Now Waseru knew that there was undisguised hostility between the two clans. Next morning he refused to pay Ndolia any part of the debt. He felt Karue’s eyes, hard as stones,striking through into his head and warnings of disaster whistled in his ears. Ndolia would bring a case before the council of aramati, Karue said; because it was a dispute between men of two districts, a joint meeting of the two councils would be called. Waseru watched him until he had passed out of sight in the forest. No one could tell what evil spells might now be laid upon the household.
7
WASERU’S fears were fully justified. The day after Karue’s visit a fat green caterpillar, called thatu, was seen within the compound, crawling rapidly towards Wanjeri’s hut. With cries of consternation Waseru was summoned from his tree-cutting and Wanjeri from her cultivation. They came running, and stared at the caterpillar with dismay. Taking two small sticks, Waseru lifted it with great care and carried it into the bush. A half-fattened ram was quickly snatched from its perpetual meal of sweet-potato tops in Wanjeri’s hut and slaughtered. Waseru poured a calabash of its fat in front of the caterpillar thatu, praying that it would be satisfied and bless the household, and go away.
The caterpillar crawled out of sight, but Waseru was still profoundly disturbed. Such insects housed the spirits of ancestors who had grown hungry for fat, or angry with their living kin, or who wished, for some other reason, to visit the homesteads of their descendants. In normal times such a visit was not unduly disquieting; once fat and beer had been poured the caterpillar-spirit was usually satisfied. But in this case the confluence of the two visits, Karue’s and the spirit’s, could hardly be due to chance. Waseru remembered well his father’s last warning against Ndolia’s clan. He had even mentioned Karue by name. Now, angry because Karue had eaten food in the homestead whilst he himself, a cold spirit living underground, went hungry, he had returned in a caterpillar’s skin. Or perhaps, Waseru thought, he was tying to bring a warning of some evil that menaced his clan.
In a few days Waseru knew that this had indeed been so.
First, Wanjeri’s daughter—a sturdy obedient girl whose circumcision was to take place within the season—fell sick. Then the youngest child, newly weaned, developed acute pains in her stomach, vomited, and within two days was dead. The elder daughter grew steadily worse; her strength fled and her eyes were glazed. Irumu’s diagnosis left no doubt as to the cause of illness. She had been poisoned; and Karue was to blame.
Irumu ringed the homestead around with protective magic and used all his wiles to drive the poison out. But it was too late. The girl sank into a coma and her limbs grew rigid. On the eighth day she was carried out of the hut and into the bush to die. Wanjeri, dumb with misery, stayed with her until the end. She never rallied, and by nightfall she was dead.
The loss to Waseru was great. His affection for his round-limbed, laughing daughter had been deep. And within a few seasons, very likely, the bride-price would have been paid. Now he was the poorer by thirty goats and all their increase and by three he-goats slaughtered in a vain attempt to save her; and a life had been lost to his clan.
8
KARUE’S vengeance had not yet run its course.
Waseru’s new wife was pregnant, and her time was near. One evening, as she was returning with full water-gourds from the river, Karue’s sorcery caused her feet to slip on the hill; and she fell heavily on to a stone.
Labour started immediately. She was carried into her hut and placed on the stool of childbirth, and a woman skilled in midwifery, one of Waseru’s clan, was called. Night fell and the time for eating was long passed, yet still the pains continued and the birth delayed. Waseru took a he-goat from his flock, climbed with it on to the roof of her hut and cut its throat, so that its blood dripped down on to the roof to appease the angry spirits that had found their way to the hut and lodged perhaps in the roof. But still his wife’s labour continued while her strength waned, and her groans grew hollow as a hornbiir’s cry. Karue’s magic had successfully bound the baby within her womb. A desperate summons was sent for Irumu, who came at dawn and sacrificed another goat. Then he took long thongs of ox-hide and bound them as tightly as he was able round the hut, to prevent the return of the spirits that he had driven out.
At last, soon after sunrise, the baby came; but it was not a normal child. It was born feet-foremost. No baby that entered the world in such a monstrous manner could grow into a healthy member of its clan. The midwife quickly stuffed its mouth and nostrils with grass and laid it on one side on a skin. All night long Waseru had waited to hear women’s trills coming from the hut—five for a boy, four for a girl—to proclaim his wife’s safe delivery; and he had looked forward to going in the morning to the plantations to cut the canes—five for a boy, four for a girl—whose juice would be the child’s first nourishment; but when he saw a silent woman hurry from the hut with a bundle in her hands, he knew that no trills of joy would set his fears at rest.
All day the evil which had entered into his wife fought with her life, and with Irumu’s magic; and gradually evil stifled life. Towards evening her body, tormented all day with pain, grew still, and in shuddering gasps her spirit came out of her mouth. Karue had triumphed for the third time.
Waseru was distracted with grief and rage. There was no end to the disasters that were falling upon him. As soon as the midwives left he barred the door of the contaminated hut. Before nightfall he broke down the mud plaster at the hut’s rear and hacked away posts to make an opening, and opposite this hole he made a gap in the compound fence. All night in the thingira he could not sleep; his ears listened for the scuffling and yowling of hyenas. The smell of death was in the compound, and hyenas came; and in the morning he fired his dead wife’s hut and watched it smoulder to the ground.
CHAPTER II
Justice
1
WASERU’S triple loss was catastrophic, and his rage against Karue too deep to be suppressed. He took the case to court. He accused Karue of poisoning his two daughters and killing his wife by witchcraft; and he claimed blood-money from Karue’s clan. For a man the blood-money was one hundred and ten goats and seven for the anger of the victim, but for a woman it was only thirty goats, the price of her replacement. Waseru claimed two payments of thirty goats, and one of eighteen goats for his young daughter.
Waseru grew more and more nervous as the day fixed for the hearing approached. Although he knew that his case was just, he did not see how he could prove his accusations. Ndolia was a rich and important man; Waseru was of little account. The elders would never decide against Karue; some of them probably would be his kin. And for each day the council sat, he must pay a fat ram as fee. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have invoked sorcery to fight sorcery: to have uttered seven deadly curses on the seven holes of the githathi, an object of such dreadful potency that no human eyes had ever seen it. But to curse Karue on the githathi would involve a journey into Karuri’s country and a heavy payment to the clan who kept it buried in the ground; and although it would bring certain destruction to his enemy, it would not enable him to collect blood-money from Ndolia’s clan.
Waseru could think of only one way to improve his chances: to put so keen an edge on his own eloquence that the elders, in spite of themselves, would be carried away by his appeals. Fortunately, there was one method by which this might be done.
For several days he searched bush and shamba for a certain small black-backed beetle carrying within it magical powers to loosen the tongues of nervous orators. When at last he found one he made a hole in a banana, inserted the beetle and roasted the banana in the ashes of a fire. On the evening before the trial he ate the banana in secret, with the beetle inside it. Then all his anxieties began to fade. Even before he slept he could feel great thoughts, irrefutable arguments, crowding into his brain. The magic beetle could not fail to endow him with oratory before which even the poisoner Karue, who wore hyena’s jaws in place of a heart, would quail.
2
/> WHEN he found himself seated on his low stool under a big fig-tree close to Ndolia’s homestead, the wisest among the elders in a semi-circle in front of him and a great crowd behind, only the thought of the beetle’s powers within him kept his purpose constant. Now was no time to stammer and feel afraid; now was the time to stand up among his fellows and demand his rights. He repeated to himself the saying: the eyes of the frogs do not prevent the cattle drinking.
He, the plaintiff, was the first to speak. Holding a little bundle of sticks in his hand to prompt his memory, he told how enmity had grown between the clans; how Karue’s discourtesy had swelled like the rotten stomach of a cow until it culminated in a grave and open insult; of Karue’s reputation as a poisoner; of Karue’s visit, and how the two children had died of poison afterwards; and of the death by witchcraft of his pregnant wife. He claimed full blood-money, for Karue had taken all that he had, save one wife who would soon be too old for child-bearing. When at last he ended there was a murmur from the elders and he knew that his fluent oratory had won their sympathy to his side.
Irumu stepped out of the semi-circle and gave his support to part of Waseru’s testimony. There was no doubt at all, he said, that Waseru’s two daughters had been killed by poison, and his wife by a magic of exceptional power, so strong that it would yield to no ordinary treatment.
Then Karue spoke. He, too, told of Waseru’s dispute with his own clan, and of the dishonesty of an undutiful son-in-law who had for half a lifetime evaded his just debts. For many seasons Ndolia had been trying to collect the final payments which even Waseru admitted, but in vain; and now the debt had grown to thirty-two goats. His own visit to Waseru’s had been the highly distasteful call of a debt-collector. Because Waseru could no longer avoid payment in any other way, he had invented this absurd story of poisoning and sorcery, which everyone acquainted with the speaker, Karue, knew to be a malicious lie. Waseru had no proof; his words were like wood-ash floating in water; he had flung them out in futile anger and they drifted without purpose or strength. Karue denied the accusations utterly and counter-claimed on behalf of his father, now a very old man, for thirty-two goats.
The council sat for two days, hearing many witnesses on both sides. When it became clear that the elders were divided in opinion, it was decided to put the question of Karue’s guilt to the test of an ordeal.
A fat ram was killed and over its fragrant roasting meat the choice of a reliable ordeal was discussed. Most of the elders favoured the licking of a red-hot knife; but the mundu-mugu who was called to conduct the ceremony had a better idea. He held a small wooden box in his hand. Curiosity ran high; no one could guess its contents. Waseru and Karue were told to stand in the centre of a ring, facing the elders, side by side. The mundu-mugu unstoppered several of his gourds, mixed three kinds of powder in his palm and rubbed the medicine into the nostrils of the two litigants. They waited in silence, their faces blank and stolid. Waseru knew that from any test he must emerge triumphant, his innocence proved; but still his throat and mouth were dry and his heart pounded as quickly as the feet of young men at a dance.
The mundu-mugu opened his box and pulled out a small, grey wriggling animal. It was recognised at once as the gituyu, a sharp-fanged forest rodent of a ferocity quite out of keeping with its size.
Grasping it behind the neck, the mundu-mugu held it up to Waseru’s nose. Without hesitation it buried its pointed teeth in his nostrils. With all his willpower he forced himself not to flinch, but he could not conceal a trickle of blood that flowed from his nose. There was a low murmur from the crowd. With a contracting heart Waseru knew that the gituyu, no doubt bewitched, had turned against him.
The mundu-mugu jerked the beast from Waseru’s face and held it up in front of Karue. The critical moment had come. If it turned away, Karue’s innocence would be proclaimed.
The gituyu buried its fangs deeply in Karue’s nose, biting so viciously that the mundu-mugu had to pinch its head before it would let go. This time a louder exclamation went up from the crowd. It had bitten both men, so clearly there were lies on both sides; but of the two it had bitten Karue with greater ferocity.
The ordeal was over, and the leader of the council announced that the case was finished. The council would adjourn to eat another fat ram, and would proclaim its findings when the sun was low.
3
THE verdict, after all, was indecisive. Neither party, members of the council agreed, had proved his honesty to the elders’ satisfaction. Waseru had lied in regard to the bride-price and behaved undutifully to his father-in-law and his wife’s brother, but the death of his wife and daughters was clearly due to poisoning and sorcery. Karue had been guilty of ill-mannered and unjustified behaviour, but the more serious charges had not been definitely proved.
Both parties, the judges concluded, must face another ordeal : that of the beating of the goat. If either lied, he would be well advised to confess before he raised the club in his hand. When the life of the goat had been beaten out, it would be too late. Then, if a man had lied, certain death would come to him within a single season.
The elders’ spokesman paused, hoping for a confession in face of such a threat; but none came. If Karue, having beaten the goat, died within a season (the elder continued), or even if he fell sick, this would be taken as proof of his guilt; and then his clan must pay blood-money in full to Waseru. But if he did not die or fall sick, then it would be known that Waseru’s accusations were false. Waseru, in the meantime, must pay Ndolia the balance of his debt, computed by the council at twelve goats; and to atone for his insulting behaviour, Karue must pay Waseru two fat rams.
Next morning the ceremony of the beating of the goat took place. The legs of a he-goat were tied and the mundu-mugu put medicine in its eyes, nostrils and ears. Then he laid a special spell upon it, and Karue and Waseru were given clubs and told to take the oath.
“ May I die,” each man vowed in a strong voice, “as this goat dies, may I be broken in pieces, if I have lied in anything that I have said.” Repeating the oath again and again each man in turn brought his club down on the goat’s ribs. The sharp crack of bones followed the thud of clubs and soon the animal had become a lifeless pulp at their feet. Its broken body was thrown into the bush, unflayed. Then the case was over and the elders, staffs of office and fans of leaves in hand, made their leisured way on bent and skinny legs to their own homesteads.
4
WASERU was away on a short trading expedition when Karue’s son, a newly-circumcised youth, came to collect the last batch of goats due under the judgment of the elders’ council. It was in itself almost an insult to send someone so young and unimportant to collect the debt. The boy was conceited and badly behaved. He greeted Wanjeri pertly, failing to lower his voice in respect, and omitted to use those forms of address to Muthengi and Ngarariga due from a youth to his superiors in rank. “ It is easy to see,” Matu said in a low voice to his brother, “that the child of the leopard will claw like its mother.”
The youth had to stay the night, however; and, as the weather was warm, the evening meal was eaten outside, by a fire lit in the compound. Distant thunder rumbling behind the mountain pressed heavily on the temples of the young men. They ate in silence, resenting the presence of a member of the clan that had poisoned three women of their family.
The visitor suffered from no embarrassments. He ate too fast for good manners and before the meal was over he committed a breach of courtesy almost as bad as his father’s insult to Wanjeri. While the gruel-gourd was being passed from hand to hand he put one foot deliberately on top of Muthengi’s foot. For a moment Muthengi sat rigid, his skin tightening over his bones, waiting for the gesture of apology to come. But the youth did not remove his foot.
Muthengi leapt up with an exclamation of anger. Others might keep silent under such a deliberate insult from a junior in rank, but not he, a chief njama of great renown.
“You ignorant scrap of hyena’s droppings,” he cried. “Did y
our father teach you only the manners of wild beasts ? Did your mother nourish you on the dung of kites?”
Karue’s son had also jumped to his feet. “Those are foolish words for a coward to use!” he said. “You run away like a francolin, your father is a rogue who evades his debts. Your clan is despised by all other clans for its poverty and cowardice !”
With a grunt of fury Muthengi seized a piece of firewood and brought it down on the head of Karue’s son. The youth staggered backwards, recovered, and with the speed of a striking snake he whipped his sword from its sheath. As he raised it to lunge at Muthengi the blade’s tip struck Matu, who had jumped back into the shadows to avoid the brawl, on the shoulder, and gashed the flesh.
Muthengi’s hand leapt to his right side and an instant later a sword cut a flashing arc through the air. Muthengi’s blow was hard and true. A rib snapped like a branch as his blade bit through into his enemy’s chest. Then the boy’s slim body was lying like a plucked flower on the ground, limp and lifeless.
5
WASERU returned to a homestead of strange silences and averted eyes. Not until evening did Muthengi come, ashamed and sullen, to relate the news.
Waseru was almost stupefied by the disaster. No greater misfortune could befall a person than that one of his family should kill a man. He had felt before he went away that nothing more could happen, that the limit had been reached. But even the life of Karue’s son had become an instrument of Karue’s vengeance.
“All my goats,” he lamented in his own mind. “All, all will go. The huts will be empty as a bee-box when the swarm has left.” To his son he said: “There can be no avoiding payment of the blood-price. We cannot deny the youth’s death. Truly the wealth of our clan will vanish like a pool of water in the rocks on a day of fierce sun.”
Red Strangers Page 20
