I often visit mythical lands, make merry with fictional people and come back to Earth to write their fantastical tales on my blog; THE WORDS OF A DYING FLAME.
The young man had snuck away with his paramour, their lips intertwined together in heated passion as their hands worked hard to tear off each other’s clothes.
“I love you,” Ng’etich managed to say, caressing her soft body.
“I want you right now,” she whispered in his ear, hearing him gasp in ecstasy as she held on to his manhood, stroking it delicately as she brought it to her…
“Ng’etich!” a shrill voice called him. He quickly dressed as the lady stepped back, her head lowered in shame.
“Yes, sir?” he replied, straightening himself as Sotik addressed him, his eyes lingering on the lovely woman.
“Your father wants to see you,” he said. Ng’etich was taken aback by this, exchanging confused glances with her.
“Right now?” he asked Sotik.
“Yes. Just for a moment.”
“Um, why? Haven’t we already spoken?” Ng’etich asked him, exchanging glances with his girlfriend.
“Yes, well, it’s a matter of urgency. It isn’t a bad thing, kijana. I can assure you of that.”
“And how would you know this? Have you two been talking all this time?” he asked Sotik, who was taken aback by his probing. He took a step forward, placed a hand on the boy’s sculpted shoulder, and spoke.
“I promise you; it isn’t a bad thing.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind telling him, would you?” the lady asked Sotik, Ng’etich nodding in agreement.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be back shortly. I can assure you of it.”
“Give me a moment then, I’ll be there in a second,” Ng’etich said as Sotik smiled at both of them.
“You’ll have plenty of time for that later,” Sotik said as he walked away, leaving the two talking to themselves.
“That’s odd, Chero,” he said to her, “we already talked. He asked to be alone for some time, as did all the elders.”
“Never mind that. How does that man even know what your father wants to tell you? I don’t like it. I don’t like him. Did you see the way he was looking at me?” she went on, crossing her arms as Ng’etich chuckled a bit.
“Look at you. Can you blame him?”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Yes, you’re right. How does he know? Besides, my father always sends my brothers to call me. Not a random stranger.”
“It’s true,” she added, “something feels a bit off.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, why would he want to speak to you privately, moments before the ceremony? That is unheard of.”
“Is he – I mean, is he rethinking his…”
“Don’t,” Chero started, placing her finger on his lips. He gently pushed them aside to finish his thought.
“Does he doubt?”
“Don’t speak like that!” she rebuked, “you’ve been nothing but a good son to him. You deserve all that he has bequeathed to you.”
“But, why else would he call me? Why now and not any other time?”
“Maybe he just wants to…”
“Just wants to what? How does that man even know – why is he talking to my father at this time? No. No, no, no. I have worked too hard for this.”
“I’ll go see him,” Ng’etich said as he held her hand, walking towards the village, “I just need to bring an extra pair of ears.”
***
He peeked outside to see some of the elders already surrounded by their families, ready to embark on the journey. Many cried, others laughed, and some were silent as they imparted their last words of wisdom to the families.
“Is – did you call – is he on his way?” an exasperated Mzee asked, sweat trickling down his wrinkled face.
“I called him. He should be here shortly,” Sotik said, patting the shoulders of the two hooded men who he had snuck in.
“It will be a quick transfer,” one of them said, “painless too.”
“You hear that, Mzee? No need to worry,” Sotik went on. The elder shed a tear for his son, the pride of his life, the strongest and most beloved of his children.
“I hope he’ll forgive me,” he murmured.
“Do not worry. He will live through you, and you through him,” Sotik tried to encourage him.
“Wait,” one of the hooded men said. He stood in the center of the room, the others looking on in silence. He stood for a while, taking off his hood to reveal a bald, shiny head.
“Do you hear that?” he asked them. The others looked at each other, perplexed.
“What do you mean?” Sotik asked him, “is there a problem?”
“No, not that. Listen,” he asked, circling his finger.
“I don’t hear anything,” the other man said.
“Exactly,” the first man said. Mzee peeked outside to see his people; instead, the huts were empty, the fire in the center barely an ember, and there was no one in sight.
“Where is everyone?” Sotik asked. Before anyone could answer, a sharp blow to his head sent him to the ground as three mountains of men burst into the hut. The two hooded men were struck down immediately, and they surrounded Mzee.
“Please, please wait!” he cried to them, right before one lunged at him and covered his mouth. Right then, Ng’etich walked into the hut, examining the men as he shook his head.
“Why didn’t you send Kipruto to call me?” he asked Mzee, an accusing finger levelled against him. Before he could speak, his son went on, his voice shaky.
“You two have been talking, haven’t you? You – you had doubt, father?”
Mzee shook his head vigorously, the man’s grip making it difficult to get a word out.
“Then why would you call me at the last minute? Why else? You wanted to reconsider, isn’t it?!”
Mzee tried to remove the man’s hand to reassure his son, but he felt lifted off the ground, grunting helplessly.
“You wanted these men to take everything, didn’t you? You wanted to curse me, after all, I had done – all I tried to live up to,” Ng’etich went on, the tears flowing freely as one of his friends consoled him. Mzee extended his hands, wanting to embrace his son, but the young man would have none of it.
“After everything, I’ve done!” he blurted out, holding his father by the neck. Mzee managed to hold his face and wipe his tears while shaking his head. Ng’etich almost believed him, as his father’s coarse but warm hands always reassured him, but not today.
“No, not this time,” he said, wiping his face, “I asked everyone to start without us. I didn’t want everyone knowing that you wanted to curse us with your last breath and that you’re a coward.”
“No,” he managed to shout, albeit muffled by the gigantic hand.
“We will deal with your friends here harshly, you can be assured of that,” Ng’etich said, nodding to one of his friends. The club light in his hand, he bashed Sotik’s head repeatedly, blood and brain sticking onto it until he was sure. Mzee looked at his last hope fade into death, the irony of the immortal dying not lost on him.
“That was for the looks you gave Chero,” Ng'etich said, spitting on the corpse, “these two will join the others. Let’s go. Quickly, we are far behind.”
Mzee couldn’t stand a chance against the strength that the three men used to tie, gag, and carry him into the darkness. They followed him out of the village and down a gentle slope, seeing the fiery lanterns of the other families far ahead of them as specks.
“After everything I had to prove to you. Conspiring with others to defraud me of my rightful inheritance,” Ng’etich said as they walked down.
“Let me down!” one of the hooded men cried out after regaining consciousness.
“Quiet!” the man carrying him barked, a crack resounding as he landed a blow across his face.
“End him, now,” Ng’etich ordered. With that, the man’s punches rained, alternating from one hand to the other. His fists squelched in the blood of his victim, but that didn’t deter him from it. Mzee looked on in horror as Ng’etich looked at him.
“You’re lucky this isn’t you,” he told his father, “let’s keep going. Kemboi, when you’re tired, you can join us.”
They were close enough to the other group to hear them engaged in song and dance, seeing the other elders standing at the foot of the cliff, Sheu Morobi as it was called. The end of their lives was here, and their families were privileged enough to send them off in dignity. A few meters off, Ng’etich beckoned his father to be let down and untied, but before they could remove the gag from his mouth, he warned him:
“Here’s your chance to redeem yourself. Either you go willingly, or we will make sure you go.”
The ululations got louder as his family saw Mzee Kiprotich. Mustering confidence for the last time, he waved and smiled at them, even taking a lantern in the air at his apparent victory as they cheered him on. He stood in line with his fellow men, greeting some of them before the singing stopped and a priest stepped forward.
“Surely, has Tororut not shown his face upon us? The Harvest is here with us, and we are but humbled to see off our elders here. They are a brave lot, these ones. Instead of waiting for old age to burden their families, they choose to be with Him. Can we celebrate them once more?”
The people cheered as their elders nodded in appreciation. Mzee looked at Ng’etich, clapping the loudest.
“Now, shall we begin?” the priest asked. With that, the young men stepped forward, large staffs in hand, standing between the elders and their families, ensuring that the ceremony would go on as planned. Nge’tich came forward, standing directly in front of his father, repeatedly nodding as the priest began the final blessing.
“Tororut, here we are.”
The others tapped their staffs on the ground, repeating after every sentence.
“We are accustomed to you blessing us.
Yet today, we are the ones to do that.
For before you are your children,
Wise and full of life, they will be a great help to you.
Brave and thoughtful, you will confer the greatest honour to them
For they leave here our elders and arise as the angels of Morobi.
As they earn their wings,
Please, welcome them to your home.”
“I’ve been blessed with too much to count!” the first of the six elders declared, his family laughing as he leapt off the cliff. Cheers resonated in the night air as the young men pounded their staffs on the ground.
“I have lived to see a hundred years! Kiptoiyot, come and help me get home!” the second one ordered. Two of the young men carried him to the edge and dropped him, hearing screams of joy as the others cheered on. Mzee’s heart raced on with every passing second, the eerie smile on his son’s face only adding to his stress.
“Wait for me! Don’t steal my blessing!” the third one shouted amidst laughter, leaping after the second one. Two more, then it would be Mzee’s turn.
“Please,” he mouthed to Ng’etich, who took a step forward, his staff hitting the ground harder than the rest. The others followed suit, taking a step forward every time they beat their staffs into the ground. As three thumps were heard, the fourth started hyperventilating and charged towards the men.
“I can’t do this! I don’t want to die like this!”
“Woi, no! No, please no!” he heard his daughter cry out as she fell to the ground in tears.
“Let me go! LET ME GO!” he screamed as two of the young men in his way lifted him. He managed to land a blow on one of them right before it was reciprocated. Then, they threw him off the cliff, his head hitting a rock before he descended into the darkness. Picking up their staff, they continued hitting the ground, taking smaller steps towards the remaining two.
The fifth one was shaking in fear, eyeing Mzee Kiprotich as he whispered:
“I don’t – I can’t…” he stuttered, his foot moving forward, to which the men came closer. Mzee took a deep breath, accepting his fate; he then held his friend’s hand and turned towards the cliff.
“Together then,” he said. He turned to look at his son one last time, seeing him nodding at him, almost like he was proud.
“Seiseri, my son. Take care of all I have given to you.”
With that, he stepped off the cliff, arms raised. The wind blew against his face as he raced down the cliff, admiring the moonlit landscape one last time, his friend’s terrified screams slightly amusing him. His life flashed before his eyes; from the time he witnessed his father going down, to holding his son the first time he was born, to seeing him become the man he is…all a life worth living. His dreamy state was interrupted by the demonic laughter of the beasts that he saw rushing to the bodies of the other elders, almost happy to see him. Screaming wouldn’t help, nothing would, so he simply closed his eyes as he earned his wings…
***
Ng’etich’s heart skipped a beat when he saw his father leaping off. Part of him wanted to stop him from doing so, but hearing him charging him to take care of everything dispelled his fear of disinheritance. As they celebrated the elders joining the heavens, the staff trembled in his hand, and his lungs caved in, with barely enough breath to say to himself:
“I – I won’t go through this!”
FACT
Amongst the Nandi, the senior men and women of the tribe would throw themselves off Sheu Morobi, a cliff about 450 meters high, as a way of relieving their families of the burden of taking care of them in their old age.
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