The Moving Mouth

By James Mbotela Syomuti

"The Moving Mouth" is a moving story about a wicked woman (Mary Ndunge) who is fully determined to take revenge for the premature death of her only beloved daughter, Sabina.
In her relentless efforts to revenge by way of terminating the lives of her close neighbors whom she strongly believes that they are entirely responsible for her daughter's death, she goes to consult a famous sorcerer (Lulungana).
In the process of consultation, Mary Ndunge is eventually initiated into deep sorcery in order to equip her for the revenge mission. Ironically, it happens that her son Isaiah Kilele falls in love with her enemies' daughter.
However, in the process of Mary Ndunge's wicked elimination of her presumed enemies, her wicked operations finally backfire and as a result her first born son, Isaiah Kilele, gets killed in his mother's dirty assignment.
Mary Ndunge (alias "The Moving Mouth") mourns bitterly for the death of her son but she fails to remember the sayings that, when the deal is too good, one should think twice and, if a man digs a pit he will fall into it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Mbotela Syomuti
• Release date: Jan 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310870385

James Mbotela Syomuti

James Mbotela Syomuti is a Kenyan author (fiction thriller) and an artist. He has taught students at different Secondary Schools for many years. Besides, he is a prolific itinerant preacher and a pastor. He is also a qualified and approved Bible Skills Institute (BSI) trainer, a theological program of Every Home For Christ International. He has written other books (fiction) and poems. He has a Diploma in Christian Ministry, from Every Home For Christ International, USA. Above all, he has a Certificate in Spiritual Development from Northwestern Christian University, Florida, USA.

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The Moving Mouth

By James Mbotela Syomuti

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 James Mbotela Syomuti

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Chapter One

The Bitter Reminiscence

The atmosphere was tense and quiet. The moon was now at the head of the sky and its bright light fell intensely on the ground. Anyone who had good sight could pick up a needle, no matter how small it was. Everything was quite clear.

Ndendwa sat there outside his corrugated iron-roofed house. He was whistling slowly to himself as he made some ropes for his three calves. He was a medium man in height. He was black in complexion and his head was full of grey hair.

There was no doubt that he had lived for many years. He was a man of many words. Whenever anyone went to his home in hurry with an excuse that he was going somewhere else for an important event in order to avoid his endless talk, he at long last found himself in Ndendwa’s trap.

Mwiisiwa, he called his wife. She was in the hut cooking. Her only daughter, and the only child, was assisting her wash the dirty kitchen utensils. She was a brown, slim tall girl. The villagers said that she derived most of her beauty from her mother, Mwiisiwa. That was true. Everybody was able to reckon that. Her name was Benedetta Kalewa. She was twelve years of age.

Yes, my husband, answered Mwiisiwa as she put a sufuria (cooking device) of Ugali (maize flour meal) on the floor.

Hasn’t the food cooked so far, or you want to cook it until it turns to charcoal? he asked as he worked on the third rope.

Just a minute, and you will be satisfied, my husband, she answered.

After a few minutes, Mwiisiwa took the food to her husband.

The hut is very hot, Benedetta. Can’t we go outside to converse with your father as we eat? she asked, entering the smoky and hot hut, after she had delivered the food.

Yes, one can easily shed tears because of the smoke in it. Let’s go outside, said Benedetta as she sneezed. She wiped her nose with the edge of her dress.

Is that what your teachers teach you at school? asked her mother.

What?

Do they teach you to wipe your mucus with the clothes you are wearing, after sneezing?

No, I have done so because I have washed my handkerchief, and it has not dried yet.

How can I know that you are not lying to me?

I am not lying to you mother, she replied while laughing.

You children of these days, you are very crafty, she said taking a stool. Benedetta was the last to leave the hut. She closed the door behind her and went to sit with her parents. They were all quiet as they ate.

This stew is very sour. Who prepared it? asked Ndendwa.

It is I, father, replied Benedetta.

No wonder, it takes time before young girls like you learn how to prepare tasty meals. Whenever your mother cooks, I don’t find faults with her meals. Anyway, you will learn everything as time goes on. Go and add me some more stew, he said handing over the bowl to Benedetta. "I want to finish up this Ugali."

She went and brought her father some more stew. Silence dominated them again as they continued to eat. The moon was now moving towards the west. They were gazing at it. Nobody was talking to another. The moon seemed to pursue its journey on the sky gradually. After a short while, large masses of clouds passed it.

It seemed as if the clouds had been holding a secret conference somewhere to invade the moon. The clouds moved eastwards as the moon seemed to race very fast in the opposite direction. It was not easy for one to tell of the two phenomena, the one which was running faster than the other.

In the next moment, the moon was solitary, in the entire field of the sky. It was clearly defined. Its bright light fell on the ground again. The shadows of the three family members were cast towards the east. They appeared long and distorted.

I have heard some people say that thing on the moon is an old woman carrying a bundle of some firewood. Is that true mother? asked Benedetta, breaking the long silence.

I also hear so, but I don’t know whether it is true. Ask your father, perhaps he knows, she replied.

Yes, it is true according to what you hear, said Ndendwa as he took a deep sniff of his snuff. A Long time ago, he began the story. Two women went to fetch some firewood in a dense forest.

Do you mean the two women traveled from the earth to the moon, father? interrupted Benedetta.

No, during those days, people lived on the moon. It was a very long time ago. Those were the days when hens had horns like cattle! I know you might not believe it, but it is true. The two women entered the dense forest, to gather some firewood, he continued.

"They were afraid because of the siren state of the forest. They dared not to talk to one another because they were afraid that they could awake the evil spirits and the wild animals of the forest. The trees were huge and one could not stand their sight because they seemed as if they were falling.

"When they had collected enough firewood, the two women tied their bundles and started going back home. When they were on the way, they started talking because they were in the open and far from the forest. Suddenly, a strong wind started blowing.

"The two women staggered sideways with their heavy loads. The wind continued to blow ceaselessly. After some time, it stopped blowing and they heard a voice of a person from nowhere.

Give me some firewood please. I want to go and cook for my children, the voice said.

"When the two women heard the voice, they were startled and afraid as they looked at each other. They wondered where the voice had come from. They looked round and round but they didn’t see anybody.

Let’s drop two pieces of firewood each, said one woman to the other.

"No, I can’t do that. How can you give your pieces