The Wahala by Tony W. Njoroge
In a time when Arab slavers were plundering African coastal towns, Nasieku is captured by a rival tribe.
The night was quite aged but Nasieku was wide awake on her mat of straw. She was too excited to sleep. In two days, she would be leaving her mother's hut for her own. In the morning she was getting married to Kamande. And how lucky she felt, as far as arranged marriages go. She liked him and he seemed smitten by her. Kamande's family had finally completed paying the agreed upon dowry of a hundred goats, ten cows and several gourds of honey and beer, according to Sambara customs. She lay awake on her mat thinking of her life as a married woman.
As the night was quite advanced, Nasieku was thus deeply alarmed when she heard the rumble of the village drums. At this hour it could only mean bad news! She listened more keenly to the drums and frighteningly understood their beat - the village was under attack! Panicking, she shook her mother who was snoring beside her awake. The drums became more vehement. She knew men all over the village were groping in the dark for their spears, shields, bows, arrows and clubs.
Soon Nasieku heard doors opening and footsteps rushing about.
"The Wahala!" somebody shouted.
Nasieku's blood froze. Her mother reached for her and they clutched together in the dark. The Wahala were a much-feared cannibalistic slave-dealing tribe who not only fought with traditional weapons, but with fire sticks as well. Which they obtained from Arab merchants in exchange for slaves.
The Wahala warriors' war cries filled the night. Nasieku and her mother were too scared to leave the hut. All around they could hear screams and the report of guns. The air became thick with the smell of fear, smoke and blood. Huts were burning and some women had joined their men in fighting off the Wahala. Nasieku and her mother heard other women calling out to their children to hide in nearby bushes.
"We should run for safety," Nasieku's mother said in a shaky voice.
Suddenly there was a rapid bang on the door and they knew their time had come. They quickly crawled to the door and reinforced it with their bodies.
"Nasieku, open quickly. It's me." It was the unmistakable voice of her betrothed, Kamande.
Nasieku quickly unlocked the door. Kamande got in and they bolted it again. He had a machete with him, and Nasieku clung onto his neck.
"They have us all surrounded," Kamande said. "We should lay low and hope they don't come this way. But if they do, I will protect you."
In the safety of the hut, they could hear men and women crying in pain. They could hear occasional gunshots and taste death all around them. Then someone tried kicking in the door. The three put their bodies to it and pushed. The hut's thatched roof began burning and the smoke choked them. The thatched roof risked falling on them and burning them alive. Kamande urged the women to stop pushing against the door.
More kicks and the door gave. Kamande tightly clasped his machete. A figure stooped at the low doorway to get in. He wasn't on guard, probably thinking the hut harbored helpless women and children. Kamande lunged at him with his machete which caught him squarely on the head. He stumbled backwards and fell.
Kamande followed him out to retrieve his machete from the man's head. Two more Wahala warriors were with the man. The two, oddly, let him retrieve his machete from the man kicking on the ground. The bodies of the Wahala were painted with red ochre. Nasieku, peeping from the hut, could clearly see them. The moon was at its brightest. One Wahala warrior stepped forward to fight Kamande while the other watched. The warrior was huge and clearly a better warrior than Kamande. Within no time he had overpowered, disarmed and driven his assegai into Kamande's chest. Her betrothed's body slumped to the earth. Nasieku rushed out and clutched onto the body as she wept bitterly.
"Kill me as well!" she shouted at him. "Kill me!"
The Wahala who had cut down Kamande stood over her, big and tall. Her mother came to shield over her. The man grinned at them. He was missing at least two teeth in his lower jaw and had an ugly scar on his left cheek. His grin suddenly changed to anguish when Nasieku heard the unmistakable sound of steel going through flesh. The other Wahala who had just stood by watching the fight had thrust a dagger in his back while uttering something in their language.
The stabbed warrior slowly sunk to his knees and then collapsed to the earth with a pained, confused look. Nasieku and her mother were dumbstruck. The warrior, in much pain, started muttering something. The other just bent over him and slit his throat.
He then threw aside Nasieku's mother and grabbed Nasieku by the back of her neck. Her mother held onto the legs of the Wahala as he led Nasieku away. He kicked her and brandished his blood-stained dagger at her. Nasieku hit and bit him but he gave her a heavy slap that almost dislocated her jaw. The slap subdued her and he shoved her onto his broad shoulders and carried her away.
Bobbing up and down on the Wahala's left shoulder, Nasieku saw her old mother in a heap weeping. She saw the bodies of her father and brothers. Bodies were strewn all over the village. Huts were burning. Women and children were crying their lungs out over the multitude of dead bodies.
Nasieku and many other young and healthy survivors were roped up together by the neck, seven people per rope, one meter apart. Their hands were tied behind them. The captives and most of the village's cattle and goats, including the ones given to Nasieku's father for her bride price, were driven out of the village under the moonlight.
The journey to Wahala land at the coast was arduous. Nasieku wept the first few days; for her father and brothers, for Kamande, for her butchered village, for her freedom. Till she realised crying wouldn't help her in any way. She looked around and no Sambara was faring any better. The captives cried day and night. The further they walked, the more they despaired. Many called for their mothers. Sometimes a captive would refuse to walk and they would get whipped savagely. Nasieku recognized two young wives of her now dead brothers among the captives. One of them, Jebet, was leaking milk from her breasts. Her baby had been left behind wailing among the dead.
They all feared what awaited them; ending up in someone's pot, or as slaves in faraway lands beyond the ocean. Nasieku didn't want to eat anything, but the Wahala who had murdered his kinsman would whip her legs and force badly cooked porridge down her throat. He seemed to have taken a shine to her. His name was Lotomo.
It took them over half a moon to reach the Wahala kingdom. It was a completely different world, different trees, different coloured soil, and it was warmer. The main village boasted of splendor and abundance. It had large pens and many granaries on stilts. The walls of huts were smoothed with white chalk and decorated with beautiful patterns of different colors. The warriors were well received with much fanfare for their success in their raids.
The captives were led into the large compound of the chief. Hours later a few captive girls were hand-picked by the warriors to be their second or third wives. Nasieku and Jebet were among them.
Nasieku was picked by Lotomo and he pushed her all the way to a homely hut. There was no one in the hut. In the evening a thin woman came into the hut. She had tribal markings on her face, many copper coils on her arms and legs. She had long hair which had been plaited beautifully. Sambara women cut their hair short. The woman didn't utter a word. She lit a fire in the hearth. She sniffled a lot and her eyes seemed like she had been crying a while. She went out and came back with a big half-calabash of water and a rug. She remained silent. She undressed Nasieku and gently washed her body, tears streaming down her eyes.
After washing, she oiled Nasieku in animal fat and dressed her in Wahala women's clothing. A blue shuka with decorative red and yellow markings fastened under the armpits. Then she began preparing dinner over the fireplace, still sniffling. She didn't look like a cannibal, Nasieku observed. She was quite pretty. She seemed delicate and sweet and beside everything Nasieku was going through, she felt sorry for her. Maybe her husband had not returned from the raid.
The Wahala lady prepared mash and beef stew in clay pots. She put the mash and soup in separate bowls and walked out with them. A few minutes later she returned without the bowls. She served Nasieku in similar bowls. Nasieku hesitated. The sad lady took a bite to assure her the food didn't contain poison. Nasieku commenced to eat her food. She ate greedily, she hadn't had proper food since being taken from her village.
As they ate the lady pointed to herself, "Kamene," she said.
"Nasieku," the other replied.
Then a thought hit Nasieku. Perhaps this young lady was fattening her up, being a cannibalistic woman. She thought of inserting fingers into her mouth to induce vomiting but thought it rude, the floor was very clean.
When the two were done eating, Kamene gestured to Nasieku to follow her. Behind the hut, Kamene squatted and pissed on the earth. She encouraged Nasieku to do the same, which she did. Then Kamene led her to another hut not more than fifty steps away. Kamene gently pushed her in. There was a small fire glowing in the hearth. Kamene picked some bowls from the floor and left. There was a man sprawled on a mat. When he got up, Nasieku realised it was Lotomo.
Lotomo pointed at the mat. It was clear what he wanted. Nasieku ran out of the hut but Lotomo was too fast and too strong for her. He dragged her back to the hut. She wept quietly beneath his heavy body. She had always pictured her first experience being with Kamande. Just before dawn he led her back to Kamene's hut.
Kamene warmed some water for her and she took a long bath. She cried the entire time. Kamene didn't say a word but seemed to sympathise. She couldn't walk properly. Her vagina was extremely sore. In the afternoon Kamene started preparing dinner. Nasieku was shaking, dreading the hour Lotomo would need her in his hut again.
When the food was ready Kamene took it to Lotomo. When later she went to get the bowls, she stayed for quite some time. When she came back, she fell onto the mat and sobbed her heart out. Nasieku understood. But then she didn't understand. Who was this woman? Was she Lotomo's wife? Why did she look like a woman grieving? Why was she so sad? On the mat that they now shared, Nasieku could feel her shivering and weeping throughout the night. Nasieku felt sorry for her.
The next day Kamene handed Nasieku a basket and they left for the communal farm. They passed by the chief's premises. Nasieku saw her people, all naked, being manhandled by strange pale-looking beings in long white clothes. The pale beings were checking their teeth, grabbing at women's breasts and men's biceps. It was clear the chief was haggling the price with these pale beings over her people. Her heart sank, they would probably be taken to faraway lands never to come back. She was lucky, she felt. She'd rather end up in someone's soup than be taken by big boats to faraway lands. Here in Wahala, if the gods willed it, she could find a way to escape back to her village.
The Wahala chief had seen how the Arabs had decimated other coastal villages. That's why he had made a deal with them. His warriors would get slaves from the interior and barter with them for guns, horses, glassware and the like.
Nasieku had heard of these beings in white long clothes with fire sticks slung on their shoulders. On their way back from the farm, with their baskets full of yams balancing on their heads, Kamene saw her people being led away by the pale beings with whips. To their big boats, with no hope of ever returning. She felt something die inside her.
That day Nasieku helped Kamene in preparing the evening meal of the yams they had harvested mixed with goat meat. She was still waiting for the day Kamene or Lotomo would slit her throat and have her as the evening meal. But there was something about Kamene she liked. She treated her as an equal. Maybe it was her quietness, or her quiet suffering. As the days passed the two grew to like each other, each in their own suffering.
In the next few months, thanks to Kamene, Nasieku learned a great deal of the Wahala language and culture. She found the culture strange. For instance, they believed their god lived in baobab trees, unlike her people who believed their god lived on top of the mountain near the village. Children were named based on the time of day, season or weather conditions at birth and women smoked their vaginas with special herbs after menstruation since it was believed it cleansed them.
The two girls did everything together. They would farm, collect firewood, fetch water from the river and visit the market to help Kamene's grandmother sell her wares. She was the one who raised Kamene. They went to the dances together, much to the annoyance of Lotomo when his supper was delayed. Kamene even taught her how to swim in the ocean.
On the rare nights that Lotomo didn't require either of them, maybe busy with his beloved flute, they would talk till the wee hours. Kamene had laughed herself hoarse when Nasieku informed her that she had thought the Wahala were cannibals. And that the warriors got their ferocity from eating human flesh. Kamene made her homesickness lessen.
Kamene wanted to know much of Nasieku's life before she came to the Wahala village. Nasieku talked about everything, about the gods they prayed to, her betrothed who was killed protecting her, her family, music and art, the various rites of passage, the big juicy mangoes found in Sambara, everything. She learned that Lotomo was not Kamene's husband in the real sense.
Kamene's real husband was Rudisha who died in the raid of their village. Lotomo was Rudisha's younger brother. Lotomo inherited her and everything else Rudisha owned when he died, as was custom. One night, Kamene vividly described her late husband; his strapping figure, the missing teeth in his lower jaw and the scar on his left cheek.
That's when Nasieku realised that the Wahala warrior that Lotomo had killed had been Kamene's husband, his own brother. Nasieku grappled with the question of whether to tell Kamene or not. She decided not to. What good would it do but bring her more grief? How would she take it? It might be too much for her delicate nature; she might even commit suicide. No, there was no need in telling her.
Day by day Nasieku begun to feel that she was becoming a Wahala and forgetting what it was to be a Sambara. Initially she had thought of escaping. But when Jebet, wife to one of her brothers, had tried to escape and got caught, she didn't think of it again. Jebet had been thrown in a hole full of safari ants and left there for days. She ran mad.
Nasieku's village up north wasn't as hot as this Wahala village. At night the two ladies slept mostly naked with nothing covering them due to the heat. The mosquitoes they kept at bay by throwing dry cow dung into the fire. Their naked bodies would rub against each other. It was shy Kamene who made the first move by putting Nasieku's nipple into her mouth, followed slowly by a soft hand between Nasieku's legs. Kamene gave her the very first orgasm of her life that night.
About a year after the raid of their village. Nasieku started experiencing morning sickness and Kamene diagnosed her pregnant. Nasieku was horrified. She had tried many methods to avoid pregnancy such as smearing tree sap and honey in her womanhood to kill the sperms. Kamene never used any preventive methods and often laughed at Nasieku's orthodox ways.
Nasieku now more than ever feared she was becoming a true Wahala: Speaking the Wahala language, dressing like a Wahala woman, with a Wahala husband, a Wahala co-wife and a Wahala baby growing inside her. Kamene asked her what she wanted to do about the baby. At first, she didn't want to have the baby but later on decided to keep it.
"How come you are not pregnant?" asked Nasieku one day, "Yet you don't use any preventive methods?"
"That's a question my husband used to ask me as well," Kamene said in a downcast voice. "I think I'm barren."
"Well, don't beat yourself too much if you really are barren. My child will be your child," Nasieku said hugging her.
When Nasieku was four months pregnant, her late father begun appearing in her dreams beseeching her to go back home, not to have that child in Wahala land. Nasieku confided in Kamene of her dreams who shrugged them off as anxiety experienced by first time expectant mothers.
A desire to escape Wahala land grew stronger in her heart every day until she couldn't contain it any longer.
"Come with me," Nasieku said to Kamene. "I can't bear leaving you behind."
"Then don't leave me. Stay. I'll help you raise the child."
"I can't have this child here. I need to go back to my people."
"I am your people," Kamene protested.
"I need to bury the placenta in a shrine near my village. Like my mother and her mother and her mother before did. Come with me, I beg of you."
"Do you think the Sambara will be so welcoming of a Wahala, a cannibal, dealers in slaves?"
"I will tell them you're not like the rest. I will vouch for you."
"Don't be naïve, Nasieku. They will string me up and rip your belly open to get that brat out of you."
"Are you choosing me over Lotomo?" Nasieku asked agitated.
"Don't be stupid, Nasieku."
Nasieku stared at her.
"It was Lotomo that killed your husband," Nasieku said curtly, "I saw it with my very eyes. I was with my mother and we saw him stab your husband in the back and then slit his throat, with that knife he carries by his waist. Lotomo killed your husband so that he could have you."
"How dare you?" Kamene spat. "You are willing to say anything to make me go with you. How low of you."
Kamene knew Lotomo had always been jealous of Rudisha, but there was no way he could kill his own brother. Rudisha was a likable man who seemed to amass wealth easily, and the girls liked him unlike his always grumpy brother.
"With or without you I'm leaving tomorrow night," Nasieku said. " The moon will be at its fullest and It'll help me cover quite a considerable distance before morning when you report to Lotomo I'm missing."
Kamene spent the entirety of the next day trying to change her mind, but Nasieku was too determined. When darkness crept in, they embraced and cried together. It was probably the last time they would see each other. Kamene packed a few food items for her long journey north.
"Do not use the main paths," Kamene said in her sobs. "Use the river bank. Travel by night and hide by day in the forests and thickets. I'm sure after a few days you will get your bearings."
Kamene grabbed Nasieku and looked her in the eye. "Don't get caught. I will kill myself if you get caught."
"Come with me," Nasieku said desperately, though knowing it was a useless.
Lotomo went berserk on realising Nasieku had escaped. He beat Kamene severely, accusing her of aiding her. He was especially angry knowing that Nasieku was pregnant.
"You must have helped her escape!" he screamed at her. "Don't think I haven't noticed how close you two are. How can she do this when she is carrying my child? I'll find her and kill her! No, I'll kill her after she has delivered the baby!"
Lotomo rounded up several of his friends and set out after her. Nasieku followed Kamene's advice. She only travelled at night and followed the river north. When her plantains got low, she fed on fruits. At times she had to take long detours to avoid walking through villages.
Kamene sighed in relief when Lotomo returned several days later without Nasieku. He returned in a very bad mood. He got a whip from his hut and beat her again.
"You've caused me my child," he cried. In his anger he forgot himself "I should kill you like I killed Rudisha, you barren witch!" he screamed.
She knew Nasieku had not been lying.
Thirteen days after escaping the Wahala village, Nasieku was in her village. Some huts had been poorly rebuilt but generally the village looked eerie and haunted. Mostly only old people seemed to be walking about aimlessly. Nasieku's mother believed she was seeing a ghost. She had pictured her daughter as a slave in a faraway land beyond the expansive ocean. She bent down, grabbed a handful of soil and threw it at her daughter.
"Is it really you, my daughter, or are the spirits playing a dirty trick on my eyes?" Her mother asked. She seemed much older and haggard.
"It really is me, mother." Nasieku said hugging her mother tightly. She felt how small and weak her mother had become.
"I never thought I would ever see you again, my daughter," her mother said crying. "May the gods be praised."
Word quickly went round the village that she was back. People came to ask about the kin who had been taken away with her. They left with their heads hung. Nasieku's mother hurriedly prepared a meal for Nasieku seeing how beat up she looked.
The next day she wanted her mother to take her to her father's grave, and her brothers and her betrothed. There were no graves, her mother said. The dead were too many and the people left behind too old and weak to dig all those graves. They instead dragged all the bodies to the nearby forest where hyenas, jackals and vultures disposed of them.
She missed Kamene so much now that she was back with her people. But it felt lovely to speak her language once again. She never spoke it even with the few Sambara girls in the Wahala village. There was shame and fear in speaking it.
"So that baby you are carrying is from that Wahala who killed his kinsman?" her mother asked after Nasieku had told her of her life in Wahala land.
Nasieku nodded.
Her mother gathered several elderly women the next day. The women dragged Nasieku into a secure hut. They forced various ill-brewed concoctions down her throat, made of bitter roots, crushed leaves and millet. Their aim was to get rid of the child growing inside of her.
Every day the elderly women would check on her progress. She would curse and kick and spit at them. When after several days they saw no change, they changed tactics. They pressed down on her belly with their knees for four consecutive days. Seeing the brat was determined to come out into the world breathing and kicking, they gave up.
Nasieku couldn't bring herself to look at her mother after that. Kamene was right. They would have hung her if she had come with her. She missed her terribly. What could she be doing at that moment, she often thought. Is she in the farm, cooking perhaps, or beneath the heavy body of Lotomo? Poor girl.
The baby was born with a deformed arm and leg. No one beside Nasieku wanted to touch it. Nasieku's mother refused the child being named after Nasieku's father as was the custom. About three months after the birth of the child the village was to be moved onto the other side of the forest on top of a hill, to avoid future raids by the Wahala.
The village elders had decided that Nasieku's child was not welcome in the new village. When the day came, half a dozen women subdued her. As she fought them off, an old man banged his club on her head rendering her unconscious. Normally she would have been left alone to stay behind with the child in the old village, but since child-bearing women were few, she was given no choice.
She woke up in the new village. They had left her child behind in a hut with no door. It took two days before Nasieku could disentangle herself from the village. She ran the whole distance to the old village. She ran as fast as she could, fearing the worst, hating herself for returning to her village. She would never forgive herself if anything had happened to her baby.
On reaching the village her nightmare came true. Her son was no more. Hyenas had got to him. Nothing was left but blood, their footprints and droppings. She sunk to her knees and cried uncontrollably, hoping the hyenas had got to him when he was already dead. Why did she ever leave the Wahala village? She was happy there with Kamene, the woman she loved.
She got up and without thinking started to walk towards the Wahala village. Whatever they would do to her she didn't care. She was ready to die and join her son. All she wanted was to see and touch Kamene one last time.
Nasieku was caught several miles from the Wahala village by a hunting party who recognized her. They took her to Lotomo. He didn't know what to do at first. Deep down he was happy she had come back, though he didn't show it. He noticed she didn't have a baby with her.
"Where's the child?" he asked?
"It died during birth," she said.
He was disappointed but since she had come back on her own volition, he wasn't angry. She was not to face any consequences. He had been in a terrible temper ever since she had left, and Kamene bore the brunt of this. Any small slight and she would get beaten. Lotomo had come to realise Kamene would never love him like she had loved his brother and this pained him greatly. That night and several nights after, Nasieku spent at Lotomo's hut. He was determined to get her pregnant again.
Kamene was overjoyed on Nasieku coming back. She nursed her both physically and mentally. She informed Nasieku that she believed her about Lotomo killing Rudisha and she was going to do something about it.
Just before Nasieku had come back, Kamene had consulted her grandmother on poisons. The grandmother recommended a rare mushroom found in the forest. She found it, dried and crushed it into powder. She kept it in a safe place waiting to gather her courage.
When Nasieku came back, seeing how tormented she was, and seeing how Lotomo was bound on impregnating her, Kamene got that courage. Kamene added the powder into Lotomo's soup.
When she went back for the bowls he was convulsing on the earthen floor and foaming in the mouth. She saw his sheathed dagger by him. The same dagger he had used to kill Rudisha. A grievous anger got hold of her. She grabbed it and stabbed him several dozen times then she took the bowls back with her. Nasieku helped her wash off the blood from her body and cloth. She didn't ask her any questions. She understood.
In the morning the cries of the two women pierced the morning peace.
'Oh! Someone has killed our husband!' they cried, rolling in the dirt, tearing their clothes and pulling at their hair.
An inquiry was quickly carried out and it didn't take long before Nasieku and Kamene were viewed as the main suspects. There was rumour that the two women were lovers and that's why they killed their husband. It didn't help their case that Kamene had cuts on her hands.
Only a woman would stab a man so many times, one woman said. A neighbour said she had walked in on them one afternoon with Kamene's face planted between Nasieku's thighs pleasuring her. Not many people who knew Kamene and Nasieku were shocked, considering the way they touched each other publicly or held hands while they walked.
The chief decided the best punishment for the two murderous lovers was they had to fight each other to the death. The victor would be banished from the tribe. If they refused to fight each other, both would be executed.
That afternoon Kamene and Nasieku were taken to the village square. They were stripped off all their clothes. The majority of the Wahala came to see the spectacle. They were not about to pass on seeing two nude women fighting each other to the death.
The overseer shushed the crowd. When there was silence, he handed blunt machetes to Kamene and Nasieku. Blunt to make the spectacle last as long as possible. The crowd was eager. People were jostling to get a better view. He ordered them to fight. Kamene and Nasieku dropped their machetes and embraced and kissed. There was uproar from the crowd. The lovers were spitting in the face of the gods.
"Kamene, I can't let them kill you," Nasieku said worriedly.
She picked up Kamene's machete and put it in her hands.
"I will never forgive myself for killing my son. Please let me join him, and save you."
Kamene dropped her machete.
"If you die, I die. I am not living without you. Not again."
"If one of you doesn't kill the other now!" Shouted the overseer, "Both of you will die!"
He signaled a few warriors who came with whips. The lashes on their naked bodies stung. But they were adamant. They were not going to fight each other.
"Then so be it!" shouted the overseer.
Some men came forward and started digging two holes. As the men were digging the holes some young boys and girls collected stones. The naked ladies were put into the holes standing. The holes swallowed them to their waists, and then they were filled again tightly so that they couldn't move. Their hands were tied behind them.
An impressive pile of stones lay a few yards in front of Kamene and Nasieku. The two ladies looked at each other.
"Don't you dare say it," Nasieku said, tears flowing down her cheeks. "I love you and that's all that matters."
Men came forward. Some would pick up a rock throw it several times in the air letting it land in their palms. If they found the rock lacking they would put it back in the pile, pick another and begin the whole act again.
The overseer gave the go-ahead. Screams of pain from Kamene and Nasieku were heard as the hurled rocks found them. The crowd cheered.
Unbeknown to the Wahala, tribes that had been raided by them and tribes that feared being raided by them had come together: Sambara, Takana, Kenda, Mera, Kimbi, Digo and many others. These tribes hated each other but joined together to exterminate a common enemy. The Wahala.
With all the cheering and most sentries among the crowd, the Wahala were caught with their guard down. Of all the days, of all the hours in the day, the unified army of the many tribes couldn't have picked a more opportune time to attack the mighty Wahala.
By the time the drums began screaming that the village was under attack, the unified army was deep within their walls. The crowds quickly scampered. The invading army was huge. It outnumbered the Wahala warriors about three to one. Not even the Wahala's fire sticks could stop them. The raid was more brutal than most. Normally warriors do not kill women and children. Not this time. The invading army cut down anything and everything that happened to cross their paths.
By morning not much of the Wahala and their village were left. A Sambara man who recognised Nasieku despite her bloodied face pulled her out of her hole. Seeing the Wahala tribal markings on the woman next to her in a hole as well, he unsheathed his blade to dispatch her. But Nasieku begged the man to spare her life.
"She's in this hole because she loves me," said Nasieku in a weak voice.
The man sheathed his blade and left.
Nasieku took Kamene to her old village to start their life afresh; the village which had been raided by the Wahala. In time other families joined them and the village grew. Occasionally Nasieku would steal into neighbouring villages to conceive. Nasieku and Kamene had four children and they lived happily till the end of their days.
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| Image generated with OpenAI |
As the night was quite advanced, Nasieku was thus deeply alarmed when she heard the rumble of the village drums. At this hour it could only mean bad news! She listened more keenly to the drums and frighteningly understood their beat - the village was under attack! Panicking, she shook her mother who was snoring beside her awake. The drums became more vehement. She knew men all over the village were groping in the dark for their spears, shields, bows, arrows and clubs.
Soon Nasieku heard doors opening and footsteps rushing about.
"The Wahala!" somebody shouted.
Nasieku's blood froze. Her mother reached for her and they clutched together in the dark. The Wahala were a much-feared cannibalistic slave-dealing tribe who not only fought with traditional weapons, but with fire sticks as well. Which they obtained from Arab merchants in exchange for slaves.
The Wahala warriors' war cries filled the night. Nasieku and her mother were too scared to leave the hut. All around they could hear screams and the report of guns. The air became thick with the smell of fear, smoke and blood. Huts were burning and some women had joined their men in fighting off the Wahala. Nasieku and her mother heard other women calling out to their children to hide in nearby bushes.
"We should run for safety," Nasieku's mother said in a shaky voice.
Suddenly there was a rapid bang on the door and they knew their time had come. They quickly crawled to the door and reinforced it with their bodies.
"Nasieku, open quickly. It's me." It was the unmistakable voice of her betrothed, Kamande.
Nasieku quickly unlocked the door. Kamande got in and they bolted it again. He had a machete with him, and Nasieku clung onto his neck.
"They have us all surrounded," Kamande said. "We should lay low and hope they don't come this way. But if they do, I will protect you."
In the safety of the hut, they could hear men and women crying in pain. They could hear occasional gunshots and taste death all around them. Then someone tried kicking in the door. The three put their bodies to it and pushed. The hut's thatched roof began burning and the smoke choked them. The thatched roof risked falling on them and burning them alive. Kamande urged the women to stop pushing against the door.
More kicks and the door gave. Kamande tightly clasped his machete. A figure stooped at the low doorway to get in. He wasn't on guard, probably thinking the hut harbored helpless women and children. Kamande lunged at him with his machete which caught him squarely on the head. He stumbled backwards and fell.
Kamande followed him out to retrieve his machete from the man's head. Two more Wahala warriors were with the man. The two, oddly, let him retrieve his machete from the man kicking on the ground. The bodies of the Wahala were painted with red ochre. Nasieku, peeping from the hut, could clearly see them. The moon was at its brightest. One Wahala warrior stepped forward to fight Kamande while the other watched. The warrior was huge and clearly a better warrior than Kamande. Within no time he had overpowered, disarmed and driven his assegai into Kamande's chest. Her betrothed's body slumped to the earth. Nasieku rushed out and clutched onto the body as she wept bitterly.
"Kill me as well!" she shouted at him. "Kill me!"
The Wahala who had cut down Kamande stood over her, big and tall. Her mother came to shield over her. The man grinned at them. He was missing at least two teeth in his lower jaw and had an ugly scar on his left cheek. His grin suddenly changed to anguish when Nasieku heard the unmistakable sound of steel going through flesh. The other Wahala who had just stood by watching the fight had thrust a dagger in his back while uttering something in their language.
The stabbed warrior slowly sunk to his knees and then collapsed to the earth with a pained, confused look. Nasieku and her mother were dumbstruck. The warrior, in much pain, started muttering something. The other just bent over him and slit his throat.
He then threw aside Nasieku's mother and grabbed Nasieku by the back of her neck. Her mother held onto the legs of the Wahala as he led Nasieku away. He kicked her and brandished his blood-stained dagger at her. Nasieku hit and bit him but he gave her a heavy slap that almost dislocated her jaw. The slap subdued her and he shoved her onto his broad shoulders and carried her away.
Bobbing up and down on the Wahala's left shoulder, Nasieku saw her old mother in a heap weeping. She saw the bodies of her father and brothers. Bodies were strewn all over the village. Huts were burning. Women and children were crying their lungs out over the multitude of dead bodies.
Nasieku and many other young and healthy survivors were roped up together by the neck, seven people per rope, one meter apart. Their hands were tied behind them. The captives and most of the village's cattle and goats, including the ones given to Nasieku's father for her bride price, were driven out of the village under the moonlight.
The journey to Wahala land at the coast was arduous. Nasieku wept the first few days; for her father and brothers, for Kamande, for her butchered village, for her freedom. Till she realised crying wouldn't help her in any way. She looked around and no Sambara was faring any better. The captives cried day and night. The further they walked, the more they despaired. Many called for their mothers. Sometimes a captive would refuse to walk and they would get whipped savagely. Nasieku recognized two young wives of her now dead brothers among the captives. One of them, Jebet, was leaking milk from her breasts. Her baby had been left behind wailing among the dead.
They all feared what awaited them; ending up in someone's pot, or as slaves in faraway lands beyond the ocean. Nasieku didn't want to eat anything, but the Wahala who had murdered his kinsman would whip her legs and force badly cooked porridge down her throat. He seemed to have taken a shine to her. His name was Lotomo.
It took them over half a moon to reach the Wahala kingdom. It was a completely different world, different trees, different coloured soil, and it was warmer. The main village boasted of splendor and abundance. It had large pens and many granaries on stilts. The walls of huts were smoothed with white chalk and decorated with beautiful patterns of different colors. The warriors were well received with much fanfare for their success in their raids.
The captives were led into the large compound of the chief. Hours later a few captive girls were hand-picked by the warriors to be their second or third wives. Nasieku and Jebet were among them.
Nasieku was picked by Lotomo and he pushed her all the way to a homely hut. There was no one in the hut. In the evening a thin woman came into the hut. She had tribal markings on her face, many copper coils on her arms and legs. She had long hair which had been plaited beautifully. Sambara women cut their hair short. The woman didn't utter a word. She lit a fire in the hearth. She sniffled a lot and her eyes seemed like she had been crying a while. She went out and came back with a big half-calabash of water and a rug. She remained silent. She undressed Nasieku and gently washed her body, tears streaming down her eyes.
After washing, she oiled Nasieku in animal fat and dressed her in Wahala women's clothing. A blue shuka with decorative red and yellow markings fastened under the armpits. Then she began preparing dinner over the fireplace, still sniffling. She didn't look like a cannibal, Nasieku observed. She was quite pretty. She seemed delicate and sweet and beside everything Nasieku was going through, she felt sorry for her. Maybe her husband had not returned from the raid.
The Wahala lady prepared mash and beef stew in clay pots. She put the mash and soup in separate bowls and walked out with them. A few minutes later she returned without the bowls. She served Nasieku in similar bowls. Nasieku hesitated. The sad lady took a bite to assure her the food didn't contain poison. Nasieku commenced to eat her food. She ate greedily, she hadn't had proper food since being taken from her village.
As they ate the lady pointed to herself, "Kamene," she said.
"Nasieku," the other replied.
Then a thought hit Nasieku. Perhaps this young lady was fattening her up, being a cannibalistic woman. She thought of inserting fingers into her mouth to induce vomiting but thought it rude, the floor was very clean.
When the two were done eating, Kamene gestured to Nasieku to follow her. Behind the hut, Kamene squatted and pissed on the earth. She encouraged Nasieku to do the same, which she did. Then Kamene led her to another hut not more than fifty steps away. Kamene gently pushed her in. There was a small fire glowing in the hearth. Kamene picked some bowls from the floor and left. There was a man sprawled on a mat. When he got up, Nasieku realised it was Lotomo.
Lotomo pointed at the mat. It was clear what he wanted. Nasieku ran out of the hut but Lotomo was too fast and too strong for her. He dragged her back to the hut. She wept quietly beneath his heavy body. She had always pictured her first experience being with Kamande. Just before dawn he led her back to Kamene's hut.
Kamene warmed some water for her and she took a long bath. She cried the entire time. Kamene didn't say a word but seemed to sympathise. She couldn't walk properly. Her vagina was extremely sore. In the afternoon Kamene started preparing dinner. Nasieku was shaking, dreading the hour Lotomo would need her in his hut again.
When the food was ready Kamene took it to Lotomo. When later she went to get the bowls, she stayed for quite some time. When she came back, she fell onto the mat and sobbed her heart out. Nasieku understood. But then she didn't understand. Who was this woman? Was she Lotomo's wife? Why did she look like a woman grieving? Why was she so sad? On the mat that they now shared, Nasieku could feel her shivering and weeping throughout the night. Nasieku felt sorry for her.
The next day Kamene handed Nasieku a basket and they left for the communal farm. They passed by the chief's premises. Nasieku saw her people, all naked, being manhandled by strange pale-looking beings in long white clothes. The pale beings were checking their teeth, grabbing at women's breasts and men's biceps. It was clear the chief was haggling the price with these pale beings over her people. Her heart sank, they would probably be taken to faraway lands never to come back. She was lucky, she felt. She'd rather end up in someone's soup than be taken by big boats to faraway lands. Here in Wahala, if the gods willed it, she could find a way to escape back to her village.
The Wahala chief had seen how the Arabs had decimated other coastal villages. That's why he had made a deal with them. His warriors would get slaves from the interior and barter with them for guns, horses, glassware and the like.
Nasieku had heard of these beings in white long clothes with fire sticks slung on their shoulders. On their way back from the farm, with their baskets full of yams balancing on their heads, Kamene saw her people being led away by the pale beings with whips. To their big boats, with no hope of ever returning. She felt something die inside her.
That day Nasieku helped Kamene in preparing the evening meal of the yams they had harvested mixed with goat meat. She was still waiting for the day Kamene or Lotomo would slit her throat and have her as the evening meal. But there was something about Kamene she liked. She treated her as an equal. Maybe it was her quietness, or her quiet suffering. As the days passed the two grew to like each other, each in their own suffering.
In the next few months, thanks to Kamene, Nasieku learned a great deal of the Wahala language and culture. She found the culture strange. For instance, they believed their god lived in baobab trees, unlike her people who believed their god lived on top of the mountain near the village. Children were named based on the time of day, season or weather conditions at birth and women smoked their vaginas with special herbs after menstruation since it was believed it cleansed them.
The two girls did everything together. They would farm, collect firewood, fetch water from the river and visit the market to help Kamene's grandmother sell her wares. She was the one who raised Kamene. They went to the dances together, much to the annoyance of Lotomo when his supper was delayed. Kamene even taught her how to swim in the ocean.
On the rare nights that Lotomo didn't require either of them, maybe busy with his beloved flute, they would talk till the wee hours. Kamene had laughed herself hoarse when Nasieku informed her that she had thought the Wahala were cannibals. And that the warriors got their ferocity from eating human flesh. Kamene made her homesickness lessen.
Kamene wanted to know much of Nasieku's life before she came to the Wahala village. Nasieku talked about everything, about the gods they prayed to, her betrothed who was killed protecting her, her family, music and art, the various rites of passage, the big juicy mangoes found in Sambara, everything. She learned that Lotomo was not Kamene's husband in the real sense.
Kamene's real husband was Rudisha who died in the raid of their village. Lotomo was Rudisha's younger brother. Lotomo inherited her and everything else Rudisha owned when he died, as was custom. One night, Kamene vividly described her late husband; his strapping figure, the missing teeth in his lower jaw and the scar on his left cheek.
That's when Nasieku realised that the Wahala warrior that Lotomo had killed had been Kamene's husband, his own brother. Nasieku grappled with the question of whether to tell Kamene or not. She decided not to. What good would it do but bring her more grief? How would she take it? It might be too much for her delicate nature; she might even commit suicide. No, there was no need in telling her.
Day by day Nasieku begun to feel that she was becoming a Wahala and forgetting what it was to be a Sambara. Initially she had thought of escaping. But when Jebet, wife to one of her brothers, had tried to escape and got caught, she didn't think of it again. Jebet had been thrown in a hole full of safari ants and left there for days. She ran mad.
Nasieku's village up north wasn't as hot as this Wahala village. At night the two ladies slept mostly naked with nothing covering them due to the heat. The mosquitoes they kept at bay by throwing dry cow dung into the fire. Their naked bodies would rub against each other. It was shy Kamene who made the first move by putting Nasieku's nipple into her mouth, followed slowly by a soft hand between Nasieku's legs. Kamene gave her the very first orgasm of her life that night.
About a year after the raid of their village. Nasieku started experiencing morning sickness and Kamene diagnosed her pregnant. Nasieku was horrified. She had tried many methods to avoid pregnancy such as smearing tree sap and honey in her womanhood to kill the sperms. Kamene never used any preventive methods and often laughed at Nasieku's orthodox ways.
Nasieku now more than ever feared she was becoming a true Wahala: Speaking the Wahala language, dressing like a Wahala woman, with a Wahala husband, a Wahala co-wife and a Wahala baby growing inside her. Kamene asked her what she wanted to do about the baby. At first, she didn't want to have the baby but later on decided to keep it.
"How come you are not pregnant?" asked Nasieku one day, "Yet you don't use any preventive methods?"
"That's a question my husband used to ask me as well," Kamene said in a downcast voice. "I think I'm barren."
"Well, don't beat yourself too much if you really are barren. My child will be your child," Nasieku said hugging her.
When Nasieku was four months pregnant, her late father begun appearing in her dreams beseeching her to go back home, not to have that child in Wahala land. Nasieku confided in Kamene of her dreams who shrugged them off as anxiety experienced by first time expectant mothers.
A desire to escape Wahala land grew stronger in her heart every day until she couldn't contain it any longer.
"Come with me," Nasieku said to Kamene. "I can't bear leaving you behind."
"Then don't leave me. Stay. I'll help you raise the child."
"I can't have this child here. I need to go back to my people."
"I am your people," Kamene protested.
"I need to bury the placenta in a shrine near my village. Like my mother and her mother and her mother before did. Come with me, I beg of you."
"Do you think the Sambara will be so welcoming of a Wahala, a cannibal, dealers in slaves?"
"I will tell them you're not like the rest. I will vouch for you."
"Don't be naïve, Nasieku. They will string me up and rip your belly open to get that brat out of you."
"Are you choosing me over Lotomo?" Nasieku asked agitated.
"Don't be stupid, Nasieku."
Nasieku stared at her.
"It was Lotomo that killed your husband," Nasieku said curtly, "I saw it with my very eyes. I was with my mother and we saw him stab your husband in the back and then slit his throat, with that knife he carries by his waist. Lotomo killed your husband so that he could have you."
"How dare you?" Kamene spat. "You are willing to say anything to make me go with you. How low of you."
Kamene knew Lotomo had always been jealous of Rudisha, but there was no way he could kill his own brother. Rudisha was a likable man who seemed to amass wealth easily, and the girls liked him unlike his always grumpy brother.
"With or without you I'm leaving tomorrow night," Nasieku said. " The moon will be at its fullest and It'll help me cover quite a considerable distance before morning when you report to Lotomo I'm missing."
Kamene spent the entirety of the next day trying to change her mind, but Nasieku was too determined. When darkness crept in, they embraced and cried together. It was probably the last time they would see each other. Kamene packed a few food items for her long journey north.
"Do not use the main paths," Kamene said in her sobs. "Use the river bank. Travel by night and hide by day in the forests and thickets. I'm sure after a few days you will get your bearings."
Kamene grabbed Nasieku and looked her in the eye. "Don't get caught. I will kill myself if you get caught."
"Come with me," Nasieku said desperately, though knowing it was a useless.
Lotomo went berserk on realising Nasieku had escaped. He beat Kamene severely, accusing her of aiding her. He was especially angry knowing that Nasieku was pregnant.
"You must have helped her escape!" he screamed at her. "Don't think I haven't noticed how close you two are. How can she do this when she is carrying my child? I'll find her and kill her! No, I'll kill her after she has delivered the baby!"
Lotomo rounded up several of his friends and set out after her. Nasieku followed Kamene's advice. She only travelled at night and followed the river north. When her plantains got low, she fed on fruits. At times she had to take long detours to avoid walking through villages.
Kamene sighed in relief when Lotomo returned several days later without Nasieku. He returned in a very bad mood. He got a whip from his hut and beat her again.
"You've caused me my child," he cried. In his anger he forgot himself "I should kill you like I killed Rudisha, you barren witch!" he screamed.
She knew Nasieku had not been lying.
Thirteen days after escaping the Wahala village, Nasieku was in her village. Some huts had been poorly rebuilt but generally the village looked eerie and haunted. Mostly only old people seemed to be walking about aimlessly. Nasieku's mother believed she was seeing a ghost. She had pictured her daughter as a slave in a faraway land beyond the expansive ocean. She bent down, grabbed a handful of soil and threw it at her daughter.
"Is it really you, my daughter, or are the spirits playing a dirty trick on my eyes?" Her mother asked. She seemed much older and haggard.
"It really is me, mother." Nasieku said hugging her mother tightly. She felt how small and weak her mother had become.
"I never thought I would ever see you again, my daughter," her mother said crying. "May the gods be praised."
Word quickly went round the village that she was back. People came to ask about the kin who had been taken away with her. They left with their heads hung. Nasieku's mother hurriedly prepared a meal for Nasieku seeing how beat up she looked.
The next day she wanted her mother to take her to her father's grave, and her brothers and her betrothed. There were no graves, her mother said. The dead were too many and the people left behind too old and weak to dig all those graves. They instead dragged all the bodies to the nearby forest where hyenas, jackals and vultures disposed of them.
She missed Kamene so much now that she was back with her people. But it felt lovely to speak her language once again. She never spoke it even with the few Sambara girls in the Wahala village. There was shame and fear in speaking it.
"So that baby you are carrying is from that Wahala who killed his kinsman?" her mother asked after Nasieku had told her of her life in Wahala land.
Nasieku nodded.
Her mother gathered several elderly women the next day. The women dragged Nasieku into a secure hut. They forced various ill-brewed concoctions down her throat, made of bitter roots, crushed leaves and millet. Their aim was to get rid of the child growing inside of her.
Every day the elderly women would check on her progress. She would curse and kick and spit at them. When after several days they saw no change, they changed tactics. They pressed down on her belly with their knees for four consecutive days. Seeing the brat was determined to come out into the world breathing and kicking, they gave up.
Nasieku couldn't bring herself to look at her mother after that. Kamene was right. They would have hung her if she had come with her. She missed her terribly. What could she be doing at that moment, she often thought. Is she in the farm, cooking perhaps, or beneath the heavy body of Lotomo? Poor girl.
The baby was born with a deformed arm and leg. No one beside Nasieku wanted to touch it. Nasieku's mother refused the child being named after Nasieku's father as was the custom. About three months after the birth of the child the village was to be moved onto the other side of the forest on top of a hill, to avoid future raids by the Wahala.
The village elders had decided that Nasieku's child was not welcome in the new village. When the day came, half a dozen women subdued her. As she fought them off, an old man banged his club on her head rendering her unconscious. Normally she would have been left alone to stay behind with the child in the old village, but since child-bearing women were few, she was given no choice.
She woke up in the new village. They had left her child behind in a hut with no door. It took two days before Nasieku could disentangle herself from the village. She ran the whole distance to the old village. She ran as fast as she could, fearing the worst, hating herself for returning to her village. She would never forgive herself if anything had happened to her baby.
On reaching the village her nightmare came true. Her son was no more. Hyenas had got to him. Nothing was left but blood, their footprints and droppings. She sunk to her knees and cried uncontrollably, hoping the hyenas had got to him when he was already dead. Why did she ever leave the Wahala village? She was happy there with Kamene, the woman she loved.
She got up and without thinking started to walk towards the Wahala village. Whatever they would do to her she didn't care. She was ready to die and join her son. All she wanted was to see and touch Kamene one last time.
Nasieku was caught several miles from the Wahala village by a hunting party who recognized her. They took her to Lotomo. He didn't know what to do at first. Deep down he was happy she had come back, though he didn't show it. He noticed she didn't have a baby with her.
"Where's the child?" he asked?
"It died during birth," she said.
He was disappointed but since she had come back on her own volition, he wasn't angry. She was not to face any consequences. He had been in a terrible temper ever since she had left, and Kamene bore the brunt of this. Any small slight and she would get beaten. Lotomo had come to realise Kamene would never love him like she had loved his brother and this pained him greatly. That night and several nights after, Nasieku spent at Lotomo's hut. He was determined to get her pregnant again.
Kamene was overjoyed on Nasieku coming back. She nursed her both physically and mentally. She informed Nasieku that she believed her about Lotomo killing Rudisha and she was going to do something about it.
Just before Nasieku had come back, Kamene had consulted her grandmother on poisons. The grandmother recommended a rare mushroom found in the forest. She found it, dried and crushed it into powder. She kept it in a safe place waiting to gather her courage.
When Nasieku came back, seeing how tormented she was, and seeing how Lotomo was bound on impregnating her, Kamene got that courage. Kamene added the powder into Lotomo's soup.
When she went back for the bowls he was convulsing on the earthen floor and foaming in the mouth. She saw his sheathed dagger by him. The same dagger he had used to kill Rudisha. A grievous anger got hold of her. She grabbed it and stabbed him several dozen times then she took the bowls back with her. Nasieku helped her wash off the blood from her body and cloth. She didn't ask her any questions. She understood.
In the morning the cries of the two women pierced the morning peace.
'Oh! Someone has killed our husband!' they cried, rolling in the dirt, tearing their clothes and pulling at their hair.
An inquiry was quickly carried out and it didn't take long before Nasieku and Kamene were viewed as the main suspects. There was rumour that the two women were lovers and that's why they killed their husband. It didn't help their case that Kamene had cuts on her hands.
Only a woman would stab a man so many times, one woman said. A neighbour said she had walked in on them one afternoon with Kamene's face planted between Nasieku's thighs pleasuring her. Not many people who knew Kamene and Nasieku were shocked, considering the way they touched each other publicly or held hands while they walked.
The chief decided the best punishment for the two murderous lovers was they had to fight each other to the death. The victor would be banished from the tribe. If they refused to fight each other, both would be executed.
That afternoon Kamene and Nasieku were taken to the village square. They were stripped off all their clothes. The majority of the Wahala came to see the spectacle. They were not about to pass on seeing two nude women fighting each other to the death.
The overseer shushed the crowd. When there was silence, he handed blunt machetes to Kamene and Nasieku. Blunt to make the spectacle last as long as possible. The crowd was eager. People were jostling to get a better view. He ordered them to fight. Kamene and Nasieku dropped their machetes and embraced and kissed. There was uproar from the crowd. The lovers were spitting in the face of the gods.
"Kamene, I can't let them kill you," Nasieku said worriedly.
She picked up Kamene's machete and put it in her hands.
"I will never forgive myself for killing my son. Please let me join him, and save you."
Kamene dropped her machete.
"If you die, I die. I am not living without you. Not again."
"If one of you doesn't kill the other now!" Shouted the overseer, "Both of you will die!"
He signaled a few warriors who came with whips. The lashes on their naked bodies stung. But they were adamant. They were not going to fight each other.
"Then so be it!" shouted the overseer.
Some men came forward and started digging two holes. As the men were digging the holes some young boys and girls collected stones. The naked ladies were put into the holes standing. The holes swallowed them to their waists, and then they were filled again tightly so that they couldn't move. Their hands were tied behind them.
An impressive pile of stones lay a few yards in front of Kamene and Nasieku. The two ladies looked at each other.
"Don't you dare say it," Nasieku said, tears flowing down her cheeks. "I love you and that's all that matters."
Men came forward. Some would pick up a rock throw it several times in the air letting it land in their palms. If they found the rock lacking they would put it back in the pile, pick another and begin the whole act again.
The overseer gave the go-ahead. Screams of pain from Kamene and Nasieku were heard as the hurled rocks found them. The crowd cheered.
Unbeknown to the Wahala, tribes that had been raided by them and tribes that feared being raided by them had come together: Sambara, Takana, Kenda, Mera, Kimbi, Digo and many others. These tribes hated each other but joined together to exterminate a common enemy. The Wahala.
With all the cheering and most sentries among the crowd, the Wahala were caught with their guard down. Of all the days, of all the hours in the day, the unified army of the many tribes couldn't have picked a more opportune time to attack the mighty Wahala.
By the time the drums began screaming that the village was under attack, the unified army was deep within their walls. The crowds quickly scampered. The invading army was huge. It outnumbered the Wahala warriors about three to one. Not even the Wahala's fire sticks could stop them. The raid was more brutal than most. Normally warriors do not kill women and children. Not this time. The invading army cut down anything and everything that happened to cross their paths.
By morning not much of the Wahala and their village were left. A Sambara man who recognised Nasieku despite her bloodied face pulled her out of her hole. Seeing the Wahala tribal markings on the woman next to her in a hole as well, he unsheathed his blade to dispatch her. But Nasieku begged the man to spare her life.
"She's in this hole because she loves me," said Nasieku in a weak voice.
The man sheathed his blade and left.
Nasieku took Kamene to her old village to start their life afresh; the village which had been raided by the Wahala. In time other families joined them and the village grew. Occasionally Nasieku would steal into neighbouring villages to conceive. Nasieku and Kamene had four children and they lived happily till the end of their days.
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