When Becky woke, she moved to the window and drew it open. Dawn light spilled into the room. The sun climbed slowly from the horizon. She couldn't believed she had overslept.
With a quick glance over her shoulder, she noticed that her husband had not stirred with the rustle of her arising. She leaned over and shook him gently.
Tesot's eyes blinked open.
"Please wake up," she whispered urgently. "They'll be here any moment." She meant her parents, who were coming for the graduation ceremony.
According to the dictates of the Kipsigis tradition, every boy who reached fourteen underwent his second rite of passage. It was an annual event that took place towards the end of the year. The boys presented themselves for circumcision. Afterwards, they lived together in a camp set apart from the rest of the community. In the camp, they were taught the skills of manhood: wielding bows and arrows, defending the tribe, mastering the ethics and morals that defined their place among men. It was a six-week's course culminating in a grand graduation ceremony. The graduands who went in as boys emerged as Murens — warriors. New names drawn, from their fathers would be bestowed upon them to signify their new status. If the father's childhood name was Kiplang'at, the son became Lang'at, Arab Lang'at, son of Kiplang'at.
Graduation day was always a celebration of continuity. Families, friends and neighbors gathered and feasted.
Tesot threw aside the blanket and dressed quickly, pressed by the call of nature. As he stepped outside to relieve himself, the growl of an approaching vehicle met his ears.
He hurried back in to warn his wife. "They're here already."
"No!" Becky gasped.
"For real — I swear."
"God! Alright, go and keep them busy. I can't let them walk in while the house looks like this."
Tesot strode out to greet them.
"Sandanin?" Sigilai called warmly.
"Woi, botoiten!" Tesot answered with a smile.
"What a pleasant surprise. I didn't know you were home."
"I came — I couldn't miss the graduation," Tesot said.
"That's good. How have you been?"
"We're well. Welcome home."
As they shook hands, Becky slipped to the kitchen. Cheptoo was still asleep, and she made no effort to wake her.
She approached the hearth and uncovered the embers that had made it through the night. She arranged slender sticks and scraps of paper. Then she gently blowed life into them until her fire leapt. Soon a sufuria of tea balanced above the flames. Then she straightened her clothes and walked outside to meet her people.
Tesot had ushered them to the living room. Her mother stood when Becky entered and so did the rest of the family. She took turns hugging them asking after Sagawaita.
Breakfast was served and nearly done when Sigilai suddenly slapped his forehead.
"Ah! Jephta's shoes—I meant to buy them on the way. How did I forget?"
"Don't worry, botoiten," Tesot offered quickly. "I'll rush to town and get them."
"That would be kind." Sigilai drew a thousand-shilling note and his car keys from his pocket. "Size eight will fit him."
Tesot nodded. "I'll be back soon."
At Chebunyo center, he found the shoes, paid, and turned the car homeward. Nearing his mother's gate, however, he noticed a group of elders filing into the compound. Unease rippled through him. Was something going on at her mother's which he didn't know about? He had visited her the previous day when he arrived from work and she had not spoke to it.
A glance in the mirror revealed Pabonya just behind. Tesot slowed, lowered the window.
"Ah, son! You're here?" Pabonya called, his tone bright with surprise.
"Yes, I came yesterday," Tesot replied.
Pabonya's eyes flicked over the car. "A fine machine. How much do they sell it for?"
"It's not mine. My father-in-law's. He's here for the graduation — my brother-in-law is among the initiates."
"I see," Pabonya said thoughtfully. "We have a meeting now with the elders at your mother's house. You should join us."
"What is it about."
"Something very important. You must come."
"But I see only elders."
"With you, we can make an exception. We will start right away. Don't be late," Pabonya urged.
Tesot hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. I only hope it won't take long. I must attend the graduation too."
That won't be necessary, Pabonya thought but didn't voice. "We'll be brief," he assured.
He drove to his compound. His in-laws had left to the venue. Becky was outside dressing Kiplimo, her face alight with anticipation. She had been waiting hoping to walk to the ceremony with him.
"Take a quick bath," she urged, glancing up. "I've already warmed your water."
Tesot's voice softened. "I'm sorry, dear. There's a meeting at my Mother's house. I have to attend."
"You! Stop. Didn't you say you came mainly for my brother's graduation?" Becky asked quietly, disappointment shadowing her eyes.
"I didn't know about this meeting. I'll join you soon. Here — your father sent me for these." He handed her the shoes.
Becky pressed her lips together, swallowing her worry. "Alright then. Bye."
"Bye."
He watched her walk away, her steps heavy. Unease tightened in his chest.
As Tesot turned toward his mother's hut, questions crowded his mind. Why had Pabonya pressed him so firmly? Could it be about succession of his grandfather's land? Perhaps his uncles had finally resolved to divide it — and as the eldest son, he was required to represent his father.
Inside Rebecca's hut, the elders sat waiting. They had come at Pabonya's summons, for none would ignore a call to deliberate on clan matters. Pabonya had already told them that Tesot was home and pressed them to allow his participation.
He was late, and they were restless, yet unwilling to begin without him. Pabonya tapped an impatient rhythm on the table, alternately glancing at his wrist watch and the door.
At last, footsteps. Tesot entered, went around shaking everybody's hand and apologized for keeping them waiting. When he sat down, a heavy silence fell, thick as smoke.
The elders exchanged uneasy glances. Even Pabonya, for all his bluster, hesitated. Tesot was not a man to take lightly — the first from the village to join the Kenya Military Academy, now a senior officer. His devotion to Becky was well known. Would he bend to what he intended?
Pabonya clenched his jaw. He had waited long enough. Becky's defiance — her clothes, her jewels, her careless dismissal of him with the words "My dress, my choice" — had kindled his resentment into a steady flame.
Tonight, he would strike, at whatever cost.