In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

185 28 everal weeks later, after Sam was confronted in his house, he sat in his living room dazed, while distantly he listened to the radio. He did not pay attention to what the reporter was saying. His door was ajar and already the morning seemed oppressively hot. From where he sat, he felt the warmth of drafting wind as it brushed gently across his face and his entire body. The air was not only hot and humid, but also musty oppressive. His eyes gawked outside through the open door. Through it, he could see how the grass had wilted, and the trees wore a tired look. For this reason, and only this reason, he had no intention of leaving the house. He was not alone. Even though the GSU had left Maraba, many people were still held as prisoners in their homes. No one barred them from leaving; they chose to do so, preferring the safety of the indoor, than the uncertainty of the outdoors. Those brave enough to venture outside bore witness to the residual effects of the clashes in silence. Left in its aftermath were vestiges of people’s charred homes felled into a pile of rubble and scattered debris of unusable personal effects—crushed cups, broken pots, pans, tea kettles, muddy clothes. Sam felt a chocking lump cropped-up in his throat as he thought about these things. Having no desire to go out, Sam buried his head in the back of his chair and closed his eyes. His ears remained attuned to the radio, the only link he had to the outside world. Reports of torture in other parts of the country engulfed the airwaves. On Voice of Kenya (VOK), the announcer was saying: “More than 120 people have been killed in the country. Angry opposition groups have clashed with police and rival tribal groups after President Kibaki was hastily sworn in for a second term despite fierce accusations of election fraud. The country is sliding towards civil war.” “Police have opened fire on supporters of opposition leader Raila Odinga, killing scores of people who were protesting against alleged fraud in the election that returned President Kibaki to power on Sunday.” S 186 “In the Nairobi slum area of Kangemi police pulled members of the Luo tribe out of their corrugated tin huts and even assaulted pregnant women with their wooden batons. There are reports of many deaths elsewhere—in the town of Kisumu in western Kenya, the government is rumored to have signed an arrest warrant for Odinga because he has challenged the election outcome and announced he would have himself inaugurated as “the people’s president” on Monday on Uhuru Square in the center of Nairobi.” “In Eldoret, Burnt Forest—women and children were burnt to death in a church—Londiani, Naivasha, kuresoi.” Sam listened to the news with an aching heart and remained benumbed by it. What power could he garner against the machinery that orchestrated the violence in the first place? He was merely a fly in the sea of chaos. When his thoughts took flight to Wanja, he mumbled: ‘If only she were here! If only she were here!’ What a difference that would make! Perhaps, she could have comforted him. Perhaps, they could have comforted each other! The truth about the matter was: She was gone and there was no telling when she would return. There was no telling when peace would return. There was no telling if any of his neighbours would return. So, he withdrew farther and farther into loneliness. His heart ached for the void he now felt. His heart ached for those who were suffering. His heart ached for those who were forced to sleep under the open sky. His heart ached for those who had perished. It was during this time that Sam reflected on the last moments he had shared with his wife before they parted that morning. He remembered how that morning he lay lazily on their bed as she got ready for the market. He listened to her in and out motions as she prepared breakfast. When it was ready, she set the table . . . It was almost seven in the morning. “Aren’t you going to have tea with me?’ she said. “No, not now,” he said, stretching his body. “Perhaps later!” Wanja poured herself a cup of tea as Sam watched from the bedroom. She took a sip of her steaming tea in silence as though it was the only...

Share