New to the story? Start at the beginning.
They caught the last bus back to Namanga. Both had hoped they would end up on Kura The Money Collector’s bus, but in the end, they were just grateful that there was a bus to catch even if it wasn’t Kura’s.
They traveled home mostly in silence, tired after a long day of being sun-kissed. The sun hung low and lazy in the sky, giving everything a pinkish glittering hue- as if all creation had agreed on cue to look heavenly for the next twenty minutes. They have a word in Namanga that perfectly describes it. It’s the word “umechizo”. It’s pronounced “oo-meh-chee-zoh” The “ch” sound is soft and long almost like the English word “she”. When the Namangans say it, they close their eyes and smile because of the wistfulness it elicits.
There weren’t that many people on the bus. No one of note as far as Zag was concerned. He fell asleep on Mother’s lap and dreamed about throwing spears. The spears had bananas on the ends and made flapping noises as they sailed through the air. In the dream, he was aware that something was about to happen that would change his life. Just as feeling he had that did not come with any visual information.
When he woke up, he noticed that Mother was saying things but her mouth was not moving.
She was still in a good mood. She’d loved seeing how mature Mukalo was and that he was enjoying school. She was a little concerned about his swearing. He seemed to be doing it more since going to boarding school.
I hope he doesn’t get too Americanized. I have heard of children who went to International schools who lost their way. I wonder if he drinks and smokes. He said everyone was watching the spear-throwing competition with their girlfriends and their drinks. He said it without even blinking - like it was just normal. That’s not normal for Namanga boys. I should have asked him. Would he tell me though?
I’m going to cook soup tonight. It will be good for us after traveling and it will be easy to prepare. Zag likes the soup and he’s been such a good boy today with all that walking.
She looked down to smile at Zag, forgetting that he might be listening in. He smiled back still groggy-eyed from his nap and wondering about that premonition he was still feeling from the dream.
What does Americ’d mean? He asked
Huh?
What does Americ’d mean? You said it.
Oh, ummm oh .. Americanized. She was jolted back to reality. Their reality.
He can definitely hear me.
It, umm it means, ummm … She trailed off.
Wait, this is not right. How can I deal with the fact that someone else is living inside my head? I can’t have my thoughts out there on display. It’s all I have left. They’ve taken everything away from me. First my darling Chiza died, then Mukalo left to go to school, soon I’ll be losing my husband. Well I’ve already lost him. I lost him two years ago when he slept with that useless woman. Who sleeps with his cousin anyway? Now it seems I’m losing my mind.
Everything filtered through to Zag. The words were confusing but the feeling wasn’t. It was a strong acid-like pumping right in the pit of his stomach. Like someone had punched him there and now they were prodding with a big stick.
He looked at his mother with a puzzled look on his face. Grimacing - and still waiting for her answer to his question.
Um, it means when someone forgets who they are and starts doing things that are not natural. Like some people start talking in a funny way to sound like Americans. Or they wear clothes that make them look like famous musicians who live in America. It’s not good but lots of people do it.
Him: Is Mukalo Americ’d, Americ-dis…
Her, slowly: Amm-err-ikk-an-eye-zd.
I don’t know but he is at an International School. Your father insisted it was the best option because Mukalo is very smart. The school pays for most of his tuition and housing and we have to pay for school materials.
It’s still expensive and we’re barely making it. She didn’t say that part, but Zag heard it.
I would like to become Amm-err-ikk-andded.
No you don’t, she thought. And he heard it.
Mother’s forehead now had the distinctive three-pronged furrow that appeared whenever she was worried.
I have to find a way to get him out of my head, she thought. She didn’t care if he heard it.
They were now very close to their house.
He’s here. I knew it! Mother thought. Zag heard.
Zag could feel his throat tighten when he heard his mother say those words, or rather think them. Her mouth was not moving.
A man was standing in the doorway to their hut. He was tall, well-built, and had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His long, brightly colored tie-and-dye shirt landed just above his knees, partly covering his plain black pants. On his feet, he had thick brown sandals that still looked dusty - like they’d just arrived from a long journey and hadn’t been cleaned yet. His feet were the mangled feet of a man who had walked thousands of miles in his lifetime and seen many things. His eyes were a mixture of intrigue and dark charisma and he had a mischievous smile.
Stinky breath is here.
Credits: Artwork by Theresa Le