Say You’re One Of Them Read Online Free PDF

had always told her that he was not interested in Saint Joseph’s favor but in a clean place for people to worship. Then Baba blamed her for no longer attending the KANU slum rallies to earn a few shillings.
    The night degenerated into growls and hisses. I preferred the distraction of the quarrel to the sound of Maisha’s uneasy breathing. When Maisha clapped one more time and turned over, Mama couldn’t stand it anymore. She rushed inside, took the mosquito net off the carton, and tied it to the rafters so that my sister was inside it. She sprayed the place again and brought Baby out to breast-feed. The coughing got worse. Baba tore down some of the walls to let in air, but, since the wind had subsided, it was of no use. He picked up the door and used it as a big fan to whip air into the shack.

    IN THE MORNING , ATIENO and Otieno came out first. They looked tired and were sniffling from the insecticide. They stood before us, spraying the morning with yellow urine, sneezing and whimpering.
    The streets began to fill. The street kids were up and had scattered into the day, like chickens feeding. Some moved about groggily, already drunk on
kabire.
One recounted his dreams to others at the top of his voice, gesticulating maniacally. Another was kneeling and trembling with prayer, his eyes shut as if he would never open them again. One man screamed and pointed at two kids, who were holding his wallet. No one was interested. His pocket was ripped to the zipper, leaving a square hole in the front of his trousers. He pulled out his shirt to hide his nakedness, then hurried away, an awkward smile straining his face. There was no sun, only a slow ripening of the sky.
    The twins started to wail and to attack Mama’s breasts. Baba spanked them hard. They sat on the ground with pent-up tears they were afraid to shed. Naema broke the spell. She came out and sat with me on the containers, grabbed my hands, and tried to cheer me up. “You are too sad, Jigana,” she said. “You want to marry the gal? Remember, it’s your turn to take Baby out.”
    “Leave me alone.”
    “Marry me, then—me am still here.” She stuck out her tongue at me. “I’m your sister too—more beautiful. Guy, do me photo trick . . . smile.” She was well rested and had slept off her initial shock at Maisha’s departure. Now she was herself again, taunting and talkative, her dimples deep and perfect. “You all must to let Maisha go.”
    “And you?” I said. “You only listen to Maisha.”
    “I’m big gal now, guy. Breadwinner. If you want school, I pay for you!”
    She blew me a kiss in the wind. Maisha’s creams were already lightening her ebony face.
    Before I could say anything, Naema erupted with mad laughter and ran into the shack. She almost knocked Baba down as she burst out with the bags of food we had forgotten. She placed them on the ground and tore into them, filling the morning with hope, beckoning all of us on. Baba bit into a chicken wing. Mama took a leg. The rest of us dug into the sour rice, mashed potatoes, salad, hamburgers, pizza, spaghetti, and sausages. We drank dead Coke and melted ice cream all mixed up. With her teeth, Naema opened bottles of Tusker and Castle beer. At first, we feasted in silence, on our knees, looking up frequently, like squirrels, to monitor one another’s intake. None of us thought to inflate the balloons or open the cards that Maisha had brought.
    Then the twins fell over on their backs, laughing and vomiting. As soon as they were done, they went straight back to eating, their mouths pink and white and green from ice cream and beer. We could not get them to keep quiet. A taxi pulled up and Maisha came out of the shack, dragging her trunk behind her. Our parents paused as the driver helped her put it into the car. My mother began to cry. Baba shouted at the streets.
    I sneaked inside and poured myself some fresh
kabire
and sniffed. I got my exercise book from the carton and ripped it into shreds. I