Tag Archives: african stories

The magic sweet shop appeared once every year. It landed with ringing bells as creaking sugar glass doors opened everywhere a Wooloon child  dwelt. Then when all the free candy was expunged, they’d jingle again and the shop would disappear.

Baraza pondered on this, watching Mrs. Shu sing on about primary and secondary colors. Oddly enough, her head bobbing rhymes didn’t have their usual effect on him. Admittedly, there were more important things to consider today.

A train whistle screamed under the blanket of night as Mr. Munene dropped dead on his study floor. His soul was oblivious of the interruption as he stood up to investigate the disturbance.

Beyond the window was a most astonishing sight. A black train crowned in a billowing ghoulish white mane of smoke tore across a winding bridge of milky white bones. Although it was only minutes to the witching hour, the night sky was burnished with ghostly blue light.

“Today’s the day I change.” The grand wizened one quipped with a nauseating grin.

The gathering was confused. Was the grand well? Certainly she had to be ill for never had the malevolent one dared make a jest. Least of all on this their hallowed day.

Her revolting smirk widened, exposing blackened gums and rusty fangs. “Sisters!  Tell me. What shall I transform into first? A rat? A hat? Perhaps a fat cat?” The grand wizened one teased with a hoot.

At her banter, the appalling cackling of a thousand hags ricocheted off the sewer walls. Yet not a peep was heard in the town above. For where witches brood, black magic seals ears good.

As quickly as she had broken character, the grand’s spindly finger returned to her cracked lips, replanting her scowl. A hush smothered the crowing.

“Listen and listen good,l. A wizened must do more than distort her mood if she wishes to hunt for food.” She exclaimed, inflecting the last word with a scream of delight.

“She must croon and frown, pucker brows and howl, as she transforms into horrors on hallowed ground.” The grand screeched. “Sisters! Observe!” The grand ordered.

It was a good thing that the crowd was well below the ground, for the hag, though proud, looked quite silly going round. She hopped and twirled, with a pop from her wand. Then she grimaced and sulked, turned her head all about. When she was done, she sang a horrible chant.

It went a little like this.

We nasty, ghastly, horridly unsightly,

Wizened must always be a terror, unattractive.

Hideous, piteous, terribly tedious,

We must always trap, with a voice so mellifluous.

Terrible, skeletal, positively horrible,

Wizened never gaudy, kitschy or showy.

For a shivering, quivering, shuddering, trembling,

We shall oblige, give the children a frightening.

When she was done with her wailing song, the gathering was surprised to find that she’d morphed into a dirty little rat. A flea bitten parasite that kept scratching, gnawing, turning this way and that. Still her wand and robe were neatly transformed. All that is, apart from her hat. It came flying from above and fell with a plop. Trapping her inside the smelly round top.

All of a sudden, not quite unlike a gathering wave, deafening cackling broke out. The grand was embarrassed of course, very displeased, as she struggled to escape the hat’s smell of cheese. Then finally free her wand gave a spark, turned three witches’ into bats as silence returned to the city of rats.

“Now. Take your positions!” She squealed as the gathering obliged.

Footsteps splashed against raw sewage and thundered over pipes and grimy floors. Before long, they stood as battlements of pointed hats and warts. “Sing you wretched scum of the earth! Sing and let the sewers ring with rats!”

The grand ordered as the hags obeyed, hollering the grand’s enchantment in chorus. As they did, bright green sparks of light zapped around everywhere like bees, shrinking the wizened lot down to their knees. Some yelled while others shrieked, but the grand was altogether quite pleased.

Before long, the sewer rang with a thousand rats, squealing and squeaking in utter delight. It was a most terrible sight to behold with a stench that could wake the dead. Again the grand called for silence with her hand and all the rats stilled, looking ahead.

“Listen sisters!” The grand squeaked. “We shall terrorize them these pests. Those rancid insects. We shall bite their silly little legs. We will flood the streets with the smell of cheese and send them a scattering as we please.”

She pointed to the left flank. “You! To the boiler rooms. Quickly!” The grand ordered as hundreds of mice fled up the pipes.

She then turned to the right. “The kitchens and rooms must feel our wrath too. Spit in their soups and soil their boots. Go!” The grand ordered as more rats ran up the pipes.

She glared at the remaining number. “You my pretties have the best job of all. You shall gnaw at their cupboards and chairs, scamper around and give them a scare. A couple of you should jump in their hair. Bite their toes and ruin their clothes. Let them rue the day they let us rot in these holes.” The grand ordered as the last battalion left up the pipes.

Content with the madness she had spun, the grand made her way up the pipes as well. She scampered over grimy plastic and rotting walls, cackling and chuckling, though not very loud. She knew the sewers well for the wizened had lived off the rotting hell. But she was no longer content with the foul depths below. It was time for the humans to feel her blow.

Outside in the glow of the hallowed moon, rats ran a mock in the town of Wooloon. Some screamed and stomped their feet, while others ran hollering to the trees. The grand snickered, snorted and joked, then she danced around screaming “Bite their toes!”

It was a pity that she did all of those. If she hadn’t, she might, I suppose, have seen the army that gathered close, smacking snouts, waiting to pounce.  For from their den came no less than ten, very skinny little cats from the hearths of men. They purred with delight as men took flight and stalked, joining the dance of the night.

The first to be attacked was the grand. Oblivious of the cats that prowled. She was gobbled up entirely, coat and all, not even a nail was left in the alley. Next the cats rounded up the rats. Picking off the fattest of the bunch. What began in flight and cowering, had soon become a feast of meowing.

Felines gobbled five, sometimes ten, licking  lips and swaying hips. They vacuumed the streets, roads and holes, no stone did they leave unrolled. Until at last the cats were fat, fed on the stinky rats. The town rejoiced, returning home, as the cats fell asleep, back by their hearths and mats.

One evening as the weaver birds sang to send the sun to sleep, Mueni’s grandmother called her and her sisters to the kitchen.

“The firewood is almost done and the men are about to return the cows. Quick, go and fetch some firewood from the big rock before night falls. But remember; do not touch anything in or around the rock. Pick only the wood from the trees that grow at the mouth of the cave.”

The three girls nodded, took some rope to bind the firewood and raced towards the big rock.

Mumbe, one of the three, knew the way well, so she steered them in the right direction. She was the oldest and showed them the wood that had dried up well enough to burn for longer.

Mwende was a little younger and used the panga, sharpened by her father to cut down the dried tree branches. She knew her way around a rope and fastened the firewood nicely into three bundles when she was done.

Mueni, the youngest, was more fascinated by the big rock. She stood staring at it, wondering how a rock could grow to be so big.

“What do rocks eat to get so big Mumbe?” Mueni asked surveying the big rock.

“Rocks do not eat silly. Now help me put this firewood on my back, the sun is about to go to sleep.”

Mueni obeyed and helped lift the firewood up onto Mumbe’s back. Then she returned her attention to the big rock.

“Is it magic that makes them grow so big? Is it the work of a witch Mwende?” Mueni asked getting close enough to touch the rock.

Mwende quickly slapped Mueni’s hand away.

“Wee ii… Do not touch it! Do not even go near it! Remember what susu told us. Now hurry and help me get this firewood on my back.” Mwende ordered her.

Dejectedly, Mueni obeyed and helped lift the firewood onto Mwende’s back.

As she did, a small smooth beautiful pebble fell from Mwende’s bundle of firewood and rested in between Mueni’s legs.

Then surprisingly, the pebble began to sing.

“Take me, Mueni take me. To the warmth of fire take me. Do not leave me in the cold my dear. Pick me up and take me home.”

Mueni looked up at her sisters, perplexed.

“Did you hear that? The rock; it sang.” Mueni said as Mumbe and Mwende laughed.

“Wee ii… stop your silly stories. Hurry up and pick your firewood.” Mumbe ordered and she and Mwende started to walk away.

Hurriedly Mueni picked up the small bunch of firewood as well as the singing pebble and raced after her sisters. Though as they walked on, the pebble started to get heavier and heavier in Mueni’s hand.

There, clasped between her tiny fingers, the pebble began to sing again.

“Carry me, carry me, in your pocket carry me, let me rest there warm and happy my dear, put me in your pocket.”

Again Mueni looked to her sisters to see if they had heard the pebble sing.

“There it goes again. The rock, it sang, it asked me to put it in my pocket and it’s so heavy.” Mueni said as Mumbe and Mwende laughed.

“Wee ii… your stories are funny, but we shall be late. Hurry, the sun is about to go to sleep.” Mwende said as the two older girls hastened their speed.

Mueni followed, dropping the pebble into her pocket.

Small as the pebble was, it seemed to get heavier and heavier with each step Mueni took, so much so that it made her knees buckle as she walked.

There, nestled in the warmth of Mueni’s pocket, the pebble began to sing again.

“Carry me, carry me, on your back carry me, let me lie like a baby warm and happy I’ll be. Come on my dear, carry me on your back.”

This time Mueni did not tell her sisters, for their steps had grown quick and their patience thin. They did not believe her anyway.

Immediately she put the pebble on her back, the weight of it was so much that it made Mueni have to sit down for a while.

“My back, my back, Mumbe my back… the weight is too much, come and carry me.” Mueni cried out trying to massage her back for the pebble’s growing weight pressed hard on her skin.

“Wee ii… stop complaining and hurry up. Can’t you see that the night is coming?” Mumbe shouted not looking back.

“But my back, my back, Mwende my back… the weight is too much, come and carry me.” Mueni persisted.

“Wee ii… yours was the smallest bunch,” said Mwende, “Hurry up before the hyenas come for you.”

Frightened at the mention of hyenas, Mueni struggled to get up, but she could not move. It felt like a mountain rested on her shoulders now, pressing her down into the ground.

The tiny little pebble laughed, then it started to sing again.

“Silly girl, don’t you cry. It’s you who took me from my resting place. You put me in your pocket, yes, but I will not leave my mother land. The other girl tried but failed. She became the big rock instead. Now you shall join her here as well, right here with me and her, oh yes.”

Then the pebble began to grow, enveloping her.

Mueni tried to scream out for her sisters to stop and help, but her mouth was quickly covered in rock. Mumbe and Mwende were too distracted to see, for they were running now, running to avoid the darkness.

“Hurry up Mueni!” Mumbe shouted back.

“There is the village, I can see susu.” Mwende added.

 If they had just stopped for a moment, turned to give Mueni a fraction of attention, they would have seen it. Mueni, the youngest of the three was slowly transforming into a rock and growing steadily bigger by the second.

The pebble had succeeded. It had swallowed its second victim.

Once upon a time, a hunter left his home to go and hunt bush rats in the night, for that is when they left their dens. As he was leaving, he instructed his youngest daughter Cheruiyot, who had a habit of sneaking away without telling anyone where she had gone, not to leave the house, especially at night.

“Beware the Chemosit,” the hunter said, “For it calls with its song and loves to eat children. Stay until I return and we shall have meat for supper. Leave and it shall be the very last thing you do.” The hunter warned Cheruiyot and taking his bow and arrow, left for the dark woods.

Now Cheruiyot was hungry, for it was the time of drought and they were down to one meal a day. So their mother went to the kitchen to prepare calabashes of millet porridge.

However, she warned Cheruiyot before she left, just as her father had.

“Beware the Chemosit,” she said, “For it calls with its song and loves to eat children. So stay until I return and we shall have porridge as we wait. Leave and it shall be the very last thing you do.” The mother said as she returned the door and left for the kitchen.

It was not long after both her parents had left that Cheruiyot heard music playing in the distance. It began with the beating of drums; very soothing and soft.

“Do you hear it Chemesunde? Do you hear the music?” Cheruiyot asked as her legs started to jerk around to the beat.

“There’s no music.” Chemesunde her sister said leaning against the wall to get comfortable.

“There is, I can hear it. Where is it coming from?” Cheruiyot asked angling herself up on a stool to look outside the window.

Then she saw it.

It was a sparkling effervescent red glow past the cover of trees. The embers gave out such a beautiful light that flicked orange, then red, then purple, then all three at once.

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

 “Look, what’s that?” Cheruiyot asked her sister.

Chemesunde hurriedly snatched her away from the window.

“Wee ii… didn’t you hear what you were told? Sit down and wait!” Chemesunde said as Cheruyot’s body was now swaying to the sound of a stringed instrument.

“Why are you dancing?” Chemesunde asked her.

“I’m not dancing!” Cheruiyot shot back swaying from side to side.

“Yes you are!” Chemesunde said. “Stop that!”

“Chemesunde, are the neighbors having a party?” Cheruiyot asked returning to the window, her head swaying to the beat of the drums.

To her amazement, more lights had appeared where the first had been, flashing and shooting about like stars. There was also the sound of laughter beyond the trees.

In the midst of the laughter, Cheruiyot heard her mother and father laughing.

“I can’t believe it!” She spat. “They left us to go dance at the party. They lied to us!” Cheruiyot said as she raced to the door.

Chemesunde stopped her, trying hard to restrain her younger sister from bobbing her head to the beat of nonexistent drums.

“Wee ii… stop lying. They wouldn’t do that. I know you’re hungry but sit down and wait as you were told.” Chemesunde insisted.

Cheruiyot’s stomach growled defiantly. “But you can clearly hear them laughing.”

“Wee ii… stop lying! I can’t hear anything but the sound of crickets. Sit down!” Chemesunde said.

“You’re the one who’s lying, just like them. The music is so loud you can hear it from across the ridge and look, look at the lights.” Cheruiyot spat.

“Music…? Lights…?” Chemesunde asked, humoring her.

“Yes music and light, there are drums and stringed instruments… It’s so beautiful. Don’t pretend you can’t you hear it. I know you can you see them.” Cheruiyot said exasperated as she forced the door open and ran outside.

Chemesunde followed after her and grabbed her hand.

“Wee ii… stop being silly and come back inside!” Chemesunde ordered her.

Cheruiyot shook her head and pulled her hand free defiantly. “If you’re not going to go, then you can stay. Where there is a party, there must be food.”

Cheruiyot said as she ran in the direction of the music.

For a while, she could hear Chemesunde’s voice calling after her. Then the music got loud, too loud in fact.

The drums seemed to explode around her as Cheruyot’s body involuntarily danced to the hypnotic beat.

“Mama! Baba! Where are you? What is so funny? Where is the food?” She shouted but her voice was drowned out by the music as her body seemed to move of its own accord.

Then she saw it in the distance, a horror she had heard of but scarcely believed.

It was half man and half bird and stood tall as a tree on one leg. Its beaked mouth was open, glowing red like a lamp. The creature used a spear-like stick to beckon her to come closer and that is when she noticed the other children dancing around her.

They were all relatively her age, short, and looking as confused and frightened. The music seemed to have taken over their bodies, making them dance helplessly towards the creature.

Cheruiyot screamed, suddenly aware that her father and mother were nowhere to be found. However, the music that was coming from the creature’s open mouth drowned out all the children’s cries.

Why couldn’t no one hear them? Why couldn’t they resist the call of the Chemosit?

In the noise, the creature’s mouth widened and began to suck air inside as the children were pulled into its mouth by an invisible force one by one.

Then it turned to Cheruiyot and swallowed her as the drums stilled, the strings hushed and nothing but the sound of crickets was heard in the empty clearing.

The End