The Mzungu Boy (12 page)

I was overjoyed to find him alive. Now my father and brother Hari would not have to hang. Maybe things could go back to being normal again. I led him out of the cave.

“What happened to your foot?” he asked.

“A thorn,” I told him. “Let's go home now.”

He gave me his shoulder to lean on. I put my arm around him and we descended into the river valley. It was late afternoon. The clouds were getting ready for another downpour.

As we hurried through the undergrowth, I told Nigel how I had worried about him, how the whole village was in turmoil over his disappearance, and how the army was out looking for him.

“I thought you were dead,” I told him.

“So did I,” he told me. “But I knew you would find me.”

He told me how he had run on into the forest and found Pepper lying on the ground with a deep cut on his head. It had scared him to his stomach. Then, as he had turned to run back the way he had come, someone had thrown a sack over his head and carried him screaming into the forest. He had heard my desperate calls, but by then they had gagged him and he could not call back.

“Did they beat you?” I asked.

They had not. But he had thought they were going to kill him.

“They are really strange people,” he told me.

I knew that to be true. Why else would they be called the men of the forest and live there with wild animals? Why else would they steal Nigel and hide him in a cave?

We were about a mile from the cave, walking along the river valley, when it happened. We did not see or hear them at all.

The first thing we knew, we were pinned to the ground and they were tying our hands behind our backs. Then they lifted us to our feet and rushed us back to the cave.

There were eight of them. Eight of the biggest, wildest men I had ever seen, and they smelled of buffalo. Among them were men I had seen before in the village and the men that had given me the message to take to Hari. The one with the scar was there too, the one who had said they would cut my tongue out if I ever talked to anyone about them.

They carried us deep inside the cave and tied our legs and gagged us. Then they covered us with the sheep skins and returned to the fireside to discuss our fate.

We were a big problem, it appeared. They did not seem to know exactly what to do with us. They discussed us for a long time.

“Let's kill them,” I heard one of them say.

“Kill Hari's brother?” another one asked. “Hari would not like that.”

“Hari does not have to like it. Hari did not do as we agreed. So we can kill his brother too.”

“They are only boys,” said another voice. “They are not circumcised.”

I had heard that the mau-mau did not kill uncircumcised boys. There was hope for us.

They talked about the soldiers. The soldiers were back in the forest and it worried some of them. They wanted to leave for the mountains as fast as possible.

“We must wait for Cutter-Cutter,” one of them said. “We must wait for the others. Then we will know what to do. But we must not kill the boys. It is bad luck to kill uncircumcised boys.”

Then they talked about other things, about guns and about a liberation war. I did not understand half the things they said.

We lay under the skins for a long time. We heard them talk and move in and out of the cave. But no one came to tell us anything. They roasted meat and ate it. They did not give us any and left us exactly where we were.

Hours later their friends arrived. They held a long and heated discussion. Then we were dragged from under the skins. They removed the gags from our mouths and untied our legs. They led us to the entrance.

It was raining outside and the newcomers were wet through and through. Hari stepped out from among them, looking haggard and defeated, and he regarded me for a long moment before he spoke to me.

His tortured face said it all. This time I had gone too far.

“Little brother,” he said. “You have placed me in a very desperate predicament.”

He had never called me little brother before. It scared me more than the anticipation of his left-right slaps.

“A very difficult position,” he repeated.

“How?” I asked.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I came to find Nigel.”

“Why?” There was pain in his voice.

“I lost him.”

He looked from me to the men as if to say, “I told you.”

Then he turned to the white boy, regarded him with pity, and appeared about to say something. He shook his head and turned to me instead. He studied me for a long, long moment. He was breathing hard as fury built up inside him.

Then he hit me.

The left-right caught me unawares. It rocked my head from side to side and left my whole body vibrating through and through.

He had never hit me so hard before. The blow left me wordless and tearless.

“Why?” he asked.

“He is my friend,” I said.

His face was contorted with fury. He made a fist and pulled it back to strike again. He had never hit me with his fist. I was certain he would kill me this time.

Then Nigel lashed out with his boot and kicked Hari in the shins.

No one was more surprised by this foolhardy move than Hari himself. He looked from me to Nigel. His face was full of humiliated anger. He raised his hand to strike at Nigel. I was certain the blow would kill him.

“Stop it,” I yelled. “Don't hit him.”

Hari turned from Nigel to me. He appeared thoroughly confused and embarrassed. He considered which one of us to hit first. His friends watched with great interest. Cutter-Cutter was smiling quietly.

Finally, Hari lowered his fist and said, “What shall I do with you?”

“Let us go home,” I said. “We'll never come to the forest again.”

He looked from us to Cutter-Cutter. Cutter-Cutter looked on, let him make all the decisions.

“I can't let you go,” he said. “It is not that simple.”

Cutter-Cutter gave a signal and the men grabbed us. They tied our hands and legs again and returned us to the back of the cave. Then they tried to decide what to do with us.

I was glad Nigel did not understand our language. He would have died of fright if he had understood some of the things the men were suggesting.

They discussed us for a long time.

“Let them go home,” Hari said at last.

“Because he is your brother?” Cutter-Cutter asked.

“Your plan cannot work now,” Hari told them. “The forest is full of soldiers already. They are looking everywhere for the white boy.”

They were quiet for a moment, thinking. But I could also tell there was fear in the air.

“Let us kill the little white man,” the scarred one said.

“No,” Hari said quickly.

“Why not?”

“There is nothing to be gained by that. It will only make them angrier. Besides, he is only a boy. And that was not the plan.”

“The plan,” Cutter-Cutter said quietly. “The plan was that you would take the note to the white man.”

“I had no chance,” Hari told him.

“Then you will take the note to him?” Cutter-Cutter asked.

“I never said that I would not,” Hari answered. “It is just that I had no chance. They have arrested me twice already. They let me out of prison just this morning.”

“Did they torture you?” someone asked.

Hari snorted angrily. “What do you think? I told them nothing.”

They were quiet for a long time after that. Later on they were joined by another gang. The new group brought news that there were even more soldiers in the forest around the farm.

They were all afraid and restless now. They discussed what they should do. They discussed for a long time.

“Here is what we shall do,” Cutter-Cutter finally told them. “Hari will take the note and go back to the farm. He will give the note to the white man. Then, when Hari confirms that he has done so, we shall take the boys and go up to the mountains. We shall go there and give the
mzungu
time to make up his mind.”

They sounded agreed on this course of action. Then Hari spoke up.

“It will not work,” he told them.

“Why not?” Cutter-Cutter asked impatiently.

“I don't think the
mzungu
will give up the land in exchange for two little boys,” he said. “Believe me, I know him.”

“Then we shall kill the little white man,” Cutter-Cutter said. “We shall kill his grandson and see how he likes that.”

I was cold with terror. I struggled silently trying to free my hands. Nigel was doing the same thing and not being any more successful than I was. After a while we gave up and lay back to await our fate. We listened to the men talk.

“Rookie?” Nigel whispered to me. “What are they talking about?”

“They are talking about us,” I told him. “They want to kill us.”

“Why?” he asked me.

“They want Bwana Ruin's farm,” I told him. “They want your grandfather's land.”

“Why?”

I told him I did not know. They said that it was their land, that Bwana Ruin was a foreigner and had stolen it from them.

“They are liars,” Nigel whispered back. “My grandfather is not a thief.”

That was what I thought too. But they said that it was their land and they would kill us if Bwana Ruin did not do as they demanded.

Nigel digested that information for a while.

“Rookie?” he asked finally. “What shall we do?”

I had no idea. They would definitely kill us. There was no doubt in my mind about that.

But they did not kill us right away. First, at Hari's insistence, they took us out and fed us roast buffalo meat. We ate hungrily. When we had finished, they gave us mugs of hot buffalo broth. They fed us very well, considering what they intended to do with us. Then they tied us up again and took us back under the pile of skins.

I must have fallen asleep after that. A deep, deep sleep with dreams of hunting and fishing.

I was surprised when I woke up to find myself under the skins, tied up hand and foot. It was the biting pain in my foot that woke me up.

The cave was dead quiet. Nigel slept peacefully by my side, breathing easily. I lay for a long time wondering what time of day it was and what the people of the forest were doing. My foot throbbed with every heartbeat. The first chance I got I would squeeze out the pus once again. Then I would put salt on the wound. I knew of many forest plants that were good medicine for wounds. But they were impossibly far away now.

I heard a creeping movement in the cave. I pricked my ears and listened. The movement was quick and quiet and very worrying.

Then the sheep skins were pulled away from us and I saw a shadow looming over us. It had a machete in one hand and appeared ready to strike.

I thought this was the moment of our death. I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out. I fought back, kicked out at the shadow.

“Kariuki,” the shadow barked. “Be still.”

It was Hari. While I sighed with relief, he bent down and cut the ropes that bound our hands and feet. Then he pulled us to our feet and dragged us out to the mouth of the cave.

“You must go away from here,” he said urgently. “You must go home now.”

The others had gone up to the mountain, he told us. Their plan had failed. There were too many soldiers in the forest looking for Nigel. Cutter-Cutter had changed his mind about killing us. He was a superstitious man and had decided to leave us there in the cave for the hyenas and the wild dogs.

The rain had stopped. I could tell from the position of the sun that it was about noon. Sunlight glinted on the wet leaves.

I sat down to squeeze the pus out of my wound. It was an extremely painful exercise, but my foot felt much better afterwards. I wrapped it in rags once more.

“Go that way,” Hari said, pointing south. “The soldiers are not far from here. They will show you the way home.”

“What about you?” I asked him.

“I can't come back home.”

“Why not?” I asked in panic. “You are not one of them. You are my brother.”

“I must follow my friends,” he said. “Don't worry about me. I will be all right. One day I'll come back home and be with you.”

I was almost in tears.

“Go now,” he said to us. “Go quickly in case they come back and find you here. Hurry home and stay there.”

He turned to Nigel. He regarded him for a long moment.

“It was my idea to bring you here,” he said. “I'm sorry.” There was pain in his voice.

“Don't play in the forest again,” he said to Nigel. “The forest is not safe any more. Not for little white men. Not for anyone.”

Then he gave us a shove and we were off. We went stumbling down the hill until we came to the thicker undergrowth and slowed down. Nigel gave me his shoulder to lean on. We plunged into the undergrowth, walking fast and urgently, eager to put as much distance between us and the hide-out as possible.

Eleven

WE MET THE
soldiers about a mile from the hide-out, stalking through the wet bush as silently as ghosts. We did not know they were there until we found ourselves in the midst of a dozen grim faces, their guns pointed at us.

They were happy to see Nigel alive and well.

“Where have you been?” they asked.

“In the forest,” he told them. “Rookie found me.”

He told them how he had been kidnapped by the men with spears. How they had taken him from one hide-out to the next until he had lost all sense of direction. And how I had found him and rescued him.

The officer in charge wanted to know how many terrorists there were. We gave them all the information we could. There were about twenty men and they were headed for the mountains. He gave us four soldiers to escort us home and led the rest of them after the gang.

The soldiers rushed us on through the forest. They got us home in the late afternoon. When we came to the farm, they took Nigel to his grandparents and left me to find my way back to the village.