The Gunny Sack by M.G. Vassanji Read Free Book Online Page B

preside.
    A table was set under the mango tree at the end of the village; behind it on chairs of local manufacture sat Bwana Wasi and Herr Lambrecht—or Rambureshi as he was locally called. To one side sat Bwana Khalfaan, guarded by Daudi Amin. On the same side, a little further away, sat the twenty-odd askaris. Facing the table were the villagers. Except for the Europeans everyone sat on the cool ground. The rainy seasonwas at hand and before the hearing the ground had to be cleared of its carpet of caterpillars.
    Bwana Wasi began by summoning Daudi Amin before him. Amin was a huge, fair-skinned askari, a dumé of a man, as the crowd observed audibly, with the blood of many races in him.
    “Askari Amin,” said Bwana Wasi. “You have identified Bwana Khalfaan, a resident of Matamu, as one of those you saw inciting people to take the Maji Maji oath in Mafinga. Tell us the particulars.”
    “Yes, Bwana. On the night in question, I and my fellow askaris were on guard at the boma outside Mafinga under Herr Lambrecht. We had heard of the disturbances in other areas. Lately we had heard that a group of men was on its way bringing with them the medicine. So we were prepared. On this night we were woken up by heavy footsteps and dogs barking outside. A man cried out in pain and there was a scuffle outside. Then my men brought in this fellow Abdurehman, an Arab. He had been bitten by a dog as he was trying to enter the boma, and he was crying and swearing in Arabic. ‘Wé Abdurehman, what are you doing here at this time of night? Do you also steal, koni?’ we asked him in some anger because he had woken us up. He said that a group of men had arrived quietly that evening and were going around the houses ordering people to take the oath. His neighbour Shaban Mrisho had refused, saying Herr Lambrecht knew him and would surely find out and hang him. This Shaban Mrisho was a Swahili businessman who supplied our boma and was on good terms with us. ‘Well,’ said Abdurehman, ‘as soon as Shaban Mrisho refused, someone angrily thrust a spear in his stomach, and he fell, saying Aiiiiii … now why did you do that?’ It turned out that Abdurehman, as soon as he heard that the Maji Maji men had come, went to Shaban’s house to hide, because being an Arab he thought he would be molested. From behind a curtain, hiding in the women’s quarter, he saw and heard all this.
    “When he had heard this, Herr Lambrecht sent me and three other askaris to assess the situation. We started towards the village, but on our way we heard voices and we saw a lamp burning in a clearing to our right. We went and hid behind some bushes. From there we saw this man Khalfaan making a speech.”
    Daudi Amin, standing at ease with his hands behind his back, indicated the mchawi with a nod. The crowd, all this time silent as attendant pupils, sent forth a murmur. “This Bwana Khalfaan kumbe is more than we thought.”
    All this while Bwana Khalfaan had been looking intently at the askari.
    “Watch him carefully,” said a voice. “He’ll transform the yellow dumé into an ant.”
    “A swine.”
    “He’ll transform this whole baraza into an ant’s market.”
    “The whole town into an ant hill.”
    “Aah, quit joking.”
    “This Rambureshi, eti. He is a quiet one.”
    “Like a snake. He controls the whole thing. He’s instructing Bwana Wasi.”
    “Silence!” spoke Bwana Wasi.
    Two askaris made a threatening gesture and quiet returned.
    “What was Bwana Khalfaan saying?” asked Bwana Wasi.
    “He was saying, ‘First they ask us to pay taxes in mhogo; then they ask for goats; now they want rupees. Where can we get rupees? Who is going to buy goats and mhogo when everyone has goats and mhogo? And what is this rupee but a piece of metal to make us go and work on their cotton farms?’ And so on. The crowd was saying ‘Yes! Kweli!’ Then this man said, ‘This here medicine is given to us by a renowned mchawi called Hongo. Drink it and you will