Akinyi and Adhiambo walked the distance to Bongu, chatting. The night air was cool, the half-moon high in the sky. The air smelled of Moringa blossoms.
The sound of gospel music reached them before they entered the venue. People stood in small groups, chattering. A preacher strained to be heard above the ruckus, droning on about Heaven and Hell. The locals were obviously not interested in listening to “…the good going to Heaven while the sinners go to Hell.” It was a losing battle.
The adolescents hid in the dark, drinking shakers and chwakramyacin. Some could also be heard giggling in the grassy field, making out. The drunkards were shouting that they wanted the secular songs of Johnny Junior, Atomi Sifa and Emma Jalamo. When it got to midnight, their pleas were granted. They entered the dance floor, the boys holding the girls on the waist. Finally, the adults left for bed. This was now a youth event.
Akinyi found a chair and sat in the tent, watching, amused.
“Let’s go dance,” Adhiambo urged her.
She shook her head and watched her friend on the dance floor with one of the town boys she used to date. Akinyi didn’t know why she was reluctant to join. After going to college, this wasn’t an event that appealed to her. She didn’t feel part of the celebration.
Instead, she swatted the numerous mosquitoes feasting on her. This had been a bad idea. She should have stayed at home. Unfortunately, it was too late to go home by herself now.
Adhiambo came back sweating and happy. “That was quite a dance. That man can make a woman sweat.”
“Are you talking about the dance?” Akinyi asked, frowning.
“Of course. What else would I be talking about?” Adhiambo replied, breaking into a loud laugh. “He was my first love. When you farm, you start with nyakrundu, the kitchen garden.”
Akinyi couldn’t contain her smile. “That was your nyakrundu.”
“Yeah, too bad we can’t marry each other because we are both from Rachuonyo.”
“Yes, my dear. Have fun with him for the last time. After today, no more disco matanga, no Nyakrundu.”
“I know. Tonight is the last night for all good things to end,” Adhiambo said wistfully. Still, when Johnny Junior’s Adongo song came on, she searched for her nyakrundu on the dance floor.
Akinyi remained in the tent, listening to the music and nodding.
“It seems that someone is bored,” Adams announced, sitting next to her, his baritone rumbling through her body.
Akinyi looked up at him, grinning. “What are you doing here? You don’t strike me as the kind to attend such events.”
“The man was one of us.”
“One of you?” she asked, confused.
“He was a soldier based in Somalia.”
“What!”
“Yes. He even told me where I could get suitable land for my ranch.”
Akinyi was still reeling from the waterfall of information. Adams was a soldier. The reality of the words sank deeply. She had her eyes set on a soldier again! How foolish could she get? Soldiers were heartbreakers and were to be avoided.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just feel sleepy.”
“I can take you home if you want.”
“Let me inform my friend,” she said, standing up.
She scanned the dance floor but saw no sign of Adhiambo. Instead, she found her friend behind the house engaged in a lip-locking battle that was sure to lead to the grass. They were tearing at each other’s clothes and taking everything as if there was no tomorrow. And there truly wasn’t. She wasn’t in the mood to interrupt the occasion. She wasn’t also into voyeurism, so she left. She met one of her friend’s brothers and informed him of her departure.
“Let’s go,” she informed Adams.
Why did he have to be another man in uniform? The thought plagued her as they travelled towards her house.
***
When Adams received news of the fallen soldiers, he had felt a knife turn in his heart. He had come to see the fellow soldiers as more than friends, more like brothers. They always looked out for each other, watching each other's backs.
What had been more disheartening was that most of those who had died had been in his platoon. And if he hadn’t quit, maybe he would have been dead too. The thought alone sent chills down his spine. The fallen soldiers didn’t deserve this. He lit a cigarette and watched the smoke rise into the air. The smoke felt like life, here today and gone the next minute like it never existed.
He remembered how Oti used to talk about his wife. He’d always been glad to go home and would return to the frontline with a glow in his eyes that lasted for many days. Adams had secretly envied him, envied his source of comfort and happiness away from all the war.
He remembered one story Oti had narrated that had stuck with him all these years. It had been one of the nights that they’d made a bonfire and drunk beer while feasting on roasted meat. Oti had gone home for leave after five months of not seeing his wife. He’d arrived home and found the wife outside relaxing. He’d carried her into the house and made love to her as if his life depended on it, his bag still on his back, boots and clothes on.
They had laughed at the tale. Adams had longed for someone like that, willing to wait and put up with all the stresses of army life.
The loneliness crept back. He’d managed to keep it under leash, but tonight it just had its own will. He could have died without a wife or a child. Then he would be forgotten like some writing on the sand, washed away by the ocean. He was on his dream ranch all alone. So much for wanting some peace of mind.
In the army, they always had each other. Out here, he was on his own. The silence was deafening. He quickly downed his bottle of Tusker and felt good as it burned its way to his stomach. He hated his life, hated being alone and lonely.
Everyone needed someone, he mused, rocking on his chair. Unfortunately, the cool Kachieng’ night did nothing to assuage his pain.
***
“Good morning,” Adhiambo greeted as she grabbed her jerrican at the spring the following day.
“Good morning, Mrs Nyakrundu,” Akinyi replied, smiling.
“Stop teasing me about that.”
“I was just saying. It seems you had yourself a wonderful night.”
“I did. It was so refreshing. Now I am ready to get married and be faithful.”
Akinyi couldn’t help laughing. “Yesterday, I didn’t get to ask, the man who died was he in the army?”
“Yes. He was based in Somalia. I heard that their camp was attacked by the Al-Shabaab militants, and everyone was wiped out.”
“So sad, but the news reported that only a few were killed.”
Adhiambo shrugged. “His wife has been crying for days on end.”
“I guess it’s only a widow who knows the pain of losing a husband.”
“The body is being brought tomorrow and will be buried on Saturday. I hope we will attend the funeral. The whole town will be there. I have heard that there will be a lorry full of the army men, and they will be firing guns.”
“It sounds like it will be fun then,” Akinyi said, winking at her.
“That means that you will be attending?”
“I guess so.” They filled their jerricans and set for home.