People of A Lesser God
Moses woke up to a cold breeze through a small hole in the wall of their mud house. The cold was burning his nose, and he reluctantly opened his eyes, yawned, stretched his arms, and slowly leaned on the mud wall. There were faint noises, and he peeped through the hole that led to the cowshed. The family home was an integrated house, with the cowshed and house sharing the entrance. The cows and sheep greeted every visitor to the home with a strong pungent smell of ammonia. He could hear the mother and father argue on some topic, and he brushed off the situation, considering it wasn't the first time they were arguing. He was actually lucky that he didn't wake up to a commotion or some hot swatting on the bottom with a local whip, mwideredu. He scratched his head, then his abdomen, let out another yawn, gathered his clothes, and headed out. Moses slept in an 8 by 8 room, stocked with two beds, an old wardrobe, and boxes stacked on the wardrobe. Most of the items were junk, keeping the room warm. The boxes contained years of memories, entailing schoolwork and documents of other children. He would occasionally go through them when bored to pass time. He would not read yet but enjoyed the sightly pictures, often giggling seeing early photos of his parents and older siblings. The occasional holes in the wall were reptiles' entry points, and never had they killed a snake in the house. These holes also served as ventilations for this old hut with no modern equipment. Rodents were not a problem, considering the three cats owned by the family. Moses shared the room with four of his siblings. On reaching the door, Moses turned briefly to see the room again. He realized that his brother was still asleep. His elder brother, Joseph 11, was industrious and always woke up before him. He was dedicated and Moses found it odd that his brother was still asleep. He dared not wake him up because he knew today would be his day of glory. Moses leaped happily to go and inform the mother, who was now milking. He went past his elder siblings in the sitting room into the shed.
"Mom!" Moses shouted as he leaped through the shed.
"One more step, and I'll hang you outside like a reject hide; you want us to spend the day hungry!" his mother shouted. Cows can be easily startled and kick the milk jar or injure somebody. Moses retrieved slowly, taking backward steps, and disappeared. He knew better than to irritate the seemingly furious mother. He had better chances of survival by waking up his brother who gets very angry when woken up. He went back to the room and tried to call his brother. The brother's eyes were half shut, to which Moses laughed. "You're so fat nowadays you can't even close your eyes." Joseph had some general edema the past few days, and the parents thought the boy was getting fat. Moses violently shook his brother. He pulled him from the bed so hard that they both fell from the bed. Joseph lay on Moses motionless and made no effort to free his brother. Unable to set himself free, Moses let out a sharp scream.
Moses' mother heard the scream and grew furious. She always warned the children not to scream in the neighborhood, as the neighbors were always on high alert, considering the many threats to the community. She almost shouted, but another yell came up, amidst a cry, and she knew everything was not okay. She set her eyes on alert mode, slowly placed the milk bucket on a stool, stood up, her arms to her waist, and listened. Her motherly instincts kicked in, and she rushed into their house, her face anxious and furious. She found Joseph lying on Moses in her kids' room and didn't waste a second. She landed two back slaps on Joseph, the type that jumpstarts bad behavior. She pulled him aside and added two more slaps. Joseph never woke, and when released, he fell onto the floor like a potato sack. His body was fluid, and showed no signs of life. Moses' mother, Wangechi, felt her heart skip a beat. She stammered. "Joseph, níkí úkíra, úreda kúdiga?" (what's going on, Joseph? What's up? Wake up, you want to leave me?) Her voice was shaken and had turned from anger to extreme fear. She felt her legs weaken and knelt beside his son, vigorously shaking her child to wake up. She let out an unconscious scream, and her older children were terrified. Njau ran out to get their father, who was in the garden, while his brother, Njoroge, froze in shock. He dared not move or say a word. He made one look at his mother and went out running to their neighbor, Wachiuri, who was just leading his herd out. The air was filled with fear and horror. Joseph's father was the first to arrive. As a trained community health volunteer, he had some knowledge of basic life support and remembered that chest compressions could help restore circulation and breathing. He quickly examined his son and retorted, "He is not breathing!" and began pounding on his chest. After a few poundings, Joseph coiled, followed by a deep breath, opened his eyes, and slowly drifted back to unconsciousness. Joseph's father knew his son was in critical condition, and with the help of a few villagers, they placed him on his bicycle and briskly walked, pushing the bicycle, to the nearest hospital. There was no time to waste, and the distance between home and the nearest hospital, 6km, was the only thing Joseph's father's mind.
Njau sat contemplating his fate. He'd just completed primary school, and now he was herding His father's goats. He kept wondering what would become of his brother, who'd just been rushed to the hospital. He was terrified, and for a moment, he brushed off all the ideas with the ideology, "I am too young to be thinking about this." He was seated on a stone, which was beginning to thaw and warm up with the rising sun. Animals were taken for grazing very early and taken back to the shed around midday to escape the scorching sun. The stone put him in a high position, and he couldn't help but enact the presentation of Simba in an animation he'd seen at a neighbor's home. He was not far from home, and he could see a few neighbors doing chores. Down below him was the Rift Valley escapement, and he had a great view of the villages far away, illuminated by the morning sun. It was nearing the end of the dry season and grass was scarce, making everyone rely on these escarpments. Thoughts of his future hit him hard, wondering if he'd spend the rest of his life as a herdsboy. The pipeline patrol helicopter cheered him and helped him escape his current thoughts. Something caught his eyes in the distance. He had seen a red obstacle appear and disappear near his father's cows in one of the valleys below him. He stood up in fear, and his legs started trembling. His heart was racing, and his stomach rumbled. He felt a cold sweat down his spine. Has my worst fear been confirmed? He wondered. He rested his gaze on the valley, and not one, but three more obstacles appeared. During such times, everything fades away, one wishes the reality is just a dream, and every possibility of life evaporates, leaving a cold shiver and relentless sweat all over the body. A closer look helped identify them as the Maasai Moran group, a group of rogue youths who qualify to be internal terrorists. Heartless and relentless, massacring many individuals in the village. Their history of brutality was well known. Njau had lost a brother after he was beheaded by the ruthless group five years ago. They were running towards the herd. Njau knew that was his day; he loudly screamed and ran towards home. He was terrified and didn't want to become a statistic. His run was suddenly halted by excruciating pain in his knee, and he fell head fast. He felt his khaki shorts were wet, hard to differentiate if it was the blood or his pee. The site of blood gushing out of his knee and an arrow that had pierced through his knee from the back took his hopes and consciousness away. In his last conscious seconds, he saw a tall young Moran standing by his side, smiling and showing him off to his colleagues like a hunting trophy.