Corporal Quinlan whispered softly into Kinyo’s ear.
‘As you know, the Americans have been pursuing the lowlander army for many months now.’
As you know. Did everyone except me know about this war between the Americans and the lowlanders? I looked round. Nobody seemed even remotely surprised.
‘Two days ago, not far from here, the lowlanders ambushed our soldiers.’
He named a mountain pass I had never heard of before … but Father and the ancients nodded.
Corporal Quinlan grinned so widely his roll of moustache stretched from ear to ear. He made a gesture like he was cutting his throat with a knife.
‘Fifty-two,’ Kinyo translated. ‘The Americans killed fifty-two of the enemy. It was a slaughter.’
There was a sudden squawk from Private Smith and Private Henry. I stared at them, confused. They were laughing helplessly, clutching their bellies, as if it was a hilarious joke.
Fifty-two souls taken from the lowlanders by the Americans. I felt a cold fist wrap itself around my heart. The Americans were comical to look at, with their huge feet and their large heads and hair the colour of dog sprouting all over their faces. But their guns made them the deadliest kind of enemy.
‘There is a large contingent of American soldiers travelling through the pass soon,’ Kinyo continued. ‘The bodies need to be cleared. The American says they need our help.’
‘Help? How can we help them?’ Father said.
‘They want us to bury the dead,’ Kinyo said.
Bury the dead? I glanced at Tambul. We were supposed to be honouring Tambul as his soul eased into the world of the Uninvited. But the arrival of the Americans had stolen his time.
‘Preposterous!’ Salluyud shook the gun at the Americans. ‘They give us ONE gun and they think we will clean up their mess!’
Kinyo looked nervously at Salluyud. ‘Do … do I have to translate that?’
But, before anyone could say anything, Corporal Quinlan turned and barked something at the other two.
Kinyo’s eyes widened. ‘He says … he says—’
But Kinyo didn’t have to translate. The American called Private Henry had already crossed the courtyard and handed another gun to Salluyud. The ancient stared at the two guns as if he’d suddenly sprouted a new pair of arms. The other men were already rushing towards him. They couldn’t wait to touch it.
Father threw himself in front of them, his arms spread wide. ‘Shame, shame, shame!’ he cried. ‘Have you been bewitched? Have you forgotten that we have to find the Mangili who murdered Tambul? We cannot leave the village unprotected!’
The ancients nodded. With a guilty look, Salluyud put the gun down on the ground. The other men frowned, chewing their lips. What the spirits of our ancestors must think to see our behaviour! How unforgivable to be ready to abandon one’s people for the gifts of strangers!
Father told the Americans about Tambul’s murder the night before and the importance of capturing his killers. As Kinyo translated, Corporal Quinlan exchanged looks with his men.
He began to speak rapidly.
Kinyo’s eyes widened. ‘He is saying that last night, while camping on the other side of the forest, they were attacked by two Mangili.’
‘Two?’ Father said. ‘What did they do?’
‘They shot them dead and buried them in a ditch.’
There was a silence.
Father’s eyes were round. ‘Is he sure they were Mangili?’
Corporal Quinlan nodded and Kinyo spoke his words.
‘Yes. They know the Mangili well and these men definitely were Mangili. Corporal Quinlan says our enemy is dead and we have nothing to worry about now. The danger is over.’
Father shook his head. ‘But how do we know that these were the same men who killed Tambul?’
The American looked at Tambul, sitting quietly in his funeral chair.
‘The Mangili were carrying a basket,’ Kinyo translated. ‘Inside it was a man’s head. When they buried the Mangili, they buried the head in its basket.’
Everyone was suddenly smiling. Surely this was excellent news. We were safe. And, even better than that, Tambul’s head was there to be retrieved. But the cold fist was still hard around my heart. Why did I feel uneasy?
Salluyud turned to the other ancients. ‘This is an even better gift than these guns,’ he said. ‘Tambul’s spirit will be appeased to know that we can retrieve his head and he can be buried with dignity. His ghost will not haunt us.’
‘Kinyo.’ Father looked grim. ‘Ask them if they can show us where they buried the Mangili so that we can reclaim Tambul’s head. Tell them it is important we return it to his body before he is buried.’
Kinyo translated in a quavering voice.
Corporal Quinlan nodded vigorously.
‘The American says this is no problem – they are pleased to kill our enemy for us,’ Kinyo said. ‘They will take us to where they buried them so that we can recover the head.’
‘Lumawig be praised!’ the ancients began to cry, clasping their hands and closing their eyes with joy.
The American grinned and whispered something to Kinyo.
Kinyo licked his lips. ‘They will do all this and we can keep the guns. But we must agree to bury the dead.’
Everyone was exclaiming now and the guns were lifted up and passed from hand to hand.
I peered up at Corporal Quinlan, who was watching with arms folded across his chest. He was smiling. But the muddy eyes under the thick eyebrows flitted about like a fish in search of feed.
28
It was agreed.
Twenty men, plus Kinyo as their interpreter, would accompany the Americans to the mountain pass to bury the dead. On the way, the Americans were going to show them where the Mangili were buried, so that they could retrieve Tambul’s head and bury his corpse as a whole man.
The ancients had dispatched a messenger to the caves to tell everyone that all was safe, there was no longer any enemy to fear and everyone could return to the village. They ordered Kinyo to invite the Americans to some rice and pork for breakfast.
Kinyo hurried to speak to the Americans, but Private Smith and Private Henry were mounting their horses and preparing to ride back down to the mossy forest. Corporal Quinlan ignored Kinyo and fetched the kodak.
‘They said they had to do a survey of the area,’ Kinyo told the ancients. ‘To make sure all is secure.’
‘What about him?’ Dugas said, tilting his head towards Corporal Quinlan, sauntering through the village.
‘He is their commander and he can do what he likes,’ Kinyo shrugged.
Luki, Kinyo and I sat on our heels, watching as the American took the kodak out of his bag and began to set up its stand. I realized he wanted to make more pictures. Of our huts. Of the women returning to their fires. Of the children playing on the trails. Of the chickens scratching in the dirt.
How faithfully did his kodak duplicate what it saw? Could it see what lay within as well? Did its pictures capture our souls too? And if it did, what was going to happen when he took our souls away to America?
I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Father, balancing bowls of rice and salted pork on one arm. ‘The ancients say you must eat now so that we can leave as soon as possible,’ he said gruffly. ‘The sooner we go, the sooner we can return to keep Tambul’s vigil.’
I looked across at Tambul’s corpse, sitting stiffly in his chair. Several of his friends were gathered around the funeral chair, chatting with the headless body to show his spirit their respect. My dead friend’s broad shoulders were now sloping over the rope that bound his chest to the chair. One knee had collapsed inward.
I remembered my dream, staring into the shadow mouth howling in the head of flames. If Tambul was buried with his head, the spirits of our ancestors would look more kindly upon him and might invite him into their invisible world. Perhaps he could be spared the horror of being one of the Uninvited.
Father tossed a strip of pork up i
n the air and Chuka caught it in mid-air, swallowing without even bothering to chew. She gave him an ingratiating smile, her swollen eye making her look lopsided.
‘Enough, Chuka!’ I commanded, nervous that she might do something to displease him.
Father smiled. ‘It’s all right. I understand. This dog’s soul has become attached to you, Samkad.’ He sighed. ‘She reminds me of a dog I used to keep when I was a boy. I know what it’s like to have a dog love me. I named him Asin.’
Father had a dog?
How could he have warned me away from dogs when he himself had kept one? He even named it! I sneaked a glance at Luki. She was gaping so wide I could see a small ball of rice making its way down the back of her throat.
‘It cannot be helped. Sometimes a beast just chooses you,’ Father continued. ‘Asin chose me.’ Father smoothed his hand over Chuka’s ears and she quickly flipped over on her back, inviting Father to rub her tummy.
‘What happened to your dog?’ Kinyo asked, his voice muffled under a mouthful of rice.
A shadow crossed Father’s face. ‘He died,’ he said softly. Then he shook his head. ‘No. He didn’t just die. He was chosen.’
‘Chosen?’ Luki said.
Father nodded. ‘At the time, were at war with the village of Talubi. The Talubin despised us and we despised them and they hunted us and we hunted them and on and on our struggle went. The Talubin wore us out, hunting us like animals. So many children became orphans. We needed to overwhelm the Talubin, attack them once and for all so that they would leave us alone, end the war. But our men had become weakened by fear. And the spirits of our ancestors forgot about us, we were getting no help from them. Or maybe they were cowed by the fierceness of our enemy.’
Father’s hand paused on Chuka’s head. ‘We needed new courage. So the ancients chose Asin. They sent his soul into the world of the dead, so that our ancestors might pay us heed and his fierce spirit would give us courage.’
I stared at Chuka. At first I had thought her a silly dog, always wanting love and attention. But she was not silly at all. These past few days she had proven herself ferocious and loyal.
‘He died quickly – he was so eager to do his work,’ Father said softly. ‘Even as his blood filled the ancients’ bowl, his soul was already roaring through the invisible world. And it worked. Our village defeated the Talubin so comprehensively that they agreed to a truce, which holds to this day.’
‘It looks to me that the more Chuka serves you, Samkad, the fiercer she becomes.’ Father was rubbing Chuka’s belly now, his face averted. The black dog wriggled with pleasure. ‘Good dog.’
At that moment Chuka rolled back onto her front, her one good eye narrowed. Her lips curled to reveal vicious teeth and she growled.
‘What is it, dog?’ I said softly.
But now she was on her feet and rushing headlong down the path.
‘Samkad, hold that dog or the Americans might do something to her,’ Father said through gritted teeth. But I was already rushing after her, my rice bowl tumbling to the ground.
‘Chuka!’ I gritted my teeth. The dog was darting down the path, heading directly for Private Smith and Private Henry, who were leading their horses towards us.
The horses reared and swerved as Chuka flew at them. The Americans yelled at her, whipping their hats off to swat her away.
But Chuka was not aiming for them.
She scampered just beyond reach of their hooves before she froze, every muscle rigid, teeth bared. A low, angry growl rolled from deep in her throat. And her eyes glared as if she had come face to face with her most hated enemy.
Behind the horses, someone returned the dog’s glare. Someone with wrists bound, tethered to one of the horses by a long rope.
I recognized him immediately.
It was the Mangili who had attacked me in the rice valley.
29
Of course I recognized him. I had wiped the mud off his face with my own hands. There was no mistaking those eyes, the thick brows, the short hair.
Private Henry stomped across to the dog and, hooking his great foot under her belly, flicked her away as if she was a bothersome piece of rubbish.
Chuka yelped as she tumbled to the side of the path, but wasted no time flipping back onto her feet to snap at the American.
‘No!’ I threw myself over Chuka in case the American drew his gun. ‘Kinyo, tell him the dog means no harm!’
While Kinyo placated Private Henry, I began to drag Chuka back up the hill. She resisted, planting her paws in the dirt, by turns whining and growling, unwilling to leave her enemy, who smirked to see me struggle. He recognized me, I was sure of it. Father was watching us from the top of the hill.
‘Father! Come, quickly! It is him! Look!’
‘It is who, Samkad?’
I waved one hand at the Americans’ prisoner while holding Chuka down with the other. ‘It’s the Mangili who attacked me in the rice valley!’
Father had an odd expression on his face. Slowly, he approached the horse. Private Smith and Private Henry eyed him with suspicion as he did so.
‘Son,’ Father said softly. ‘This man is not a Mangili.’
‘But he is! I wrestled with him in Second Best Valley.’
Kinyo, tailing Father, made a funny face. ‘Your father is right. This man can’t be a Mangili. He’s a lowlander.’ He shouted something at the Americans, listening carefully as they replied.
‘They are saying that they caught him hiding up a tree in the forest,’ Kinyo said.
Father put his arm around my shoulders. ‘He is a soldier, son. A soldier of the lowlander army.’
‘But I thought …’
‘See how he’s dressed?’ Father said patiently. ‘Didn’t I tell you the Mangili wear breechcloths like we do? This is how a lowlander soldier is dressed.’
I looked at the American’s prisoner. His torso was bare, but I saw now that what Father said was true: his legs and waist were clad in the same sort of cloth wrapping worn by Kinyo and the Americans.
The prisoner grimaced at me. He spat in the dirt and Chuka would have flown at him had I not dragged her away.
It took Father, Kinyo and Luki to help me pull the dog back to our hut. I pushed her in and shut the door. We all sighed with relief.
Father put one hand on my shoulder, the other on Kinyo’s.
‘These are extraordinary times. I hope you boys understand that,’ he said.
I nodded, even though I was confused. I had blamed myself when Tambul died. I thought he had died because I had not warned the ancients about the Mangili in the valley. But now it turned out my opponent had not been a Mangili at all.
‘My sons, you both have important roles to fulfil when it becomes time to keep our promise to the Americans. Kinyo, we will need you to speak to the Americans. And you, Sam, will come with us to where they buried the Mangili. We will exhume Tambul’s head and you will carry it back to the village while we travel on to the burial site. We will honour Tambul by reuniting his body with his head.’
Luki was watching us with wide eyes. She stepped forward. ‘Please, let me come too. I can help Sam bring Tambul’s head back.’
Father smiled at Luki. ‘It is very kind of you to offer, but this is a job for a man and not a girl. Your duty is to return to your mother, Chochon … she will be here soon from the caves and there will be many chores she will need you to do.’
Luki’s mango face twisted.
Father turned away from her. ‘Sam, Kinyo, I have not forgotten that you should have had the Cut this morning,’ he said.
In fact, I had forgotten. Kinyo made a choking noise. He had forgotten too. I was surprised to find myself indifferent. The Cut didn’t seem to matter much right now.
Father looked at me, his eyes serious. ‘I want you to know that you made me proud when you stood up to that American, when nobody else was willing to do it. To me, you have proven beyond doubt that you are a man. Cut or no cut.’ He smiled. ‘I promise, onc
e the Americans are gone, we will follow the proper ceremonies.’
I felt a surge of warmth in my belly. Father had never spoken to me that way before. ‘Kinyo.’ Father turned to my brother. ‘I am sorry that your homecoming has been so … difficult. I had wanted to celebrate your return. I promise, once this business is over, that you will get the welcome you deserve. I want you to know I am proud of you and your gift with different tongues.’
‘Thank you … Father,’ Kinyo whispered, tracing the dirt with his toe.
Father smiled at Luki. ‘Sam became a man yesterday. He stood up for Tambul against the Americans when no one had the courage to do it.’
Luki made a huffing noise. ‘So …’ she was pouting. ‘If it had been me who argued with the American … would you call me a man today?’
Father laughed. ‘Luki! You are incorrigible!’ He winked at her as he began to walk away. ‘Come on, Kinyo, son. The ancients need you to talk to the Americans now.’
Luki’s eyes fixed on me as Father and Kinyo left. Weh, her eyes were wet and her mouth was turned down so hard that it was a wonder her jaw had not dropped off her face.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ I mumbled.
She scowled. ‘Huh, do you know what that was all about, Samkad? Your father was just soothing your feelings because it’s going to be weeks before anybody will have time to give you the Cut.’
‘It doesn’t matter when they give me the Cut, does it?’ I growled. ‘Father said so himself!’
I couldn’t believe it. All the sweet exhilaration I had felt at Father’s words dissipated. Why did she act like this every time we talked about my manhood? What sort of friend would trample on your ambitions?
‘The problem with you is that you’re jealous that I’m going to become a man!’ I snapped.
‘Jealous? Why should I be jealous?’
‘You hate that I’m finally going to become a man.’
‘No, I don’t.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘I really don’t.’
‘Look at you. Since we were little you have wanted to dress like a boy. Play like a boy. Fight like a boy. You wish you were me, don’t you?’
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