"It must be so," he said firmly. "Is not Kirinyaga a Utopia? Why else would anyone not wish to live here?"
"I want you to think back, Ndemi, to the days before you started coming to my boma every day."
"I can remember," he said. "It was not that long ago."
"Good," I replied. "Now, can you also remember what you wanted to do?"
He smiled. "To play. And to hunt."
I shook my head. "I do not mean what you wanted to do then," I said. "Can you remember what you wanted to do when you were a man?"
He frowned. "Take a wife, I suppose, and start a shamba."
"Why do you frown, Ndemi?" I asked.
"Because that is not really what I wanted," he replied. "But it was all I could think of to answer."
"Think harder," I said. "Take as much time as you wish, for this is very important. I will wait."
We sat in silence for a long moment, and then he turned to me.
"I do not know. But I would not have wanted to live as my father and my brothers live."
"What would you have wanted?"
He shrugged helplessly. "Something different."
"Different in what way?"
"I do not know," he said again. "Something more..." - he searched for the word - "more exciting." He consider his answer, then nodded, satisfied. "Even the impala grazing in the fields lives a more exciting life, for he must ever be wary of the hyena."
"But wouldn't the impala rather that there were no hyenas?" I suggested.
"Of course," said Ndemi, "for then he could not be killed and eaten." He furrowed his brow in thought. "But if there were no hyenas, he would not need to be fleet of foot, and if he were no longer fleet of foot, he would no longer be an impala."
And with that, I began to see the solution.
"So it is the hyena that makes the impala what he is," I said. "And therefore, even something that seems to be a bad or dangerous thing can be necessary to the impala."
He stared at me. "I do not understand, Koriba."
"I think that I must become a hyena," I said thoughtfully.
"Right now?" asked Ndemi excitedly. "May I watch?"
I shook my head. "No, not right now. But soon."
For if it was the threat of the hyena that defined the impala, then I had to find a way to define those young men who had ceased to be true Kikuyus and yet could not leave Kirinyaga.
"Will you have spots and legs and a tail?" asked Ndemi eagerly.
"No," I replied. "But I will be a hyena nonetheless."
"I do not understand," said Ndemi.
"I do not expect you to," I said. "But Murumbi will."
For I realized that what he needed was a challenge that could be provided by only one person on Kirinyaga.
And that person was myself.
###
I sent Ndemi to the village to tell Koinnage that I wanted to address the Council of Elders. Then, later that day, I put on my ceremonial headdress, painted my face to look its most frightening, and, filling my pouch with various charms, I made my way to the village, where Koinnage had assembled all the Elders in his boma. I waited patiently for him to announce that I had important matters to discuss with them - for even the mundumugu may not speak before the paramount chief - and then I got to my feet and faced them.
"I have cast the bones," I said. "I have read the entrails of a goat, and I have studied the pattern of the flies on a newly- dead lizard. And now I know why Ngala walked unarmed among the hyenas, and why Keino and Njupo died."
I paused for dramatic effect, and made sure that I had everyone's attention.
"Tell us who caused the thahu," said Koinnage, "that we may destroy him."
"It is not that simple," I answered. "Hear me out. The carrier of the thahu is Murumbi."
"I will kill him!" cried Kibanja, who had been Ngala's father. "He is the reason my son is dead!"
"No," I said. "You must not kill him, for he is not the source of the thahu. He is merely the carrier."
"If a cow drinks poisoned water, she is not the source of her bad milk, but we must kill her anyway," insisted Kibanja.
"It is not Murumbi's fault," I said firmly. "He is as innocent as your own son, and he must not be killed."
"Then who is responsible for the thahu?" demanded Kibanja. "I will have blood for my son's blood!"
"It is an old thahu, cast upon us by a Maasai back when we still lived in Kenya," I said. "He is dead now, but he was a very clever mundumugu, for his thahu lives on long after him." I paused. "I have fought him in the spirit world, and most of the time I have won, but once in a while my magic is weak, and on those occasions the thahu is visited upon one of our young men."
"How can we know which of our young men bears the thahu?" asked Koinnage. "Must we wait for them to die before we know they have been cursed?"
"There are ways," I answered. "But they are known only to myself. When I have finished telling you what you must do, I will visit all the other villages and seek out the colonies of young men to see if any of them also bears the thahu."
"Tell us what we must do," said old Siboki, who had come to hear me despite the pain in his joints.
"You will not kill Murumbi," I repeated, "for it is not his fault that he carries this thahu. But we do not want him passing it to others, so from this day forward he is an outcast. He must be driven from his hut and never allowed back. Should any of you offer him food or shelter, the same thahu will befall you and your families. I want runners sent to all the nearby villages, so that by tomorrow morning they all know that he must be shunned, and I want them in turn to send out still more runners, so that within three days no village on Kirinyaga will welcome him."
"That is a terrible punishment," said Koinnage, for the Kikuyu are a compassionate people. "If the thahu is not his fault, can we not at least set food out for him at the edge of the village? Perhaps if he comes alone by night, and sees and speaks to no one else, the thahu will remain with him alone."
I shook my head. "It must be as I say, or I cannot promise that the thahu will not spread to all of you."
