At another tree I climbed up and threw my voice again. One of the men came close, feeling his way around the trunk, but not seeing anything in the dim light. His smell I knew. I wrapped my legs around a branch and hung down right above him with the ax as he called for Anikuyo. I swung my arm in swift and chopped him in the temple. His smell I knew but his name I could not remember, and thought about it too long.
A club hit me in the chest and I fell. His hands around my neck, he squeezed. He would do it, he would chase my life out, and boast that he did so himself.
Kava.
I knew his smell, and he knew it was me. The moon’s half-light lit up his smile. He said nothing, but pressed into my left arm and laughed when I bit down a scream. Somebody shouted to see if he’d found me, and my right hand slipped from his knee but he didn’t notice. He squeezed my neck harder; my head was heavy, then light and all I could see was red. I didn’t even know that I’d found the knife on the ground until I grabbed the handle, watched him laugh and say, Did you fuck the Leopard? and jammed it right in his neck, where blood spurted out like hot water from the ground. His eyes popped open. He did not fall, but lowered himself gently on my chest, his warm blood running down my skin.
This is what I wanted to say to the witchman.
That the reason he could not see me in the dark, could not hear me move through the bush, could not smell me on his trail, running after him as he ran away because he knew something had fallen like twisted wind on his men, the reason why he tripped and fell, the reason why none of the stones he found and threw hit me, or the jackal shit he mistook for stones, the reason why, even after binding her with a spell, and killing her on the ceiling, the Sangoma’s witchcraft still protected me, was that it was never witchcraft. I wanted to say all that. Instead I jammed the knife in the west of his neck and slashed his throat all the way east.
My uncle shouted at them not to leave, the last two who were near him. He would double their cowries, triple them, so they could pay for other men to fight their blood feuds or gain another wife from a comelier village. He sat down in the dirt, thinking they were watching the bush, but they watched the meat. The one on the right dropped first, my hatchet slicing his nose in two and splitting open his skull. The second ran right into my spear. He fell and was not quick. I ran my spear through his belly and struck the ground, going for his neck. Enough time for my uncle to think there was hope. To run.
My knife struck him in the back of his right thigh. He fell hard, yelling and screaming for the gods.
“Which of the children did you kill first, Uncle?” I said as I stood over him. He groveled, but not to me.
“Blind god of night, hear my prayers.”
“Which one? Did you take the knife yourself, or hire men to do it?”
“Gods of earth and sky, I have always given you tribute.”
“Did any scream?”
“God of earth and—”
“Did any of them scream?”
He stopped crawling away and sat in the dirt.
“All of them scream. When we lock them in the hut and set it on fire. Then there was no more screaming.”
He said that to shake me, and it did. I didn’t want to become the kind of man who was never disturbed by such news.
“And you. I knew you were a curse but I never thought you would be hiding mingi.”
“Don’t ever call—”
“Mingi! You ever see rain, boy? Feel it on your skin? Watch flowers burst open in just one night because the earth is fat with water? What if you never saw the like again? Cows and cats so scrawny their ribs press through skin? All of these you would have seen. You will wonder for moons why the gods have forgotten this land. Dried up the rivers and let women give birth to dead children. That is what you would bring on us? One mingi child is enough to curse a house. But ten and four? Did you not hear us say hunting was bad and getting worse? Bumbangi can wear foolish mask and dance to foolish god; none of them will listen in the presence of mingi. Two more moons and we would be starving. No wonder the elephant and the rhinoceros has fled and only the viper remains. And you, the fool—”
“Kava was the one protecting them, not me.”
“Watch how he lie! That is what Kava say you would do. He followed you and some Leopard you lying with. How many abominations can there be in one boy?”
“I would say let Kava prove his word, but he no longer has a throat.”
He swallowed. I stepped closer. He limped away.
“I am your beloved uncle. I am the only home you have.”
“Then I shall live in trees and shit near rivers.”
“You think drums won’t hear? People will smell all this blood and blame you. Who is he, the one without family? Who is he, the one without child? Who was the one that Kava returned to the village and spoke of, saying he was working curses on his own people? All these men you have killed, what will their wives sing? You, who chose wicked children, and cursed the land, have now taken their fathers, sons, and brothers. You’re a dead man; you might as well take that knife and cut your own throat.”
I yawned. “Do you have more? Or will you get to your offer now?”
“The fetish priest—”
“Now you take the word of fetish priests?”
“The fetish priest, he told me something would fall like a storm on us.”
“And you thought lightning. If you thought at all.”
“You are not lightning. You are plague. Watch me now, how you come to us at night like bad wind, and set flow curses. You were supposed to kill Gangatom. Instead you have done their work. And even they will never turn on their own. Nobody is yours and you will be nobody’s.”
“You a soothsayer now? Is tomorrow before you? Beloved uncle, I have one question.”
He glared at me.
“Gangatom came for my father and my brother, and caused my grandfather to flee. How is it, beloved uncle, that they never came for you?”
“I am your beloved uncle.”
“And when I asked how I know you, the ways of the city, you said you came with your brother, my father—”
“I am your beloved uncle.”
“But my father was dead. You fled to the city with my grandfather, did you not? You bought yourselves chairs like bitchmen. My house had two cowards, not one.”
“I am your beloved uncle.”
“Loved by who?”
I ducked before he threw it, my own knife. It hit the tree behind me and fell. He jumped up and yelled, charging me like a buffalo. The first arrow burst right through the left cheek and right. The second shot into his neck. The third through his ribs. He stared at me as his legs failed, falling to his knees. The fourth also went through his neck. Beloved uncle fell flat on his face. Behind me, the Leopard put down his bow. Behind him were the albino, Ball Boy, the twins, Giraffe Boy, and Smoke Girl.
“This was not for their eyes,” I said.
“Yes it was,” he said.
At sunrise, we took the children to the only people who would have them, people for whom no child could ever be a curse. The Gangatom villagers drew spears when they saw us approach, but let us through when the Leopard shouted that we brought gifts for the chief. That man, tall, thin, more fighter than ruler, came out from his hut, and eyed us from behind a wall of warriors. He turned his head to the Leopard, but his eyes, set back under his brow and in shadow, stayed on me. He wore a ring in each ear and two beaded necklaces around his neck. His chest, a wall of scars from tens on top of tens of kills. The Leopard opened his sack and threw Asanbosam’s head out. Even the warriors jumped back.
The chief stared at it long enough for flies to swarm. He stepped past the warriors, picked it up, and laughed.
“When the flesh eater and the blood drinker brother take my sister they suck just enough blood to keep her alive but feed her so much filth that she become their blood slave. She live under their tree and eat scraps of dead men. She follow them across all lands until even they tired of her. She follow them into rivers, over walls, into a nest of fire ants. One day Sasabonsam grab his brother and fly off a cliff, knowing she going follow.”
He held up the head, and laughed again. The people cheered. Then he looked at me and stopped laughing.
“So, Leopard, is it boldness or foolishness you have? You bring a Ku here?”
“He comes bringing gifts too,” the Leopard said.
I pulled my uncle’s goatskin cape and his head fell out. His warriors stepped closer. The chief said nothing.
“But are you not his blood?”
“I am nobody’s blood.”
“I can see it in you, smell it, whether you deny it or not. We kill many men and several women, most from your tribe. But we do not kill our own. What kind of honor do you think this bring you?”
“You just said you killed several women, yet you will talk of honor?”
The chief stared at me again. “I would say you cannot stay here but you did not come to stay.”
He looked behind us.
“More gifts?”