Drum Bits of Terror: Drum Bits of Terror

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203 32 ater that day, after the Man of the Law and Okongolo, the Guard, had departed, the camp had the semblance of a house in mourning. When the sun set, leaving behind a haze to an overcast sky and the impact of its oppressive heat was all, but gone, the air became depressingly cool. Those who had sold their souls and birth rights for a meagre ten thousand shillings huddled together and spoke in hushed murmurs. Though they knew and understood they had been robbed in broad daylight, the temporary relief of having received something, even if it was minuscule, was some sort of vindication. Those who had rebelled sat in silence. Vivid memories of their loss returned. Nico was among those men who had refused the money . . . It added insult to injury. When night time came, the sky was moonless, the clouds were dark, the wind menacing, and a nightly owl cooed. Mothers withdrew into their tents out of fear it might rain. Daunted children followed their mothers inside. The men stayed out in the open nursing a hurt too deep to comprehend. They did not have much choice in the matter. The tents that housed their families were not big enough to accommodate everyone, not much of a shelter. The tents swayed violently in the drifting wind. The men stayed outside and kept a vigilant watch over the tents and their families, paralyzed by the wrath of nature, paralyzed by the wrath of man against man. If only the moon had been up, it would have made all the difference, but the night was pitch black and menacing. After the winds died down, Nico and a couple of his friends decided to do the unthinkable! They left the camp with the intent of going to their former domiciles to see if it was indeed safe for them to return home. Had the Man of the Law not said it was safe to return home? Had the radio also not announced the same? If it was safe for them to return, they had to confirm it to the rest in the morning. They wanted to be harbingers sent to survey the land, to affirm if the wrath of hatred had ended. As they walked out of the station, leaving L 204 behind the only security they had known ever since the clashes broke, the night was now pitch-black. It was so dark that one could not see beyond his nose. Above the already darkened skies, countless spots of light appeared and disappeared intermittently. It was very easy for one to see the big dipper, but the men were not looking for it. Those who were still outside, peered through the dark struggling to see the men’s formless bodies as they vanished from their view, and until they were swallowed by darkness. Some whimpered with sadness not knowing the men’s fate. The men walked in silence towards the main road like three perfect strangers. Although the tumult of the previous months had already died down, it was still freshly etched into their minds. Who could forget that? Even though the curfew had been lifted and the sounds of gun fire had receded, the threat of machetes had not been completely erased from their psyche. Not to mention the kerosene bombs. As for people’s wrath, it was another unresolved issue altogether. Granted, there was no telling what people were thinking or feeling—privately. There was no telling how their neighbours would react to their homecoming. The mandate they had received earlier on in the day to return to their homes without much of a resolution of the deep seeded hatred, that had pitted neighbour against neighbour, husband against wife, still remained a double-edged sword in the hearts and minds of many, a malignant enigma. As the men got to the main highway, where the road teed, they turned right heading towards the post office. The road was dimly lit and snaked upwards towards the central district of town. There were no cars or buses cruising along the bumpy street. There were no peddlers selling their usual merchandise. The road was bare and exuded an element of eeriness, like an eeriness of a cooing owl. The travellers could feel it, deep down, in their hearts, but they simply disregarded it. As they walked steadily towards the town, they were careful enough to avoid stabbing their toes on countless potholes and artificial bumps that dotted the road...