Chapter 24

One Wednesday morning in January, Dani got busy clearing the compound. She pulled weeds and moved dry twigs. She seemed to be putting things in order, but I didn’t know for whom or what. I kept myself busy, having woken up before seven, made three trips to the stream, prepared porridge for my siblings for breakfast, and then sent them off to school.

I hadn’t told Dani about the letter I’d gotten from the provincial high school.

It was an invitation letter, telling me about the school and offering me a spot there. A spot I couldn’t afford. Without the money for tuition, it was just a meaningless piece of paper. I knew that was what Dani would think of it, anyway. But all day, my mind kept going back to it.

In the afternoon, Dani sent me to the market to buy soap, matches, and sugar with our meager savings from the boys’ income. When I got back I saw Dani sitting in front of her hut with a guest. I went into the main house first, unloaded my bags, and came out to greet the visitor.

“Auma, this is Josef. He comes from down near the lake. Your aunt sent him to visit us.”

Her voice sounded . . . traditional. Ancient. A knot formed in my stomach.

I politely extended my hand to him and said, “Thank you for visiting,” and walked away.

As I took off, I heard Dani whisper that I was the eldest.

Only a week later, another visitor was “sent by my aunt.” What an interest Aunt Mary seemed to have in our family all of a sudden! She had come to both funerals, but after Mama’s burial, she hadn’t visited us once. As far as I knew, even Tabitha, her own daughter, didn’t hear from her much.

After the third man was “sent,” I decided it was time to consult Abeth about these visits. When we were by ourselves at the stream, I asked her what she thought.

“I don’t trust these men,” I said. “When I greet them, they have this . . . look on their faces. They gaze at me as if they already know me. I can tell Dani has been talking about me with them. Do you think it means . . . ?”

Abeth nodded solemnly. “The elders will do that when they want to choose a man for you.” She glanced around to make sure we were still alone. “Think about it, Auma. She knows you hate anything to do with boys, men, marriage stuff. Everyone knows that by now. Your face wrinkles whenever the topic of marriage comes up. I bet she started the process without telling you because she didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

I kicked the dirt hard. This was happening too soon. I hadn’t even had a chance to come up with a plan to get my education.

I took the shortcut home and approached the compound at the back. As I went through a small gap in the trees near Dani’s hut, I heard voices and stopped to listen.

“So you are the son of Isak?”

“Yes.”

I hastily backtracked into the trees before they noticed my presence. This must be another man sent by Aunt Mary.

“You work in Kisumu? What do you do?” Dani asked.

“I’m a carpenter.”

He works in a city. Who knew what kind of life he’d lived there? I couldn’t believe Dani would consider letting him know me, letting him touch me. I couldn’t trust anybody. Like Mr. Osogo had said, there was no way of knowing who was infected. Plenty of people didn’t even know they had the disease. I wanted to stay alive and healthy as long as I could. Just the images of Mama and Baba going through their last days were enough to make me think of becoming a nun.

“Remember, my girl is still very young,” Dani told him. “I want someone who can take care of her. I want her to have a place where she can have food to eat and help for her siblings. You know this new disease has affected the judgment of many young girls, and we have to guide them.”

“Yes, ma’am, I can do that. I just want a good wife.”

“Auma is hardworking. She is very well trained and also intelligent.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll talk to my parents and her aunt, and I’ll be back next week so we can talk some more. Meanwhile, please prepare the girl, so that she will accept my proposal.”

I had heard quite enough. I turned around and tiptoed back around the compound to the main path. I wanted to be seen coming through the front gate.

I walked straight up to Dani and the man, my head held high. “How are you all doing?”

Dani smiled, clearly pleased that I was being civil to her guest. “Auma, this is Odoyo. He would like to talk to you. Please bring a chair and sit down.”

I got a chair and sat next to Dani, dreading what they were going to say. My body tingled, a strangeness I’d never felt. Then it went numb, like all of my limbs had fallen asleep. I sat there listening in what felt like a stranger’s body.

“Auma, my name is Odoyo. As your grandmother has told you, I’m interested in a relationship with you.”

Dani had not told me anything. I swallowed hard and barely managed to nod.

“I’ll be coming back in a week so I can get to know you better.”

I wanted to scream. I felt completely alone.

After Odoyo left, Dani leveled her stern gaze at me. “Listen, my child, I think it’s obvious that our family is in big trouble unless we find some help. You’re old enough to take care of a man and be of help to your siblings.”

At last I found my voice. “Dani, I’m not ready to get married. And marriage is not a solution to all our problems. Who says this man will actually take care of all of us?”

“Listen, I’m old and I have seen a lot. It will be okay.”

“No, Dani, it will not be okay!” I burst out, anger overtaking my fear. “I’ve seen a lot too. I’ve seen girls get married and have to go and work in the fields, or take housekeeping jobs, just to survive . . .”

“A man who works in the city will be able to support you.”

“But I want to support myself!”

“That’s enough, Auma. I don’t have time to listen to your self-centered fantasies. We have dinner to make and chores to do.”

I could see that nothing I said would change Dani’s mind. I would have to find another way to convince her to reconsider her plans.

That night after Dani retired to her hut, I gathered Juma, Musa, and Baby together on Mama and Baba’s bed for an important meeting. I explained that Dani was trying to marry me off. “This is the plan. In one week’s time, a man by the name Odoyo will come back here to finalize the marriage plans. I’m going to disappear for the day until he’s gone. I don’t want you to worry about me when no one can find me. Once he leaves, I’ll come back.”

“How will you know he’s gone?” Baby asked, her eyes filling with tears.

I touched her head gently. “When he leaves, Musa or Juma can go tell Abeth. She’ll know where to find me.” I made them promise they wouldn’t tell anyone about my plan. Even Baby agreed immediately.

She understood secrets now.

“Abeth, I need a place to hide out for a night,” I told my friend the next day. “Can I use your parents’ old house? And make sure your dani doesn’t find out I’m sleeping there?”

She just stared at me without a word.

I rushed on. “I don’t plan to stick around when Odoyo comes to ‘get to know me,’ as he put it. I’ll go back home after he leaves, but I want Dani to know that there is no way I am getting married now.”

“Auma, why are you so stubborn about this?” Abeth pleaded. “The man works in Kisumu! He must make more than enough money for your family to eat well!”

“That’s not the point! He could have the disease! And have you ever heard of a husband who lets his wife go to high school? I’m not ready to throw away my dreams yet.” I felt anger rising within me. Everyone was right about the difficulty of staying in school. Yet I still couldn’t fathom marriage as an alternative. I could not understand how any man who worked a menial job could feed both his and his wife’s family. Odoyo did not have a well-paying job. Was marriage just the solution people came up with when they had no other ideas?

Abeth sighed. “Auma, you’re determined, and I can’t stop you. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

The evening before Odoyo was supposed to return, I told Dani I was just going to make one more trip to the stream. But instead, I headed to Abeth’s compound, where I simply walked into her parents’ house. Except for when Abeth’s grandmother had guests, the building now sat unused. But it wasn’t as run down as I had expected. The bed in the bedroom was covered with a bedsheet and a thin blanket. Narrow streams of light entered the house through the corners of the two windows—one in the sitting room and the other in the bedroom.

I sat on the bed and waited. After what seemed like hours, Abeth tapped on the bedroom window as we had agreed.

“Hey, here’s something to eat,” she said, pushing a banana into my hand. “Lock the door from the inside and try to ignore the bats. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.” And with that, she was gone. A few minutes later I heard her grandmother asking her to do some chores. Abeth’s grandmother didn’t sound like she had any suspicions about my being there.

When it got pitch dark, I crawled between the blanket and the sheet. I gazed into the darkness, wondering about the suffering that had taken place inside the house—particularly on the bed that I was now lying on. The thought that I was running away from death and crawling into this deathbed made me shiver. I told myself that this bed that had once carried death could not harm me. It was the living—those who carried death inside of them—who posed the real danger.

I closed my eyes, glad to be listening to the bats rather than discussing my future with somebody I didn’t know. Surprisingly, the shrill sounds of the bats flying in and out lulled me to sleep, and the next thing I heard was a knocking at the door. I jumped out of bed wondering where I was.

“Auma, open up! It’s already ten o’clock.”

I rushed to unlock the door. Abeth walked in with a cup of porridge. “You look like a wreck.”

“For a second I thought you were Odoyo. I was dreaming that he was chasing me, and I ran and locked myself in our house.”

“Oh! My! My!” Abeth looked at me, her eyes full of pity. “You really are tormented by the thought of getting married to this Odoyo.” She placed the cup of porridge in my hand. “Drink this. You must be hungry. It’ll fill you up and calm your nerves.”

I smiled at the thought of porridge solving my problems.

“Your dani sent Musa here to ask where you were. I told him I had no idea. My dani said the same thing—and your dani knows my dani wouldn’t lie. So I think you’re safe for now.”

I spent the rest of the day in the hut, plotting my next move.

In the early evening, Abeth ducked her head back into the hut. “Musa was just here. He says Odoyo has come and gone. And your dani’s furious with you.”

I didn’t know what Dani was going to do, but at least I was sure she was not going to kill me. And all I was trying to do was to stay alive.

I let Musa get a head start on me before I left Abeth’s compound. If we returned together, Dani would probably punish Musa as well as me.

So I approached our house alone, my heart thumping. Dani was standing next to her hut, seemingly far away in thought.

“Good evening, Dani,” I said, my voice surprisingly calm. She just looked at me without responding, turned, and then went back into her hut.

I did my chores as if nothing had happened. At sunset my siblings came running through the gate, where they noticed the compound was swept clean, a sign that I was back. They dashed into the house and hugged me.

That night, after Dani was asleep, we had our meeting. They asked me where I was and what I did. I, in turn, asked them about Odoyo’s visit.

“Auma,” Baby said, pulling my dress, “thank you for coming back. I was a good girl while you were gone. Did you bring anything?”

“No, Baby, I didn’t go far, but I’ll buy you nguru when I go to the market,” I assured her.

The next day I had to face Dani again, but I was not afraid. I had a plan to keep us alive.

Dani came to the kitchen where I was cleaning the mess that had accumulated while I was gone. I was glad Musa and Juma could cook. They just didn’t know how to keep the kitchen clean.

“So where have you been?” Dani asked, standing in the doorway. Without waiting for an answer she added, “Do you know what went through my head when you didn’t come home last night? How was I to know that you hadn’t run into some old man on the prowl for virgins? As far as I knew, anything could’ve happened to you.”

I swallowed, suddenly realizing how much she must’ve feared for me. Dani and I completely disagreed about how I should live my life, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love me. If anything, she was being this insistent about marrying me off because she loved me. As she saw it, she was doing what was best for me. If I was going to demand that she treat me as an adult, I would have to consider her feelings just as I wanted her to respect mine.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Dani,” I said. “But I felt I had no choice. I hid because I don’t want to marry Odoyo. And you wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell you how I felt, so I figured I would have to find another way to make you understand.”

“I’m only trying to do what’s in your best interest—”

“No, Dani. If it was in my best interest, you would have asked me to be part of the plan for my future. I told you I want to go to school, and you didn’t listen to me.”

“Auma, you may get a scholarship to school, but what will your siblings eat while you’re gone?”

“Getting married won’t guarantee their security either. I might be dead in a year’s time for all I know.” I could not believe I was talking like this. “At least let me try and fail at school before going into marriage. Let me decide my future.”

“I am the adult here and it is my job to help you make it.”

“I’m sorry, Dani, but I’m doing what Mama and Baba would have wanted me to do—trying the school option first. If you let me work during holidays, I could make money and take care of the family and still go to school on scholarship.”

Dani sniffed. “We’ll have to see about that. If your ideas don’t work, I’ll have to take charge.”

I hurried to finish my chores so that I could put my plan into action. First, I went to the Bimas’ and asked Mama Benta if she had any ideas of where I could find work. She suggested a few people: one who needed help at the market stand, and two families that worked at the local government office and were looking for house help. I went to visit the closer of the two families, about a mile away from our home. I told them my story—that I wanted to save money for my family to use while I was gone to school—and they agreed to pay me well for a full day’s work.

Next I stopped by Mr. Ouma’s house.

He stepped outside to talk to me, his arms crossed. “What brings Auma Onyango to my humble home?”

“Sir, I’m wondering if you can help me get a track scholarship to go to secondary school next year. I got an invitation letter to Rawak Girls High School, and the province already has my name as a good runner, so if it isn’t too much trouble—”

“I thought you decided you weren’t continuing with school. I haven’t heard from you since you took the exams.”

“Sir, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to go about this. But I’m hoping you can help me get a scholarship before it’s too late.”

He gave me a thoughtful look. “It might be too late already. School will be starting in a few weeks. But I could use some help in my house from a charming girl like you.”

Right away my antenna went up. Was he seriously offering me a job—or was this the kind of “house help” that ended in shame and even pregnancy? I remembered all the old rumors about him, which I’d barely understood at the time. Disgust filled me. Even my own teacher didn’t care that I was seeking an education. He was only interested in taking advantage of me.

I drew myself up. “Sir, I’m the best runner KaPeter has had in a long time. If I go to secondary school on a track scholarship, that will motivate other students to try out for KaPeter’s track team. It will give people hope. The school is developing quite a reputation for having good runners, isn’t it? I imagine you want to encourage students to join the team and do their very best. If I get into secondary school, I’ll make sure to tell people how much being on our track team helped me.”

His eyes flashed with interest. I knew how much he wanted his track team to be known as the best in the province.

I wasn’t finished, though. “And I’ll make sure to tell the girls,” I added, “that the rumors about you aren’t true. That you treat your students very well and that they have no reason to distrust you.”

I had no intention of telling anyone that. But Mr. Ouma would understand what I really meant: that I could tell people the exact opposite. The community wouldn’t look kindly on him for trying to seduce young girls. For years, my peers had gossiped about his behavior in whispers, never officially complaining to anyone in authority. But I could raise my voice above a whisper and expose him.

As my words sank in, I saw his face grow more thoughtful. “I appreciate that, Auma. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Thank you, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me, my grandmother is waiting for me at the market, so I have to get going,” I lied.

I turned around and hurried away.

Things happened so fast. I started working right away, and soon I was bringing home enough money that we could start saving again. And one evening, Musa came to meet me on my way home from work.

“Auma, you have a letter! The KaPeter principal sent a Class Eight student to deliver it.”

He stood there watching my face as I tore open the letter. “Is it from a high school?”

My hands shook so hard I was afraid I would tear the paper. “Yes,” I gasped. “From the best provincial school! And they’re offering me a track scholarship!” I hugged him. “Thank you, Musa! Thank you for bringing it to me right away!”

“Abeth! Abeth!” I screamed, running toward her house. By the time I got there, I was so breathless I could hardly speak.

“I’m going,” was all I could say.

“Where?” she asked, taking the letter from my hand and trying to read it.

I lay on the grass facing the sky, still breathing hard.

“I am going to Rawak Girls High School,” I whispered, half to myself.

Abeth beamed. “Congratulations, Auma! And guess what? I’m going to secondary school too! St. Peter’s Mixed High School, right around the corner.”

“Really? That’s amazing! But how will you afford it?”

“Some of our relatives offered to help out. I never expected it—I’d given up hope. Not like you, Auma. But now we both have a future!”

Abeth pulled me up and started leaping around. We jumped up and down together until we both fell on the grass laughing.

The next week was full of preparations. I didn’t have much to take with me. With the track scholarship taking care of my tuition, I needed to use the money I’d saved from my job to buy my uniforms and personal items. But I still needed more for transportation, notebooks, and writing materials. Again, I had to think of a way out—Dani wasn’t going to help. I think she was tired of my stubbornness. She hadn’t said much since the Odoyo incident. I had grown accustomed to her assumption that I was going to fail, but I had decided something: it wasn’t failure if I tried.

I took the bus to Aunt Mary’s home, about an hour’s ride from Koromo. Over dinner, I explained my situation. I hadn’t expected a great reception from her, but what I got was even worse than my conversations with Dani.

“So you want my help, do you?” she said coldly. “I tried to help you by sending Odoyo to you. And what kind of thanks did I get?”

“Aunty, I appreciated that,” I said carefully. “But right now I don’t need a husband, I need to continue my education—”

“You think you know better than the adults who care about you?”

“No, Aunty,” I assured her. “I just—”

She cut me off. “Your grandmother wouldn’t have forced you to marry immediately, you know. You would have negotiated to delay the marriage. But you’re too hardheaded to be reasonable.”

I sat there stone-quiet, wondering why I had even come. I thought to myself, Hardheadedness is probably what one needs to survive—in Koromo and beyond.

“I think it’s rude and ungrateful, what you did. And now you expect me to give you some of my own family’s hard-earned money, so that you can go off to school and abandon your family.”

“I’m not abandoning my family,” I said, fighting to keep my voice from rising. “And actually, I’m respecting Mama’s wishes. She told me to stay in school—”

“Oh really?” she said with some sarcasm in her voice. “Well, she isn’t here to see how you will get what you need. It is left to the living to help you.”

“Yes, Aunty,” I said respectfully. “I’ll be very grateful if you can do this for me, just once.”

Aunt Mary shook her head and stood up from the table, signaling that dinner was over. I helped clean up in silence. I was doing what I had been taught to do—respecting my elders.

But while I cleared the table, I wondered why most of the elders in my life failed to think of constructive solutions to problems. Mama, Dani, Aunt Mary—they all seemed to jump to the easiest solution or give up. I wondered whether I would have been in this situation if adults approached their problems differently. What if they talked openly about AIDS, so that everyone knew how it spread and how to avoid contracting it or passing it on? What if they thought seriously about the consequences for orphans after their parents’ burials? They could at least make more coordinated efforts to collect food and money for us, instead of leaving us hungry.

I would not be that kind of adult. I would look for real solutions, even if they didn’t come easily.

In the morning, my aunt sent me off with enough money for what I needed. I thanked her and left. And I promised myself that I would never ask for her help again.

The night before I left for school, my siblings and I gathered in Mama and Baba’s room. “Write to me while I’m gone,” I urged them. Dani didn’t know how to write, so I couldn’t expect any letters from her. “Keep me updated on everything that’s happening.”

“We will if we can afford stamps,” said Juma. My heart sank a little. Stamps would be an extravagance, with money so tight.

“Don’t worry about us, Auma,” Musa added, and I swelled with pride for him and Juma. I knew they would work hard and take care of our family. If I didn’t hear from them at school, I’d just have to trust that everything was fine.

Baby started bouncing on the bed, and before long, we all joined her. Jumping on the bed was absolutely forbidden when our parents were alive. In fact, we had never even been allowed in this room much, except when ordered to get something. Now, for no good reason, that room was all ours to bounce around in.

It was the first time since Mama had died that I felt like a kid again, not a grown woman—not someone who was leaving home for the first time, as unsure as ever about what the future might bring.