For Waiyaki the fleeting feeling of guilt at having failed to preach reconciliation was now growing stronger. He had missed the opportunity at a time when he could have made his stand clear. A combination of events, excitement and Kabonyi had made him lose that moment when he had the people from the various ridges under control. Would such a chance come again? He would bide his time. He would wait for another moment, a moment when he would preach reconciliation, tolerance and unity. Then his work would be done. His mission of enlightenment through education would prosper. Early next year there would be another conference of the parents. Then he would speak his mind.
Waiyaki continued working hard day by day. The moments of self-blame came to him these days with greater and greater vigor and persistence. But he had still his joy when an old man, a woman or a child stopped him and shook hands with him, a smile of trust on their faces. He was thankful that he had left the Kiama. He would not have been able to carry on its activities and those of the new schools’ committee.
He often thought of Nyambura. It pained him that she had refused him. Often he tried to whistle the whole thing off. He could only do this by throwing himself into activity.
Kinuthia came to him after school. He came with an air of secrecy.
“I would like to talk with you.”
“You have never warned me before whenever you want to speak with me.”
“Please do not laugh so,” Kinuthia begged him. “I think it is serious.”
“What?”
“What I heard. Is it true?”
“You have not told me anything about it. I am in the dark.” Waiyaki could see that something serious weighed heavily on Kinuthia. Now Kinuthia seemed embarrassed.
“You have, er . . .” There was a pause. In that pause Waiyaki felt the silence in the school. The children had gone home and Kamau, with a new teacher who had joined Marioshoni, had left.
Waiyaki said, “I am still waiting.”
“You have become one of Joshua’s followers.”
“Me? Who says so?”
“Nobody really, perhaps it’s a joke. You know, for example, how our people like rumors. A few people have been talking here and there. Well, it is said that you have been seen in Joshua’s church many times.”
“I have been there once. But what is wrong in going there?”
“Not only that. It is said that some months ago you went to Siriana and you had a long talk with the white men there. You want to sell the people.”
Waiyaki laughed. He knew he need not take it seriously. There was nothing in it but rumors. That must have been the time he went to see the young men near Siriana about teaching in the ridges. So he said, “Well?”
“And . . .”
Waiyaki looked up. There was a change in the voice of Kinuthia.
“Let’s go and sit on the grass.”
They moved in silence and sat on a grassy spot in front of the school.
“Is it true that you are intending to marry Joshua’s daughter?” Kinuthia asked as soon as they had sat down.
Waiyaki almost jumped. This came to him as a surprise. He had not met Nyambura since that day. And again the memory of her refusal came back, numbing him. This was irony. That people should talk of his possible marriage to Nyambura when she had in fact refused him! And Kinuthia was talking with great excitement.
“Be careful, Waiyaki. You know the people look up to you. You are the symbol of the tribe, born again with all its purity. They adore you. They worship you. You do not know about the new oath. You have been too busy. But they are taking the new oath in your name. In the name of the Teacher and the purity of the tribe. And remember Kabonyi hates, hates you. He would kill you if he could. And he is the one who is doing all this. Why? The Kiama has power. Power. And your name is in it, giving it even greater power. Your name will be your ruin. Be careful. . . .”
Kinuthia was very excited. His voice was full of concern and anxiety. Waiyaki laid his hand on Kinuthia.
“It is all right. She would not marry me. And they would not do anything to me.”
“There are young men there. I know them. They are loyal to Kabonyi. And they are sworn to keep the tribe pure and punish betrayal. . . .”
“I tell you, she would not marry me.”
“So it is true?”
“What?”
“That you’ll marry her?”
“Listen, Kinuthia. I tell you, she would not accept me.”
• • •
He went to see an elder a few weeks after this. The elder was a close associate of Kabonyi. The old man talked about Waiyaki’s own father and grandfather. He praised them for their bravery. He ended by saying that they never would have betrayed the tribe. Waiyaki went home his heart glowing with pride. His ancestors had done well.
But at night it suddenly occurred to him that the old man hinted a warning to him. What made Waiyaki connect this warning and Kinuthia’s information? Yet the more he thought about it, the more it all seemed to become clear.
• • •
Christmas was approaching. This season of the year coincided with the coming tribal ceremonies and rituals. Waiyaki did not take part in them as much as he used to do. His work was becoming almost more than he could manage. Many teachers from all over the ridge came to see him, and many elders and children came to him with various problems. But in spite of all this Waiyaki was losing that contact with people that can only come through taking part together in a ritual. He was becoming too obsessed with the schools and the widening rift and divisions.
Then it happened. It was a thing that scared everyone. Such a thing had never happened before. A hut that belonged to one of Joshua’s newest followers was burned. Nobody was hurt but everything that was in the hut was destroyed. Waiyaki could not tell why, but he connected the incident with the Kiama. Was Kabonyi determined to destroy all that stood against him and the tribe?
The realization came to him as a shock. He instantly thought that he should not have resigned from the Kiama. Its power and influence was there, everywhere.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
When the service was over, Nyambura went home to prepare food for her father. He came with some other people. Nyambura could not rest. After she had given them something to eat, she went out.
She did not know what she wanted to do or where she wanted to go. All she wanted was to be alone. She had never been the same since she rejected Waiyaki’s offer of marriage. She kept her outward calmness. At home she did her small jobs as usual. But she was becoming more irritable and often resented her father’s commands. She wanted to live over again the moment when she stood in Waiyaki’s arms feeling that all was well. She had often prayed that Waiyaki should come to her, should love her and save her from misery. That had almost happened. He loved her. But she could not marry him. It was the thought that she was the one who had refused him which most troubled her. Would he understand? She feared that she might never see him again.
Why had she said “No” when she would have been happier saying “Yes”? She loved him. She wanted him. He was her only savior. Yet when he came to her she had run away from him. It was difficult for her to rebel against her father. He was always there, at the back of her, a weight, a conscience that showed her only one way to follow. But it was a way she did not want to follow. She now wished to rebel. Muthoni had done it. Nyambura had not Muthoni’s courage. And so the struggle went on in her heart. At one time she would want to go to seek Waiyaki out and ask him to take her again. She would whisper to him, “Waiyaki, I love you.” At other times she would fight against her feelings for him and she would feel proud that she had stuck to her father. She was not sure if Joshua had so far heard about her being seen with Waiyaki. She never understood why she had told Waiyaki a lie. “He knows we have met. . . .” Yet she was convinced it was not a lie. She had always had a feeling that Joshua knew. It cou
ld be the way he looked at her, or it could be the way he twisted his preaching to remind her and others of the absolute necessity of keeping away from pagans, however learned. And then a few days before she met Waiyaki her mother had spoken to her privately. “Waiyaki is a good young man. But people can talk, you know. We do not want any more trouble in this house. I cannot bear it. Not after Muthoni . . .” Another woman had just then called on them and so Nyambura had not had a chance of hearing all that her mother had to say.
Nyambura knew that her mother liked Waiyaki. For Miriamu had never forgotten that it was Waiyaki who had showed most concern at the plight of Muthoni. It was he who had taken her to the hospital. Every night she prayed to Christ that Waiyaki might find salvation and come to their side.
Nyambura went to her usual place by Honia river. Her heart beat fast as she came near the place. It was there, there in the forest, that she had stood and rested in his arms. It was there that she had heard from his own lips that he loved her. She thought that he might still be there waiting for her. She crossed the river and tore through the bush, hoping, praying that Waiyaki might be there. Would she tell him that now she was ready, ready to marry him and go to live with him forever?
But she knew he would not be there. After all, she had not been to the place since they had parted. Still, it hurt her that he was not there. Her heart accused him of unfaithfulness. Surely he ought to come and see her. He must come again. Now. Her misery mingled with despair and she felt she could hate him. Of course it was all ridiculous. And inside her she was accusing herself for having rejected him.
She went back to the opposite bank and sat in her favorite spot. To her left was open ground where the candidates for circumcision went to shed their blood. Muthoni too had come here on the morning of her sacrifice. Nyambura did not feel at peace. The river no longer soothed her.
When the evening came and the birds began to fly away, Nyambura went home. Joshua was there standing at the door. She did not like the way he looked at her. Something was wrong. He let her enter without saying a word to her. Miriamu was inside and she too did not speak to Nyambura. Her father followed her in.
“Where have you been?” His voice was menacing. She was afraid of him.
“Near the river.”
“Who was with you?”
“I was alone, Father.” She was trembling. She had gone to the river hoping that her savior would come in a cloud and rescue her. But Waiyaki had not come. Her obedience to her father had made her lose him.
“No one?”
“Yes.”
“You are lying. You are lying.”
“I was alone, Father,” she insisted.
“Do not think I am blind. I am not that old. And don’t you cheat yourself I have not heard things. If I hear that you have been seen with that young devil again you will no longer live in this house.”
“I have been alone,” she burst out, almost crying.
“I’ll tell you again. If you are seen with him once more—have they not done enough harm to this house? And don’t you remember how they burned the hut of a man of God?”
“But—”
“Let me catch you! Let me catch you with him again.” There was more than malice in that voice.
Nyambura did not say anything else. This was her reward for being true and obedient to him. And because of her obedience she had lost the one man whom she loved. And with him her salvation. That night she could not sleep. She wept all the time, praying that God should kill her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
And now they sang his praises in every hill. He had got them teachers and their children would drink the learning they yearned for from these new wells. After all, what were schools without teachers? That had been everybody’s worry since the last great meeting. They had trusted Waiyaki to do something but even then some people had their doubts. Teachers could only be got from the claws of Siriana. Waiyaki had done it.
Kinuthia now almost worshipped Waiyaki. He felt he could serve under him forever. This was an unusual man, he told the elders whom he met. And the elders agreed and nodded with secret knowledge. Waiyaki was the son of Chege, they whispered. They knew that Chege had been a great man. Even in his youth he had said strange things that others could not quite comprehend. Kinuthia still retained his strong political views and was one of the people who believed in “Action Now.” That was why in a way he admired Kabonyi and his Kiama. These too believed in action against the white man. But the Great Teacher’s vision of a highly learned people carried him along. How could he resist the power of that vision, unrolled before him in Waiyaki’s slow but powerful voice? Not only the voice. The eyes, too, carried the vision and Kinuthia knew that Waiyaki believed in this mission. He feared for him because he could see some things that seemed hidden to Waiyaki. He could, for instance, recognize that Kabonyi’s hatred of Waiyaki had turned into a mission, a mission that had the strength of a political conviction which was an integral part of Kabonyi’s vision of freedom of the ridges.
When Waiyaki came back from his second trip to Siriana and told the good news to the inter-ridge schools’ committee, Kinuthia felt a warmth of pride and joy in his heart. He felt small as he walked beside Waiyaki.
“Will they all come from Kiambu?”
“No! Some will come from Kabete, Muranga and Nairobi. They mean to help us for they too in a way are tired of Siriana. They want to help in these Gikuyu independent schools.”
Kinuthia and Waiyaki walked along Honia river in silence. Waiyaki was overwhelmed by the warmth and enthusiasm with which his news had been received by the elders. Kinuthia looked at Waiyaki’s contracted face. He said, “When they come we must present them to the gathering of parents next year.”
“Yes, yes, we shall.” And then, suddenly, Waiyaki turned to Kinuthia. “We must build up the hills. We must capture this enthusiasm. We must build schools . . . and a college, a great big college. . . .”
Kinuthia was moved not so much by the words as by the way in which Waiyaki said them. There was fire and conviction in them. Yet he wondered if Waiyaki knew that people wanted action now, that the new enthusiasm and awareness embraced more than the mere desire for learning. People wanted to move forward. They could not do so as long as their lands were taken, as long as their children were forced to work in the settled ridges, as long as their women and men were forced to pay hut-tax. He did not want to tell this now, but he would tell him. One day. For Kinuthia was convinced that Waiyaki was the best man to lead people, not only to a new light through education, but also to new opportunities and areas of self-expression through political independence. Waiyaki was the best man to lead the Kiama. Even now his spirit was responsible for the power the Kiama and Kabonyi exercised on the people. Did Waiyaki know this? As Kinuthia beheld the fire in the Teacher’s eyes, he wondered if the vision of a new light had not blinded him. But he believed in him and he wanted to share in this vision and share in the task of its fulfillment.
Kinuthia, however, did not know the extent of Waiyaki’s dreams and vision. How could he know unless he entered those regions of the heart where doubts and fears struggled in the darkness, where you suddenly lost sight of your hopes and success, shaken to the roots as you woke up at night, or even as you walked along the paths in the country?
• • •
As Waiyaki lay in bed two days later, he felt exhausted in body and spirit. He felt as if something evil lurked a few feet behind him, following the path of his success, ready to pounce on him and reduce him to nothing. This was not fear or even despair. It was just a feeling that hovered around him, making him weary. And yet he clung to his vision and let its light illuminate the path ahead. Ever since the burning of the hut a few days before he left for Siriana, he had been thinking more and more intensely about his people. He looked forward to the day early next year when the parents would gather again, when he would tell them all to unite. But unit
e for what?
To Waiyaki the white man’s education was an instrument of enlightenment and advance if only it could be used well. He still remembered his father’s words, that long time ago, when they stood on a hill, the whole country before them:
“Learn all the wisdom and all the secrets of the white man. But do not follow his vices.”
Was this then his mission to the ridges? He would tell the people. Indeed he had already told them. The children must learn.
“A man shall rise and save the people in their hour of need.”
Was he that savior? Was he the Promised One or had Chege’s mind been roving? How would he save them? Chege had placed a burden on his shoulders, a burden hard to carry. A savior did something big, something that had power to change the lives of the people. A savior did something startling, a thing that happened so suddenly one night that nobody could resist its power. What had he himself done?
But now he wanted an opportunity to shout what was oppressing his mind. He would tell the people—“Unite.” That would be early next year. For a moment he dreamed the dream. It was a momentary vision that flashed across his mind and seemed to light the dark corners of his soul. It was the vision of a people who could trust one another, who would sit side by side, singing the song of love which harmonized with music from the birds, and all their hearts would beat to the rhythm of the throbbing river. The children would play there, jumping from rock on to rock, splashing the water which reached fathers and mothers sitting in the shade around, talking, watching. Birds sang as they hovered from tree to tree, while farther out in the forest beasts of the land circled around. . . . In the midst of this Nyambura would stand. The children would come to her and she would talk to the elders. The birds too seemed to listen and even the beasts stopped moving and stood still. And a song rose stirring the hearts of all, and their longing for a new life in the future was reflected in the dark eyes of Nyambura.