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CUPBOARD OF SKELETONS

PROLOGUE

Atapre skulked through the bush track, rounded the small hut, and stood in the veranda like a spectre.

Tekete perceived the newcomer and sprang up from the bench where he had been napping. He regarded his visitor.

In silence, both men moved towards each other, clasped hands together, raised them skyward in a ball, and murmured something under their breaths. Then they disentangled their hands, lifted their wrappers, turned their backs, and rubbed their bare buttocks together. They then faced each other again and pumped hands in a more orthodox greeting.

“May I sit?” Atapre said.

“Yes, my friend,” Tekete said, and wiped imaginary dust from the bench with the ear of his wrapper and made space so Atapre could settle beside him.

After a moment of silence, Atapre said, “did you hear that the people building the new road came and shared drinks and money?”

“I heard.”

“Did they come to you?”

“No.”

“Did they go to the others?”

“I don’t think so. Someone would have told me.”

“You mean we got nothing?”

“Seems so.”

Atapre gazed at the hard-packed mud of the veranda floor, tapped his bare feet, and shook his head.

“Why would they be so stupid?”

“Maybe they are afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Death.”

“But we have not killed anybody for one year now.”

“They don’t know.”

“Nowadays we only give trouble to those who ask for it.”

“They don’t know this, my Lord.”

Atapre sighed. Tekete watched as his pupils dilated and the skin around his eyes tightened even as he continued to glare at the earth. Tekete knew the meaning of that look. He twisted excitedly in his seat. Nothing stimulated him like the thought of evil.

“Then what shall we do?”Tekete goaded.

“Summon the others”, Atapre said. “We will wash the road away.”

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always wanting more of ur story , so pitty i don' have smart phone to purchase ur book. thanks somuch centino

Omo this one go hot. I can feel it already. Nice one bro

Nice start centino

We are here

I don balance well

1

Kadja went over his closing report and beamed. He knew his grammar and punctuation were suspect, but he did not care. His superiors barely knew the difference between a noun and a verb, and the whole business of writing a closing report was something he contrived to impress his superiors, and in time it became useful as a closing time cue for employers who would squeeze out every nickel they paid regardless of contractual stipulations. So he swaggered past the foreman, who had deliberately perched himself by the door of the Potters cabin with thick arms folded across his breasts and face contorted to the correct degree of sternness that should warn Kadja to return to work along with the others. But Kadja brushed past like the man was not there, and found the presence to wink at a marveled colleague who was pushing a wheelbarrow full of newly supplied cartons of hand tools and entered the administrative building.

Moments later Kadja re-emerged waving his clock in/out card, which registered 5:32pmin the column marked “out”.

“My contract says 8am – 5pm Monday to Saturday” Kadja always maintained, “why would I pretend someone would finally notice my diligence?”

Back in the Potter’s cabin, Kadja quickly peeled off his work clothes and eased into his faded blue jeans and T-shirt, which borethe inscription I am rich but I don’t show it.

Most of the other boys at closing grabbed buckets of water and washed at the backyard under the almond tree, but Kadja never bothered. He would wash when he got home. Or, on days when the mood was right, he would head to the stream for a swim.

It did not surprise him that the foreman was no longer in the vicinity when he re-emerged from the potters’ cabin. Nobody made Kadja do any work Kadja did not want to do. He was entitled to some concession for being the best raker Smooth Constructions had.

With his first step out of the gate, Kadja inadvertently kicked at the hull of a thoroughly sucked orange, tipped it up, and began to juggle on both feet as he went along, to cheers from hawkers and other pedestrians.

He got to a T-junction where he had to cross the road, and turned towards a compound where children were playing football, he aimed a shot at their mini goalpost, his orange hull missed the post by only a few inches. The boys cheered in admiration. They were all familiar with Kadja’s footballing skills, Kadja being skipper of the community football team that participated in a recent local government tourney. Kadja waved both hands at them, dashed across the road and wheeled towards the track that led to the Nkeke stream.

As he ambled along the bush track, his mind raced back to his childhood to recall how the environment used to fill him with so much terror. It was impossible to be unaffected by the legion of chirping creatures, howling wildlife, and hissing reptiles that did not always stay out of view in the dense vegetation in the middle of which sat the stream.

Even in the company of adults, he would feel his skin crawl with every chirp he heard, his head would swell and become giddy with every growl that sounded, and he would reach out and clutch his older companion tighter.

But over time, with no incident of note owing to this necessary cohabitation of man and wildlife, Kadja, just as the many that came from far and near, had learnt to enjoy the pleasures of the Nkeke forest unperturbed.

Kadja soon passed by the last batch of villagers returning from the stream. Boys and girls with jerry cans of water on their heads hurried along the path as the sun retired. They walked with great urgency, despite the weight on their heads, to avoid bringing up the rear. They slowed their pace and resumed their chattering when they saw Kadja headed in the opposite direction. There was no way any of them would be the last out now. Some of them greeted Kadja with awe. Others avoided looking at him for fear of unwittingly sharing in the fate that could await him.

Kadja was delighted to see Kemwe at the end of the procession. She had a basin of laundry on her head and had swum in the gauzy dress she wore, which left the dripping gown pasted to her body, giving prominence to her abundant breasts, round hips, and straight legs. She did not see Kadja immediately because her gaze were fixed at the ground, as she took care to get her every step right. She only saw a bold pair of hands reach out to gather her surging breasts – a liberty Kadja was no stranger to taking.

I'm here boss. Carry on.

Well done Boss

Nice update centino

“I have saved you from giving birth to a mermaid,” he said with a huge grin.

“Oh Kadja,” she exhaled, in greeting and in meek protest.

“Somebody might turn back and see...”

“I see you don’t realise how far behind the last person you are. Why take such risk?”

“If you are referring to the last one out giving birth to a mermaid, you know I don’t believe that nonsense.” She shook herself free of his hold.
Kadja bent under the basin on her head and attempted to kiss her, but she coughed and cleared her throat and he changed his mind.

“You must let me go if you don’t want me to collapse under this weight. I’ve had a hard day.”

“You still wash for the whole family?”

“What choice do I have?”

“Don’t worry. Soon I will come and marry you and all this will be history.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” she said and pulled further away from him. “I would rather believe a reverend father.”

“Don’t be silly Kemwe.You know how much you mean to me.”

“Again, thank you. Better go and do what you want to do because it is getting dark,” she said and marched on.

“I thought you would stay back so that we can leave together,” Kadja said, as his eyes followed her swaying hips.

“Do you want to kill me?” she said, as she turned into a curve on the track and disappeared, leaving a long weed with a yellow tip nodding at Kadja from the spot where she had been standing.

“Goodnight to you too” Kadja called in disappointment, and faced the path to the stream again.

He could see that the sun was now on top of the farthest afara, casting a golden hue over the approaching blackness. He broke into a run for the remaining distance to the stream and peeled off his clothes, as he got closer. Then, as he had done countless times in the past, he went into a somersault when he was close enough and entered the water leg first. He swam freestyle for a while to loosen his muscles, and then he floated on his back, and let his thoughts return to Smooth Constructions.

Kadja remembered how it all started. He was just rounding off his National service and was wondering what to do next when his mother called him up one day and said, “I got it from good authority that that foreign construction company that has the contract to repair our state would set up a base in Eweweta, because of her geographical advantage. The custom is for foreign companies to employ people from the community they make their base, so that they get good reception when they commence operations. I know that as soon as it becomes common knowledge the competition for places will get very stiff. So if you are interested we have to do something quickly.”

“Mum, if I am interested?”

His mother chuckled and said, “Just write an application letter with all the other documents attached and leave the rest to mama.”

Kadja did apply, for “any position in your esteemed organisation”.

So, one year after he had qualified as a political scientist, and two months after the fateful conversation with his mother, the new company employed Kadja.

Three years on, he had been part of the building of a new civil service secretariat for the state, a civic centre, twenty new roads, plus the many more they had refurbished. Still, he could barely meet his basic needs. Therefore when that morning Atapre led his gang of devils to the office, Kadja could not help but sneak behind a parked pick-up truck to wriggle his waist in excitement.

It was easy to predict the little men from the East he worked for. Kadja knew they would call Atapre’s bluff, just as they famously did to elders who went to plead with them following the events that took place when they first introduced the clock in/out machine, the first week Kadja joined the company.

Mr Uzi, the site manager and chief engineer, had arrived unexpectedly at the site on the day they were to carry out their first asphalt reinforcing, and announced that work would close half an hour earlier that day, so that everybody returned to the office yard on time for an important meeting.

At 4:30pm, they all gathered in front of the Administrative building in the yard. Then the middle aged Uzi, pale as a native egg, with skewed jaws like that of an accomplished boxer’s, without wasting time produced the clock-in/out machine and went into a rant about the attitude of the workers particularly in the area of punctuality.

“Nothing can excuse this. You all live in the bushes around here so you cannot say it is traffic or something like that that is responsible for your lateness. You only want to stay at home and Bleep your wives until you kill them before coming to work. We pay you money so we will not accept that!”

“You will put this card in here like this,” he demonstrated holding the apparatus that looked like an electric jug with a clock in the middle, up, “and the time you came to work will register automatically. When you close work, you push this button and put the card inside again. The time you rush back to your palm wine will also show. Everyone at the beginning of the month will come and sign for one card, which you will keep for yourself, by yourself. It is a dismissal offense not to clock in, or out. You must never clock in or out for anybody, or be found in the possession of another person’s card. If you are caught, it is dismissal as well. If we see at the end of the month that you have been late an unacceptable number of times, the feelings of the management of Smooth Constructions will be made known to you. And for those months when you are diligent you can be sure that the Almighty will bless you because you would have justified the money we pay you.”

Oseke – the only other graduate non-expert employee the following day mobilized the entire local workforce.

“We cannot sit back and watch this happen. What are we clocking for? Clock in/out machines are only employed where workers run shifts. We resume at eight and close at five. Or so they say. But how many times have we worked until nightfall without even a pat on our backs? How many times do we come here at eight and nobody is here to convey us to site? And don’t we all know what we are doing? Don’t we all know that the day we are clearing is not the same as the day we are compacting? Do they honestly want us out on the road clearing at eight when everywhere is still sopping in dew? When we asked for overtime, what did they tell us? Why would we not even come at seven if we know that the extra hours we are compelled to work would not go in vain?

“They tell us when it is five you are free to go, no overtime. But we all know what the outcome would be if we did that! To the best of my knowledge, this company has not been held to ransom in any way because of our so-called lateness. So what is this?”

The following day at eight o’clock, Mr Uzi in the company of another of his compatriot nobody had the time to introduce was already waiting at the briefing ground.

“Mr Oseke!” he called out as soon as all were gathered.

Oseke, thin as a bamboo branch, stepped out, chin up.

“Now listen here all of you. You are under no compulsion to work here. If you are not happy with anything, you are free to pack your things and leave. From now on there will be no more meetings. No more gatherings. You cannot have a union here! How many times am I going to tell you this? Don’t you know how lucky you are to be working here? If we put out word that we want workers, do you think Eweweta will contain the number of applicants we will get? Can your government give you jobs? Don’t you know that your salaries constitute an unnecessary overhead because most of you are useless, but we keep you here to make your chiefs happy and let us be? Don’t you know that we can get machines to do everything you do here?” addressing Oseke directly he said, “you say you are a graduate. What did you study?”

“Pharmacy, master.”

“Is this a medicine shop?

“No master.”

“So what are you doing here?”

“I am a raker master.”

“With all your schooling?”

“It is my destiny master.”

“Is that why you bring the madness of your university here?”

“No, master.”

“Universities where all you do is to make trouble and kill yourselves and then go on strikes and the next day you announce that you are doing convocation and people like you are turned out into the world?”

“I’m sorry, master.”

“From this moment you all stand fired!” Mr Uzi declared, waving a thick arm in an arc from left to right.

There were sighs of exasperation in the little crowd of about thirty. Suddenly an elderly labourer collapsed, jerked a few times and became still.

Mr Uzi was unflinching, while many of the workers looked anxiously at the supine old man, unsure of what to do.

Mr Uzi’s companion whispered into Mr Uzi’s ears. He appeared to be in thought for an instant then spoke up.

“You will all be converted to casual workers.”

There were uncertain glances all round.

“You will be paid only at the end of the day when we are sure you have done work. Even your clock-in card is not a guarantee that you will be paid. You may be considered for confirmation as a staff member after at least one year.”

Everyone now exchanged full horror glances and for a moment, they forgot about the fallen old man.

“This does not apply to you Mr Oseke. And if there are any other university been-tos among you I expect to have seen you here for the last time this morning.”

There was a shrill cry by the girl who cleaned the yard as Mr Uzi and his companion turned to go. She had the old man’s head in her hands. The man was dead.

It took another intervention by his mother for Kadja to remain employed by Smooth Constructions. That was the last concession the owners would give the community, as there was not going to be another non-expert graduate employee at Smooth Constructions.

Night was fast approaching now and Kadja could see the early promise of the expected moon. The water was so soothing that he was almost oblivious of the fact that he was alone in the middle of the nkeke forest where the stream stood. He was certain that he would have company in no time. Moonlight games always included trips to the stream for the brave and adventurous, and a swim in the moonlight was always attractive to more than one.

He eased out of the water and felt around the surfaces of the hewn boughs at the laundry section for a discarded piece of soap. He found one with which he lathered his body and dived back into the water. Just when he was beginning to get worried that there would be no one to leave the stream with he saw the silhouette of a person approaching. With renewed confidence, he dipped and tumbled in the water then pushed out to face the unmistakeable form of Kemwe. She just stood there like a moon goddess watching him, her figure titivating the night, inspiring spirited choruses from the creatures they could not see but knew abounded, causing spasms of delight to course through his body as he emerged to meet her.

“You did not tell me you were coming back.” He said and held her shoulders, the moonlight accentuating his grin.

“I have to take my chance now. I don’t know when I will see you again.”

“Oh please. Don’t start that,” Kadja said, unable to hide his excitement.

He suddenly realised how grateful he was to see her. He had been uneasy about being alone in the stream, even with a gleaming half-moon for company.

“I’ll get dressed so that we leave immediately. I’m getting cold and I will not leave you here for those crazy guys to come and bother you.”

“No one else is coming. Don’t you know what today is?”

Then he remembered. It was gege market day when moonlight games were a taboo as spirits roamed free and partook in all games, and always took a human being along by morning when they left.

“I forgot completely. Why then did you venture out?”

“My aunt sent me to buy kerosene when she knew I will not get it because nobody will sell to me tonight. I’m now convinced she wants me dead. I decided to come and die with you.”

As Kadja turned the information over in his mind, another owl hooted nearby and he felt warm air on his earlobes.

“We have to hurry out of here,” he said.

“Don’t tell me you are afraid,” Kemwe said with a sneer, and stepped away from him.

“I have always said you don’t belong in this village. You are so different from everyone else,” he said, and pulled her into an embrace.

“I’m different from all your other girlfriends, I know.”

That was what he meant but he said “Not that. You don’t think or act like anybody else I know around here.”

“Then I will go to the University next year. I’m already twenty.”

“You should. Really, I’m not surprised that every man that goes to ask your cousin’s hand in marriage ends up wanting you instead.”

“That is why they have decided to turn me over to the killing spirits tonight so that my dear cousin will finally get a suitor.”

Kadja no longer felt the chill. They were now close enough for him to share her body heat. Then he slowly began to run his hands over her.

“How many times have you done this?”

“Done what?”

“Smooch a girl in this stream after the moonlight games.”

“Never.”

“I have heard.”

“Lies.”

“If we make it till tomorrow, I will make sure I maim any girl that comes near you from now on.”

“That will not be necessary, trust me.”

“Nobody enjoys sharing a broad chest and strong arms and succulent red lips.”

“That is certainly not your lot Kemwe dear.”

“It’s just sad that I will be destitute by tomorrow.”

“You will not be destitute by tomorrow.”

“I know what I’m saying.”

“Well then, we’ll see about that.”

“What are you thinking, bad boy?”

Without warning Kadja whispered her name, and in one swift manoeuvre twisted her to back him and bent her over.

“What are you doing? Oh… not here…the spirits…ah!”

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Nice one Centino

I'm here for you Centino. Welcome back