Consumed by upholding our grins, we don’t wonder what the next step in the game might be until we look to our right and see Woja Beki walking toward the square, two of the young men who had dragged him to Lusaka’s hut on the night of the village meeting on either side of him. Woja Beki is smiling, the young men are smiling as their steps lock with his, Bongo’s smile broadens, the soldiers smile on, everyone acting cheerful for reasons no one knows except those who started this lethal game.
* * *
—
“Our dear soldiers,” Woja Beki calls out as he hurries toward the front. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”
The soldier with the piglike cheeks shrugs and keeps on smiling.
“How can I waste the time of important men whose jobs don’t allow them even two minutes to spare?” Woja Beki continues. “I’m truly sorry, my dear soldiers. I was visiting a friend, and before I knew it I fell asleep in his house. Fortunately, these fine young men woke me up. They tell me that you’ve come looking for the Pexton men? Is it true what I’m hearing, that they haven’t been seen since they left our village?”
Both of the soldiers nod.
“I’m shocked to hear this. How can it be possible, when they left three days ago? This is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t…I’m just…I have no words. None of this makes any sense. Please, let’s go to my house so we can talk about it,” he says, as he gestures in the direction of his house. “I’m glad my people have been keeping you company, but it’ll be better if we can speak in private, don’t you think?”
The soldiers nod again and turn around to follow Woja Beki.
“If you don’t mind, my dear soldiers, I’m going to bring along these three young men to serve as witnesses to everything I say,” Woja Beki says, as he gestures at Bongo and the two men who just escorted him to the square. “You must understand, a man in my position needs witnesses before he opens his mouth, lest his words be distorted.”
The soldiers look at each other and shrug again, which makes me wonder if they’ve been sent to do nothing but nod and shrug. Looking at them and their air of nonchalance, I realize the men of Kosawa were not unwise to leave their weapons at home—there’ll be no need for spears and machetes in today’s proceedings. The soldiers have guns, holstered on their right hips, but they look nothing like men who possess any knowledge of, or interest in, pulling out the guns, never mind using them on us.
We remain standing in the square as Woja Beki and the five men walk away. Woja Beki’s voice is vibrant as he unleashes words he hasn’t had a chance to use in days, speaking so fast his sentences have no pause between them. “My shock is so great dear soldiers but we’ll sit down and my wives will make us a good meal and we’ll put our heads together and try to figure out where the men could be because there’s no way men can vanish going from one place to another and I can tell you that in all my years I’ve heard no such story and believe me when I tell you that I’ve heard every sort of story there is to hear and my people standing over there will swear that the men got into their car with their driver and left after the meeting and the men said they were going home and I woke up the next morning and pictured them eating the breakfast their wives had prepared for them before going to their offices but you’ve come here to tell me that no one has seen them since that day and I can never understand how it’s even possible…”
After the group disappears behind a hut to take the path that leads to Woja Beki’s house, my friends and I turn to each other, befuddled. What is Woja Beki doing here? Why is he speaking on our behalf? Is he no longer our enemy?
I look at our men. They wear no confusion, only satisfaction, because, clearly, what they wanted to happen is happening, and even if their children do not understand it, their plan is working, and as long as the Spirit remains benevolent, victory will be theirs.
* * *
—
We don’t know how long we’ll be waiting for Bongo and the others to return from Woja Beki’s house, so my friends and I decide to make ourselves comfortable in case our wait stretches for hours. Waiting has become us—we’ve been waiting for one thing or another since the day we were born; what is one more wait of a few hours compared with a lifetime of waiting? Grandmothers and grandfathers, leaning on their canes, ask us to run back home and fetch their stools. Mothers ask daughters to bring back mats for them to place under the mango tree so they can sit and stretch their legs; also balls for toddlers to play with, to keep their boredom at bay. Older sisters and younger aunts who had hurried to the square with babies balanced on their hips, some of the babies naked except for the napkins tied around their buttocks, ask their little sisters and nieces to bring an outfit for the baby, and a banana, too, in case the baby gets hungry, and also the straw baby-carrier.