Weep Not Child (12 page)

‘Have you heard, brother?’

‘No!’

‘But you have not asked me what.’

‘My children cry for food.’

‘But don’t you want to hear what happened in Murang’a?’

‘Oh, Murang’a. That’s far away…’

‘A chief has been killed.’

‘Oh! Is that all? My wife is waiting for me.’

‘But it’s all interesting–’

‘I’ll come, then, in the evening for the story.’

‘All right. Do. Other people are coming. I have a wireless set.’

‘My wife calls. Stay in peace.’

‘Go in peace.’

‘He was a big chief.’

‘Like Jacobo?’

‘No. Bigger. He used to eat with the governor.’

‘Was he actually killed in daylight?’

‘Yes. The men were very daring.’

‘Tell us it all again.’

‘Woman, add more wood to the fire and light the lantern, for darkness falls…Now, the chief was a big man with much land. The governor had given it all to him, so he might sell out the black people. The men were in a car. The chief was also in a car. The two men followed him all the way from Nairobi. When they reached the countryside, the men drove ahead and waved the chief to stop. He stopped. “Who’s the chief?” “I am.” “Then take
that
and
that
. And
that
too.” They shot him dead and drove away–’

‘In daylight?’

‘In daylight. The man on the wireless said so.’

‘This generation.’

‘Very daring. They have learnt the trick from the white man.’

‘It’s almost time for news. Let’s hear what the man will say–’

‘Hush!’

One night people heard that Jomo and all the leaders of the land were arrested. A state of emergency had been declared.

‘But they cannot arrest Jomo,’ said the barber.

‘They cannot.’

‘They want to leave the people without a leader.’

‘Yes. They are after oppressing us,’ said the barber. He did not speak with the usual lively tone.

‘What’s a state of emergency?’ a man asked.

‘Oh, don’t ask a foolish question. Haven’t you heard about Malaya?’

‘What about it?’

‘There was a state of emergency.’

Njoroge was a little annoyed when he heard about Jomo’s arrest. He had cherished the idea of seeing this man who had become famous all over Kenya. He could still remember a meeting arranged in the marketplace by Kenya African Union (KAU). It was many months after the strike that failed. KAU was the society of black people who wanted
Wiyathi
and the return of the stolen lands. The society also wanted bigger salaries for black people and the abolition of colour bar. Njoroge had heard about the colour bar from his brothers in Nairobi. He did not know what it was really. But he knew that the strike had failed because of the colour bar. Black people had no land because of colour bar, and they could not eat in hotels because of colour bar. Colour bar was everywhere. Rich Africans could also practise colour bar on the poorer Africans…

Njoroge had gone early to the marketplace. But he had found that many people had already reached the place and blocked his view. All right, he would see him next time.

But now Jomo had been arrested.

One heard stories about what was happening in Nyeri and Murang’a. Nyeri and Murang’a were far from Njoroge’s home. The stories that he heard were interesting and some boys could tell them well. Njoroge listened carefully and wondered how boys like Karanja had come to know so many stories.

‘Tell us more.’

‘Yes. What happened next?’

‘You see, he had written a letter to the police station at Nyeri. “I, Dedan Kimathi, Leader of the African Freedom Army, will come to visit you at 10.30 a.m. on Sunday.” Many more police were called from Nairobi to strengthen the force at Nyeri. Curfew was extended to daytime so that no one could leave his home. Every soldier was on the alert so that when Dedan came he could easily be arrested. At 10.30 then, on that very Sunday, a white police inspector on a big old motorbike came to the police post. He was tall, smartly dressed, but very fierce-looking. Every policeman stood at attention. He inspected them all and wished them good luck in catching Dedan. After he had finished, he told them that his motorbike was not working well. Could they give him another one as he was in a hurry to get down to Nairobi? They did. He rode away on a new motorbike. The police still waited for Dedan.’

‘Did he come?’

‘Don’t interrupt. Please, Karanja, go on,’ several voices cried.

‘Well, they did not see anyone else that Sunday. They were all annoyed. On the following day, they got a letter that was actually dropped by a flying aeroplane.’

‘What was in the letter?’

Karanja looked at them all in a lordly, knowing manner. Then he slowly said, ‘The letter came from Dedan.’

‘Haaa!’

‘In it he thanked the police because they had waited for him and had given him a better motorbike.’

‘You mean the police inspector had actually been Dedan himself?’

‘Yes.’

‘But that one was white?’

‘That’s the point. Dedan can change himself into anything - a white man, a bird, or a tree. He can also turn himself into an aeroplane. He learnt all this in the big war.’

Njoroge left school. He had now been in this new school for two years. In spite of difficulties at home he had managed to go on. With equal good luck he would eventually get what he wanted. He went home thinking about Karanja’s story. He knew that it was exaggerated but still there might be an element of truth in it. Stranger things had been said to happen. He had heard his father and Kamau say that Kimathi could do very wonderful things. He must surely be a great man to elude all the keen vigilance of the white man.

He reached home. The three huts put up hurriedly stood before him. This was his new home – his home since they were asked to quit Jacobo’s land. They had been years of struggle with Ngotho without a job and Boro much more changed and withdrawn than ever. Had it not been for Kori and Kamau he did not know what they could have done. Jacobo had now been made a chief. He moved with one or two policemen always by his side, carrying guns to protect him against the
Ihii cia mutitu
(Freedom Boys of the Forest). The chief went from one hut to the next checking and patrolling. Sometimes he went around with the new district officer. The new DO was actually Mr Howlands himself.

A small bush hid the courtyard from immediate view. Behind him the land of Nganga, their new landlord, sloped gently,
merging with some tall gum trees farther down. Njoroge was tired, for his new school was five miles away from home. And he had to do all that journey on foot. This was what education meant to thousands of boys and girls in all the land. Schools were scarce and very widely spaced. Independent and Kikuyu Karing’a schools, which had been built by the people after a break with the missions, had been closed by the government, and this made the situation worse.

There was nobody in the courtyard. The sun had already set and the usual evening breeze that came between sunset and total darkness was absent. The whole land looked deceptively calm. Njoroge stood for a moment, made uneasy by this quiet atmosphere that preceded darkness. At first he did not hear anything. Then he strained his ears and heard a murmur of voices in Njeri’s hut. It was very cold and dark. There was no sign of food anywhere, and he became colder and more hungry.

He went to Njeri’s hut.

The whole family was gathered there. Njoroge saw the dark face of his father. His face always wore something akin to a frown ever since that strike. Behind him was Kamau, who stood leaning against a post. Further on, hidden in a shadowy corner and sitting on a bed, were his two mothers. Njoroge went right in and the gloom in the room caught him at once.

‘Sit down!’ Ngotho quietly ordered him.

It was unnecessary for Njoroge was already preparing to sit down. As he sat he turned his eyes to the left. There, hidden by a shadow from the small wall that partitioned the hut, was his brother, Boro. For many months Boro had not been seen at home.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. How is it with you?’

‘It’s well, brother. How is school?’ Boro had always shown a marked interest in Njoroge’s progress at school.

‘It’s all well. How’s Nairobi? I hope you left Kori in peace.’

‘O, dear child, we hope he’s well!’ It was his father who answered him. Njoroge fearfully looked at Boro. There was silence.

Njeri said, ‘Do you think he is safe?’

‘I don’t know. He is not alone. There are many more with him.’

‘So you don’t know where the others were taken…’

‘That’s right.’ He kept on looking at the ground and then rose up unsteadily. He was a little excited. Then he sat down again and almost in a crying voice said. ‘If they should, oh, if–’

Njoroge thought Boro was mad. But just at that moment. the door opened and Kori staggered in. He wore a haggard, haunted look. He almost fell down.

‘What is it?’ the two women spoke together.

‘Water and food,’ he gasped. After a while he related his story to his surprised audience. But he first laughed.

‘Many, many will be in prison. What a waste!’ Then he turned to his brother. ‘So you are one of the three who escaped?’

‘We were five.’

‘They said you were terrorists.’

‘How did you–?’

‘After they took us to the field, I lost you. Then you escaped, and the police became more vigilant and even beat some people. Before daybreak, we were put into trucks. We did not know where we were being taken. I feared that we might be killed. This feeling became stronger when we came to a forest and the truck in which I was slowed down. I immediately got the idea that I should jump, which I did. They were taken by surprise and before they could fire, I had vanished into the forest. Look at my knee–’

They crowded around him – all except Boro who remained wrapped in thought. The knee was tied with a dirty piece of cloth and when he removed it, they could see where the sands had eaten in.

‘Ha, ha! I’ve no idea if they went to look for me. For days I’ve been travelling like you, only I got a lift by a lorry driver.’

‘Why do they oppress the black people?’ Njeri asked bitterly. She was growing old. Her days of poverty and hardship were being made heavier by this anxiety. But just now her heart was a little lighter.