Sons of Eve: The Story from Africa

By Timothy Epupa Ngenge

Mama Lucy lives happily in Njoku, on the slopes of Mount Cameroon, with her sons Kauk and Negu. On a rainy day in the month of August, Kauk chases a fox down to a nearby agricultural estate. There he meets a gentleman who helps him to achieve great success as a trader in a nearby town. Kauks business expands so fast that he brings Negu down to work for him. Negus excitement quickly turns to resentment: he feels cheated, humiliated, and enslaved. A frightful dream finally compels Kauk to send his embittered brother back to the village. To take advantage of a new trend in the market town, Kauk goes back to the village too and takes over the family land. There is nothing the weakened and helpless Negu can do to stop his powerful brother. Kauk is later forced to move out of the village when Negu and his friends scheme against him. Negus joy as owner of his brothers former farm is short-lived as he runs into disaster. At the end, even the affluent Kauk cannot stand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496993441

Timothy Epupa Ngenge

Timothy Epupa Ngenge is a Jurist, Preacher, and motivational Speaker based in Douala, Cameroon. His poems are a regular feature in Voices: The Wisconsin Review of African Literature. He is the coordinator of SEEDS, an organization that works to counter pessimism by helping young Africans realize their potential. Timothy Epupa Ngenge is the award-winning author of SONS OF EVE, with whom he won 09 international awards.

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Part 1

IN THE BEGINNING

CHAPTER ONE

Before the dry season would come with encroaching bush fires that had devastated the low-lying farmlands and threatened the mountain, tall trees, the abode of the monkeys, lost their leaves and branches. Every monkey fell off a tall tree, but men, sons of the woman, knew the truth. Human beings were not created to jostle for the highest branch of the mountain momangi tree and then smash their spines on the rocks below. Children of the woman were to sleep together in their huts and watch the tempestuous seasons go by.

These were the days when the inhabitants of the Njoku hamlet preferred to sit round their fire and enjoy its soothing warmth than step out of their houses and expose themselves to the cruel effects of the heavy August downpour. Unlike his kinsmen, Kauk was out, completely wet and chilly. He stood, gazing undecided at the lower boundary of his farm. The great rain had ceased falling from its heavenly reservoir, but water still dripped from the treetops as if the forest shed tears. Apart from these drops of water falling like grains, the forest was quiet. The birds and insects were nowhere. Their cries had died out, drowned in the rain.

The dense green foliage of a small womba tree shook for the second time; Kauk could make out the bushy tail of a fox. The animal had wandered into one of his abandoned traps. He was surprised to see that those old ropes, exposed by several weeks of rainfall and mud, could still securely hold an animal of the size and vigour of a hunting dog. The man whose eyes and ears had seen and heard so much on how wild animals could fight and slip out of aged traps was without the means for the necessary next step. How he wished he were near enough to give the mortal blow. His wet rubber boots squelched noisily at every step he took. It was time to throw off his footgear, which seemed to side with the fox. He bit his lower lip and prayed the animal would not tug at the cord. It did not.

With his gaze riveted to the visible tail of the animal, Kauk quietly placed his sharp machete on a fallen plantain and bent low to get rid of his right boot. As he attempted to do away with the left boot as well, the bush in front of him moved. The fox had seen him. He grabbed his machete and leapt with all the force in him towards the trapped animal. It was no longer the time to think or wait. The fox went wild as it fought and strained at the rope to free itself. Old ropes, like new ones, have their limits. Kauk ended his furious charge with a diving cut. He lay on his stomach between a huge rock and a small avocado tree and watched the wounded animal limp down the hill. It left a trail of blood that could possibly guide Kauk.

His blind slash had got the beast where the rope had held it, on the left hind leg. The sharp machete had injured the fox, but it had also severed the cord. The animal was partly maimed, but neither dead nor caught. Kauk had handled a machete since the age of five and could not understand his imprecise cut. The animal, if it had the capacity to do so, surely thanked providence for the failed attempt on its life.

Frowning with disapproval at himself, Kauk jumped to his feet and pulled his right boot back on. He picked up his machete and dashed downhill after the animal in complete fury. Only time and distance might shield the fleeing beast from its wet, enraged, and armed pursuer. The fox was racing towards its usual hiding place, but Kauk’s kitchen fire and pot cascaded ominously between it and its hole. Kauk gradually closed the distance between him and the fox.

Twice the man attempted to cut the frightened animal, but the intricate undergrowth thwarted his aim both times. Kauk knew the fox was destined to die in any clearing that lay anywhere ahead. He just maintained a close gap, waiting for that chance, the opportunity to compensate his pain and effort. The animal ran as if it read his mind. As they both approached a newly cleared farm, which gladdened Kauk’s heart, the animal took a sharp bend and opted for the stony wall of the Ikokote valley. The mountainous terrain that had always proven a natural sanctuary and citadel for the Njoku men was now playing treachery with one of them. Hills, tightly spaced trees, ditches, and imposing rocks had slowed down Kauk at one time or the other, but the great valley might now bring an end to his chase.

Kauk looked hesitantly down the big slope, fearful of the sharp descent. The animal had judged rightly, if it were capable of that. Kauk was scared of such a sheer landscape. He had already wasted time and energy, such vital assets to the mountain men, that Kauk could not let such an opportunity slip away. Believing the valley was like his flat yard back in the village, he threw himself after the fox. While Kauk had hesitated, the fox had gained considerable distance, widening the gap between them. Kauk said to himself that if an animal could run on any surface without difficulties, a human being could do the same. But Kauk on his two legs, going after the fox on four, could not plant a steady foot. Pebbles on the steep sides of the valley made it difficult, if not impossible, for him to descend at a reasonable pace. Halfway down, he reassured himself that the valley was not as dangerous as he had once thought. He quickened his steps and even began to run. His left foot could find no purchase, his right leg swung freely like that of a marionette, and he tossed away his machete as he struggled to balance. Before he realised what was happening, both of his feet were off the earth. He fell hard on his right side and rolled down the hill, struggling to clutch at weeds with shallow roots. He finally was stopped by a sharp rock that tore into the side of his chest. The wound quickly changed from white to red, and there was blood on his shirt. The tears that trickled down his cheeks were not in response to the agony in his chest. He wept at the loss of his old pair of trousers, for the seat of them was now totally shredded.

Clambering back to where he had thrown his blade, Kauk felt pain all over his body and in his mind. The race did not end, though. It was now an even chase because the man had been hurt like the animal. The upper hand he held in being armed with a lethal weapon was negated by the animal’s mastery of its natural habitat. Machete in hand, the injured Kauk persisted after the wounded fox, which knew how to duck in and out of the brush to avoid capture or death. The trail of blood disappeared and then reappeared in many places, and Kauk kept to the track. Since his violent fall, he had realised that his machete was a threat to him as well. He was now careful with his steps, letting the animal flee out of sight, far away towards the vast Molyko Banana Plantation.

No other day in the life of this Njoku man had been as luckless as this one. The fall made him feel like he had been mercilessly beaten by robbers, and the cause of this bitter sensation had disappeared into the plantation. Kauk eased his buttocks down onto a stone by the Koke Stream that flowed from the mountain down to the big banana plantation, and attended to his broken flesh. The road back up to the village was the only option left. He was distressed in his heart.

Despite the pain he felt in his flesh as he applied crushed herbs to his wounds and the bitterness in his heart, he heard a loud sound. There was a gunshot in the distance. Kauk once again squeezed green liquid on his cuts, and then he picked up his machete, leapt to his feet, and headed in the direction of the bang. Deep in the plantation, he could make out the image of somebody kneeling beside a dead animal. As he got closer, he saw the cause of his suffering. It now belonged to another person, someone he did not know. The man who had gunned down the fox was the field assistant in charge of the vast Molyko Banana Plantation.

Looking up from the fallen animal, the assistant saw Kauk. Kauk had tensed at the sight of the rifle. To reassure the man from Njoku, the field assistant unloaded his gun and slung it over his shoulder. When he amicably beckoned to Kauk, Kauk walked over to him and shook the man’s outstretched right hand.

Are you the person who cut this animal? the field assistant asked.

Yes, sir.

Kauk was surprised to hear the man speak in Mokpe, but the man, who hailed from Kumba, had spent more than twenty years amongst the Mokpe people and had become familiar with their dialect.

Where do you come from? he asked, patting Kauk on the left shoulder.

Njoku, sir. I am Kauk.

Carry your animal home. You must have suffered trailing it from Njoku to this place.

Kauk could not believe his ears; the plantation man was giving him the whole animal. Kauk stooped over the carcass. His torn trouser revealed much of his behind; the plantation man looked away. Kauk spread the fox’s hindquarters and expertly halved the whole animal. Pulling himself erect, he pointed to the half with the head.

That is for you, sir.

Thank you very much.

As Kauk put aside the machete and was about to wrap his own half in some dead banana leaves, he jerked and winced in pain. The movement had hurt his wound. Seeing the suffering on Kauk’s face, the plantation man felt pity and compassion for this fellow who had unselfishly offered him the larger part of the animal. He got closer and carefully pulled up Kauk’s ragged shirt to examine the wound.

I fell down a big slope.

When? Today?

Yes, sir. Just as I started running after the fox.

The assistant gave Kauk an appreciative look as his interest in the injured fellow grew. It was indeed astonishing to find someone who had even shed blood to be so selfless in giving.

Come to my house, he said as he picked up his own share of the game.

No, sir. I am supposed to run back home. His wife harassed him whenever he spent long hours outside because he had once deserted his family for a Buea woman.

I wish to put some medicine and covering on your wound, the man said.

No, sir. I won’t get back to the village on time. Kauk did not explain why going home in the afternoon could be seen as late. He considered it manly to hide from the general public whatever misunderstanding reigned in his house. The field assistant did not pry for more information.

It is all right, he said. This is just my own way of trying to be kind to a generous man.

Generous man.

The phrase rang several times in Kauk’s mind. He was absolutely certain some material compensation or favour would be in line after the medicine and any other thing the man intended to put on his wound. He sighed and complied.

I shall accompany you, sir. As he walked after the assistant, his left hand kept trying to hold together the back of his trousers.

The plantation man led the way through a row of banana plants. A few minutes later, they stood outside the magnificent plantation house that had once been occupied by a strange white man. Besides his wife’s worries, Kauk had first refused the man’s offer because he believed he resided in the faraway camp settlement. He was doubly surprised to find the house so near and to know that this man who had been so friendly had such an important status, that he lived in the impressive home that awed all villagers who trekked by on their way to the Muea market.

A huge dog could not stop snarling and barking at Kauk. Even though the dog was securely chained to a veranda post, its loud warnings greatly frightened the Njoku man. Kauk was more used to the barking of undersized hunting dogs.

Both he and the assistant waited for a while in front of the glass and metal door. It creaked open and an elegantly dressed woman, whom Kauk believed was the man’s wife, came out. She kissed the man and made some strange loving noise. Kauk’s guess was correct. Turning to Kauk, she held out her hand to him with obvious reluctance. Kauk had never been so captivated. He felt like seizing the pretty woman and offering her the whole world. Inside the living room, Kauk held his breath. He had never believed, even in his wildest dream, that a house could be so furnished.

Christy, this is my good friend from Njoku, the man said.

The woman smiled cheerfully as Kauk squatted on the floor. She seemed relieved that he hadn’t sat on any of her clean furniture. The man opened a door that Kauk guessed led into a sleeping room and disappeared inside. He came back with a small box with red crosses on all its sides, like the government vehicles that frequently drove to the Bova maternity. His wife turned to a different door when the man said something in a strange dialect. Kauk had once heard the two Kumba men, who moved from village to village selling medicine and injecting people, pronounce similar words. The woman returned with a small bucket of water. Once more on his feet, Kauk made sure the woman was in front and not behind him. He saw the Kumba man hide his smile, knowing the state of the back of Kauk’s trousers.

With utmost care, the man cleaned Kauk’s bruises with a highly lathered substance, and then dabbed on a lotion that looked like water but lacked the gentleness of the latter. It felt like twenty blades cutting through the Njoku man’s flesh. He clenched his teeth at the intense pain and knocked his feet on the floor. The white powder that came after soothed Kauk’s nerves before the man covered the wound with some adhesive material.

Kauk shook the woman’s hand and turned to the man. Thank you for the medicine, sir.

I wish to help you in a better way. Can you come down in two days for an important discussion?

Yes, sir.

Kauk’s response was instantaneous. He was convinced such a good man could do a great deal to make someone’s life pleasant.

CHAPTER TWO

"Be not deceived in thinking you have known me. No! No! You do not know me, my friend. I, the son of Mama Lucy, the great-grandson of the elephant, am a new man. It is obvious that my hour of opportunity has come. It presents itself but