Swahili and Somali legends come to life in this tale of secrets, betrayal and a household pet or two with a desire for human flesh.
In the Malifedha family, the secrets that don't break them make their bond stronger; which is just as well because th...
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Of course, Sidi saw nothing wrong with what she did. Of course, she didn't.
'Listen,' she said as Akiba shoved the communiror at her chest and began to walk off, 'listen, sitting around twiddling our thumbs would have done literally nothing so...'
Akiba paused to glare at her. 'I sit around twiddling my thumbs?'
'Well, in all honesty...'
'Don't talk to me,' she continued walking, 'You think you can sit around giving me any more of your nonsense Sidi Malifedha? Try me, if you're a woman, then.'
And she pushed past her sister and left. The sky had begun to turn into a kaleidoscope of gold and purple, the sun covering the trees dotted here and there on the large training field in a blanket of gold. Even the birds had started their daily morning racket. Everything around her revelled in the burst of a new dawn. Except for her. Somehow, God had seen it fit to sink her deep into a personal nightmare.
A short walk from the training grounds revealed the beach, which Akiba flopped herself down on and watched the waves in the sea crashing forward and pulling back. Their hypnotic movement let her focus on her racing mind. Maybe she could write to Mwitu and tell him that Sidi had pranked him. Or tell him to sit his obstinate behind back in Biacadey, and this didn't concern him. Or go to Biacadey and knock him unconscious until she had resolved whatever tangle Sidi had put them into. She groaned and threw an elbow over her eyes. She'd gone mad if she thought they would work. As if Sidi would be crazy enough to prank Mwitu of all people. As if Mwitu of all people would listen to anyone's orders.
A little pebble interrupted her web of thoughts, and she looked up to see Baba. An hour after dawn. Clinging to the top of a palm tree.
'Bintiye,' he grinned, throwing down a bag of coconuts, 'here, take this.'
Akiba caught it. Every time Baba referred to her as my daughter, it never ended up being anything good. 'What's it for?' she said. She would have asked what had sent him tree climbing like a restless monkey when he should have been sleeping or in prayers, but she could only deal with so much nonsense so early.
'Well,' Baba climbed down and grinned at her, 'doesn't it look like a head?'
A terrifying image of Mama waking up and groping towards Baba's side only to find a bunch of coconuts surfaced in Akiba's mind. 'How are the two of you still together?' she said.
Baba slung an arm around her shoulders, 'it's because we use you as collateral,' he sang.
'Something's wrong with you. And what do you need to sneak out of the homestead to do, anyway?'
His smile turned cryptic as he rested a hand on her head. 'I'll tell you when you're older.'
'Babangu,' said Akiba in her sweetest voice, 'do I look like a child to you? I'm old enough to get married, you know?'
