Chapter Six

Mwabili, Gabriel, Mwadime and I sat crammed together on a small sofa, anxiously awaiting the start of our favorite thriller movie, Shumileta. As the movie began, the tension in the room soared. Every time the characters spoke, goosebumps ran down our spines and we sat on the edge of our seats as we heard the eerie music. We were like baobab seeds in a sack, so tightly packed that it was difficult to open them lest they fall over.

The sofa was small for one person but it felt even smaller when four people were sitting on it. Mwabili's elbow jabbed me in the ribs every time he flinched in fear and Gabriel's knee almost hit me in the face. But despite the discomfort, we were determined to overcome our fears together. We couldn't help but scream out loud as the thrilling scenes of the movie unfolded. Every time we jumped, we clung desperately to each other, our hearts pounding.

Mwadime, the most coward among us, would let out a high-pitched scream even in unscary scenes. Whenever he did so, I sent out a warning eye towards his direction. But it wasn't just the movies that scared us. It seemed like everyone around us was conspiring against us. The old, worn-out windows seemed to have a spirit of their own. The handle, long past its prime, rattled menacingly every time the wind blew.

And there were curtains – they swayed and swayed in the wind, casting eerie shadows across the room. From where I sat on the couch, they looked like ghostly figures stalking us, adding even more terror to an already frightening night. We tried our best to look brave but it was obvious that we were all scared to death.

Mwabili's eyes were as wide as saucers, Gabriel bit his nails nervously and Mwadime buried his face in his pillow, only peeking out when he had the courage. Our screams echoed throughout the house, each louder than the last, as if we were trying to outwit the others in fear. In the midst of panic and confusion, a metallic sound that cut through the darkness made my heart race. At that exact moment, our naughty friend the cat jumped from the table and knocked over an aluminum plate with a bang that could have woken the dead.

As I struggled to make sense of the confusion, my heart, which had been pounding ever since the movie started, nearly jumped out of my chest. Just then as if to mock us the lights went out and a figure started to walking towards us in the darkness. My eyes widened in fear as the figure approached, its white clothes waving menacingly in the air. In a blind panic, Mwadime jumped up from the sofa so hard that he hit me in the jaw and I felt a sharp pain in my face. I felt like it was indeed broken but at that moment I didn't have time to think about the pain.

A feeling of dread washed over me as the figure approached us. Just then a familiar voice pierced the darkness and I heard a laughter.

"Are you still watching the movie?" the person calls out and suddenly the lights flicker on again, illuminating the living room and revealing the identity of our older cousin Joy.

Mwabili laughed nervously and Gabriel sheepishly apologized for overreacting. All the while, I gently touched my throbbing jaw, grateful that it wasn't actually broken. Joy plopped down next to us on the couch, still laughing.

Gabrielle wasn't feeling well. But I knew he was faking it. He was afraid to go home in the night. Joy kindly offered to let him spend the night at their house. Mwadime's house was nearby and on a different path from ours. That left Mwabili and I.

The road through Ali Mwakosi's land or more precisely the narrow river, was our only way back. It wasn't a real road; it was a narrow stream that was hard to see in the dark. Tonight, it seemed even more difficult, with no moonlight to guide us. Mwabili and I set off into the quiet night, our footsteps echoing with every step. The darkness enveloped us like a thick blanket and every scrape of leaves sent shivers down our spines.

Mwabili's walked close behind me, his footsteps echoing mine. We were like a small fleet, sailing through the unknown, relying on each other to find our way home. The path was so etched in our memories that we could walk with blind folds on. The winding path felt natural, as if it was leading us home. As we trudged along, our conversation ebbed and flowed, punctuated by nervous laughter and the occasional whisper.

The sound of owls echoed through the trees on either side of us, sending shivers down my spine. Suddenly, without warning, Mwabili sprinting ahead, leaving me in the dark. Confusion gripped me as I saw him disappear into the darkness. Just then as if to haunt me, he reappeared behind some bushes far from the stream.

Then, to my horror, he began to sing, "Shumileta, shumileta," in a low, threatening voice as the words echoed in the night air like an eerie whisper. I quickly froze with fear, a lump forming in my throat and tears welling up in my eyes.

"Please, Mwabili, stop," I begged, my voice shaking with fear. But he did not heed my pleas and his laughter echoed in the darkness. His laughter grew louder as he emerged from the bushes. Mixing with sobs as I gathered up my courage and sprinted, my heart pounding in his chest. Darkness seemed to close in around me, every shadow taking on an ominous shape as I ran blindly through the night, towards home. It was not the first time that my brother made this game to me. I hated them and knew that the only way I would ever defeat him was to overcome my fears.

***

From a young age, I had a knack for tinkering and creating. While other kids played with toy cars, I preferred to make my own out of wires and bits of scrap metal. With nimble fingers and a vivid imagination, I transformed simple materials into miniature marvels that raced across the dusty paths of our village.

But what truly set my creations apart were the tiny lights I installed on them, a touch of brilliance that dazzled the eyes and captured the envy of every child in the village. As I proudly displayed my handiwork, I reveled in the admiration and jealousy that followed, basking in the glow of my newfound talent.

As I grew older, my passion for tinkering only intensified. I spent countless hours hunched over my workbench, meticulously crafting cars and gadgets that dazzled and delighted. And with each new creation, my reputation among my peers grew.

But it wasn't just cars and toys that occupied my attention. Inspired by the success of my miniature marvels, I set my sights on a grander challenge—bringing light to our humble home. With determination and ingenuity, I set to work, connecting bulbs with bicycle dynamos. The lights flickered to life, illuminating our home with a warm, inviting glow. I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as gone were the days of dim, flickering kerosene lamps—thanks to my creativity. Now we had light at the flick of a switch, a luxury that had once seemed out of reach.