They had lived a long way back, at the beginning of time. They cut down trees and cleared the dense forests for cultivation. They owned many cattle, sheep and goats and they often sacrificed to Murungu and held communion with the ancestral spirits. Waiyaki had heard about these two generations of the tribe and he was proud of them. Only he wished he knew what they had looked like. They must have been great and strong to have braved the hazards of the forest. Sometimes in the bush, he and the other boys played Demi na Mathathi. One day a boy from Koina told Waiyaki: “You cannot be Demi.” “Why?” he asked. The other boys came round. “You are not ready for circumcision. You are not born again.” Waiyaki looked at the ground and felt small. Then he turned to the group and let his eyes fall on them. His eyes were large and rather liquid; sad and contemplative. But whenever he looked at someone, they seemed to burn bright.
