Tales from the Kiwa: A Continuation of Kebi's Tribe
By Kelly Addams
()
About this ebook
A year has passed since Kebi took Shauna and Carly as his 2nd and 3rd wife, Now a strange virus is spreading across the world and the Masai Mara might just be ground zero. A team of specialists have been sent to investigate, and that is when Marisa, a doctor with the WHO meets Anyang, the medicine man to the Kiwa tribe. Can they find a cure, and will they be able to resist temptation?
Kelly Addams
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Tales from the Kiwa - Kelly Addams
Tales From The Kiwa
A Continuation Of Kebi’s Tribe
Kelly Addams
Copyright
Layout Copyright © 2023 by PMO Publishing. Published 2023 by PMO Publishing. E-book design by PMO Publishing. Cover art by PMO Publishing. Contact: pmopublishing@gmail.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the authors permission.
Authors note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
Caution: This story features elements of Race Play which may be offensive to some readers.
Acknowledgement: Original story idea by JB.
Chapter 1
It had begun with a fever, nothing serious, and so mild that most of those who had contracted the virus shrugged off the feeling of malaise putting it down to the changing weather.
But as the weeks passed more and more of the tribe began to develop the symptoms, and that worried Anyang. At nineteen many would consider him to be far too young to be a medicine man, but age mattered little, Anyang had a sharp intellect and a deep knowledge of the medicinal plants that grew on the savannah. He had begun to study medicine in Nairobi, but like many other students his foreign sponsor had dropped out after just one year. Most of the youth relied on foreigners, usually sponsorship was arranged by school teachers or charity workers, the West was full of wealthy individuals who fancied dabbling in philanthropy, and by their standards putting a poor African kid through college or university was peanuts when compared to the cost in their own country. Lots of underprivileged kids got lucky, and provided that they worked hard and got good grades the cash kept flowing right up to the point of graduation… Anyang had not been one of those so blessed, his sponsor, who was mainly paying fees to earn bragging rights, had backed out after the first year leaving the Luo teen stranded. There was no way that he could afford the fees, and so he’d been forced to drop out. But he hadn’t left it there, for many the misfortune would have been a sign to give up and crawl back to the village, there was always a place under a mango tree reserved for drop outs, a place to wile away the day and hope that someone somewhere wanted a piece of land digging. Many lived that existence, sitting, waiting, and if they were lucky get offered a few hours of back breaking labour under an equatorial sun… for little more than pennies.
Anyang had scoured the city looking for the right kind of work, he was prepared to do anything to survive but he had set his sights on a career in the medical profession. For two long weeks he faced constant failure, at the big hospitals he was turned away because of his lack of qualifications, he couldn’t blame the H.R managers, putting himself in their position he wouldn’t have given him a job either.
I have to lower my sights.
he said quietly as he trudged through one of the less fashionable areas of Kenya’s capital city. There were plenty of small private hospitals all over the city, I’m sure to get lucky eventually he told himself, it wasn’t like he was claiming to be qualified, he simply wanted any work available. In a hospital or medical centre, even if he was mopping the floors, he would be able to watch and absorb. College had given him the basics, but observing professionals in a real work environment would be sure to enhance what he already knew.
Still he ran into negativity, that is when a manager even agreed to give him five minutes. Anyang refused to give up hope and set his sights much lower… and his luck changed as he approached the end of his second week.
The clinic was small and located on the edge of the Dandora slums, an area notorious for drug dealers and hardened criminals.
I can’t afford to pay much,
Doctor Kamau stated as he sat beside Anyang on a dusty bench outside his small brick built clinic, But you seem bright, and after a quick chat with the college it would appear that they considered you one of the shining stars in your year. So here is the deal, I will let you stay here at the clinic, there’s a store room that you can clear out at the back, so you won’t have rent to pay. I will give you a small weekly allowance, that will take care of food and life’s little necessities, but what is of much more value to you, I will train you. You still won’t be qualified, but you really don’t need a certificate if you end up working out of the village.
Anyang understood exactly what the old doctor was saying, village doctors were generally not qualified in any way, they were still respected though, even if they called paracetamol the cure for just about everything. With Dr Kamau’s guidance and training he could return to his rural home in the west of the country and set up his own clinic. He had land, his father had left him a small plot not far from the shores of Lake Victoria, with a little wood and a few corrugated metal sheets his basic clinic could be ready in days. And I don’t have to say I’m not actually qualified he told himself, I just put the word around that I’ve been training in Nairobi… the locals will think I’m a brain surgeon!
But understand this young man, you will work hard. The hours will be long, we will both be on call twenty-four seven. Being a doctor in the slums is not glamorous, and at times it can be decidedly dangerous, but also understand that you will see more real life injuries here than any of those fancy private clinics. This place is hard and raw, and the people are dirty and mean… mostly. Oh and one more thing,
he added quickly, I do not tolerate alcohol, and if at any time I suspect that you are drunk, it will be instant dismissal… understood?
Anyang smiled, alcohol had never interested him, he’d seen what changaa had done to the older people in his village. The illegal brew had left several blind, and the others, well they had become so deeply addicted that the illicit brew had enslaved them, staggering or crawling home drunk only to wake