Debo Village | Presage of Downfall Chapter 2 – 7

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From a distance, Alistair Karume caught a glimpse of the village. He could not see a lot except the rows of huts clustered together in about 2 acres of land. He was walking along a path that went through Muguna Farm which was the property of honourable Makwacha, their respected member of parliament. Hon. Makwacha represented the people of Ihwagi constituency. Muguna Farm consisted of several thousand acres of prime land, both ploughed and arable.

Debo Village
Debo Village

The sun was about to set when he approached the village, very tired. The long journey and the many days of crushing stones at the quarry made him tired. On his left stood a resemblance to a secondary school, which from afar looked like a haunted house, but still, children had to have their brains moulded. The fence had fallen long ago. The roofs of the classrooms sagged dangerously may be due to the recent unusual heavy rains that had nearly succeeded in sweeping the whole of Debo village.

The weathermen had warned people to expect unpredictable weather patterns due to the increase in global warming. The mud walls of the school had gaping holes. The whole school needed urgent repair. The only problem was the availability of money. Where would it come from now that it had become scarce as rain in the sands of the Namib Desert?

Desert
Namib Desert: Photo Credit

The Day Was giving up the Ghost

He walked on getting more tired as he approached the village, a funny thing that happens when you are about to achieve your goal.

Even when the day was giving up the ghost, the boys were still playing cheerfully in every corner of the village. They seemed not to have the slightest care in the world. Some were pulling toy cars made with old wires while others played football. It was not of the kind made of leather or synthetic material and free found air, no, it was only nylon papers compacted together and tied with sisal strings to bear the false image of a ball. Strong cheering was evident from that field.

Other small boys had no time for pulling the cars or playing football. They had an interest in Mugaragari. This was a metal ring propelled by a u-shaped solid wire. The metal ring went round the village gratingly. Still, some went around hunting for birds or any insect they found. They ate some of their kills and others fed the hungry dogs that never barked.

The small girls were not left behind in their feminine activities. You could see those pampering dolls made of old clothing.  They were happy as if with real children. Others were skipping ropes. Some imitated their mothers, that is, by cooking. They would put leaves in broken pots and pretend to be preparing some kind of special dish for the family.

Young Children Had Ghostly Appearances With Dusty Faces

All the children wore tattered clothes. Most of them had protruding tummies and white patches on their heads. The very young had ghostly appearances with dusty faces and free-running thick mucus making figure eleven as it flowed unperturbed to the mouth.

A big group of village women stood close to one another talking in whispers as if afraid the devil himself would hear their hushed secrets. They would talk in low voices, and then roar with laughter as if they had the whole world in their pockets.

As he passed them he offered greetings. Few replied. After he had walked away a few steps from them, they burst into hilarious laughter that made his knees nearly give in. He would have buckled there and then were it not for his stamina and strength.

He did not dare look back for he knew they were all looking at him and he did not know why. Karume felt nervous and that state made him quickly walk away like a man haunted by a poltergeist.

Children playing
Children playing

The Heart of the Village

Now Karume was in the heart of the village. Mud huts surrounded him. Many of them built were close to each other so that each house could hear the other breathe. So close were the huts that the Tick! Tock! of the neighbours’ watch, if he was lucky to possess one, was enough to disturb a sleepless soul at night or worse still those who take the liberty of thinking and planning at night.

They were so close that the farting of hungry children of one’s neighbour could be heard without straining an ear, and so close that you always knew whether your neighbour was cooking or not and if cooking you would know what was being cooked.

A boy suddenly emerged from a corner with a Mugaragari (a round metal ring propelled by a strong u-shaped wire) going at a breakneck speed. Karume stepped aside in time and the boy whizzed past still accelerating, making a noise as a real car would do. The shorts he wore were torn on the buttocks. The torn piece kept on flapping like a car’s signal.

The Terrific Crash

A sozzled man staggered on the over-trodden path trying to find his way home. Before the boy could pass, the drunkard staggered towards him. There was a terrific crash. When Karume reached the scene of the accident, only the man was groaning with pain holding his knee as he cursed in an offensive language.

The boy had disappeared. A small group of villagers surrounded him but he drunkenly reassured them that he was all right. They lifted him to his feet; he moved a few steps then reeled backwards and fell. That was normal. If he had a wife, she would come for him later.

The village bar was still where Karume had left it. A lot of noise ranging from hollering to yelling was coming from it. It was a busy place and men, young and old, were streaming in like worker bees entering a hive. They drank locally brewed alcohol because that is what they could afford.

These illicit brews like the Kumikumi, Mulika and Chang’aa were cheap and easy to get. Since the customers didn’t have much money to spend, brewers had to make their brews highly potent. It was a matter of spending less, drinking less, and getting highly intoxicated.

Three young men were lying on the dust just near the entrance. One of them had removed his stinking old jungle boots and his tattered donkey jacket was supporting his head. He was snoring unaware of what was happening in the world as the sun went to rest. He felt he was in the comfort of his bed.

The Smell of Cow Dung and Goat Urine was Overwhelming

The bar was not that big. It was mud-built and grass thatched just like any other house in Debo village. There were rumours that the masterminds of these illicit brews were politicians and shrewd businessmen who were making a kill by supplying alcohol to the country killing the youth or turning them into zombies. The rumours had not yet been proven. So they remained as such; rumours; while the country’s youth kept on perishing.

The smell of cow dung and goat urine was overwhelming. Karume came to the only shop where the villagers bought whatever they needed. The shop was the only exemption because it was made of rotting timber and roofed with rusty iron sheets. It had gaping cracks and it was from one of them that stale-looking bread protruded.

The shopkeeper was not in his place. Karume arrived at his house or rather his hut. A simple wire served as the lock. He removed it and got inside. The hut was cold and lonely. He sat on a round log that served as a seat and leaned back on the mud wall before stretching his legs fully. He needed some time to recharge his batteries.

Being a Saturday, he thought his wife had gone to the place they called the market. This is where anyone who had anything to sell or anyone who had anything to buy met. But it was getting late. Was she among the group of women he had met? No, it couldn’t be so. He tried to work it out alone; it puzzled him and made him feel hungry. He rose and moved out.

The shopkeeper was back at his place – behind the counter. He was a short fat man of almost fifty. He had already started balding.

At the Shop

“I want a loaf, man,” Karume said after greetings.

The shopkeeper bent complaining of a tired back. Then he announced with a lot of regrets in his voice, “I am sorry, I have sold the last one just now. I guess you will have to wait till maybe tomorrow for the delivery.”

Karume looked at the place where he had seen the bread. Indeed the place was empty.

He moved on and knocked at a door. A feminine voice was raised telling him to get in. The door was pushed open and a mischievous face of a boy emerged.

“It’s Helen’s father.” The boy announced immediately.

He opened the door wider and moved inside.

“How is everyone?” He called in his heavy baritone.

“We’re fine,” Mugo’s wife answered. “And how is my husband?”

“I left him safe and sound.”

“It is good to hear that. Please sit down.” She offered a small rickety chair.

Karume sat near the door and leaned on the mud wall.

“I won’t stay for long.” Then he produced the letter he was given by Mugo. “He gave me this letter and asked me to pass his kind regards to you all.”

Her face wreathed in smiles as she took it and thanked him. She lifted the lid off a pot and from it she put food onto a plate and gave it to Karume.

“I will not eat,” he objected.

“No, you will have to eat. You see I cook early so that these small children can eat and go to bed early.”

He took the food and began to masticate slowly.

Mugo’s wife still looked young despite the children she had borne but with a closer look, you could see her face was seasoned. She was washing the little ones off the dirt they had accumulated the whole day.

Karume Enquired About His Family

“I found no one at home,” Karume said as he ate.

“They will have come by the time you go back.” Mugo’s wife said. How could she tell him the sad news while he was eating?

Karume finished the food and gave the plate to her.

“Thanks a lot. The food was nice.”

“You are welcome.”

He started to leave.

“I will be going back to work on Monday. If you have any response you can give it to me before then. Well, let me see if they have come.”

“Wait!” her voice was sharp and it made Karume stop abruptly. “You will only find your wife.”

“What do you mean?” The surprised man asked. “What about my daughter Helen?”

“Your daughter was chased away.”

“No!” he said in disbelief. “You mean Helen is not at home?”

Mugo’s wife shook her head sadly in agreement.

 “I prayed that you would come quickly. Your wife has changed a lot these days. She refused to listen to us.”

“Do you know where she could be?” He asked hopefully 

She shook her head pityingly. “Thank you for the information.” He closed the door and walked out, a thousand thoughts and imaginations clouding his already tired mind.

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