his eyes. Gideon was pulled
by the stare and felt the whole weight of the
world on his shoulders.
He looked up at the creature, and saw
Solomon.
‘You have fought him!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh
God Solo look what he has made you do.’
1198
‘It was not supposed to be like this,’
Solomon said dejectedly.
‘What do we do now?’ Gideon asked
wearily.
‘Come to me,’ he said holding out his hand.
He was still holding the sword. ‘I will help you.
If you believe in me Gideon, I will give you
everything your heart desires.’
Gideon looked up into his brother’s face,
into his eyes and struggled against the pull in
them. The guilt that had always gnawed on him
was strong.
‘You know you owe me,’ Solomon said in his
lulling voice. ‘You brought me here. And you
know I did not rape your wife don’t you?’
Gideon looked down. He had known it the
moment he looked into his grandfather’s eyes
when Solo was buried. He had always known it,
but had masked it so that he could go on living.
1199
But now, the truth was out, he had
murdered his brother in the coldest, most
detached manner imaginable. He had made
him into the beast he was. The nothing, had
been created by Gideon himself. He owed him.
Finding strength, he walked closer to the
outstretched hand of his brother.
‘I will show you how to go back Gideon,’
Solomon was saying. ‘I will show you how you
can see your beloved again. I will give you
wealth and dominion over your fellow man.
Come to me.’
Gideon was at the fallen body of the old
man. He didn’t look into the eyes. He looked at
Solomon and heard only his entrancing words.
‘Kneel down,’ Solomon said when he was
close enough to touch. ‘Worship me.’
Gideon went down on one knee. He looked
down reflexively and saw the old man’s lips
move. He heard the tiny whisper waft to his
1200
ears. Look for him in your heart…and as
Gideon wondered what he meant, he
registered that the old man would never talk
again.
‘Worship me brother, worship me.’ the
hypnotic voice said. Gideon’s last knee was
going down when he suddenly broke the
trance.
It was the word brother that did it. He went
back on one knee as he replayed the old man’s
dying words.
Solomon was in his heart. That was where
he was buried. That was where he ought to
remain. He had to forgive himself for his fatal
error, before he could ask God to forgive him.
He closed his eyes and saw Solo clearly in
his mind. He saw him swaying on that rope his
tongue hanging out of his mouth, his eyes open
in eternal confusion and sadness of betrayed
trust and Gideon asked to be forgiven.
1201
His eyes filled with tears as he searched
inside for forgiveness. He felt the weight
become lighter as he opened his eyes. Through
the tears, he saw the creature standing before
him, for what it truly was.
‘Get down on your knees brother,’ it said
with a warning underlying the soft spoken
command.
Gideon got onto his feet wearily. ‘You are
not my brother,’ he said curtly. Forgive me
God, he prayed in his heart.
‘Worship me and I will spare you,’ the
creature threatened.
Gideon felt light. He had just off loaded all
the sins and the guilt that had encumbered
him, bearing him down in life.
‘I will give you glory, I will give you
everything,’ the creature spoke in its honeyed
tones.
1202
‘I already have everything I need,’ Gideon
said. ‘I have been forgiven finally. And I have
love in my heart.’ He smiled at that.
‘You will have death if you don’t do as I
say,’ the creature said reverting to its
fearsome malevolence.
Gideon looked into its black face, its red
gleaming eyes and refused to falter. And he
finally understood why he had been brought to
the Midllands. To make a choice.
‘I choose righteousness,’ he said.
The creature looked at him, raised the
sword that still dripped with the blood of the
old man of God, and then lowered it. It looked
as if it were grinning with malice.
‘I am the bringer of death,’ it said almost
apologetically. ‘I must grant you death, you
give me no other choice. But my sword is too
easy for you. You deserve nothing short of your
worst nightmare.’
1203
And then it opened its black mouth to
unnaturally large portal. Gideon felt a pull that
he could not resist. Leaving the floor, he was
lifted into the air and suctioned into the black
vortex in the giant orifice.
He felt his life force drain he passed though
the portal. And when he saw what awaited him
on the other side, Gideon screamed.
1204
38
MASTA WAS FURIOUS. The ghost-woman

was hiding inside her ghost-house refusing to
open the door. He knew she was in there. The
car was not around but he assumed it was
round at the back.
1205
But he had clearly heard the solemn notes
of a piano – sounding like a child’s music box,
coming from the house. The music itself was as
sad and ghostly as the rest of the surroundings
were.
Masta shuddered when he thought what it
would be like to be found in such a place at
night without a light.
He banged on the door and cursed the
woman again. He had not really had a plan as
to how his revenge would go. All he knew was
that he would get the bitch and she would pay
for what she had done – inadvertently or not.
He felt the reassuring weight of his gun and
thought that this was as good a time as any to
cross the line and commit his first murder. Not
usually a trigger happy criminal, Masta was
gripped by a surprising bloodlust. And he
meant to indulge it.
1206
He curse again when his pounding went
unanswered. Noel – as usual, came up with a
great idea.
The garage door was open, and he had
gone prowling in there. He came back with a
can of fuel.
‘We’ll smoke her out,’ Masta said with glee
as he hugged Noel fiercely – fuel can and all.
He doused the wooden door of the house
with the petrol and set it ablaze. Noticing that
the windows were open, Masta opened them
and lit up the drapes. He ordered the same
done to all the windows that were open.
They stood back and watched in the hot
mid-afternoon as the flames licked and stuck
onto the wooden frame of the door, the ceiling
and soon, her sparse furniture.
But the woman refused to get out. They
stood in front of the house watching and
moving further back and the fire picked and
1207
roared in the clear day, getting hotter and
hotter.
Noel was sweating. But it was more than
the heat from the fire that was inducing this.
He was afraid. He had never been a killer and
he had no stomach for burning someone alive
in their house.
What he had thought was that the fire
would scare her into fleeing from the house
and then their revenge would be complete. She
would be scared and her house would be
damaged. He didn’t mean to kill her.
And so he had not told Masta about leaving
through the back door in the morning. He knew
almost certainly, that it was still open. He
would not let Masta turn into a killer over such
a small issue.
He was a thinker and he knew turning into
murderers would compound their wanted
1208
status drastically and reduce their lifespan in
the same ratio.
He perked an ear for the sound of the car’s
engine at the back but as far as he could tell,
the woman was inside the burning house. Was
she perhaps trying to rescue the body? He had
totally forgot about that and he wondered now,
how that would factor in.
He hoped though that it would all go well.
Inside the house, Mary was sobbing. Her

eyes were smarting from the smoke that was
sneaking in from the living room.
Part of her brain discerned the fact that she
was in a burning house but she could not
move. She could not leave Gideon behind. And
he was not breathing anymore.
He lay still as a cold fish in her arms as her
sobs raked her slender frame. She kept urging
him to wake up. Get up Goddamit, but he
1209
remained obstinately still. She screamed
inside, asking the old woman why she had let
her live, why she had let Gideon live only long
enough to kill them both like this.
For Mary knew that she would rather die
inside the burning house with Gideon in her
arms rather than run off into a world that was
devoid of his warm presence.
‘Where have you gone?’ she sobbed
shaking his still body. She heard a crash from
the living room and suspected that the roof
had caved in.
The smoke was fast filling the room and she
was now coughing periodically. Her vision was
impaired but she didn’t have far to see; only
Gideon’s face interested her.
When Gideon passed through the vortex, he

found that indeed, he was inside his worst
nightmare.
1210
He was in the forest again. This time, the
path ahead didn’t look like it had an end to it. It
wound forward to the eye’s limit. With the
trees close and with the waning twilight, it
looked like a tunnel – an unending tunnel of
doom.
He heard the sound of rumbling thunder
above. He was on all fours like a toddler. His
mind told him; look behind!
And he knew what he would see even
before he dared turn his head. It was the
nothing! The forest behind him was being
swallowed into void and it was coming closer
fast!
He stumbled onto his feet and started
running. He ran forward as fast as he could
seeing the trees fly past him.
He schooled the urge to look back over his
shoulder and see how far he was from it. But it
was difficult. He ran as fast as his feet could
1211
carry him but he could feel I breathing down
his neck, just inches from his back!
He gave up on the feeling and turned back
to look. It was a few yards back and seemed to
accelerate as he watched. He turned forward
with a silent scream and didn’t see the root
jutting from the ground.
He slammed down heavily all his breath
getting knocked out of him. He struggled to get
onto his feet.
He looked back and saw it close ground on
him. He just managed to get up and off when
he saw from the corner of his eye, the root
become part of nothing.
The void was now as close as he had feared
– just a few steps from his fleeing feet. He ran
his heart pounding painfully. He knew he was
getting slower and tired. He could not manage
this dead-sprint for long.
1212
It was as though the nothing was playing
with him. He knew it could move faster than
him. It only wanted him to run his fastest, then
tire out and be no more. It wanted him – in the
spirit of nightmares, to taste the acrid vileness
of his limitations. Of his inferiority and hopeless
helplessness.
He ran on his mind churning thoughts as
fast as his legs pumped the ground. He was
going to die. He would never see Mary again.
But he knew that he had achieved a great feat.
He had stood his ground, he had made a
choice.
He had chosen ever lasting life against the
life of death. He had finally allowed his brother
to rest in peace. And he knew all these how?
The old man had told him; …I believe…
Gideon suddenly stopped. His heart was
beating erratically now. He turned and face the
1213
nothing. Stretching his arms out he looked at it
as it rushed toward him.
His last words were a brave shout; ‘I
believe!’ and then he was nothing.
Sergeant Sege and his team arrived to find

the house in quite an advanced stage of fire. It
had not gone down, but even as he gave the
terse order to call the fire brigade, he knew
that it could not be saved.
They appeared from the front and moved in
behind the gang suddenly. He grabbed the
megaphone and shouted into it, ‘put your
hands on your heads now!’
The startled gang turned back and saw too
late that the cops had crept up behind them
from the wild bushes that were all over the
compound.
‘I repeat, ’ Sege’s booming voice came once
more. ‘Put your hands on your heads now! We
1214
have you surrounded, I repeat we have you
surrounded. Surrender and you will not be
harmed.’
A shaky Noel put his hand over his head.
Masta was furious. He looked defiantly at the
cops lined up in the bushes but he knew a dead
end when he saw one. He raised his hands.
Timothy Asege aka Segs was not nervous.
He was high on weed. He had only one thing on
his mind – murder. He had the other pistol in
his pocket and his hand was there.
His back was toward the cops and he knew
they could see him well. He fell onto his side
suddenly and out came the gun. He turned,
rolling towards the bushes and fired.
He heard the satisfying yelp from the cop
he had hit. But he didn’t hear anymore as a
bullet flew into his brains killing him instantly.
Masta had no option but to try and shoot his
way out. He was gunned down even before the
1215
gun came out. The rest of the gang took to
their feet and started running. They fell to the
bullets from the cops like mice.
Sergeant Sege called for a ceasefire. He had
seen the two guns which he knew were the
only weapons the five had. But it took five
minutes before the firing could stop. And by
that time, there was a pile of bodies lying
bleeding on the ground.
The cop who had been shot in the leg was
slipping into unconsciousness. Sege ran to the
bandits and counted four. They were all dead.
He looked at the burning house and then
retreated as a loud explosion hit the air.
He knew that was a cooking gas cylinder.
There was not hope for anyone caught in that
inferno.
They watched the house succumb to the fire
and reduce into a shell, as from without, the
sound of the fire brigade drew close.
1216
They had nothing much to do when they
arrived. The house was a black shell. The
injured policeman was rushed to hospital as
the four dead bodies were bagged for the
mortuary. The fifth bandit had ran off – the
smoke and the bushes providing good cover.
They would catch up with him soon.
It was after an hour when Sergeant Sege
left the scene of death. The vehicle was
missing – they had seen it at the back when
they drove in. He supposed their intended
victim had managed to escape in it using the
same cover as the fleeing bandit. They would
catch up with her soon.
1217
EPILOGUE
THEY WERE AT THE CEMETERY. The

weather was dull. Thick grey clouds hang in the
sky and a cold draught of wind blew.
Of the mourners, Katherine Maina cried the
most. She was whimpering and her frail
shoulders shook with grief and sadness.
Mary Ndati held her hand in a tight grip. Her
eyes were wet also but her tears streamed
without much else. Her white ashen face
hidden in a shawl.
It was a Thursday and so Hannah was there
also. She was dressed in black too. Her face
was covered in a shawl that blew in the wind.
Her eyes were also wet and she held
Katherine’s other hand.
She had always loved Gideon’s sister and
felt sad for her. Many Maina relatives had
gathered here for the burial. Most of them were
1218
dry-eyed but they all looked grief-stricken
enough.
The Minister was delivering the parting
words of the sermon. The coffin stood beside
the yawning hole. The same one that had been
used by the family not long before.
They had decided that they would have it
cemented this time so that there would be no
repeat of what had happened before.
‘…Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.’ The
minister said with a dreadful finality. Katherine
felt her heart tear with sadness as the coffin
went into the ground. The headstone was
simply written on the dates of birth and death.
She had not been able to come up with any
sweet or emotional epitaph.
She clung onto Hannah and Mary feeling
alone and bereft.
1219
In the Fiat Uno, parked fifty meters away,
under a willow tree, Gideon Maina sat watching
the burial ruminatively.
He could not bury his mother. Inside, he felt
the sadness for the loss of a life, but it was the
feeling one had for a stranger – especially
when a terminal disease was responsible. He
had never known his mother and he found it
hard to pretend. He had not tears for her.
But he hoped she found peace finally where
she was going. He had no ill wish in his heart
for her. He had hated her and despised her in
the past, but Gideon had no capacity for such
strong self destructive emotions now.
He had come back to life because of love.
The love that he had for Mary, and the love
that she had for him, and the believe they both
had in the goodness and mercifulness of God,
had made him be able to breath again.
1220
Although it had been quite a smoke-filled
breath he had first taken when he had opened
his eyes. He coughed even now as he
remembered the previous week’s occurrences.
He had been swallowed by his worst
nightmare and had believed himself dead. But
just as happened when one is brave enough to
stop running in a nightmare and face the
oncoming killer machine or crocodile, he had
woken up.
His eyes had jerked open and he had felt
himself in the most comforting embrace of his
life. He had then breathed the smoke and
coughed.
That had startled Mary so bad she had
dropped him. She had been mumbling
feverishly. Later, she had told him that she had
been praying to be united with him in whatever
world that God wished.
1221
Her prayers had froze though when she had
heard him cough once and then repeatedly as
his hungry lungs were filled with nothing but
smoke. She had cried with joy when he had
turned to her and said in a croak; ‘Mary?’
But her joy had been cut short as she told
him quickly about the danger they were in.
helping him onto his shaky feet, they had
slowly made their way out of the bedroom and
back into the kitchen.
The front door was out of question since the
roof had caved in denying them way. They
passed via the back door which Mary had been
pleasantly surprised to find unlocked. They had
then gotten into the car and Mary had driven
off.
The loud explosion had hit the air just as
they had turned off onto the road. They had
gone straight to Purity’s house where the
1222
surprised mother had let in her daughter and
her ‘friend’.
Gideon had spent the last week
recuperating. He was friends with Shirley and
Dwombo. Purity smiled but he could sense she
was thinking he was not good enough for her
daughter. Gideon smiled, he could live with
that.
He saw the mourners leave the grave after
the body had been covered with soil. To think
that he had lay in the same hole not long ago,
dazed him and he found himself in awe of Mary
Ndati again. She had believed.
Mary led Katherine and Hannah from the
grave. They would all go their separate ways.
Hannah would be taken back to the Institution
and Katherine was bound to go off with some
of her aunties or uncles.
Mary had debated it with herself but finally
decided it was still too early to let Katherine in
1223
on the secret. There was still time, she
thought.
Hannah however was a different matter.
She had looked at her the moment they met
that day and smiled. Mary had smiled back
nodding her answer to the unspoken question.
And Hannah had taken her hand and squeezed
it giving her a silent approval. Mary had felt the
tears of joy and gratitude sting her eyes at the
gesture.
‘Excuse me madam,’ a gentleman appeared
just as she extricated herself from the crowd
and started heading toward the Fiat. ‘I am
Sergeant Sege, and am sorry for your loss.’
Mary looked at the policeman and nodded
politely.
‘Is it possible to talk with you for a
moment?’ he asked.
1224
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘Not yet. I will
meet you soon officer and I will tell you
everything you want to hear.’
Sergeant Sege looked into the white face of
the woman and nodded. ‘That is fine with me,’
he said. ‘We’ll meet soon. Sorry again for your
loss.’
Mary walked to the car and entered. She
was worried for Gideon. He could not have
taken the death of his mother well. Especially
since they had never had a chance to make up.
‘Hi love,’ she said. ‘Hope you were not too
lonely.’
He smiled at her. ‘I have never liked
funerals.’
She smiled as she started the car. ‘Who can
blame you poor man,’ she said cheekily. ‘You
attended yours!’
1225
In Eshihaka, Solomon Maina woke up
laughing. He had wet his bed and the itch was
tickling him.
He got out of bed and then the smell hit his
nose. He laughed harder. Standing beside the
bed, he unleashed his full penis and emptied
his bladder on the bed adding to the mess. He
laughed hard as he did it.
Then he dressed and went on his merry way
laughing. He left the house and walked past
Nancy laughing in his lunacy. He walked
without stopping. And he didn’t stop laughing
either.
Everyone he met, thought he was just as
usual if only a little happier. Only Nancy knew
that the old man had lost his marbles. As she
ran onto the road, she was there just in time to
see his silhouette as he disappeared over the
top of the hill.
1226
That was about two kilometres away. And
the man was laughing all the way. She never
saw him again.
1227

Afoot in The Grave

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Afoot in The Grave

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WESUTSA JUST

A P.O. Box 15825,

IN THE BEGINNING, he didn’t realise it

"All I desire for my own burial is not to be buried

Lord Chesterfield. Letter to his daughter-in-law,

Gideon Maina had been born to Thomas and

THE NINE-YEAR-OLD GIRL got off her

The bus conductor shook Gideon awake.

heard a faint noise from her daughter’s room. It was as

though water was pouring out on to the floor…

She left her husband still lamenting but in a

rather that you love too much…you fear being

He struggled to get Hannah’s words out of

He sat at the escritoire at the corner of his

SHE DIDN’T DIE. But she very nearly did.

It was night soon. With all his anxiety, Gideon

hadn’t thought this hour would come. But finally, it was

This day had been a day of learning new

cutting into his thoughts.

became urgent. ‘I have to go now!’

Gideon was still inspecting the fence for a

‘You won’t be coming back here after

She didn’t stay in the comma for long.

‘FOLLOW ME INTO THE HOUSE,’ the old

The little girl walked into the doctor’s office silently.

She discreetly looked around. She took in the rich décor.

The doctor must be wealthy the girl surmised.

She was seated on a thick black leather

‘IS THAT WHAT THEY TOLD YOU

‘I don’t know anything old woman!’ Gideon

The doctor had the girl’s mother on the

Purity walked into her daughter’s room that

‘Spirits are going to be coming for me,’

HANNAH MAINA was scared. She made

‘Wake up Hannah. Wake up.’ Gideon

‘I have to do it Disi,’ Gideon told his friend.

Despite himself, Gideon was scared now.

Nancy quickly walked back towards

‘KEEP DOWN,’ the witch told him. ‘I’ll be

When Nancy heard the snakes, she felt

Gideon ran into the night and right into

What hit Gideon first when he walked into

Gideon struggled to relax. His heart

Gideon reacting to her voice, moved

He shot out of his sleep. It had been

‘Gideon’, it was Nancy, her hand on his

HE WAS AT SOLOMON’S GRAVE. He

The words scorned him. He had written

Solomon Maina looked around him. He was

She heard the thunder. Her bones felt

The harvest ceremony couldn’t have come

SOLOMON MAINA LOOKED AT THE SIX

Solomon had returned from relieving

Maria Chumo held her hands tight in her lap

Chumo moved on her chair. The

Solomon Maina was surprised to find that he

When Gideon walked into the hut where

Chumo turned into her hut without

SOLOMON MAINA WAS GOING TO KILL

Solomon Maina left the fireplace. He

‘Hmmm,’ Chumo spoke to herself as she felt

Eshihaka was shocked when the tale