Echoes on Kirinyaga

Fog coiled around Kirinyaga's peaks like a serpent. Nimonia's fingers trembled - not from the cold, but the uncanny sense of being watched. High above them, a lone chege circled. Urgency drives them, inwardly; they know their best chance to stay ahead is to put as much distance between them and their expected pursuers. Those who surely would come for them. There are hiking trails along the route, and Paul decides they should use them too. Their original plan was to cling to the rock face and enjoy the ascent.

But ever since they discussed the perceived trouble, they know it will become their reality. Paul scans the terrain as he walks, distracted by his concern for the weather. Watching out for signs of the encroaching mist. Already faint tendrils of it were rising around them. They must find a nice shelter soon before the visibility is gone. He voices his concern. “We need to find a shelter quickly. If this mist-enshrouded us, we'll be in for trouble.” She grabbed his hand and answered.

“Yes, and quickly, I saw on that map, at the hiking camp that there's a cabin on this route. Can't exactly say where though.”

Stumbling over a loose rock, he grunts and mutters, "This routes a death wish." He said while testing before stepping on another brittle-looking rock lying in the path. Nimonia scoffed: "Says the man who picked the route. Got a martyr complex or just bad taste?" Choosing not to answer that jibe, he quickened his pace. After a while, he said, "Yeah, that cabin, I saw its indication too. It must be somewhere around here. I think, around that bend coming up, otherwise, we should look for something like where we camped last night. As they rush toward the bend, Nimonia suddenly cries out, her hand slipping out of his hold.

“What's the matter?”

Bewildered, he turns towards her.

“Ooch! I twisted my ankle as I stepped on that rock there. I thought it was firm, but it gives way.”

He goes down on his haunches in front of her.

“Climb aboard; we'll look at it when we find a safe place. I'll carry you along for now. This fog is rising rapidly and it concerns me. Hold on now.”

She's not too heavy, and he makes good time. As they rounded the bend, she cried out again.

“That's it! On your right.”

He lifted his head as he was concentrating on the rocky path. Thinking it was the cabin. But no, it was a deep indentation on the rock face with an overlapping ledge, a good enough shelter for now.

Usually, the mist lifts by the afternoon. Then they can search for the cabin.

This high up on the mountain, predators roam. Leopards hunt baboons, hyenas, and wild dogs run amok. Hunting bucks and lesser game. Lions are on the prowl, too. It is best to spend the night under a roof or in a cave, for safety's sake. The previous night, hearing the cry of a doomed baboon was too clear and disturbing. They could also hear the bleating of a buck falling before a predator's onslaught. The cackle of hyenas around a kill, and the ferocious bark of the wild dog. A disturbing and frightening experience.

The jungle's breath is very active at night. Being a native to the lands, he knew that feeling intimately. He had never previously been on the mountain or even grown up near it. It's just that you knew what you knew, related from legends being told, and a sense of belonging. Most Africans, especially the older generation, believe in the spirits of the wild. Carrying it over in fireside stories, the verbal continuation of delivering, and teaching, which is mostly the African way of spreading the legends. It makes the African child aware, so they know and accept what is known to them. Paul was a child of that soil and a product of a grandparent who was extremely loyal to the traditions. He told them of the legends around the fire, so they came to believe in them. So he decides that a call to the spiritual realm must be enacted. With Nimonia hurt and the thugs on their trail. He's not even sure about the thugs; it's just that he knows it's imperative to ask for guidance and protection. However, for this, he needs Nimonia's consent and presence. For it to work, they must be united as one. He knew how to perform these rites. He was an avid pupil at the feet of his grandpa. "Let's look at your leg while we still see around us.”

Untying the laces on her lightweight boots, he slips them off her feet.

“Which side is hurt?”

She pointed at her left leg, and yeah, the ankle was swollen.

“We need to get a bandage on it, quickly.”

He'd made sure to pack bandages in the first aid pouch, just for such an eventuality. Luckily, she wears boots, which counter the severity of her misfortune.

With the stretch bandages, he'd packed some ointment, and he first massaged it in before wrapping the ankle tightly. He shifted Nimonia to sit upright against the rock wall and placed her backpack underneath the hurt ankle. Then he sank next to her, and as he looked around them, the mist was upon them. He pulled her close for added support, saying.

“Come here, babe.” Her head upon his chest, they settle down to wait.

Joseph's chosen route for them is straight up the mountain, the Sirimon route. Upon this route, four-wheel drive vehicles can ascend to a certain level.

He then pressures the other two into service. The detectives each grab a folding chair to sit under the shade of a huge pine. Already late in the afternoon, the underlings make haste to peg the tents and get the fire going.

Luckily, they've brought wood from the hiking camp along. Rookie Tempo set himself the task of preparing dinner. Being an erstwhile chef's apprentice and general helper in the Panari, one of Nairobi's hotels, he learned a great deal about cooking.

Damon goes to sit down a little ways off from where the two detectives sit. Without any order or words uttered, the lines had been drawn and borders set. After dinner, the detectives retire for the night. But, not without instruction.

“Listen, we'll start early tomorrow. Clean up and pack away all the things we've used. We don't want to waste time with such banalities come morning." Damon felt the antagonism towards them exuded from the man. He knew they wouldn't ever become friends or colleagues in good standing. Again, he reminds himself to stay wary and vigilant, and not from those they're looking for. After doing the chores, they too retire. He finds Tembo, an easy-going fellow, and decides then and there to make him a friend.

The afternoon greets them with a bright sunny sky. Paul sees far from his perch, but not all he wants to see. He stood on the ledge under which they'd been waiting for the mist to lift. He was out looking to find a cane or a thick stick to use as a walking stick.

Wanting to see the surrounding area from the top was what let him climb. Thinking it would be possible to see the cabin or a sign of a clearing indicating it's there.

However, the vegetation was thick all around, and he couldn't see anything. Disappointed, he climbed down. While trekking down, he heard Nimonia scream. He slides down, rushing to her side.

Approaching, he saw her throwing rocks at something. Drawing near, he could hear her screams. “Snake, snake,” while she keeps on hurling rocks at it. Once near, he sees the most agitated black Kamau Cuthu he has ever seen, confronting her. Not that he's seen many, but this Nyoka stands upon its tail end. The body is high in the air as if it wants to look them in the eye. Its mouth agape, shows the black inner lining, a dark chasm ready to pull you in. The forked tongue darted in and out, left to right. Its head, shaped like a coffin, weaves from site to site.

Wow! Paul thought aghast; a message or a threat? His timely arrival seemed to distract the snake, which was ready to strike. With the cane in hand, he whipped it, striking a glancing blow across its neck.

Hissing, agitated, Kamau Cuthu shifts attention, directing the menace at him. It retracted, coiling upon itself, cold eyes fastened on Paul. Paul heard somewhere, he couldn't remember where at that moment, as the danger was imminent. However, when a snake does that, a formidable strike is intended, he remembers.

He lifted his arm for another blow when it launched at him. It was with blinding speed, but Nimonia, still throwing rocks, hit it the moment it uncoiled. Her missile lifted the half-coiled body, shifting it back a foot.

Thus, the strike misses Paul, saving him a fraction of an inch from death. Desperately, he lashed out at it, hitting it over the body, the head, everywhere, although most missed it. Nyoka decided he had had enough and speedily sailed away to lick his wounds elsewhere. Paul embraces her in thanks. Then announce, “We need to get out of here.”

Handing her the cane, while grabbing both backpacks, they lit out of there. On route to a higher elevation, they find the cabin.

“Hold it here,” he stops her. “Let me enter first to inspect if it's safe in there. We don't want no more surprises.” Paul enters cautiously, making sure nobody and nothing dangerous is in there. Satisfied, he fetches Nimonia and makes her comfy inside. Then he starts preparations for the night stay.