He stretched his hands and wanted to touch her trembling figure as she led them into this song. And then he saw that the hands of the other people, including Joshua, were stretched toward her. For a moment he stood still, fascinated by the sight. And then horror caught him. They were all pulling her into pieces, as if she were a thing of sacrifice to the god of the river, which still flowed with life as they committed this ritual outrage on her. And he too had joined the crowd and he was tearing her to himself and she did not cry out because she was now dumb. Then he saw that it was Muthoni, and she was thrown into the river and she was saying, “I am a woman now.” The river carried her with it into a darkness which no one could fathom. Waiyaki’s heart cried and he knew that she was not there. She had gone. And everybody turned away, not speaking to one another because they felt guilty. They averted their eyes from Waiyaki, the Teacher, as they passed him. At last he was left alone. He did not know whether he should follow Muthoni or the crowd. Nyambura now stood in front of him. A flash of joy drove the guilt away and he went forward to touch her. She would not let him. And Waiyaki wanted to remonstrate with her and remind her of that one time when she had allowed him to hold her in his arms. But he remembered that Nyambura had not agreed to marry him. Why did she refuse? Because she would not disobey a father? Yes. That was the word. Obedience. And because she was obedient he had lost her. Forever. And his yearning would go on, on, till he died. Death was the end of everything. He was about to open his mouth and tell her that Joshua had led the crowd in tearing her to pieces. Then Waiyaki remembered that he too had chosen the crowd, had acceded to the ritual demands of the tribe and had shed her blood. Guilt weighed on him. The darkness terrified him. He wanted to scream in horror of himself. He had failed to tell people to unite. Another time. A next time. And he woke up still panting, next time.
Waiyaki shook himself out of the terror of that vision. He was sure that he had not fallen asleep. He felt his face and it was full of sweat. He looked around the hut. It was not late really. He was only tired and he wanted to rest. But now he knew that he could not sleep. The image that had transfixed him to his bed was too real for him to shake himself from its effect.
He wished he could have taken a more active part in the ceremonial activities of the tribe. That, at least, would have given him more comfort and made him feel still one of the people. But the journeys! Circumcision was coming soon, hardly a week away. The initiation day would coincide with Christmas Day. Was this a challenge to Joshua? Dancing and singing was in full swing. And there was a new edge to the songs. Uncircumcised girls were the objects of cutting attacks. Everything dirty and impure was heaped on them. They were the impure things of the tribe and they would bring the wrath of the ancestral spirits on the ridges. A day would come when all these Irigu would be circumcised by force, to rid the land of all impurities. Joshua and his followers took up the challenge. They sang of Christ and His saving power. They sang of a Child who was born in Bethlehem, who was put in a manger and had swaddling clothes.
It was no good sleeping early. He could not do it. He got out of bed and went to his mother’s hut. He wanted to go out into the village and talk to the elders or other men of his riika. For the next few days, he told himself, he would lose himself in the life of the ridge. If he had lost Nyamura, he had not lost his faith in service to the community.
His mother had not yet gone to bed. She was now very old and she sat near the fireplace. Waiyaki felt his conscience prick him. He had kept away from her for a long time. He thought, “I’ll marry soon so that she can have a companion.” Then a fear suddenly gripped him. Perhaps he would never marry. Waiyaki felt as if he would fall on his aged mother and let her comfort him as on that day when she had soothed him during his second birth. The feeling came and went. He was again calm. He did not want to stay long with his mother and so he rose to go.
“Where are you going, son?” She did not raise her eyes.
“Out, Mother.”
She now looked at him, at his strange eyes which spoke of an inner agitation. “Waiyaki.”
He turned round sharply, fearfully. His mother stared at him in the eyes. There was a strange tremor in her voice.
“Is it true that you are marrying Joshua’s daughter?”
The rumors! Spreading like fire in a plain of dry grass. This talk about marrying Nyambura annoyed him. Had she not refused him? She was obedient to her father. Waiyaki wondered what he should tell his mother. Should he tell her that he loved Nyambura? He thought of her. She had betrayed him. If only she had agreed! If only he had a hope! Then maybe he would be in a position to face any challenge. He would have known what to say when a person confronted him with a question like this. And he hated her. She had taken the path of duty. He too would take the path of duty and stick to the tribe. His father had warned him of contaminating the tribe with the white man’s ways, had warned him not to betray the tribe. Would an association with Nyambura not be a betrayal? He would not stand by her. He would not take her part. And he would not trouble his mother with an explanation. So Waiyaki only said one word: “No!”
And immediately he hated himself. Surely he ought to tell her all. He ought to tell his mother of his secret yearning, of his strong love for Nyambura. She was a mother. She surely could know of a cure. But when he opened his mouth, the words refused to form. Only a light shone in his eyes.
His mother went on in her weak voice, “You know what this would mean. You must not do it. Fear the voice of the Kiama. It is the voice of the people. When the breath of the people turns against you, it is the greatest curse you can ever get.”
Waiyaki now knew that it would be futile for him to explain. She would not understand. In her eyes such a relationship with a girl who was not circumcised would be a betrayal.
There was a knock at the door. Kamau entered.
“Is it well with you all?”
“It is well,” Waiyaki answered, glad of the interruption.
“The elders and the Kiama want to see you.”
Waiyaki had not been invited to appear before the Kiama since his resignation. He looked at his mother, whose eyes seemed imploring and plainly saying “Don’t go.” For a moment Waiyaki thought she was not well. He felt it his duty to be with her but he now welcomed this chance to talk to the Kiama and come to an understanding with them. If the mission thrust on to him by his father was going to succeed, he had to secure the cooperation of everyone. But he said, “I think Mother is ill.”
“It is important that you be there. Were it not so, I would not have come at this hour. You’ll only be away for a short time.”
“All right,” he said, avoiding the eyes of his mother.
And the two stepped out into the dark night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Why does the Kiama want me?” Waiyaki asked again as soon as they had stepped out.
“Oh, I don’t know exactly,” Kamau answered vaguely, yet with a note of finality that invited no more questions. Waiyaki’s mind was behind with his mother. Then he remembered the frightening images that had passed through his mind while he had lain awake in bed. He looked around in the darkness and felt a terror of nothing visible pursue him.
“It is a dark night,” he commented.
“It is dark,” Kamau agreed. These two never held a long conversation together, not unless there was a third person. Kinuthia had always been the third person. Kamau saw in Waiyaki the hawk that always snatched his piece of meat when he himself was about to eat it. How would he ever rise or succeed as long as Waiyaki was in the way? He came to hate him. The hatred had grown slowly, gathering violence as the years dragged along. And yet Kamau felt more and more powerless to fight against Waiyaki. He could never quite rouse himself to the effort.
The lone hut to which they went was a distance from Kabonyi’s group of mud huts. The outside was dimly lit by a small lantern that was put on a stone near the firepl
ace. In the fireplace were glowing pieces of wood which gave an oppressive warmth to the hut. Waiyaki was aware of figures lurking in the edges of darkness and he took them for the elders.
“Is it well with you all?”
“It is well.”
There was not the same warmth of response and they did not call him the Teacher, a title which was now his name. He sat on a stool and wondered what was coming.
It was Kabonyi who first spoke. He was old, very old, yet his eyes had that glitter in them that made you think they were the only live things in him. But he had energy and you could detect this in his voice. He spoke about the ridges, the initiation ceremonies that were under preparation. Now this ancient custom was about to be ruined by certain impurities in the land. The disease in the ridges had started with Joshua. The death of Muthoni had been the first contamination.
“But that is not our fear. The trouble now comes because the impurity in Joshua has caught some in our midst. It is the hidden soul in your body that kills you.”
Here he looked at Waiyaki meaningfully. A numbness came over the Teacher as he heard Kabonyi speak. He did not know where the talk was leading, but he could guess. He remembered Kinuthia’s warning, the elder’s hints and his own mother’s questions. Waiyaki thought: “And all this while I have busied myself with the education of their children.” Something like bitterness began to eat into him. To hear Kabonyi speak in that voice you would never think that he had once been one of Joshua’s followers.
“Yes,” Kabonyi repeated slowly. There was a strange stillness in the hut. It was a stillness such as precedes a storm or an explosion. “It is bad when he who has taken himself to be the leader of the people is touched by the impurity, for he is still in a position to spread the thahu to those close to him, to the stem and roots of the tribe. Such a person is a danger and he needs cleansing.”
Again Kabonyi paused, and his eyes rolled all round the hut, finally resting on Waiyaki. You could not tell if there was malice or scorn in that look. He spoke in an even voice and his words were measured.
“You, our Teacher, no doubt remember that girl, what was her name?”
“Which girl?” Waiyaki forced himself to ask. “I am in the dark.”
“Joshua’s daughter. Her name? Yes. Muthoni. She was not clean. Yet you took her to the hospital. You touched a dying woman, a dead body. And were you ever cleansed? I do not think so. But you ought to have been. You are not ignorant and you know what this means to the tribe.”
Waiyaki was going to speak, but Kabonyi waved him into silence.
“I have not finished. That is the first thing you have done to the tribe. It is not a small thing. Then you were not a teacher, a person to whom we entrusted our children. But since you rose into the position in which you are, you have deliberately worked against the tribe. How many times have you been in Joshua’s church? How many? No, wait, you have also been to Siriana. How many times? We know of two. You never told anybody that you were going there. Do you expect us to believe that you went to get teachers? Do you? You’ll have to tell us of any secret dealings between you, Joshua and Siriana. Will you sell us to the white man? You see how restless and impatient our people are. They cry for a leader to save them from slavery. And you, you, who ought to have led them—”
“Stop!” Waiyaki shouted with anger. Then he realized that he ought not to shout at a man much older than himself. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He tried to regulate his voice with difficulty. He wanted to rise and cry. “You fool, you fool!” But he felt weary. He writhed within and remained stuck to his seat.
Another elder was speaking. It was the same elder who had dropped hints to Waiyaki a few weeks back.
“Betrayal. Betrayal is a bad thing for a man in a position of influence. The curse of the people falls on him. You elders will remember Nganyira. He was a great warrior. He led the tribe. But what happened? He was tempted by a Masai woman. He betrayed the tribe’s secrets to the enemy. The curse of the people destroyed him. I could mention Wangira—” He added a few more names of those who had been unfaithful to the tribe and were in the end caught by the wrath of the people.
“That is why we warn you today. That is why you must tell us the truth. Are you marrying Joshua’s daughter or not? For unless we know the position how can we entrust our secrets to you? How can we know they will not later reach the white man?”
Yes. At last it had come. Yet he ought to have known. He was now on trial at Makuyu and he did not feel that he wanted to defend himself. Yet he spoke, forcing himself to remain calm.
“Elders. I did not know that such accusations based on rumors could ever reach me from your mouths. I am young. I think that youth should be led and where we go wrong, you, our fathers can and should correct us. Yet I see there is something more than the desire to correct in these accusations. I took Muthoni to the hospital. Because she was ill. I could never have let her die if I was in a position to help. I am not the person who initiated her. If she was unclean, why did the elders not object to her initiation? When she died, I did not touch her.
“As for Siriana, I can only tell you that I have never entered into any negotiation with the white man. I had gone there to try and get teachers for our schools which you agreed to build. There is no secret dealing between me and Joshua. I have never spoken to him.”
“What about going to his church?” Kabonyi asked.
“What has that got to do with anybody?” Waiyaki asked, anger getting the better of his calmness.
“It concerns the tribe, the people and their purity,” another elder put in.
Kabonyi and the Kiama were asking him to stand by their beliefs, beliefs that would destroy his mission of healing the rift between Makuyu and Kameno; between Joshua and the others. His mission of enlightenment through education would come to nothing. No! He could not be threatened into standing by Kabonyi. And if he came under the power of Kabonyi, all the work he had tried to do for the last few years would be annihilated. He must make his stand clear. Again he forced himself to remain calm.
“I too am concerned with the purity of the tribe. I am also concerned with the growth and development of the ridges. We cannot do this through hatred. We must be united, Christians and non-Christians, Makuyu or Kameno. For salvation of the hills lies in our hands.”
“Yet you would not fight the white man,” an elder interrupted.
“Our land is gone slowly, taken from us, while we and our young men sit like women, watching,” another elder put in.
“And we and our wives are forced to pay taxes,” still another followed.
“The schools, the schools,” Waiyaki pleaded with passion. “We must know what the white man knows.”
“We need a leader.”
“A political leader.”
“Education—” Waiyaki started to say.
“Nothing. We need action now,” Kabonyi said triumphantly. “But you have not yet replied to our worries. This girl—Joshua’s daughter—you are marrying her?”
Waiyaki rose. He was now really exasperated. What had Nyambura got to do with them? What? Could he not do whatever he wanted with his own life? Or was his life not his own? He would tell them nothing about Nyambura.
“Nyambura has nothing to do with this. If I love her, I love her. If you have nothing else to tell me, I will go.”
“Remember the oath!”
“The oath!”
“You took it.”
“It did not forbid me to love people.”
“It forbids you to betray the tribe, to reveal its secrets, or to do anything unclean which might ruin us.”
He would not discuss Nyambura, a girl who had rejected him. He looked at Kabonyi. Hatred was all that the dimming light from the lantern could reveal. The gleam in Kamau’s eyes spoke of silent triumph, and Waiyaki now knew that even Kamau hated him. Yet Waiyaki was more anno
yed with himself, for he felt he had not put up a good fight. Maybe he had lost grip with the tribe. Maybe he did not know where he was leading them. As he left them and walked out the word “traitor” followed him and he wondered if he had actually seen all the consequences of the awareness he had aroused in the hills. But bitterness and frustration mingled and drove him away. He felt angry with everybody, his own father, Nyambura, the elders, and with himself.
Kabonyi felt now triumphant as he faced the elders.
“Elders of the tribe. I told you. You would not believe me. He has not denied associating with Joshua or the white man. How can he continue to be a teacher? How can we go on following him? Where is he leading us?”
“He was always like that,” an elder said sadly.
“It is the girl. The girl has turned his mind the wrong way.”
“As we said earlier,” one more elder commented, “all these Christians should be circumcised. By force.”
“Yes,” a few voices assented, but not all. For some feared that such an action would bring thahu to the land.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
One evening a few days later Kinuthia burst into Waiyaki’s hut. He looked worried and glanced back over his shoulder as if expecting some people to follow him.
“Waiyaki,” he breathed out.
“What is it, Kinuthia?” Waiyaki asked. He felt frightened. He had never seen Kinuthia like this before.
“What have they done?”
“Who?”
“The Kiama!”
“What?”
“They are spreading rumors that you are no longer a teacher.”
“Oh!”
There was a little silence. Waiyaki recovered from the momentary shock and said with a forced calmness, “Please sit down. Where did you hear this?”
“It is being whispered. You know how news spreads. Kamau told me the Kiama removed you from your job. You were in league with the white man.”
The River Between Page 14
