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| (c) Copyright 2007 by HM Inc. + Meja Mwangi |
EATING MOSES
WHEN THE ENTRANCE was wide enough, Salt pushed his head and
shoulders through and barked in the hole.
There was a sudden quiet from within. We got down on our knees
and put our ears to the ground to listen. We heard the sound we had
heard once before, the rumbling of approaching thunder. The sound
grew louder as it came nearer, and the earth shook.
We jumped to our feet and prepared to run. Then Salt gave a yelp.
He shot backwards out of the hole and went spinning in the air. He
crashed into Pepper and both dogs went down in a cloud of dust.
Old Moses stuck his head out of the burrow and shook his tusks at
us. Then he retreated and crashed to the bottom of the hole with a
thud.
The dogs picked themselves up from the dust. They were shivering
from the shock. Salt limped over to Nigel, but Pepper dove angrily into
the hole, pushing his way in until only his tail was left wagging in the air.
Again the deep, expectant silence. Pepper was older and wiser than
Salt. He did not bark in the hole. He listened, as we did, to the start of
the rumbling that would warn us of the approaching thunder. We heard
it coming, the ground shaking from its force, and we jumped back as
before.
Pepper wriggled out of the hole and sprang away from the mouth of
the den at the very last second. With a loud whooshing sound, Old
Moses shot out of the hole and into the air. Pepper had timed the
moment just right. He leapt onto the old warthog's back and sank his
teeth into the massive mane. They landed ten yards away from us.
Pepper was still on top, trying desperately to sink his killer fangs into
the warthog's thick neck.
Old Moses charged on through the grassland. We waited for him to
turn around and come charging back to his den.
It took us a moment to realize that he had no intention of returning to
his hole. Then we ran.
Salt had by now fully recovered from shock and he dashed forward to
help his brother. Then Old Moses stopped so suddenly that Pepper flew
off his back and went crashing into the dust. Old Moses veered to the
right and made for the first line of bush, about half a mile away along
the river valley. When the dust cleared, we saw Pepper pick himself up
and go furiously after Old Moses, with Salt right behind him.
We ran after them. I stepped into a mole hole and fell down. Nigel
was fifty paces behind me and doing his best to keep up. I stopped to
wait for him. He was panting heavily, and his arms and his legs were
almost black with sweat and dust.
"Shall we go home now?" I asked while he caught his breath.
"No." His face was red with excitement. "We almost have him now."
"But he is gone. We'll never see him again."
"We shall," he said. "The dogs will catch him now."
"It will be dark soon," I pleaded. "We must go home."
He looked around and for the first time seemed to realize where he
was. The sun was sinking over the hills and we were still miles away
from home. Way up in the east, thunderclouds poured from the
mountains into the valleys. Lightning flashed and thunder clashed.
There was the smell of dust in the air, a sign that the rain had started
its gradual descent into the plains.
I worried about flash floods. I worried about the river flooding.
"We must go home now," I said to Nigel.
"But the dogs," he said. "We must get the dogs."
"It will soon be dark," I told him.
"We must get the dogs," he insisted. "We can't go home without
them."
We ran on.
The old warthog had disappeared in the forest. Salt and Pepper dove
in after him. We came up to the first line of trees. I stepped on a thorn
and sat down to take it out. It was a long and hard acacia thorn and it
had gone through my foot. I called to Nigel to stop and help me take it
out, but he had already disappeared into the forest after the dogs.
I pulled out the thorn, then rubbed leaves on the puncture to stop
the bleeding. My foot was extremely painful. I could not run any more.
I called out for Nigel. There was no reply. I limped into the forest after
him. It was gloomy and silent except for the crickets now rising to sing
their eerie night songs.
The sudden silence was frightening. With growing panic, I finally
woke up to something that had been nagging me since the whole affair
with Old Moses had started. It was the silent and savage way the
Alsatian dogs had gone after their prey. They were trained attack dogs,
not hunting dogs. Unlike the jimis, they had not raved and ranted
during the attack on the warthog. They had not uttered a single bark
during the whole chase, and they were dead silent now. The jimis
would have made enough noise to scare the whole forest. The jimis
would have been easy to follow. But the Alsatians were impossible to
follow in the thick forest.
I limped on, calling for Nigel with mounting alarm. The forest was
dead still. Darkness was closing in fast. I walked on. Lighting flashed,
throwing grotesque shadows into the trees around me. A sudden
thunderclap echoed eerily through the undergrowth. I was petrified
with fear. I was about to turn round and run home when I heard a
muffled sound in the undergrowth and stopped to listen. The forest
was quite still. A sharp cry cut into the night, a frightened sound that
sounded like a sheep that was about to have its throat cut. Then
silence.
"Nigel?" I called out. "Is that you, Nigel?"
There was no reply. I heard stealthy movements up ahead. Then
silence. Fear tore at my stomach — a cold, screaming fear that filled my
mouth and made it impossible to breathe. I moved on slowly. It was
nearly dark now.
Lightning lit up the night, blinding and illuminating at the same time.
In its terrible light, I saw a large black thing lying on the ground.
I stopped. My fear said to run home and get help. But my mind told
me no one would dare come to the forest after dark. The soldiers had
warned us against it. The soldiers had made it very clear that anyone
found in the forest after dark would be shot dead.
I approached the thing lying there on the ground. Then I recognized it.
READ ON ...
WHEN THE ENTRANCE was wide enough, Salt pushed his head and
shoulders through and barked in the hole.
There was a sudden quiet from within. We got down on our knees
and put our ears to the ground to listen. We heard the sound we had
heard once before, the rumbling of approaching thunder. The sound
grew louder as it came nearer, and the earth shook.
We jumped to our feet and prepared to run. Then Salt gave a yelp.
He shot backwards out of the hole and went spinning in the air. He
crashed into Pepper and both dogs went down in a cloud of dust.
Old Moses stuck his head out of the burrow and shook his tusks at
us. Then he retreated and crashed to the bottom of the hole with a
thud.
The dogs picked themselves up from the dust. They were shivering
from the shock. Salt limped over to Nigel, but Pepper dove angrily into
the hole, pushing his way in until only his tail was left wagging in the air.
Again the deep, expectant silence. Pepper was older and wiser than
Salt. He did not bark in the hole. He listened, as we did, to the start of
the rumbling that would warn us of the approaching thunder. We heard
it coming, the ground shaking from its force, and we jumped back as
before.
Pepper wriggled out of the hole and sprang away from the mouth of
the den at the very last second. With a loud whooshing sound, Old
Moses shot out of the hole and into the air. Pepper had timed the
moment just right. He leapt onto the old warthog's back and sank his
teeth into the massive mane. They landed ten yards away from us.
Pepper was still on top, trying desperately to sink his killer fangs into
the warthog's thick neck.
Old Moses charged on through the grassland. We waited for him to
turn around and come charging back to his den.
It took us a moment to realize that he had no intention of returning to
his hole. Then we ran.
Salt had by now fully recovered from shock and he dashed forward to
help his brother. Then Old Moses stopped so suddenly that Pepper flew
off his back and went crashing into the dust. Old Moses veered to the
right and made for the first line of bush, about half a mile away along
the river valley. When the dust cleared, we saw Pepper pick himself up
and go furiously after Old Moses, with Salt right behind him.
We ran after them. I stepped into a mole hole and fell down. Nigel
was fifty paces behind me and doing his best to keep up. I stopped to
wait for him. He was panting heavily, and his arms and his legs were
almost black with sweat and dust.
"Shall we go home now?" I asked while he caught his breath.
"No." His face was red with excitement. "We almost have him now."
"But he is gone. We'll never see him again."
"We shall," he said. "The dogs will catch him now."
"It will be dark soon," I pleaded. "We must go home."
He looked around and for the first time seemed to realize where he
was. The sun was sinking over the hills and we were still miles away
from home. Way up in the east, thunderclouds poured from the
mountains into the valleys. Lightning flashed and thunder clashed.
There was the smell of dust in the air, a sign that the rain had started
its gradual descent into the plains.
I worried about flash floods. I worried about the river flooding.
"We must go home now," I said to Nigel.
"But the dogs," he said. "We must get the dogs."
"It will soon be dark," I told him.
"We must get the dogs," he insisted. "We can't go home without
them."
We ran on.
The old warthog had disappeared in the forest. Salt and Pepper dove
in after him. We came up to the first line of trees. I stepped on a thorn
and sat down to take it out. It was a long and hard acacia thorn and it
had gone through my foot. I called to Nigel to stop and help me take it
out, but he had already disappeared into the forest after the dogs.
I pulled out the thorn, then rubbed leaves on the puncture to stop
the bleeding. My foot was extremely painful. I could not run any more.
I called out for Nigel. There was no reply. I limped into the forest after
him. It was gloomy and silent except for the crickets now rising to sing
their eerie night songs.
The sudden silence was frightening. With growing panic, I finally
woke up to something that had been nagging me since the whole affair
with Old Moses had started. It was the silent and savage way the
Alsatian dogs had gone after their prey. They were trained attack dogs,
not hunting dogs. Unlike the jimis, they had not raved and ranted
during the attack on the warthog. They had not uttered a single bark
during the whole chase, and they were dead silent now. The jimis
would have made enough noise to scare the whole forest. The jimis
would have been easy to follow. But the Alsatians were impossible to
follow in the thick forest.
I limped on, calling for Nigel with mounting alarm. The forest was
dead still. Darkness was closing in fast. I walked on. Lighting flashed,
throwing grotesque shadows into the trees around me. A sudden
thunderclap echoed eerily through the undergrowth. I was petrified
with fear. I was about to turn round and run home when I heard a
muffled sound in the undergrowth and stopped to listen. The forest
was quite still. A sharp cry cut into the night, a frightened sound that
sounded like a sheep that was about to have its throat cut. Then
silence.
"Nigel?" I called out. "Is that you, Nigel?"
There was no reply. I heard stealthy movements up ahead. Then
silence. Fear tore at my stomach — a cold, screaming fear that filled my
mouth and made it impossible to breathe. I moved on slowly. It was
nearly dark now.
Lightning lit up the night, blinding and illuminating at the same time.
In its terrible light, I saw a large black thing lying on the ground.
I stopped. My fear said to run home and get help. But my mind told
me no one would dare come to the forest after dark. The soldiers had
warned us against it. The soldiers had made it very clear that anyone
found in the forest after dark would be shot dead.
I approached the thing lying there on the ground. Then I recognized it.
READ ON ...
| For young Kariuki, life in a small village in central Kenya is one great adventure. And when he meets Nigel life becomes even more interesting. Nigel is from England and he has come to visit his great grandfather, the fearsome Bwana Ruin who owns the farm where all the villagers work. The villagers call Nigel the mzungu boy, and they view him with suspicion and fear. Nevertheless, Kariuki becomes friends with Nigel and the two spend happy days exploring the forest together. Then one day the two boys decide to hunt down Old Moses, the biggest, ugliest, oldest and meanest warthog in the forest. The hunt takes them deeper into the jungle than Kariuki has ever gone, and his beloved forest becomes a frightening place, filled with dangerous creatures, including the mau-mau, the mysterious men who have guns and are plotting against Bwana Ruin and the white soldiers. And when Nigel suddenly disappears, Kariuki realizes that it is up to him to save his friend. |
| The Mzungu Boy |
| ISBN 0-88899-653-5 |
| The Mzungu Boy groundwood books 2005 |
| Meja Mwangi's novel captures a child's-eye view of village life in Kenya in the late 1950s - a time of innocence, wild beauty, and the growing violence that would change the entire structure of colonial Africa. |
| The Mzungu Boy |
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| click here to REVIEW THIS BOOK |
| US $ 7.95 |
| EUR. 5,99 |
| "[The] Mzungu Boy, with its play of light and dark, innocence and experience, goodness and evil, is a superb achievement on the part of its author, Meja Mwangi." - Globe and Mail |
| "Mwangi's characterization is accurate and insightful..." - The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books |
illustration by Kirui Koskei
| "...many readers will easily connect with the friendship, the exhilarating freedom of exploring nature, and the boys' bewilderment at the adult world." - Booklist |
| The Mzungu Boy is listed among American Library Association's 100 top Children's Books for 2006 |
| (c) Copyright 2007 by HM Inc. + Meja Mwangi |