Chapter 1
People say girls can't be warriors, that they're only meant for homemaking. Just imagine being the oldest girl in a family with only sons; it's tough to have big dreams, especially when your dad really wanted all his children to be boys.
Wambui came into the world in Tetu Village. Her parents, Kinywa and Wangari, had been hoping for a child ever since they got married. They tried everything, from herbalists to prayers, but nothing worked. Then one day, Nderitu, a seer from a nearby village, showed up in Tetu. Kinywa, feeling the pressure from his father for grandchildren, decided to seek Nderitu's advice, hoping for a change in their luck.
"Hey there, come on in. I see a mix of good and bad things coming your way," Nderitu greeted Kinywa, who was a bit unsure about what to make of it all. But Nderitu urged him to stay and sit down in the dimly lit hut, with only the faint light of glowing charcoals to see by. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke and tobacco, and a calabash of muratina sat in one corner.
"You must be Kinywa, right?" Nderitu asked. "So, you're curious about having kids, especially hoping for a boy," he kept on. Kinywa felt a bit shocked at how much the seer seemed to know. Since everyone in the village knew about his childless situation, he thought Nderitu might have just picked it up from gossip and wanted to trick him.
"I'm not trying to trick you. Nobody informed me; the gods reveal everything about you or anyone who asks for my help," Nderitu replied, almost like he could read Kinywa's mind. Kinywa was taken aback, wondering how this old man could figure out what he was thinking. He wasn't one to believe in seers; he thought it was all a bit silly.
"How do you know what's in my head, Nderitu? This is pretty interesting," he said, feeling intrigued despite his doubts.
"Do not fret, for the gods only reveal to me what is necessary, nothing more," Nderitu reassured him. With a sigh of relief, Kinywa inquired, "So, what steps must I take to have a son?" "Is your sole desire to have a child, or specifically a son?" Nderitu questioned. Despite Kinywa's longing for a son, he understood he couldn't bargain with the gods; he had to accept what they granted. "The gods will bless you with offspring; whether sons or daughters, that is their decision. Be grateful for their assistance," Nderitu advised. Kinywa had to embrace the divine will and was overjoyed at the prospect of having children. Following the exchange of two white cocks and two young goats, the seer provided him and his wife with herbs.
True to Nderitu's prophecy, Wangari became pregnant, sparking celebrations throughout the village. The news of her pregnancy brought joy and disbelief to those who had previously mocked her barrenness. The same women who once taunted her fertility now showered her with gifts in anticipation of the new arrival. Kinywa sacrificed two bulls and invited the entire village to a grand feast.
Nine months later, Wangari went into labor, and before long, a beautiful baby girl named Wambui entered the world.
Nineteen years later, Wambui had grown into a young lady that caught the eye of many village men. Her father, Nderitu, started receiving visits from some of these men discussing dowry. Despite the attention, Wambui showed no interest in any of the suitors. She found ways to discourage them, either by fleeing or behaving in a manner that put them off.
Marriage was not a priority for her at he moment. She took pleasure in delivering food to the village fighters and harbored dreams of joining their ranks. Her younger brother, Kamau, who was already seen as a warrior at 17, always teased her, suggesting she stick to cooking for the fighters and maintain a good reputation to avoid remaining single.
"You know, if I were a boy, I'd be a better warrior than you. You can't even fight," she told her brother one day while unpacking the food she brought for him. "Even as a girl, I can still fight better than you," she added.
"You're just fooling yourself. You have no teacher. There's no way a woman can fight better than a man," he mocked.
"Why not prove it now? Fight me, and if I win, you cook your own food for a week," she dared.
"I won't be caught fighting with a woman, Wambui. It's beneath me. Stick to cooking," he proudly declared, kicking the pot of food aside, showing no interest. He then walked off to sit with the other boys, making fun of her and cracking jokes.
Wambui carried the pot home angrily, determined to teach him a lesson. She wanted to show him that women can do more than just kitchen work.
"Wambui, why so mad?" her mom asked when she got home. She didn't answer, just put the pot away and went to her hut.
She didn't come out for dinner, and her mom didn't ask any questions.
The next day, when she woke up, she devised a plan: she would find a way to learn to fight better than any boy in the village. Since they wouldn't let her train with them, she'd have to do it secretly. She'd go to bring them food, stay the whole session, and watch what they learn. Then, she'd pretend to go home but instead go near the river where there was a hidden clearing and practice what she learned. Of course, relying solely on memory was not the best, but she slowly learned all their major moves. Whatever she'd forget or not understand, she'd wait for the next day when the boys were practicing to watch.
She struck up a friendship with a lad named Njihia, who harbored feelings for her. Playing along, she feigned interest in him, engaging him in discussions about fighting. Njihia, assuming her curiosity, willingly shared his knowledge, unaware of her true intentions. With Njihia's newfound insights, her skills flourished, but despite surpassing most boys in the village, she needed an opponent to gauge her progress. But she couldn't ask a guy to spar with her; they'd mock her and walk away, so she didn't bother. She'd have to bug her brother until he got riled up and then she'd have a go at wrestling with him.
