FOLK TALES

CHIEF WARAMBO AND THE NECKLACE.

Chief Warambo had a dream one night. In the dream, he saw all his forefathers at his installation ceremony. One thing Warambo noticed in his dream: all his forefathers had their two front teeth missing.
"Where are your two front teeth?" the puzzled Warambo asked his father who happened to be among the people at the ceremony.
"The heir to the crown always inherits four things from his father," Chief Warambo's father started. "One is the royal spear which has two heads. Two is the royal stool which I am sitting on. Three is the chain formed by the two front teeth of all the chiefs who have gone before the present chief. Last is the golden ring to be worn on the index finger. All these four things must be there before a chief takes over."
During the installation ceremony, Warambo saw himself being awarded all the vital possessions a chief had to inherit. Warambo was warned: "Don't lose any of the four items. They are not to be used by anyone, except the chief himself. Failure to follow these simple rules will lead to the death of the chief's whole family and livestock."
So, in the dream, Warambo vowed to protect with all his might and strength the dignity and honour of the of the chief's family. Nothing would shake him, nothing would worry him. The chief's name was to be upheld in all generations.
The old chief woke up the following morning. He called for his youngest wife who came running to serve her master. "Yes your greatness," answered the wife.
"Fetch my golden ring, spear, and necklace. I want to meet the elders today," the chief ordered. The wife hesitated but recovered quickly and went out look for what she had been told to look for. The wife wondered: what necklace was this the chief was asking for?
She soon came back with the required things, except the necklace which she was hearing of for the very first time.
"Which necklace, I might ask, your greatness?" the wife finally gathered courage and asked.
The chief shot her a murderous glance and then roared: "The necklace which contains all the front teeth of my forefathers and myself."
His wife was shocked . Never had she heard of this manner of talk. Two things she knew. One, there was no such necklace. Two, she could not argue with her husband.
The chief saved her the agony of looking for what was not there. "Send the messengers to get all my wise men at once. All my sons should also be there," he told the relieved wife.
After some few minutes, all the required people were gathered inside the chief's hut. They were silent not knowing what the chief had to tell them.
"My sons and all wise men, a serious thing has happened. I can't find my royal necklace. As you all know, my son cannot inherit the chiefdom without without this necklace, as it contains the only link with my forefathers - their front teeth," the chief began.
"If the necklace is not found," continued the chief, "it will mean the death of all my family and livestock. So I am sending you all over the chiefdom to look for the necklace. If it is not found in seven days, then disaster shall strike."
After the brief meeting, in which no one questioned the chief on the strange existence of the ring, the wisemen and sons spread out to look for the missing necklace. Maybe there was one.
After three days of fruitless and frustrating search, the wisemen and the sons held a meeting without the chief's knowledge. Tambo, the chief's eldest son, chaired the meeting.
"It is clear that my father is now too old and has started imagining things. No one has heard of this necklace business. All of you know that my father lost his two front teeth in a fight during his teen days," Tambo said. "So we shall have to do something before the seven days are over. I suggest we get volunteers to donate their front teeth."
Unfortunately for Tambo, no one was willing to part with his teeth. So a few people were called and forced to part with their front teeth.
Afterwards, a beautiful necklace was made from about fifty teeth. It was polished and it sparkled like ivory. The necklace was ready. The deadline had been met.
So the wisemen and Tambo went to the old chief and presented the necklace to him. All were extremely tense as the old leader looked at the necklace carefully. Their tension turned to relief when the chief happily declared, "Yes this is the one. This is the necklace I was telling you about."
Warambo took the glittering necklace and placed it round his son's neck. "Now I can die in peace."
One week later, Warambo died in his sleep and Tambo, his son, was crowned chief. Tambo called the wise men and they decided that it would be prudent to reward the people who had donated their teeth. Each was then given ten cows, several sheep and goats.
Tambo became a wise ruler and one of his favourite quotes became: "Age brings experience, advanced age brings wisdom but very advanced age only brings problems."

FEATHER OF MARRIAGE.

The visit was a normal one. Mzee Ketan, one of the oldest men in the village, had gone to visit his life-long friend Mzee Karat. Together they sat and remembered the old days when they were but young ones running around and causing havoc. They roared in laughter as they went through the early chapters of their lives.
Presently Mzee Karat's youngest daughter came in to serve the two old men. It was here that Mzee Ketan's eyes fell on the young and beautiful Katos, a beauty who had mesmerized many.
"I thought that all your daughters were married," Mzee Ketan told his host, a father of quite a number of children.
"That is the last one and she will soon be ready to leave, though no one has proposed," replied Mzee Karat.
"What if I propose now?" asked Mzee Ketan jokingly, though deep down he was serious about it.
Mzee Karat laughed and then replied, "You want my daughter to be your fifth wife! That is a good idea as it will strengthen the bonds of our friendship."
The two old men then went on to discuss the issue of dowry, how and when to deliver it.
Marriage in the Kabul tribe was taken as a very sacred thing. There were several steps usually undertaken before a girl left her father's homestead. The first step was that the boy or man had to prove his intention by bringing the girl's father a feather - a peacock's feather. Without this, one could not marry. Once the feather was brought home, the man handed it to the girl of his choice - in this way the girl knew that she was about to be given away.
The second step was a result of the first one. Dowry was discussed. It usually consisted of about ten to twenty animals, mainly cows, goats and sheep. This normally took place after the feather handing occasion.
Once the dowry had been paid, then the girl was officially married and had to leave her father's homestead with her new husband. This last stage confirmed that the girl no longer belonged to her father's home. It saw the official escorting of the girl to her new home.
The feather was a precious thing in all homesteads. This was because of two reasons. One, the peacock was very rare in the region and capturing it or just seeing one was next to impossible. However, once in a while, they were spotted and hunted down. Secondly, the feather was the most important part of the marriage. Once a man had made his intentions known to the girl by handing her the feather, no other man could do the same: the girl remained engaged to the man, as long as the girl had attained the age of marriage.
Most feathers were handed over from father to son. This meant that families with many sons needed more feathers than those with fewer sons.
"But first you have to bring a feather to the girl so that she knows that she is going to be your wife," Mzee Karat told his friend.
It was at this juncture that the sharp ears of Katos overheard the conversation. She strained her ears to hear more and what she heard made her very sad. How could her father be so cruel as to hand her to such an old man? She tried to control her tears but she could not, so she ran out to report the incident to her mother.
"There is nothing I can do. Mothers, as you know, are never part of the marriage discussion. Our only job is to make the feasts memorable. Beyond that is asking for too much," Katos' mother told her sad daughter.
Katos, however, did not give up hope. She sought the counsel her slightly older brother. The two, the only children in their parents' homestead, had become very close to each other. Between them they shared endless secrets and fears.
Kepal, Katos' brother, was out herding the cows. So he was not due till late in the evening. Katos had no choice but to wait for her brother, her last source of consolation.
The first thing that greeted Kepal when he arrived from herding were tears from her sister who went to tell the bewildered boy the whole story of Mzee Ketan. He was both shocked and annoyed by what his father had done.
"It is unfortunate that the one who has the intentions of marrying you is not here," said Katos' brother.
Karanga, Katos' best friend, and other village warriors had gone after some cattle rustlers who had ambushed the local herdsboys and taken off with some of their livestock. The villagers had been mad and had sent a party of fifty warriors to go after the rustlers. The party had not yet come back and the length of the mission was not known as it depended on how far the rustlers came from.
Brother and sister sat down trying to think of how they were going to stop the feather from reaching their home before Karanga was back. Katos could not stop crying. "I am too young to be married to that old man!" she wailed uncontrollably.
Finally their desperation paid when Kepal said, "First we have to find out how many feathers he has in the house." Mzee Ketan was known in the villagers as the man with many sons and one daughter. It was therefore obvious that his sons ( all married) had used many feathers while marrying.
The following day, while herding, Kepal started boasting about the number of feathers he had seen in his father's house.
"I can marry up to fifteen wives as there are those number of feathers in my father's house," Kepal boasted.
The others joined in the game of boasting. Only Mzee Ketan's son did not join in the boasting. The others, however, teased him so much that he had no option but to reveal the truth.
"There is only one feather in my home and it looks like my father wants to use it to marry another wife. This means that I'll either have to hunt peacocks or wait for my much younger sister to get married," lamented the young boy much to the sympathy of his friends. Such cases, however, were quite common in the village.
That evening, Kepal went home and told his sisters that Mzee Ketan had only one feather in the house. The problem now lay in getting rid of that one feather which stood in the path of happiness of the young girl.
"I am afraid, sister, there is no way we can get that feather," bemoaned Kepal.
His desperate sister could not take a negative answer. "Steal it, if that is the only way out," Katos added sadly, though she knew that there was no way Kepal was going to steal that one feather. Stealing was considered a major crime in the village and it usually carried heavy penalties with it.
It seemed like nothing could be done to improve the situation. So the two sat sadly thinking about the following day, the day Mzee Ketan was to bring the feather.
The following day, Kepal did not go herding. He gave someone the animals. He, like everybody else in the homestead , was awaiting the arrival of Mzee Ketan with the peacock feather. So all stayed in their houses waiting for the horn to announce the arrival of their visitor.
Soon morning turned to mid-day and the horn had still not been heard. The others who knew him as an early visitor were surprised at his lateness, especially on such an important day.
It was evening and still Mzee Ketan had not yet been seen. Katos showed some signs of relief at the lateness. Maybe the old man had changed his mind. Maybe.
It was very late in the evening when the horn was heard. Katos' spirits sank when she heard it. She could not help control the torrential tears streaming down her cheeks as she turned to her angry brother for comfort.
Mzee Ketan made his way to the village and all were surprised to see the old man and his four escorts on foot, instead of using the customary way of bringing a feather - donkeys.
Mzee Karat welcomed his guest, though he noticed that the old man looked sad and dispirited. The host took his visitors to the house and that is when Mzee Ketan told his story.
"My friend, I don't have the feather. We were on our way here when the donkey I was riding on was bitten by a snake. The donkey panicked and dropped me and the gourd containing the feather down. The others donkeys also panicked and all ran away. It was after fighting and killing the snake that we realised that the gourd had broken and that the feather was nowhere to be seen. We spent the whole morning and afternoon looking for that feather," Mzee Ketan narrated sadly.
Mzee Karat could not understand why his friend had not gone back home for another feather.
"That was the last feather in my house and I am now too old to hunt. So it looks like I'll have to wait for my daughter to get married, and that is a long way to go," said the old man.
The story leaked out and it soon reached the sharp ears of Katos' mother who did not waste time in breaking the news to her sad daughter. The girl brightened up. It seemed like the gods were on her side.
Two days later, Karanga was at Mzee Karat's doorstep with a feather intended for Katos. The brave warriors were back in the village after a successful mission.
Mzee Karat could not deny the brave warrior his chance to get a wife. One moon later, Katos moved out of her father's homestead to go and live with Karanga.


T H E W I D O W.

Ambo could not contain the hunger in her any longer. So she decided to do what was considered a grave crime - steal!
"There is no way my only son and I will sit here and die of hunger while there is food in the gardens," she said to herself.
Ambo was a widow, a very young one. Her husband had died the previous season and left her heavy with child. The child had been born a few moons after the father's death and he had been named after the father - Dinga.
Dinga, Ambo's husband, had left Ambo with three different gardens, big enough to feed a big family a trade with. Ambo, in the confusion following her husband's death, had not paid so much attention to the gardens, not until her husband's brothers had moved in to take over the gardens.
Ambo had then gone to the elders to report the issue and the answer had been a discouraging, "A woman cannot own land. If you want to own any land, then you have to get married to one of Dinga's brothers." There was no compromise on that and Ambo, who had refused to be married off, watched as her child grew without a father and land.
Days had passed and Ambo had taken to begging her fellow women for food. After many days of continuous begging, her fellow women had told her to swallow her pride and pain and be married off. That was the last time Ambo had bothered to beg.
Desperation had driven Ambo to her own parents, where she thought that her parents would at least sympathise with her and accept her back.
"My daughter," her father had said, "once you leave your father's house to go to your own, then there is no way you can be accepted back where you left."
Ambo's mother had added, "You now belong to the Dinga family and even when you die, you shall be buried there." Ambo, though familiar with the customs, had hoped that her parents would be her saviour.
Ambo had gone back to her house and sat down wondering how to face the hardships in life with her nine-moon old baby. After much deliberation, she had finally swallowed her pride and gone to Binta, Dinga's elder brother.
"Binta, I have decided to come and be your last wife," Ambo had told her unamused and indifferent brother-in-law.
"I am sorry Ambo, your days are over. I would have taken you during the first three moons after your husband's death. It is now nine moons past and unfortunately there is nothing much I can do," Binta had told the sad and embattled Ambo.
"But I was expectant at that time and I could not just walk into your house," Ambo had defended herself.
Binta had laughed and said, "You cannot force me to marry. The customs are very clear on that issue and I am not going to spend my time debating on this. Good night!"
Ambo had gone to the other two brothers and it had been the same story all along. And that was the night she went to bed on an empty stomach. That night she went to bed but she could not even sleep a wink. Worse was the constant crying of her son. And that was the night Ambo decided to steal.
Everyone was asleep in the village when Ambo went out to Binta's granary. There she took food enough to last her for three days. She silently went back, cooked the food and ate. For the first time in many days, Ambo and her son slept soundly and woke up feeling better the following morning.
Nobody noticed the missing food in the granary, and after another three days, Ambo repeated her act again. This too went unnoticed.
Ambo's stealing now extended to the gardens as she also needed fresh maize to boil and roast. The gardens also had fresh vegetables which she could cook. Unfortunately for Ambo, the disappearance of fresh maize raised eyebrows.
"Someone has been stealing my maize," complained one sharp-eyed old farmer to his wife who also expressed the same complaints concerning vegetables.
"It must be that Ambo woman. She is the only one who doesn't go the garden, yet eats like all of us. I am sure it is her," the farmer's wife replied.
The old man decided to put some sentry in the garden throughout the day. This, however, did not succeed as Ambo operated only at night when everyone was deep asleep.
After several days, various people started complaining of the disappearance of foodstuff from their gardens. Ambo heard all these and just kept quiet, determined not to starve to death.
One of the victims decided to lay a trap on the thief who had proved elusive all along. He dug a pit, covered it with grass and left for the night.
That night, the unsuspecting Ambo, came to the garden and WHAM! She landed in the deep pit and unknowingly started to scream. Her screams, unfortunately, were not heard by the deep sleeping villagers.
Ambo's son cried throughout the night and the villagers, accustomed to crying children, did not bother to find out what the excessive noise was all about.
Early in the morning, the old farmer, who had set the trap, went to he his garden and was delighted that his trick had at last borne some fruits. The other villagers were called and all came to see the thief who, as suspected, was Ambo.
Ambo was removed from the pit and taken back to the village where a hearing was set straight away. All the villagers were to be present.
During the hearing, Ambo sat silently with her son. The rest of the villagers sat in a circle, surrounding the whole court.
The elder leading the hearing stood up to speak. "According to the village rules, any man found stealing faces death either by stoning or drowning in the Loka lake. A woman found stealing is expelled from the village. She cannot even go back to her parents, because a thief is a disgrace to the society. A thief, my village-mates, cannot be part of the village."
Ambo was called and told to explain to the villagers why
action should not be taken against her. She narrated the whole story of her rejection. The impatient villagers, however, were neither interested in her story nor moved by her tears.
One die-hard elder who believed only in punishment stood up and said, "A criminal is a criminal, whether starving or not. So the laid down rules for punishing a thief have to be followed to the word. We don't make rules so as to break them and if this woman is not going to be punished, then we are not a village." He then sat down as he was cheered by others who also recommended punishment. Dinga's brothers also spoke against the act. It seemed like Ambo was all alone.
One elder, to the amazement of all, stood up to defend Ambo. "I am shocked by the spirit in this village of ours. When I was a child, this village was one big and happy family where unity was the order of the day. One who could not get food, did not have any problems as the villagers were all generous and believed in sharing. Once a moon we had a food-sharing ceremony whereby each family traded cooked food with their neighbours. All those are now gone and each family and person is just interested in their own things.
"I am ashamed as here we stand ready to condemn a woman who has been suffering right under our own eyes. This is a shame to our ancestors who taught us that a village is one big and happy family. Where, my village mates, is your generosity? Where is your unity? Where is your humanity?"
The elder sat down and all now remained silent as they digested the words of the elder. Most affected were the judges who had very fond memories of how their village used to be.
The leader stood up and asked if there was anyone to challenge what the elder had said. There was no one. Ambo was then declared innocent.
Much to Ambo's relief, all the villagers now became friendlier. She was given back her gardens to cultivate and she really channeled her energy there. Ambo never went hungry again and as she had swore during the hearing, never stole again.


THE BOY WHO COULD NOT MARRY.

Abich had attained the ripe age of marriage and like all those who had attained that age, he was going to do something about it. According to the customs, Abich's parents were meant to look for a suitable bride for their son. If the parents did not succeed in this mission, then the son was free to look for a bride on his own.
Abich was the only son in his mother's homestead. All his seven sisters had been married bringing fat dowry to Abich's mother. Abich father had died when Abich was still a very small boy. The absence of Abich's sisters and father meant that the homestead had only two people living in it - Abich and his aging mother.
There was no hurry from Abich's mother. "My son, you are still too young to marry. Wait until the coming season and I will get you a very good bride," Abich's mother told her impatient son.
Abich sadly watched as his friends all married and left him alone. "Mine will come next season," he told his friends who could not understand what Abich was waiting for.
The following season came and it was the same story from Abich's mother. This time, however, Abich decided to go for a bride on his own as he felt that he was truly ready for marriage.
His first stop was at his friend's place.
"May take your daughter to my mother?" Abich asked Amuga's mother customarily. Daughters were always taken to mothers first to be approved.
"Son of my fellow woman," replied Amuga's mother, "I hope that my daughter will find favour in your mother's eyes. She is good at everything she does."
Abich was happy and he was escorted by his friend Amuga and some of Amuga's numerous brothers. The escort left Abich at the entrance leading to his house. Abich took the girl home and his mother who had not been anticipating such radical moves by her son was quite shocked to see the beautiful and well-mannered sister of Amuga.
"Mother, I have brought home a girl who I want to be my wife," Abich told her disapproving mother. His mother kept quiet and just showed the girl around. She left the girl with some work to do and came back to talk to her son.
"My son, listen to me," Abich's mother began. "I have never told you this but let me tell you today. That girl's family does not have a good name. Her grandfather was a night-runner (wizard) and it is said that one of her grandmothers was a witch. My son, it is not safe to marry into such families."
Abich was tongue-tied. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with a family of night-runners, at least not after what had happened to his father. (It was believed that his father had been bewitched by his brother-in-law.)
The following day the girl was returned to her home. No explanation was given to the surprised parents of the girl and the family members.
Abich, however, did not give up his search. He went to
another friend called Agum. There he asked for Agum's sister and his wish was granted by the parents of the girl.
Abich mother was her old self once again. "My son, it is not good to marry girls who are taller than you. Girls who are taller than their husbands give birth to twins or triplets." Nobody in the village wanted anything to do with twins or triplets as these were considered a bad omen to the village and were in all cases thrown to the hyenas in the forest.
Very sadly and dejectedly, Abich took the girl back. Again no explanation was given to the girl's parents. Abich was really cursing his ill-luck all the time. Why couldn't he be as successful in getting a wife as his friends had been.
As a last desperate step, Abich decided to venture to the shores of the lake and pay another friend a visit. Once there he made his mission known and as a family friend. his mission was approved. The girl was escorted to Abich's place and this time Abich silently crossed his finger and muttered some prayers.
"That is the daughter of Aguyo the brewer. All their family members are brewers and drunkards. Can't you even see her eyes," Abich was told by his mother.
The following day, Abich took the girl back and he was shocked to notice that the girl's eyes were as white as milk. Drunkards' eyes were supposed to be flaming red.
While coming back from the shores, Abich decided to pass by his grandmother's (maternal) place and explain his problem to her. Grandmothers were known for being fond of grandchildren and trying their best to make sure that they (the grandchildren) remained happy in life.
"What brings my Abich to this corner of the world unannounced?" Abich's grandmother asked her grandson who looked thin and pale.
Abich immediately poured his problems to the very patient and sympathetic grandmother of his who listened keenly. She did not for one moment interrupt.
"I have seen this many times before," his grandmother said. "A case of a mother who does not want her son to marry because she is scared of losing all the attention. There is a simple solution to that. All you have to do is to stop looking for a wife, spend least time at home and whenever possible talk very negative of women."
Abich was happy at the advice given by his grandmother whose parting words were, "By the beginning of the new moon, you shall have a wife."
Back at home, Abich did exactly what he was told by his grandmother. He started preparing his own meals, complaining that women were worse cooks than men were. He went to the extent of cleaning the compound on his own, fetching firewood and going to the market to purchase his own food.
All this time, Abich made sure that he hurled negative comments on women. "Women are good but men are better. The only good woman is a dead one. The best thing a woman can do is to sleep!" All these negative comments kept on hurting the mother and she eventually lost her patience and cool and went and brought a bride to the unsuspecting Abich. It was customary not to reject any girl brought to you by your parents.
Much to Abich's surprise, it was Amuga's sister who was brought. Abich pretended to be annoyed and his mother looked triumphant at having brought someone to help her prove that women are better than what her son thought. And so Abich at last managed to get a wife and just as his grandmother had said. A moon was not yet over.

THE FLOODS.


The rains pounded the land furiously for the seventh consecutive day. All in the village were greatly concerned about their crops, which were bound to rot in the gardens.
"At this rate, we shall be harvesting fish instead of crops," said one worried farmer to his equally worried wife. The situation was quite grave and the villagers could not even go out to trade in the market.
On the ninth day, the elders decided to consult Nyuka, the village witchdoctor who lived on the slopes leading to the entrance of the village.
"All the families have been offering sacrifices to the gods," the witchdoctor told the elders when they went to visit him. "But there is one family which has not been offering anything to the gods. It is the family of Ngoto and his wife Jero."
The elders all kept quiet at the mention of the noble family of Jero and Ngoto. Few knew the story behind Jero and the witchdoctor Nyuka. Jero, a village beauty for quite a long time, had been the target of most men who had gone to painful extremes to ensure that they took her as a wife. Among the men who had shown interests had been the youthful and confident Nyuka, a man whose family was reknowned for its role in witchcraft. "There is no way our daughter can be married by a sorcerer," Jero's mother had told the visibly shocked and humiliated Nyuka who had always gotten what had come on his way. Nyuka had vowed to marry none other than Jero.
"You shall regret for the rest of your lives. All you will regret the decision you have made today," Nyuka had told the parents of Jero. This had been many moons back.
Jero had not stayed long with in parents' homestead. Ngoto had come and won favour with both the parents of the girl and the girl herself. The two now had seven children and were living happily completely unaware of the intentions of the revengeful Nyuka.
"This is my chance to revenge," the witchdoctor muttered to himself after the elders had left promising to come back the following day for a solution. The witchdoctor paced up and down his house looking for a possible way on getting his revenge without touching Jero.
"She will be mine at last," said the witchdoctor who was not even concerned about the rains which kept on falling harder and harder.
The following day, the elders came back and were told by the confident Nyuka, "I spoke to the gods and they told me that something undefiled should be sacrificed. The undefiled thing should be the eyes of an unmarried girl."
Jero and her husband only had one daughter and it was rather obvious that it was her whose eyes were going to be scorched out. The elders, really desperate to do something about the floods, conceded to the wicked plans of the witchdoctor.
All the villagers were summoned and told what the gods had communicated to Nyuka. All were quiet when they heard about the sacrifice. Most were convinced that the gods had spoken and gods were not opposed in whatever they communicated to their subjects.
Jero and her family were sad. They did not want anything harmful to happen to any member of their happy family. "Why us mama?" Jeor's daughter kept on asking over and over again. Her mother who suspected foul play from the very beginning kept quiet and silently cursed under her breath.
On the evening of the sacrifice, in the dim light of the moon and still under the pounding rains, Jero's daughter was led to the covered pyre. Jero could not help crying as she watched her daughter being led by one of the elders.
Jero's daughter was given some herbs to drink. The herbs immediately made her go into a deep slumber. The witchdoctor then took an arrow head and ruthlessly scorched out the eyes of the innocent girl. Jero's tears increased. Ngoto's fury doubled. Nyuka's delight became boundless as the villagers watched in great disbelief.
The eyes, now out, were taken to the covered pyre and there, in the presence of all, a fire was lit and the eyes sacrificed to the gods. The rains pounded harder and harder as the villagers went back to their homes. Ngoto carried her asleep and unconscious daughter back to the house.
The following day, the floods had not abated. The villagers watched with impatience as the rains continued the whole day. The elders also watched as the rains continued. They, however, decided to wait. Nyuka seeing that the rains had not stopped, sat down to think of another possible way out.
Two days passed and still the rains did not show any signs of decreasing. On the third day, the elders paid Nyuka a visit again. The witchdoctor said, "The gods said that the sacrifice offered was not good enough. They need more eyes, of the whole family if possible." The elders were then sent to the village to alert the villagers of another meeting.
That night Jero and her husband planned escape. "If there is another meeting then we shall be next to be sacrificed," Jero told her husband and children who did not seem to understand why the gods had picked on them.
"Where are we going, mama?" Jero's daughter asked. She had regained consciousness but was still in pain. She, like all the others, did not know of the cold war going on between her mother and the witchdoctor.
"We shall go to my parents who live on the eastern side of the slopes," Jero replied to her daughter's question.
Very early the following morning, Jero, Ngoto and their children escaped from the still sleepy village. Nobody heard them leave and they slowly waded the waters and braved the heavy downpour.
After a whole day of travelling, Jero and her family finally reached their destination. Jero's parents were shocked to see their daughter and her whole family so late at night. They were even more shocked to hear what actually made them leave.
The absence of Ngoto's family was quickly noticed by the sharp eyes of the villagers. Ngoto's brothers and friends immediately
went to one elder to ask about the absence of one of their mates.
"I don't know where he is," said one elder who was also shocked that Ngoto and his family were missing. Ngoto's mates then proceeded to wake up the other elders and together they all went to the witchdoctor to find out more about Ngoto and his family.
Nyuka was also shocked to hear that Jero was missing. Now he knew that there was no way his plans were going to succeed.
"Where are they?" demanded Ngoto's elder brother who was convinced that something dreadful had happened to his brother. The others, apart from the elders, echoed the same complains.
Nyuka stammered and then said that he did not know where the family was and that he was going to consult the gods. There was a brief scuffle as Ngoto's brothers, unable to control their anger and fury, rushed at the witchdoctor and started beating him up. Someone produced a knife and stabbed Nyuka.
All stopped when Nyuka screamed and fell down. Suddenly everyone stopped and watched with awe and fear as the once feared witchdoctor bled profusely. Nyuka stopped screaming and now all watched as the last signs of life slipped from the witchdoctor.
Ngoto's mates, realising their mistake, walked out of Nyuka's compound leaving the elders there. The moment they stepped out of the compound, the rains decreased and slowly the pounding changed to showers and then eventually stopped. All were shocked to see the sky clearing.
"The rain has stopped," shouted some children happily. The news of the rains were received with great joy and all who had been in the house came out to see how it looked without rain.
The news of Nyuka's death spread fast to the other villages and soon it reached the ears of Jero's family. Jero, very relieved, knew that she could now live in peace.
Jero went back to the village and the fear that had tormented her was no longer there. She soon told the villagers what had taken place many moons before between Nyuka and her. Many sympathised with her, though there was nothing they could do to restore the sight of Jero's daughter.
The floods came to an end and the crops, which had started rotting in the gardens, changed colour and started growing normally.