Echoes From a Distant Land Read Online Free PDF

Wangira wanted Mothoni more than anyone else, and he felt sure that Mothoni only had eyes for him. He would try to be patient and enjoy the food and playful conversation until it was time.
    Johnstone was the centre of the conversation. He held everyone’s attention with his witty remarks and made the girls giggle with his smutty jokes.
    â€˜The wise old baboon was talking to the lion one day,’ Johnstone said, grinning. The girls leaned forwards, smiling in anticipation. ‘The old baboon told the lion about an old Kikuyu man who came to him to ask for help. He said the old man had four young wives and had difficulty keeping them satisfied. So the baboon told him to go out and kill a young impala. Oh, I see , said the lion. He was to kill the impala so he could eat the meat to make his penis strong , the lion said. No, that is not right , the baboon said. Ah, then it must be that he should eat the heart to make his penis strong , the lion said. No, that is not right, either , the baboon said. The lion scratched his head. Then it must be that he had to grind the horns to make a strong snuff to make his penis strong , the lion said. No, that is not right, either , the baboon said. Then what? the lion asked. The baboon said, He had to take two small ribs from the impala and tie them to his penis. That way his penis would be strong all night long.
    The girls laughed.
    Eventually, one of the girls suggested it was time to tie the grass — a euphemism for choosing their partners for the night. Wangira held Mothoni’s eyes with his as two of the girls chose their lovers, and when it came to Mothoni’s turn, he smiled at her, and her at him, but she stood and took Johnstone’s hand and led him from the fire to where they would make love all night.
    Wangira stood transfixed until the remaining girl took his hand. He followed her to a sleeping space where, in the soft light of a flickering lantern, she undressed him. She shyly removed her garland and necklaces, and arranged her skirt and apron in the manner required by the taboos so that her private parts were tucked safely away, and then drew him down to her.
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    The tribe’s magician, the mondo mogo , sat in the semi-darkness of his hut, his face lost in the shadows cast by his smoking oil lamp.
    Wangira felt no shame in coming to him for the love magic although the mondo mogo had expressed some surprise that one so young, so strong and so handsome would need it. But he said he would help Wangira provided he did not use it to seduce more than one woman.
    Wangira could easily agree. In the days following his first night, when Mothoni had chosen another in his place, he’d found many girls happy to share his bed. He’d needed no special potion for them, and while he hadn’t avoided Mothoni — they’d even spent time together away from the thingira hut — he had not invited her back. He was unsure if on the next occasion in the thingira hut she would want to choose him, and he didn’t want to again be rejected.
    Wangira still wanted Mothoni as much as ever. In fact, he could not keep his mind from her, nor from the image of her leading Johnstone Kamau away from the light of the fire. As he made love to the girl who had chosen him, he had wondered what Mothoni was doing to her chosen one. The thoughts haunted him.
    â€˜Take this,’ the magician said. ‘It is the root of the moti wa ombani — the tree of love. You must use it carefully and only in the manner I will describe.’
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    Two nights later, Wangira invited Mothoni to the thingira hut. This time he had the reassurance of the piece of the moti wa ombani root sitting under his tongue.
    There were many young people in the hut that night, and Wangira was generous with his attention and his compliments to all the girls present, but he paid special attention to Mothoni, who looked more beautiful than ever with her beaded hair and embroidered leather