Two Dead Chicks
A young boy joins his friends for what he hopes will be a random day of swimming and mischief. When events take a turn for the worse, everyone is on their own as the inevitable wrath of mothers threatens their very lives.
The tiny hole in the roof let in a solitary ray of sun. It struck my fraying blanket at the foot of my bed. I could always estimate time from the angle and position of the beam of light. I was late. Illuminated dust specks danced in no apparent direction as I crept out of bed and slowly opened the door anticipating the loud creak of hinges followed by my mother’s voice. There was none. I shut the door, crept stealthily, and ran out of the gate.
“I had to do something for my mother,” I lied.
Miigua and Kaggia’s eyes bore holes into me. They couldn’t come home to ask for me. My mother can sniff a lie a thousand kilometres away. They hid in the tea bushes across the road from my house and waited. A slight breeze blew. My once-white t-shirt had a gaping hole where the collar had long separated, but ‘Jacko Badd’ and a man on the tips of his toes were still visible. My short revealed a bit of buttocks.
We took the road towards the river, staying on the wooded side lest we be spotted by someone and the news relayed to our mothers.
With our customary nugi — an improvised paint-can used to carry hot coals — swinging from his hand, Miigua asked, “So what did you have to do for your mother?”
The sarcasm laced into the last part not lost on any of us.
“There’s always something with my mother.” This part was true. Sensing I didn’t want to get into it, Kaggia walked on, plucking a leaf and a bud from Mzee Waithaka’s manicured tea bushes. He chewed absent-mindedly as our bare feet matched in rhythm. We snickered and pointed to the state of his shorts, caked in mud, seams coming apart, and a different colour patch which just managed to hold on by a few threads.
We ran the last few hundred metres to the bridge, beating our way through maize, slapping them out of our faces, their heads dancing above ours, bathing us with pollen. We were safe in the knowledge that nothing could come between us and that first dip in the water — not even my mother. Upstream, the river was quieter, slower, before it made its way past the culvert under the bridge and from there, even the good Lord couldn’t save you from death by drowning. We had a favourite spot where the banks weren’t too steep and as we came up to it, the fight was on to see who could get their clothes off the quickest.
Kaggia was the first to jump in followed quickly by us sluggers before he could shout any warnings. The water completely took my breath away. It had never been this cold but then again, we’d never attempted a swim at eight in the morning. Gasping for breath, I cursed Kaggia for suggesting we do this at this early hour. It seemed the sun still hadn’t visited the Aberdare Mountains where the river snaked from. Any initial grudges were soon abandoned as we pulled with our arms and kicked with our feet our small bodies quickly adjusting.
Kaggia had this game where he went under unseen and dragged one by the leg. Our protests over the years hadn’t yielded much and so when we couldn’t see him, I knew what was coming. Head above water, Miigua and I called loudly, close to tears, for Kaggia to stop the foolishness, under threat that we were not playing. When no tag on the leg came, Miigua and I exchanged concerned looks before starting a frenzied call for Kaggia.
Miigua dove under. Tears were streaming down my face and I was sobbing loudly over the sound of the river. When Miigua came back empty and dove back down a second time, my cries grew louder. I was the weakest swimmer of the trio and if the water could take Kaggia, what about me? I put my face just under the water’s surface momentarily and quickly came back up spitting. I couldn’t see a thing while under there. Miigua came up a third time with no Kaggia and this time I panicked and swam furiously for the bank lest a drowning Kaggia or the ghost of him try to pull me under with his mortal soul. I’d heard that no one has a stronger grip than a drowning man, or boy.
Horrific memories of Kanyungu on the wrong side of the culvert gulping mouthfuls and gasping for breath came flooding back. Someone had thrown him a bunch of sweet potato vines and that had been his saving grace. I couldn’t see any vines in my panic.
Miigua was now scampering off the bank, desperately calling Kaggia. I sat on the bank crying and thinking what Kaggia’s mother would do to me, and worse, what my own mother would do. A brushing sound came from the maize plantation behind us and guess who popped through? Kaggia. He was holding some maigoya leaves and was wiping the last remnants from a shit he had gone to take and forgot to inform either of us.
“What’s gotten into this one?” Kaggia, none the wiser said in reference to my teary face.
I lay on my back, not caring whether my friends would tease me on the size of my shriveled thing and cried some more. I’d never been happier to see anyone than I was at that moment. Miigua was not having it and in a moment of rage, forgetting what Kaggia had just come from doing, charged and crashed into Kaggia’s stomach and they both tumbled in a tussle.
We had started a fire with a few twigs and coals from the nugi. After a swim, we always helroasted maize harvested from an adjoining farm, and due to the regularity of our swims, it soon became evident to the owner, who everyone suspected of witchcraft, that someone was up to no good.
and though my cob wasn’t cooked through, it tasted divine. Tears and snot salted my maize cob as I chomped down hungrily. We threw the husks and any evidence of our transgressions into the river. Miigua took a step into the river and cupped some water and put out the last embers of the fire, and we swept that into the river as well. A bit of soil from the garden covered our tracks. We had wiped the crime scene clean.
Sometimes we remembered to bring some oil for our skins after the swim, most times not. Miigua’s house was the next best option as his parents were always labouring somewhere on people’s patches to bring home something for him and his poor sister. My skin was crying out for nourishment, taut against my body, crusty from the fresh waters of Chinga River.
After complaining about the smell of the milking jelly at Miigua’s and him saying we could go home without, we teased him a bit but eventually rubbed the smelly stuff on our palms and onto our bodies, of course only on the parts that could be seen while dressed. I laughed out loud at how Kaggia had oiled only the front part of his face, his ears and jaws dry as bones.
Soon, the whole incident at the river was forgotten and we chased each other around the compound in a game of tag. There was a big polythene sheet next to the granary, laid out to beat the beans out of their pods. I ran around the granary in a bid to escape Kaggia’s hand that was closing in on me and cut across the polythene sheet. I slipped and fell hard. Two sets of feet suddenly stopped and their eyes looked at me, waiting for a yelp and when it didn’t come, they rolled on the ground laughing. I felt something move underneath, a slight noise, as I was getting myself off the polythene sheet. Two chicks lay dead. I lifted one up and his neck, broken, fell back in my hand.
“Look,” I started scared as Miigua now advanced on me, “It was an accident, man!” I didn’t mean to do it. Where’s their mother anyway?”
“It’s my mother you should be more concerned about you silly goat!”
Kaggia held Miigua back and like a touch of magic, his face turned from anger to fright.
“It was obviously an accident. There was no way to know the chicks were underneath the thing,” said Kaggia.
I wasn’t talking. I let my lawyer lay the case on my behalf.
“We…you can tell your mother that you were beating the beans and then heard the cry of the mother hen…”
“What do I do with the corpses?” asked Miigua.
“Will you hold your mouth!”
“We’ll throw them in the latrine, she will never know,” I said.
“Will you two idiots listen to me!” Kaggia shouted. We both fell silent.
“Now, we’ll help you beat a few of the beans to show your mother you were at least doing something, some work.” Kaggia held his chin in thought before continuing. “You were beating beans out of their pods when you heard the mother hen clucking loudly and before you could wave the stick at it, a big hawk came in and picked the chicks up. Right? Right?”
“One hawk took two chicks in one swoop?” I was thinking the story needed to be watertight.
Kaggia was angry at me for poking holes into the alibi we were trying to weave. “You tell us then, murderer. What should he say?”
“I don’t know, maybe a mongoose came and grabbed the two. Maybe you say you were beating beans out of their pods and don’t know what happened to the chicks. We’ll throw them into the latrine, no one will ever know.”
“Except us. We know.” Miigua said in a hushed voice as he started towards the main house throwing the door open. The milk cow in the shed chewed cud standing deep in her own filth. She wouldn’t tell. Miigua’s sister was also not home. There was some relief there. She must have gone with their parents.
We first heard her singing a hymn before we saw her. Looking down into the ridge, there was Miigua’s mother, a heavy kiondoo load on her back. The kiondoo strap on the top of her head meant that she could only walk with her eyes on the ground. Miigua’s sister followed closely behind with a load of napier grass tied tight with rope. Their father must slink off for a drink of muratina in one of the dens but that was the least of our concerns at that moment. We all scampered for the gate before Miigua actually remembered that he lived there.
Kaggia and I ran through Mama Elijah’s tea bushes like our lives depended on it. Our backsides for sure did. Some ripe loquat fruit dangled invitingly from one of the many trees, but we had pushed our luck enough for one day. Coming up from the tea bushes, there was a whole section that had been pruned to make the next crop heavier for the scales. The branches were sticking out dangerously, sharp as blades from the precision cuts whoever pruned had delivered. I felt something cold drip down the inside of my left lower leg and knew immediately that I had cut myself on the tea branches.
“Wait, wait!” I gasped sitting down. Kaggia was a few paces ahead of me as usual. He stopped and looked back, panting and holding his knees.
“I think I cut myself in the tea.”
Kaggia walked back to have a look and we both shuddered at the white flesh. The pain came in torrents as soon as I saw the state of my leg. The tears and screams followed soon after.
“Shhh, shut your mouth you little baby! You want everyone running here?”
I couldn’t shut my mouth but at least I stopped screaming my head off enough for Kaggia to explain that he wasn’t going to be caught with me and get himself in trouble.
“If you don’t keep quiet, I’ll run. You know how fast I can go.”
I tasted snot on my upper lip for the second time in a morning knowing that Kaggia meant every word he uttered. I held my leg like it was falling off. Now the blood was drenching the red soil where I sat. Kaggia quickly thought of putting soil in it to stem the bleeding and I begrudgingly nodded my head for him to do it as I couldn’t. He picked up handfuls of red soil and placed them smack onto my injury. It didn’t hurt but I still let out a moan in anticipation while Kaggia putting his finger to his mouth to remind me that his threat was real. The remedy worked and the bleeding stopped.
I limped into our compound to mother looked at me with scorn in her eye.
“What happened to your foot?”
I screamed uncontrollably knowing what was to follow.