"They are not wanted here," he said to Amy. "Theywill bring trouble to my family. The curse is on them."
"And the D.O. will be on to you," said Amy. She hated to use her friendship with the District Officer as a threat, because she knew that anyone with more wealth than herself might be able to make a similar threat to her if they chose to.
"I have other friends," warned George; but Amy knew he did not have any powerful enough to sway the D.O.
"And I have the burns that you gave to Rosy," Amy warned. "If you lay one more finger on her, I'll have you taken in and dealt with. True!"
Being "dealt with" was a guaranteed twenty lashes from a whip, standard interrogation in those parts; but it could also mean languishing in a cell for months, or even years, just waiting to be heard in court. Amy wasn't sure if she would follow through on such a threat, but George knew there would be no mercy for him if she did.
"It isn't enough land to feed them. They cannot come to me if they get hungry," he warned, which was his way of conceding defeat.
"We won't do that, Uncle," Moses promised, before pushing past him with a flourish from his good left arm, and leading the two females onto the land that was now rightfully his.
"It's true, you know," Amy reminded Moses, when they were out of earshot of George. "You won't be able to feed yourselves with what you can grow here. Have you thought about that?"
"Madam, I been designing on that already. I reckon if I had a boda-boda, we could manage fine."
"But how would you drive with only one arm?" Amy asked, feelingawkward about mentioning something that Moses himself seemed oblivious to. There was no answer, and so she assumed she had made him aware of something that he had not previously considered.
After an awkward silence, conversation moved to other things, and there was no further mention of the boy's plans. Moses wanted to show Amy that he could still swing the jembe fine with just his left arm, and he took a few swings; but Amy cautioned him about exerting too much with either arm before the stitches had been removed from the stump. She forced herself not to get too involved, however. She had her own family to worry about, and in the end, Moses and Rosy Chikati would need to sort out their problems by themselves. Such was life in rural Kenya.
A few Saturdays later, Amy received another knock on her door. This time it was Rosy, and she was jumping up and down with excitement.
"Come! See!" she shouted, laughing almost hysterically to make it clear that she was bringing good news.
Amy rushed to the door and saw Moses barrelling up the dirt road from the markets with a trail of dust behind him, and a passenger on the back of a boda-boda. He pulled up in front of Amy's house, let his passenger off and then handed the bike over to that same passenger.
"Jidraph borrows me his bike when he's having a rest. I been getting lots of practice." he said, only slightly out of breath from his exhibition ride. "Me, I just need a ten-speed, like Jiddy, and I can ride fine. Starting is the hardest, but the gears, they just help." Jiddy smiled at the compliment, before heading back toward the village.
A bike of any sort was too much for Moses to afford, and a ten-speed was considered a luxury even amongst the other boda-boda drivers. Jiddy was the only one in Shinyalu with one.
"Where are you going to get money for something like that?" Amy asked, knowing that he had been hoping she would help him out.
She then proceeded to share with him some of her own philosophy about money.
"My White mama always said 'Waste not, want not.'What that means is don't spend what you don't have. Then if you need it, you'll have it. You understand?"
"We're not wasting, Madam," Moses said politely. "But we're needing... real soon. Last year's maize is running to nothing, and we only just planted for this year. It'll be September before we get more."
Amy knew before the words had left her mouth that she had been preaching to herself and not to Moses when she lectured about thrift. She had seen many Kenyans get money and then waste it. The same had been true of her people in Australia. So the sermon was one that she often preached. But none of this applied to Moses. He had not done anything wrong, and he did not have anything to waste, even if he had wanted to.
The lecture had been a vain attempt to compensate for her own feelings of futility. Living within her means had always worked for her and the kids, although even now they were going through one of the leanest periods that she had ever experienced. Two of her three best supporters from Australia had stopped sending contributions. Otherwise, she might have had something to help Moses get started with herself.
There was a little micro-bank in Kakamega that she knew would loan the money for a bike, but borrowing was a sin in her books. Still, she couldn't just stand by and do nothing.
"You know, Moses, borrowing money is an awful way to live. Most people who do it, just keep borrowing more and more, and it makes them slaves to the ones they borrow from."
"Yes, Madam," Moses said, trying hard to understand what she was getting at.
"But if you were very very careful and I can help you with this maybe you could just this once borrow for a bike... a ten-speed if you like. You know, boy, if it was up to me and if I had it, I'd give you the money myself. But I just don't have it. There's a place in Kakamega where you can get a loan. You could pay them back from what you earn each week. If I took you there, would you be sure to pay them back, fast as you can?"
"Oh yeah, you bet, Madam. Hear that, Rosy? We can borrow some money to get started."
Amy cringed on hearing Moses react so enthusiastically to an offer of credit. She vowed to compensate for her sin by teaching him everything she knew about getting out of debt and staying out, so that she would not be responsible for any damage that might come from such a decision so early in his life.
The next day they went to town. With Amy's recommendation, Moses had no problem getting the loan. He ordered a ten-speed an hour later. If it had been a regular bike, he could have taken delivery then and there, but it would be a week before a ten-speed could be trucked up from Nairobi.
On the drive back to Shinyalu, Moses commented on the steep descent down to the river crossing, and the hill on the other side.
"Jiddy can just ride up with a passenger, but the others walk them up. Even me, I have to walk it. But it's the only place where I do. I been over this whole road on Jiddy's bicycle."
Rosy just grinned and giggled, with her hands clasped in her lap, kind of bouncing on the seat in anticipation of Moses starting work in a week's time.
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Chapter 4. A Tight Budget
Over the next few months, Moses would stop by Amy's on the way back to his hut each night, when the kids were all in bed or close to it. With Amy's help, he would count his takings for the day, record it in a little notebook, and then put most of the money away where it would be safe. They worked out a budget that would enable him to repay the loan in half the time he had been allowed, and he was putting some aside for emergencies too... repairs, sickness, bad weather, seeds for the farm. It left him and his sister barely enough for the most basic food, but Moses loved the challenge.
"You know, my baba wasn't all bad, Winky," he said without warning one evening in May, when they were just locking up the little metal box that held his earnings. Amy had taught him to address her by name as all the children did. "He was real nice when he wasn't drinking," Moses went on.
He had often talked about missing his mother, but It was the first time Moses had brought up the subject of his father, and so Amy sat back in an old soft chair to listen.
"Tell me about him," she said.
"He killed Mama, I know, and that was awful," the boy said, taking a seat across the room from Amy. "Baba had other women, too, down at the hut. But he was always regretting. Hated himself. He told me so."
Then Moses just sat quietly for a moment, thinking, before he spoke again.
"Itwasyoutalkingabo
utmoneythatmademereminisce of him," he said. "Baba talked to me like that many times... not about money, but about drinking mostly. Made me promise never to do it. He said we had good blood... kind blood, if the alcohol didn't get in it. I don't like what he did to mama; but I'm goin' ta keep my promise, Winky."
"That's good!" said Amy with deep feeling and a motherly smile. "You do that and you won't never regret it."
Business was good for Moses, and Moses was good at business. He had painted, as well as he could with his left hand, the words "Waste not; Want not" on the bike's mud flap as a reminder. He wasn't as fast as the older drivers, but there were people who would still choose him over the others when there were several waiting at the stand. Was it the thrill of riding on a ten-speed, or maybe they felt sorry for him because of his young age and his missing arm? It was hard to tell. He didn't want pity, and he would sometimes refuse a customer when other drivers had been waiting longer than himself. But he knew that, if it was the ten-speed attracting customers, in time, the novelty would wear off; he would need something else to bring in business.
Moses had one final piece of news to share with Amy that evening. It hadn't been mentioned earlier because he was nervous about how she would take it.
"Man from the micro-bank came to the village today," he said.
"Really?" asked Amy suspiciously. "What kind of business would he have way out here?"
"Took my picture!" said Moses with a proud grin. "For making a movie thing."
"He came all the way out here to take your picture?" Amy asked, still doing nothing to hide her suspicion.
"He wanted to see me ride the bike, and talk to people. Stuff like that. I was show acting for more than an hour. I missed a lot of fares because of it; but afterwards they all wanted to ride with me so I could tell them for myself what happened."
"And what is happening?" asked Amy, whose eye was twitching more than usual.
"They're making a testimonial or something, to show people how the bank works. I just talked about my testimony 'n stuff."
"Did they pay you anything?" Amy asked.
"No, but he gave a soda."
"I suppose it won't do no harm," said Amy. "But remember, son, you don't have to pose for pictures if you don't want."
"Me, I didn't do it cuz I had to, Amy. I did it because it was fun."
"Fair enough. Anyway, it's time for you to get on home. Rosy will be wondering what's happened."
The days were long for the two siblings, with Rosy working the shamba after school, and Moses putting in twelve to fourteen hours on the bike. He packed chapatis or ugali for lunch each day, but by knock-off time each evening, he was always starved. Rosy would have hot beans, ugali, and sukuma wiki waiting for him at home, and so he hurried off.
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Chapter 5. Josephat
It was early June when Moses listened to Josephat for the first time in his life. He had seen him in the village a few times over the years, and had heard people talk about this strange wandering prophet, but he had never taken the time to actually listen to the man when he was younger. Josephat would just appear in a village in the morning, after having slept out in the open or on a doorstep from sometime in the middle of the night. He would stay for a few days, and then disappear as he had appeared, without warning, sometime during the night. Josephat walked wherever he went over the Kenyan interior, wearing a black felt hat and a robe-like covering made of rabbit skins. In his right hand was a beautifully carved walking stick, which, like the robe, was his own creation. No one knew exactly where the hat came from, but it added to the overall look of eccentricity.
People in the village listened to Josephat politely as he sat on the steps of the post office quietly sharing his message; but they were not about to join him in his strange lifestyle.
Western Kenya was mostly divided between Catholics, Quakers, and various Pentecostal and traditional sects. The Protestants took Josephat more seriously than the Catholics, but Catholics listened too. Moses didn't go to any church, but he was intrigued by Josephat's strange dress, and by things he had heard. It was midday and one of the busiest times for boda-boda drivers, but Moses left the stand and wheeled his bike over closer to the crowd, so he could pick up on what was being said.
"God's going to destroy those that destroys the earth," Josephat was saying quietly. He didn't shout like so many of the street preachers who frequented the village. He spoke quietly, and the people listened patiently, occasionally interjecting or asking a question.
"I think it's close now," he went on. "You can't trust the churches no more; the government is full-on corrupt; and the people are all sinning bad as ever. It's bad times. Won't be long till he destroys those that destroys the earth, like he sade in The Revelation."
"People been saying that for a long time, Josephat," said Obadiah, the postmaster, who had come out from behind the counter to listen; no one could get in or out of the post office anyway, not while Josephat was there. Obadiah was a respected elder in the Upendo Congregation of the Faithful, Church of the Holy Spirit, and a regular listener to Josephat's pronouncements. "I'm not saying you're wrong, brother, but I been hearing that for must be 20 years now."
"So we're 20 years closer now than we was when you first heard it," Josephat replied with a smile, and the crowd supported him, some because they could see the humour in what he was saying, and some because they could see the truth. Josephat himself had only been preaching in those parts for the past 10 or 12 years.
"We hafta be ready, brothers and sisters. We hafta be ready," he said to the crowd.
"And how do you think we can do that?" asked Obadiah.
"You hafta learn how to listen to the voice of the Spirit. Not your churches and your leaders, and not your own natural thinking. Just listen to the Spirit... honest and humble-like."
"And what if we can't hear no voices like you?" someone from the crowd interjected.
"You can hear," Josephat argued. "Not like I'm talking right now, you can't, but in your heart. You just have to be still enough and be real quiet in your spirit. Push away all your own thinking and your doubts, and you'll hear God talking... same as in your conscience."
"And what's he goin' ta say?" the same voice asked with a clear touch of cynicism.
"Different things to different peoples," Josephat answered, straight-faced. "But I know he'll say ni lazima about getting ready."
"Ready for what, Josephat?" This question, from Obadiah, was expressed more sympathetically.
"Ready for the troubles. They's going to be troubles. Worst troubles in the history of everything. I can't say what you need to do, cuz some of it's secrets, just for the dearly beloved. You hafta ask Him if you want to find out. But real soon now, he's goin' ta destroy them that's destroying the world. That's what he told me."
Moses couldn't see much difference in what Josephat was saying and what he had heard other locals say... especially the Pentecostals. Jesus coming back. End of the world. It didn't seem to make much difference in the way they lived, though. So what was the point?
Of course it did make a difference to Josephat, and that was probably why people listened so intently to him when he came through. He would turn up in the village maybe once or twice a year, sometimes carrying a plastic container of honey, or at some other time carrying bowls which he had carved from local wood. He never sold his stuff, just gave it to different people. But others gave him things that he needed too... maize mostly. It could have been how he got the felt hat that had become one more item in his overall image. He would only ever stay long enough to preach for a few days like he was doing now before moving on.
That night when Moses arrived at Amy's, she offered him some honey with his tea.
"Where'd you get that, Winky?" he asked gruffly.
"A friend gave it to me," she said with a smile.
"You mean that old preacher man with the walking stick, don't you?" Moses stated. "I didn't
know he was your friend." He was definitely not impressed.
"Has been for a couple of years," Amy answered.
"So you believe the stuff he saze?"
"Depends on what stuff," answered Amy.
"End of the world stuff," said the youngster.
"I do and I don't," she answered cryptically. "It's more spiritual for me... being ready to die... doing what God wants. Stuff like that."
Something strange was happening. Moses didn't think of Amy as a mother. She had her family, and there wasn't time for her to be more than a friend to him. So he didn't feel jealous about the time she gave to the other children. But something about her having this friendship with Josephat bothered him. Why hadn't Winky ever said anything to him before, about Josephat being her friend? And what business did he have with her in the first place? A bit of honey didn't give him the right to mess with her head if, in fact, that was what he was doing.
All of this was going through Moses' mind in a way that clashed with his normally clear thinking. He could see that he was reacting strangely, but he still believed the problem lay with Josephat and not with himself. Josephat wasn't just messing with Winky's mind; he was messing with his too. And Moses didn't like it.
"Son, Josephat is doing the best he knows to serve his God, same as you trying hard to care for Rosy," Amy explained. "We each have our jobs to do, and the Good Lord has the final word on us all."
"Yeah, sure," Moses said, looking uncharacteristically glum. But not for long. He just didn't have the disposition to stay upset for long.
"Anyway, let's count the money," he said, bouncing back in that incurably optimistic way of his. "Me, I got a couple of big fares this afternoon. I wanna see if it evenates for what I missed at lunch time."
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Chapter 6. An Exciting Offer
Two weeks later, in the mid-afternoon, Moses turned up just as Amy was changing Karla's nappy.
"Get the door for Amy," she said to Jo-Jo, a four-yearold who was the only one of the children other than Karla, who was not in school.