Dogs in the Sun

Chapter Eight

89 Dogs in the Sun Chapter Eight M y door creaked open and a shadow crept in. I didn’t raise my head as the light footsteps made the effort unnecessary. “Where are you from at this time of night?” I questioned as I continued to oil the figure I was on. “Ma-Nina sent for me. Nina is…” “Not that name,” I said sharply, my attention still taken up by the work in my hand. I looked sideways at her, across the quivering flames of the bamboo fire. “Banda, please, you know I never leave our compound without a good reason.” “Did Masutu meet you here today?” She fell silent for a while before offering reluctantly: “Yes.” “And what did you tell him?” “Banda, please!” “This is not about Banda.” “I knew that if I followed you to Olembe’s house you would drive me away. But I still went there, after you, then I went to Nina.” “You don’t want me to believe that Ma-Nina and her daughter kept you for so long. Look outside. The fireflies are lighting the grass.” “She…they…Banda, please.” Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling and its black soot. “You are still to talk.” I fell silent. Between us the fire breathed out dancing tongues. I was done with the oiling but didn’t put the work away. I held it tightly in my hands and the feel of it sent a warm sensation into my head. The 90 G. D. Nyamndi figure was no longer just wood. A fetching look animated its eyes. I could almost feel the thump-thump of its heart. The sensation was such now that even the still plaits tickled my hands. I roamed my sweating fingers through them, listening for a whisper of contentment, a groan of protest, of delight. There was a heart in it. I had felt it beat against mine, sending me off to sleep in the comfort of their unified throb. “You are still to talk,” I said again. “Uncle Abua is in mother’s house, so get ready to face him when you get there.” “Banda, please,” she pleaded, jumping to me and holding me by the hand, “I heard his voice there. That’s why I fled here instead.” “And you think it’s here that he will not reach you?” Just then the door flew open and Uncle Abua stormed in. Contrary to his habit of muttering to himself when in a rage, he had marched the short distance in total silence. Only the sudden bang of the door against the wall had announced his presence. Lemea sat transfixed on the stool. Her head heaved, as if pounded by waves. The sight of Uncle Abua always dried her blood and that’s why she always disappeared into the thicket behind mother’s house whenever the ground under her feet trembled in announcement of his coming. She could afford to take off, especially when his presence was not directly connected with her. But now she couldn’t. Outside the darkness stared at her. And she knew just why he’d come. Though in her sixteen years of life she had never given him cause to complain, she knew nevertheless what a source of worry she was to him. He viewed her beauty as a burden on his shoulders, and she herself as the fated chick that would attract the demonic hawks into Gakoh family. “Lemea! put your eyes into my eyes!” he snapped as soon as he set his eyes on her. His fury had mellowed somewhat but his voice was still sufficiently hard to jolt her backwards. “Uncle,” I interrupted in anguished sympathy. 91 Dogs in the Sun “Is your name Lemea?” Uncle Abua shot back. “Is my waist beaded?” I ventured jokingly. The trick worked somehow: Uncle Abua’s tight lips relaxed into an ugly horizontal line. Whenever it came to me, the nephew he proudly called his son, affection dripped through every pore in his skin. He always said something about me reminded him so much of his own father. Was it the physical resemblance? Maybe. “You know, my son,” he would say in moments of affection, “You are tall in a handsome way. You are like the Creator’s morning work. There are few like you who leave the divine workshop in the morning. My father Ewung Gakoh was one of...