Gipiir and Labongo #7

By Aine Susan 

Outwardly, he looked like the usually scorned village coward; but Adeke could tell there was something different about Gipiir. Perhaps it was his stance, or his unusually relentless stare – come to think of it, his presence had been extremely obscure for a while. He snuck around more often than the goats trying to get a bite off the cassava leaves. 

“We must go before it gets dark,” Gipiir urged the ladies, his shadow looming over them.

“The sun is barely setting – don’t rush us!” Achola scoffed, adjusting the cloth on her burst to cover a protruding belly.

“Gipiir has been quite busy for the past two seasons, haven’t you?” Adeke pitched in, watching his face for any gesture that could sell him out. All she got was a smug grin; something rare for someone that had been branded timid. 

“It could be a girl,” Achola grinned.

“Fish stay committed to the same bait, generation after generation. The fishnet matters not to them,” Adeke replied, her comment earning her a deafening silence.

Achola cleared her throat and dragged her feet on her way to the bushes to get rid of the growing pressure on her bladder.

Gipiir glared at the wretched woman. His eyes tearing her from limb to limb. 

“Do not look at me like that! Everyone sees the way you look at her, ” Adeke snarled

“Why does it bother you – you want me to see you instead, right?”

A loud click of Akoth’s tongue dismantled their whispering as Achola returned, with an irritated look, “Are you two at each other’s throats again? Surely, however whiny my child will be, you two will be a force for him to reckon with.”

They finally set off for home after fountains of bickering; each one holding at heart a slight resentment for their destination. Akoth  could endure lots of things, but the silent grief that came with dusk; everyone, from the fishermen to farmers and hunters, had a hard time scavenging through the previous seasons – as if the waters, earth and bushes conspired to hide their resources from a hopeless race. Achola could no longer stand the smell of fish that almost became their staple food; but more than anything, she despised the frustration and desperation in her husband’s face each time he withdrew from the crowds. 



What do you think?

Written by The Muchwezi


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Lt. Gen. Mugira has no moral authority to counsel Ugandans