The River Between (5 page)

Mornings were normally chilly and cold in both Kameno and Makuyu. Nyambura felt the cold bite into her skin as she sat on her already full water-barrel. She looked fixedly at her young sister, who was still in the process of filling hers. Then she looked at the pale dark water of the river. It flowed on just as it had done for years, making incessant gurgling sounds as it made its way round the projecting rocks. Nyambura was fascinated and felt attracted to the river. Her breast, glowing with pleasure, rose and fell with a sigh: she felt something strange stirring in her bowels. It was an exhilaration, a feeling of acute ecstasy, almost of pain, which always came to her as she watched the snaky movement and listened to the throb of the river.

The importance of Honia could never be overestimated. Cattle, goats and people drew their water from there. Perhaps that was why it was called “Cure” and the valley, the valley of life; that is what it was, a valley of life.

During the initiation ceremonies, boys and girls came to wet their bodies here on the morning of circumcision. It had long been discovered that very cold water numbed the skin, making it less painful during the operation. Nyambura thought of this and felt slightly guilty. She looked apprehensively at her sister, who was still drawing water. Nyambura wondered whether such thoughts ever came to Muthoni. She thought not and envied her. For Nyambura had learned and knew that circumcision was sinful. It was a pagan rite from which she and her sister had been saved. A daughter of God should never let even a thought of circumcision come to her mind. Girls of their age would be initiated this season. Had her father, Joshua, not been a man of God, he, no doubt, would have presented them both as candidates.

“Nyambura, sister—”

Nyambura woke up from her wicked reverie. Her sister had spoken to her. Nyambura looked at her and wondered. What was worrying Muthoni? What was gnawing at the young girl's spirit? Nyambura was in no doubt that something was the matter with Muthoni. All through the week and in fact all through the last two months she had noticed something moody and restless in the young girl. This had pained Nyambura. She loved her sister.

Indeed, the two were inseparable. They played and worked together. Nyambura was older, but it was not easy to tell this. Both were fairly tall and well formed; about the same height and looks, though Muthoni's skin was darker. They had the same sharp but strangely restless eyes. Their hair was thick and shiny black. It was tough but to the eyes it looked soft and beautiful to touch.

Nyambura's features seemed hard, restrained. Where she was quiet, Muthoni was vivacious.

So it was not surprising that Nyambura should have noticed this sudden change of spirits. Coming to the river that morning Muthoni had been more withdrawn than ever before. Nyambura was deeply disturbed because her earlier attempts to coax her to reveal her troubles had failed. Now she waited for her to continue. Muthoni was sitting on her own water-barrel.

“I want to tell you something,” she said.

“Oh, please do,” Nyambura responded eagerly, her curiosity sharpened.

“But promise me that you will keep what I tell you to yourself.” This was an appeal, an appeal almost of fear. Nyambura would have laughed but for the earnestness in the voice and look of her sister.

“Well, first tell me about that something,” Nyambura said carelessly. She wanted to make her sister relax and soften the tense look on her face. Muthoni raised her face to Nyambura. This time the appeal was quite unmistakable.

“I have thought and thought again about it. I have not been able to eat or sleep properly. My thoughts terrify me. But I think now I have come to a decision.” She stopped; gazing past Nyambura, she said, slowly and quietly:

“Nyambura, I want to be circumcised.”

For a second Nyambura sat as if her thoughts, her feelings, her very being had been paralyzed. She could not speak. The announcement was too sudden and too stupefying. How could she believe what she had heard came from Muthoni's mouth? She looked at the river, at the slightly swaying bulrushes lining the banks, and then beyond. Nothing moved on the huge cattle road that wound through the forest toward Kameno. The yellowish streaks of morning light diffused through the forest, producing long shadows on the cattle path. The insects in the forest kept up an incessant sound which mingled with the noise of falling water farther down the valley. They helped to intensify the silence, created by Muthoni's statement.

“Circumcised?” At last Nyambura found her voice.

“Yes.”

“But Father will not allow it. He will be very cross with you. And how can you think of it?” Nyambura could visualize Joshua's fury if he heard of this. “Besides,” she continued, “you are a Christian. You and I are now wise in the ways of the white people. Father has been teaching us what he learned at Siriana. And you know, the missionaries do not like the circumcision of girls. Father has been saying so. Besides, Jesus told us it was wrong and sinful.”

“I know. But I want to be circumcised.”

“Why?” Nyambura asked helplessly.

She knew quite well that her father would not hear of such a thing. Every man of God knew that this was a pagan rite against which, time and time again, the white missionaries had warned Joshua. Perhaps Satan had gone into Muthoni. That was how the devil worked. Nyambura tried to reason with her sister.

“Yes. Tell me. Why do you want this? You know this is the devil's work. You know how he tempts people. You and I are Christians. Were we not baptized long ago? Are you not now saved from sin?” Nyambura was becoming passionate. She breathed hard and she felt a warmth inside. She was defending something; she was trying to save her sister.

“I know but—” Muthoni paused. She had never seen her sister like that, with that light in her eyes. She felt weak in the knees and thought she was wrong. But the next moment she jumped up and rushed to her sister. She spoke earnestly and passionately. After all, she too believed in what she was going to do. Nyambura clasped her arms and they remained locked in each other's arms like little children. Nyambura became alarmed at the passion in Muthoni. She spoke gently:

“Father and Mother—”

“Look, please, I—I want to be a woman. I want to be a real girl, a real woman, knowing all the ways of the hills and ridges.”

“But Father, remember him.”

“Why! Are we fools?” She shook Nyambura. “Father and Mother are circumcised. Are they not Christians? Circumcision did not prevent them from being Christians. I too have embraced the white man's faith. However, I know it is beautiful, oh so beautiful to be initiated into womanhood. You learn the ways of the tribe. Yes, the white man's God does not quite satisfy me. I want, I need something more. My life and your life are here, in the hills, that you and I know.” She spoke now, looking beyond Nyambura as if to some other people. Then she lowered her voice and whispered secretly, “Father said that at the Mission there is that man—Livingstone—and many women. Those are his wives. And do you think that he, a man, would marry a woman not circumcised? Surely there is no tribe that does not circumcise. Or how does a girl grow into a woman?” Muthoni had now released herself from the grasp. She now stood and looked away from Nyambura.

Nyambura could not say anything. She did not follow Muthoni's logic or line of thought. She had never thought so deeply about these things. She was content to follow whatever her father said was right. And she feared his anger. Muthoni turned and again held her sister, appealing with her eyes and her body.

“Please, Sister. Don't tell. Don't tell Father.”

They both began to weep into one another. Nyambura's heart softened and she felt pity for her sister. She earnestly wished she could help her but felt her own powerlessness very acutely.

“How will you be initiated?”

“Father and Mother will not know. But I don't know where to go.”

“Our aunt lives at Kameno,” Nyambura tried to help.

“Oh, yes. I had thought of that. I will go to Kameno and stay with her when the season comes.”

What else could Nyambura do? She tried again to remonstrate with her sister, without any result. In her heart, she knew that once Muthoni had resolved on something it was difficult to make her change her mind. She had inherited this stubborn spirit from Joshua, a man who, once he made up his mind, was hard to deflect from his set purpose.

Honia river flowed on. The insects went on with their incessant sound mingling with the fall of the river. The whole scene became fearful to Nyambura and she no longer felt excited. Even the warmth of the morning sun did not awaken her. She loved her sister and now was troubled because she did not know what would happen.

They took their tin water-barrels and began the slow ascent of the ridge back to their home in Makuyu. Suddenly Nyambura heard a slight groan from her sister. She quickly turned round; a look of dismay was on Muthoni's face; her water-barrel was rolling down the slope back to the river.

Nyambura and Muthoni had to go down again. “A bad omen,” Nyambura thought.

The women and men of Makuyu were already up and about their morning chores by the time the two girls, with their water-barrels weighing heavily on their backs, reached home. All along the ridge, thick blue smoke was curling upward, issuing from the scattered, mud-walled huts that made up the village. Some women, apparently not early risers, were just now going to the river to fetch water, while here and there, cattle and goats, with small boys trotting after them, trailed in all directions.

There was a general uniformity between all the houses that lay scattered over this ridge. They consisted of round thatched huts standing in groups of three or four. A natural hedge surrounded each household. Joshua's house was different. His was a tin-roofed rectangular building standing quite distinctly by itself on the ridge. The tin roof was already decaying and let in rain freely, so on top of the roof could be seen little scraps of sacking that covered the very bad parts. The building, standing so distinctly and defiantly, was perhaps an indication that the old isolation of Makuyu from the rest of the world was being broken down.

As yet, it was true, no town was near. Nairobi was far, a town not known to the hills. Siriana was still the nearest missionary center: a big place with hospitals and a flourishing school taking boys and girls from all over the country. But the missionaries had not as yet penetrated into the hills, though they sent a number of disciples to work there. The people remained conservative, loyal to the ways of the land. Livingstone occasionally paid a visit to the hills, giving new life and energy to his various followers. His main work, however, was being carried on by Joshua.

Joshua, Nyambura's father, was now a middle-aged man who always preached in sharp ringing tones that spoke of power and knowledge. He, along with a few others, had been the first to be converted to the new faith. He was then a young man who ran from the hills and went to live with the white man in the newly established Mission. He feared the revenge of the hills; the anger of his friends, betrayed. In Siriana he found a sanctuary and the white man's power and magic. He learned to read and write. The new faith worked in him till it came to possess him wholly. He renounced his tribe's magic, power and ritual. He turned to and felt the deep presence of the one God. Had he not given the white man power over all? He learned of Jesus—

Behold, a virgin shall conceive,

And bear a son,

And shall call his name Immanuel.

He realized the ignorance of his people. He felt the depth of the darkness in which they lived. He saw the muddy water through which they waded unaware of the dirt and mud. His people worshipped Murungu, Mwenenyaga, Ngai. The unerring white man had called the Gikuyu god the prince of darkness.

Isaiah, the white man's seer, had prophesied of Jesus. He had told of the coming of a messiah. Had Mugo wa Kibiro, the Gikuyu seer, ever foretold of such a savior? No. Isaiah was great. He had told of Jesus, the savior of the world.

Those who refuse him are the children of darkness;

These, sons and daughters of the evil one, will go to Hell;

They will burn and burn forever more, world unending.

These strong words frightened Joshua and shook his whole body; shook him to the very roots of his being. He became baptized and it was only then that he felt at peace and stopped trembling.

He felt happiness which cut sharp into him, inflaming his soul. He had escaped Hell. He felt a new creature. That is always what he said at home and in church.

If anybody is in Christ, behold, he is a new creature.

He was washed new. He became a preacher, brave, having been freed from fear. He no longer feared Chege or what the hills and their inhabitants would say or do to him. He went back to Makuyu and preached with a vehemence and fury that frightened even his own old listeners. Few could resist that voice. Many came and some were converted. And they all together rejoiced and praised God.

But some went back to drinking; to dancing the tribal ritual; to circumcision. And Joshua day by day grew in wrath and vehemently condemned such behavior. Perhaps the word had not taken root. Joshua himself was strict and observed the word to the letter. Religious uniformity in his own home was binding. He meant to be an example to all, a bright light that would show the way, a rock on which the weak would step on their way to Christ.

Joshua was sitting outside his house when the two girls came and put their water-barrels down. He looked at them, at the way they were working, the way they kept together, and felt a father's pride. His house had a strong Christian foundation and he wanted his daughters to wax strong in faith and the ways of God. Would this not prove to all what a Christian home should be like?

 • • • 

The year was unusual. The seasons were rich. Maize and beans were gathered and put aside against the uncertainties of the future. People were happy and there was much rejoicing everywhere. The group of Christians in Makuyu came together and gave prayers to God.

The elders of Kameno, and all over the country of sleeping lions, collected and gave sacrifice to Murungu under the sacred tree. All this was a prelude to many such rites which would be performed, not only by Joshua's followers in preparation for Christmas, but also by the others ready for initiation ceremonies. Joshua was against such initiation rites, especially the female circumcision, which was taking on a new significance in the relationship between Makuyu and Kameno.

To Joshua, indulging in this ceremony was the unforgivable sin. Had he not been told to take up everything and leave Egypt? He would journey courageously, a Christian soldier, going on to the promised land. Nobody would deflect him from his set purpose. He wanted to enter the new Jerusalem a whole man.

In fact, Joshua believed circumcision to be so sinful that he devoted a prayer to asking God to forgive him for marrying a woman who had been circumcised.

God, you know it was not my fault. God, I could not do otherwise, and she did this while she was in Egypt.

Sometimes, when alone with Miriamu, his wife, he would look at her and sadly remark, “I wish you had not gone through this rite.”

Not that Miriamu shared or cherished these sentiments. But she knew him. Joshua was such a staunch man of God and such a firm believer in the Old Testament, that he would never refrain from punishing a sin, even if this meant beating his wife. He did not mind as long as he was executing God's justice.

 • • • 

For the whole of that year things had not gone well with Joshua. People at Kameno were becoming restless and believed that it was Joshua who was responsible for the white men who these days often came to the hills. There were rumors that a Government Post would soon be built at Makuyu and that the hills would be ruled from there. In his last visit, one of the white men had announced that people in these regions would begin paying taxes to a government in Nairobi. People shrugged their shoulders, not knowing what a tax was. Nevertheless, they blamed Joshua for this interference.

Joshua did not mind this. He himself knew what a government was, having learned about this from Livingstone. He knew it was his duty as a Christian to obey the Government, giving unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's and to God the things that are God's. That was what he wanted every Christian to do. And was the white man not his brother? Was the white man responsible for the ills of the land? No! It was the blindness of the people. People would not walk in the light. Look now at the preparations and rituals going on all over the land. Look at the sinners moving deeper and deeper into the dirty mud of sin. Moments of great anger sometimes came to Joshua. And then he would remember that he had to be patient. Prayers would soon work a miracle on the ridges. And so Joshua went on his knees. He prayed that the people should leave their ways and follow the ways of the white man.

After a prayer he would feel reassured and a calmness would settle on his face. He waited for something to happen any day but knew that he had to be patient. He sang praise. But,

O, God, look at their preparations,

O, God, why don't you descend on this wicked generation and finish their evil ways? Circumcision is coming.

Fight by me, Oh Lord.

He felt like going out with a stick, punishing these people, forcing them on to their knees. Was this not what was done to those children of Israel who turned away from God, who would not hearken to his voice?

Bring down fire and thunder,

Bring down the flood.

Nothing happened. Preparations for initiations went on, while Joshua and his followers prepared for the birth of a savior.