• • •
Waiyaki saw the meeting. He saw the converts gather and praise. All this was visible from his hut, whose door faced the place. Waiyaki could not tell his own feelings concerning the open challenge. Maybe he was indifferent. After all, he himself loved some Christian teaching. The element of love and sacrifice agreed with his own temperament. The suffering of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane and His agony on the tree had always moved him. But he did not want to betray the tribe. Yet had he not actually betrayed it? He had wanted to bridge the gulf between Joshua and the others. For what? He had not stopped to answer that question. The feeling that this was in a way his mission had come to him before the meeting that marked the height of his glory. And he had been training himself for this mission: end the Kameno-Makuyu feud and bring back the unity of the tribe. Yet when the appropriate moment came he had failed. He had become intoxicated with wonder, anger and surprise and had lost himself. The moment had come. The moment had passed. Had he remained calm he would have spoken outright for reconciliation.
“Another time. Next time,” Waiyaki always told himself when these moments of self-blame came. And in a way he was glad. Education was really his mission. This was his passion. He needed help and cooperation from all, even from Joshua and Kabonyi. They called him a savior. His own father had talked of a Messiah to come. Whom was the Messiah coming to save? From what? And where would He lead the people? Although Waiyaki did not stop to get clear answers to these questions, he increasingly saw himself as the one who would lead the tribe to the light. Education was the light of the country. That was what the people wanted. Education. Schools. Education. He did not see any connection between what his education mission and what the Kiama was doing. He just wanted all the people to get learning. And unity was the answer. But sometimes he was afraid. Joshua and his followers were now completely identified with the white man. And now, with this outright boldness of Joshua, this naked challenge, he could not tell what would happen. What would the Kiama do? He had resigned from the Kiama, and he did not know what the inner circle under the leadership of Kabonyi would be up to; in a way it controlled the secrets of the hills. Kamau had taken Waiyaki’s place. His name had in fact been suggested by Waiyaki. Was this an act of appeasement? Waiyaki did not know. All he wanted was to concentrate his attention and energy on the mission he had undertaken. The Kiama could look to the purity of the tribe.
• • •
Again Waiyaki watched and saw the Christian gathering. He was much interested in this human spectacle. A thought came to him. Nyambura might be there. His heart beat a little. He always felt excited at the thought of seeing her. The more he thought of her the more he knew that he loved her. This was strange for Waiyaki. He had never shown much interest in women, his whole idea of living and purpose in life being concentrated on the service to the tribe. Though they met rarely, each time he was with her he wanted to tell. But he thought that she would turn on him and shame him to himself. No. He could never risk this. There was a gulf between them. And he always felt foolish while he stood in front of her.
Waiyaki left his hut and went out, taking the opposite direction, leading away from the meeting place. After a distance he turned to the left and began walking toward Honia river. A group of people going toward Kameno passed near him and went on. They were going to the meeting. Again he turned to the left and began walking along the river. The sun was not very high in the sky. The shadows of trees were long and crossed one another. Honia river flowed on, on. Waiyaki moved slowly, yet as if he were going to a definite place. Suddenly he stopped short. His heart gave two quick beats. He had seen Nyambura.
Nyambura was not happy. Each day that she spent in her father’s home seemed a greater weight added on to her. Her heart was restless and she knew that nothing at home would satisfy her. Every day she thought more and more of Waiyaki, her happy moments being those when she was with him. She was proud of his fame and at times she felt as if she shared it. She nursed this in her heart and clung to it as if the fame were hers. Yet his name, like Muthoni’s, was never mentioned in her home. But she always longed to see him, to hear his voice. They had met on so few occasions and always by accident. Why could she not feel free to meet him anywhere, free to go out and see him? Day by day she became weary of Joshua’s brand of religion. Was she too becoming a rebel? No. She would not do as her sister had done. She knew, however, that she had to have a God who would give her a fullness of life, a God who would still her restless soul; so she clung to Christ because He had died on the Tree, love for all the people blazing out from His sad eyes. She wished He could be near her so that she might wash and dress His wounds. She envied Mary, the Mary who had anointed the feet of Christ with oil. She prayed to Him. He must not leave her. Even this did not always satisfy her and she hungered for somebody human to talk to; somebody whom she could actually touch and feel and not a Christ who died many years ago, a Christ who could only talk to her in the spirit. If only she could meet Waiyaki more often; if only he could stay near her, then Christ would have a bigger meaning for her. But Waiyaki was becoming important and he was on the other side. Perhaps they would remain like that, a big, deep valley separating them. Nyambura knew then that she could never be saved by Christ; that the Christ who died could only be meaningful if Waiyaki was there for her to touch, for her to feel and talk to. She could only be saved through Waiyaki. Waiyaki then was her Savior, her black Messiah, the promised one who would come and lead her into the light.
Muthoni said she had seen Jesus. She had done so by going back to the tribe, by marrying the rituals of the tribe with Christ. And she had seen Him through suffering. She had been circumcised and said she had become a woman. Nyambura too wanted to become a woman but she could only be so if Waiyaki talked to her, if he stood near her. Then she would see Christ.
Nyambura lived with her doubts. She would not recognize her feelings toward Waiyaki as love. She told herself she did not love him because she did not feel toward him as she felt toward her mother or Muthoni. But she saw him as something big, firm and sure. If the earth collapsed, she could hold on to him and be safe.
Sometimes she cried and asked God to forgive her. She still wanted to remain true to her father. She would obey him. After all, Waiyaki was too far away from her. And he did not care for her. He was a Teacher, a big leader. The only objects of his efforts were the many children all over the country who were now going to school. What then? Would such a man care for her, a man who had big things to think about? Would such a man associate himself with a girl who was not circumcised, a girl whose father led the other side? At such times she prayed that she might be true to her father. It was good for her to stay with him, to obey him instead of venturing into the dark unknown.
Nevertheless she was wearied. And going to church was becoming a burden to her, especially in the company of her father. So she was always left behind and she would walk slowly, slowly. Sometimes she would not go to church at all and instead she would go to the Honia river. There she would find peace. There she prayed to God and remembered her sister.
Today she had felt depressed. She would not go to the meeting till she had passed through her favorite spot. She did not find any peace. But she knelt down, and while the river murmured down its course she prayed with all her heart that she might find the peace and light she longed for.
A pleasurable numbness dulled Waiyaki into immobility. He did not move but leaned against a tree and watched the apparition. The girl was on the opposite bank, in a flat clearing hidden a little by small bushes. Waiyaki could not tell why the place reminded him so much of the sacred grove where long ago his father had taken him and revealed the ancient prophecy. This place she was in was sacred too. Nyambura seemed to be bending over something. And Waiyaki watched, held by the desire to possess her. He moved a little. He could now see her clearly. She was kneeling down in a praying posture. He was fascinated. A kind of holy light seemed to emanate fro
m her body. The place would forever remain sacred to him. A few yards away from here was the place where he had sat long ago when being circumcised. It was the place where he had shed blood, red blood, as if it were needed to propitiate angry spirits. When Waiyaki realized she was praying he was moved. It was very strange and as he watched he experienced a frightening sensation, as if she and he were together standing on an altar ready for a sacrifice.
A grave atmosphere seemed to envelop the whole area and Waiyaki wanted to go away. He would not see her. No. Not now. All he wanted was to run away from this, for he could not face it. He was confronted with a might, a presence far beyond him. And he now felt her beyond him, on the other side. He made as if to move away, unseen. But the dry crack of a broken twig betrayed him. She raised her head and saw him. Waiyaki stood and looked at her. Nyambura still knelt. Their eyes met and they did not utter a word. Nyambura was afraid of the intense excitement that possessed her. Then Waiyaki made as if to move again, now feeling afraid of her, as if the intense glare in her eyes would destroy him. He wanted to shake off that power she now exercised over him on this altar of sacrifice. But her excitement was growing to a breaking point and she spoke to him, forcing herself to be calm. A note of defiance and challenge was discernible in the voice. And Waiyaki saw that she had been crying.
“Don’t run away, Teacher,” she said.
A pleasant shock went through Waiyaki and made his body hot with desire. She had actually called him “Teacher,” a name no follower of Joshua would call him. Was there a mocking laughter in the voice? He could not tell. He waited for her patiently.
“Where are you going?” she asked him when she had crossed the river. Waiyaki felt confused. The question wrung the truth out of him. He had wanted to go round and sit in a place where he could watch the meeting at a distance . . . the hope of seeing her.
“I was just walking. I like the river, the bush and the trees.”
“I am going to the meeting.”
“I thought you would already be there. It was a surprise to see you.”
“I—I just wanted to pass through here.” A pause. Then she laughed, a little nervously. “You see, I also like the river, the bush and the trees. That is my favorite spot.”
“Do you often come here?”
“Sometimes I do. Not very often.”
Waiyaki was quiet. Another silence fell between them. His whole body was on fire.
“My sister was initiated there,” she said abruptly. She made him feel guilty.
“You still remember her—”
“How can I forget her? I loved her.”
“Were you only two in your family?”
“Yes; now I am alone.”
“I am also alone in my family. All my sisters are married. The youngest, whom I loved most, died a long time ago. I was then young—”
Nyambura felt pleased because of this exchange of confidence. Waiyaki did not know what else to say.
“You will be late for the meeting.”
She did not move. Then quietly, as if speaking to herself, she said, “She was brave, very brave. Do you remember her?”
“I do, always.”
“Her last words.”
“Yes. . . .”
And Waiyaki’s mind went back to that scene a few years back when they had carried Muthoni to Siriana. And he remembered her frail body, her black shining eyes, and her last message: “Tell Nyambura I see Jesus.” Now he could see her again, clearly. And he remembered her agony. Waiyaki always felt that Muthoni had found something, something that filled her soul and made her endure everything. Muthoni had tried to find salvation for herself, a surer ground on which to stand. Where did he stand? The yearning came back to him, expressing itself in slow but mounting waves of desire. And he fixed his eyes on Nyambura and for a moment thought he could see Muthoni the night when they had met in the darkness on the eve of the initiation. He took a step toward Nyambura and stood close to her. He took her right hand in his and at once burst out, “Nyambura, I love you.”
It was really a whisper. Nyambura saw the light in his eyes and for a second she was afraid; she could not believe her ears. But it was good that he loved her. She wanted to fall into his arms, still she feared. And now she felt a painful sorrow come into her heart as if from nowhere. A tear dropped down her left cheek. She did not try to hold it back and a second fell down the right cheek. Waiyaki pressed her hand and she returned the pressure so that he felt he would die. In a blind moment of passion he took her into his arms and pressed her close to his breast while tears from her eyes fell on to his shoulder. Nyambura did not resist but allowed herself to be held by him, the only man who could save her from her misery. Neither spoke. They were one. Waiyaki thought his quest was over.
“Will you marry me?” he whispered.
Nyambura rested on his broad breast. She wanted to say “Yes.” She longed to say this. It would cost her nothing. Only her breath. Slowly she came to her senses. She disengaged herself from him. She was no longer crying.
“Tell me, oh, tell me,” implored Waiyaki, hope and fear mixing together. There was another silence.
“No,” she said at last faintly.
It cost her a lot of effort to whisper this. But she knew she had to. It was impossible to marry him. Unless she rebelled. She didn’t want to rebel like her sister. Waiyaki felt hurt.
“Why? Don’t you love me?”
“I do, I do,” her heart said. “But can’t you see we cannot marry? Can’t you?” Aloud she said, “Father will not allow it. I cannot disobey him. He knows that we have met before. Through rumors.”
He was looking aside now and could not see the tears that flowed freely down her face. If she continued, she would sob. It was better for them to part. But she wanted him and it was painful to her that she had to leave. Quickly she moved away before it was too late. She left him standing in the same position, staring at the same place. It pained her all the more and she stood irresolutely. She knew she had to go.
“Nyambura! Nyambura!” Oh, she was gone. What had he wanted to tell her? He retraced his steps and went home, seeing nothing, feeling nothing. He just walked.
Kamau came out of his hiding place. His eyes and soul burned with malice. He’ll suffer for this. And his accumulated fury rose against Waiyaki. Kamau had never forgotten that incident when Waiyaki had humiliated him in the plains. He would never forget the wound. Kamau knew that he hated Waiyaki. He was now known as the Teacher. Some said he would save the hills. Well, let him be their Teacher. Let him be their savior. Kamau rejected him. This man had humiliated his father. Would Kamau after all these things stand aside and watch Waiyaki beat him in love? No. Kamau loved Nyambura. He had always wanted her and in Makuyu he always hovered around, hoping one day to declare his love to her. Yet he had never had a good chance to open his heart to her. Today had been an excellent opportunity. He had meant to do it. He would have told her all about himself and he was sure that she would have agreed to run away with him to Nairobi. Then this fool had come. Kamau had waited for him to go but Waiyaki had persisted in staying. Then he saw them embrace. And with intense pain he saw all he had half feared confirmed before his eyes. Waiyaki was his rival to death.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Waiyaki went from ridge to ridge, meeting elder after elder. They came to him and felt comforted by the blaze in his eyes. He had a passion to live for. His god, education, guided him, showed him the light, made him overcome personal frustrations and hardships. It drove him through hills and valleys, through the forests and darkness of the night. He had not yet stopped to think where all this was leading, whether the new awareness and enthusiasm he had helped to create would be quenched by education. If anybody had suddenly asked him a question in that direction, he might have burst out: Unite and build more schools.
But just now he was faced with the task of getting more teachers for the
schools already built. Something had to be done. Again Siriana was the only place which could still produce men with the necessary education for carrying on the teaching in the ridges. So he one day made a sudden journey to a ridge near Siriana, where he met some young men who were in their final year at the Mission place. He talked to them and pleaded with them. They agreed to his proposals but asked him to go back before Christmas Day to straighten out the arrangement.
At home the Kiama was getting more and more power over the people. The cry that started the new schools was again taken up. Keep the tribe pure. And people listened to them because they did not want the tribe to die. And the Kiama wanted to fight for the land which had now been taken by the settler, the missionary and the government. Kabonyi and his followers went from ridge to ridge, getting people to take the oath of allegiance to the purity of the tribe. People knew that their Teacher had taken such an oath. And he had been one of the leaders of the Kiama, at least before he resigned. Nobody could break this oath. Nobody who had taken it would ever betray the tribe.
The old rivalry went on. And it was spreading to the other ridges. Joshua’s center was Makuyu, while Kameno was seen as the center of the tribe. The Teacher came from there. Waiyaki did not like to be identified with either side; he was now committed to reconciliation. But since those two memorable meetings things had gone from bad to worse. Each group seemed more arrogant and more confident of itself than ever. Joshua preached with more vigor than ever and his followers sang damnation to the pagans openly and defiantly. Joshua was identified as the enemy of the tribe. He was with Siriana, with the white settlers. For now it was said that Siriana missionaries had been sent to prepare the way for the settlers. The white people were now pouring into the interior in greater and greater numbers. Indian traders too had come and were beginning to carry on a thriving business.
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