We imagine Thula and Mrs. Fish chatted about New York during those three days as they waited for the two ransom letters to be delivered to Lokunja and Gardens and for the government and Pexton to make their move. Thula would have felt the need to keep the mood in the hut cordial so the Americans would not be in a permanent state of fright. No matter what their state was, we’re confident they were well fed, because the wives of the Five set aside meals for their husbands every day, which their husbands took to the Nangi family’s hut, saying something had come up, they needed to eat with their friends while they discussed it. The wives had shrugged; they’d heard that too many times. In those three days, Thula did not come out of the hut. It must have been the decision of the Five. She would have wanted to come out at the end of the day if she could—she loved sitting with her women friends and their children on verandas in the evenings.
While Mr. Fish and his wife were in the hut, the Five must have taken turns guarding them, likely two at a time, guns in hand. The rest of them carried on around us so we would not suspect that anything was awry. And we never suspected; nothing seemed peculiar; their manners were ordinary. We did not notice when they went to Gardens and Lokunja to drop off the ransom letters the government claims Thula wrote.
* * *
—
Pexton wanted to heed the letters’ warning that soldiers be kept out of the negotiations. It wanted its man and his wife free to return to their children in America, it wanted no more blood on its hands, Pexton had not come to our country to get involved in our lunacy and carnage. We heard that His Excellency’s men in Bézam told the Pexton men that the decision was not Pexton’s to make: His Excellency did not take take orders, particularly from women. They say Pexton’s leader in New York called His Excellency and asked again that soldiers not be sent to Kosawa, Pexton would give the kidnappers whatever they wanted. Some say Pexton’s leader warned His Excellency that, if he sent the soldiers and there was bloodshed, Pexton would have to cease doing business with our country—Pexton held the highest regard for all human life. His Excellency is said to have laughed and told Pexton’s leader to stop wasting his time with stupid bluffs.
Pexton, having no choice, sent its men along with the soldiers.
* * *
—
They arrived in a truck and parked it at the entrance to our village. Seeing them, we began spilling out of our huts, confused, not daring to go too close. We held our children’s hands, though we did not need to worry about their getting close—they’d been born with a fear of soldiers, they knew from birth what men with guns could do to them.
A Pexton man in a black suit spoke into a bullhorn. “We hear you have our people,” he said. “Bring them out now and we’ll give you whatever you want.”
It was early evening. Panic arose. We did not understand what he meant.
Who was in the village? Laborers? Supervisors? Why would Pexton workers be in Kosawa? No one thought it could be Mr. Fish. Only later did we realize that none of the Five had come out of their huts when the truck entered the village.
A soldier took the bullhorn. “Everyone get out of your huts and put your hands up right now,” he said. “Come out before we start shooting.”
Thula must have heard them. Did she consider leaving the hut with her hands up? She knew what the government would do if she did. She knew the soldiers wouldn’t simply free the Americans and tell the Five never to do it again. Versed in the ways of Bézam, she knew what their punishments would be: a short prison sentence for her, execution for her friends. She must have known the Five wouldn’t go down easy.
* * *
—
Standing before the soldiers, we saw it coming. Another massacre. Except this time we were warned. Sonni, barely any eyesight left, cane in one hand, walked close to the truck and asked the men, “Can you tell us what’s happening? Who are you looking for?”
The soldier with the bullhorn said, “I’ll say it one more time: everyone, get whatever you need and clear this village immediately.”
We ran into our huts and began packing up whatever we could.
We yelled at our wives to stop crying, screamed at our children to put on their shoes. The sick and the old forgot how to be slow. On their mother’s backs, tired babies whimpered and yawned; their hunger would have to wait. We threw items into baskets and raffia bags. Some of us packed too much, others too little. We all thought of something that we might need but had no time to search for: the soldier had given us five minutes.