When he was much younger, it was such taunts that led him to ask his mother why he was so light while she and his father had normal skin. She evaded the question.

One day he overheard a group of elders discussing the Ugandan woman who had brought Mama Karura's child to the village. They called that child Zesiro, but Jelani knew he was his mother's only child, and ran home fighting back the tears welling in his eyes.

In a breathless torrent he told his mother what he'd heard. She calmed him and admitted he was not a child born of her body, but the child given to her by a Ugandan woman, a distant in-law of a man in the village. The woman had come to Kobogi because she knew there was a woman here who could have no children of her own and who desperately wanted one. It was, she said, how she and his father had come to have Jelani, or Zesiro, as he was then called, for their son - a child chosen ahead of all the other children in the world without parents.

'What does this Zesiro name mean?' he asked her.

'I don't know, and because of that your father and I decided to name you Jelani instead.'

He felt as though he was not one, but two boys; two boys with different names. Two boys from two different worlds. It made him feel even more unusual than before; and he turned his attention to the second troubling matter.

'Then is the one who brought me here my mother?' he asked.

His mother said she thought not, because she could see no resemblance, but the woman couldn't say who his real mother was because she was sworn to secrecy.

'And who is my father?'

Again she said she didn't know. 'But I think, maybe he was a white man in an important position,' she said. 'Maybe he loved your mother but couldn't keep you because he was ashamed that people would not respect him because he fell in love with a black woman.'

Jelani became very anxious at this. He already felt different, and for his whole young life his difference had caused him trouble. It was bad enough that he was the child of another woman - a stranger. But to be the child of a white man would make the taunts much worse. He told his mother he would not be the son of a stranger and a white man.

His mother hushed him and said it didn't matter who his parents were: she and his father were his family now, and they loved him.

But Jelani would not be comforted by such a story.

'Wait,' his mother said. 'The one who brought you to us left me a gift from your mother.'

She went to an old woven basket that hung above her bed; she used it to hold the few personal items she possessed. From it she took a leather thong attached to a large tooth.

'What is it?' he asked.

'I don't know. Your father thinks it's a broken lion's tooth.'

Jelani turned it over in his hands. The thong threaded through a silver clasp fitted to the fang. It was the type of ornament he'd seen the warriors wearing. He asked her if he might wear it.

'It is why I have kept it all these years,' she said. 'Keep it.'

He felt better now that he had the pendant as a gift. Even so, he pleaded with her not to tell anyone. Finally, she and his father agreed to keep their idea of his true parents a secret.

This didn't stop the boys in the village from teasing him. He'd dash at those who called him a half-caste, throwing his arms about in rage. Consequently, he received many beatings, but eventually he became big enough and skilled enough to put down anyone who dared to accuse him of being partly white.

He knew he should confide his story to Beth, and had on a number of occasions started to tell her, but lost his nerve.

One day, soon, he must do it.

Three large fires sent shadows snaking over the packed earth, climbing the mud-daubed walls and lighting the thatch-roofed huts encircling the centre of the village.

The elders sat in dignified silence around the fire; behind them were the old women - their shaved heads gleaming with fat and red ochre.

There was a mood of subdued expectancy among them. The gathering was part of the celebrations for the newly initiated warriors, but they knew that many in the village did not condone what the leader of the African Inland Mission outpost of Embu, the Reverend Fenton Farley, would describe as an unholy gathering. It was because of the rift between the kirores and the aregi that the elders among the aregi felt the need for circ.u.mspection that night.

The cautious mood didn't extend to the nditos - the young unmarried and uncirc.u.mcised girls - who congregated in small groups in preparation for the start of the dancing. They wore short leather ap.r.o.ns and hid their giggles behind their hands. Their firm pointed b.r.e.a.s.t.s showed through garlands of their finest beads.

Jelani spotted Beth among the nditos and his heart thumped in his chest. He had pleaded with her to join the young women for the dance, but she was afraid of her parents.

'It is forbidden,' she'd whispered to him as they discussed it. 'Reverend Farley says the ngoma is a dance with the devil.'

But she was there, and it made him so pleased he wanted to catch her eye and let her know how much he loved her for it, but it was expected that a warrior should remain aloof so, with a great effort, he restrained himself.

Beyond the throw of the firelight were the warriors. They gathered in the darkness, naked except for brief loincloths, elaborate headdresses of ostrich plumes, and leggings of black and white colobus monkey fur.

His age-mates had given Jelani the honour of being the leader of the first group of dancers because he had so bravely and eloquently argued the case for their initiation with the Kikuyu man from the Legislative Council.

He now boldly led them from the darkness into the circle of light around the fires.

The choir sat in their own cl.u.s.ter and, immediately the warriors appeared, began to sing.

The kehembe players beat a furious pace on the leather-covered drums. Large and small rattles added to the drums and kept the singers, who were gathered close to the musicians, in time.

The warriors strutted and gyrated, leaped about and waved their feather-tipped staves in the air.

Jelani's group was joined by others and they formed three circles around each fire, chanting and grunting. They made fearful cries and struck the ground forcefully with their long decorated staves. Rattles tied below their knees added emphasis to their movements as they stamped their feet and circled the fires. During the circling, and responding to a hidden signal, a dancer would break from the formation and, with a wild shriek, leap over the flames.

Among the dancers, and the most awesome of them, were those with white-ochre coating their bodies. They looked like the ghosts of warriors who had long ago pa.s.sed into the afterlife. They received the most enthusiastic cries of ohh and ahh as they joined the others.

When the nditos came from their concealment to join the warriors, the music and singing reached a new height. Soon the encircled warriors broke formation and mixed with the colourful nditos.

Jelani moved quickly to Beth and he doubled his efforts, leaping and high-kicking around her. Beth's eyes were turned shyly towards the fire, as was the custom, but she flashed him a smile whenever she dared.

The audience, enlivened by calabashes full of honey beer, began to chant and ululate; there was a deafening dissonance of drums, voices and rattles.

As the dancing progressed, new dancers took the place of the exhausted ones, adding fresh blood and new steps to the performance.

An old woman climbed to her feet, waving her calabash above her head. She made an obscene exaggeration of the body thrusts the young people were performing, raising a chorus of support from her companions. Soon another wizened old woman joined her and they pantomimed lovers coupling to roars of approval.

The noise reached a crescendo, and the audience had lost all inhibition, boldly forming their own dancing groups among the huts.

Suddenly, the music changed. The drums beat slowly but powerfully. The rattles became muted in accompaniment, and the nditos placed their feet on top of their partners', clasping them around their waist to keep balance. The warriors raised their spears behind their nditos' heads in a gesture signifying the protection they offered the women of the tribe against harm from others.

The chatter and laughter from the audience subsided and stillness took the place of the raucous noise. The night held fast and thin white clouds scudded across the face of the moon.

The silence was shattered by shouting and the screech of a whistle.

Jelani and the other warriors immediately sprang to the front of the dancing crowd, spears and staves at the ready.

From the darkness came a group of four black askaris and three whites, led by the Reverend Fenton Farley. He carried a flaring lantern that illuminated his pale face, and reflected from his rimless gla.s.ses, giving him the eyes of a man returning from the spirit world.

The askaris, whom the administration had placed under Reverend Farley's direction, were from the Kamba tribe - traditional enemies of the Kikuyu.

'Out!' Reverend Farley screeched. 'Be gone! Fornicators and sinners. Go to your homes. All of you!'

There was a moment's hesitation as the dancers and spectators recovered from the shock of the interruption.

'Strike them!' Farley ordered the askaris. 'Drive them from this horrid place.'

The Kamba askaris needed no encouragement. They charged through the village, recklessly swinging their long night sticks.

Women shrieked and fled with their children.

Jelani searched the darkness for Beth, but the nditos had scuttled into the night as did most of the warriors, and the elders were put into an undignified retreat.

With their backs to the fire, Jelani and a handful of warriors paused, momentarily defiant against the attack. He was torn between his warrior's instincts to defend the village - to fight - and the certainty ingrained from infancy that resisting the strong arm of white authority was futile.

Suddenly he was facing Reverend Farley, whose eyegla.s.ses now reflected the flames of the fire. In the next instant they cleared to reveal the zeal of the righteous in Farley's eyes. His nostrils flared and tiny bubbles of froth formed at the corners of his mouth as he panted and fumed.

'You!' he snarled. 'How dare you stand there with your pale face and light eyes - the very proof that the devil has been at work. When your mother fornicated with a white man she lost her everlasting soul, and left you - the sp.a.w.n of the devil - as the proof of his l.u.s.t.'

Jelani let out a roar of anger. He grabbed Reverend Farley and, against all his instincts, slung him forcefully to the ground. Standing over him, with his fists clenched, he had tears of rage in his eyes, but the words he desperately needed to defend his honour in front of his brother warriors would not come.

In the next moment he was on the ground, felled by the blow of one of Farley's enforcers. He tried to regain control of his limbs, to gather himself and get to his feet, but the reverend raised his walking stick and struck him a blow to the side of his head that sent him falling into a black void.

When he recovered, Reverend Farley and his askaris had gone. He thought his head would burst with the pain, but worse than any physical pain was the agony of humiliation. Not only had his reputation been dealt a brutal blow, but that of his mother - a mother he'd never known. In Kikuyu society, a warrior was only worthy to defend his people and his village if he and his parents were pure of heart. In one foul blow, Reverend Farley had torn away his place in his tribe.

It wasn't only theology that convinced the Kikuyu to join the Christians. Many hoped to gain education and personal advantage by their a.s.sociation with the Europeans. Others saw it as a way to escape the influence of the chiefs, who sometimes took advantage of their positions by seizing more than their fair share of the food grown by their villagers. Some chiefs also collected young wives from among their people - even when the girls were already betrothed.

Chief Muraimu had been the chief of Kobogi and the surrounding district for as long as Jelani could remember. In fact, he'd been chief for thirty years. Some of the elders recalled the early days of his rule when, as a young man, he had been a firm but fair leader. As the years pa.s.sed, he had a.s.sumed more and more power and, with it, a grand sense of self-importance. He strained the boundaries of propriety by the manner in which he extracted his levies and fines. He once appropriated a goat from a man who dared to cough while he was making one of his many speeches. He was known to confiscate land, the most cherished a.s.set in Kikuyu life, for nothing more than late payment of taxes. By these means and others, such as simple extortion, he accrued wealth at his subjects' expense.

There were many who would have liked to see the chief removed from his position of power, but he was favoured by the administration because of his zealous tax collecting, so no one dared to move against him.

'Jelani!'

The urgent whisper came from outside the thatched wall of his bachelor's hut. He quickly rose from his bed and slipped out the opening.

'Beth!'

Her voice was unmistakeable, but he couldn't dare to hope that she'd changed her mind about making love with him.

She took his hand and led him to a quiet place, some distance from the warriors' huts.

'Beth, you're here -' he began, but she shushed him.

'Jelani, we must get away from here.' She was tightly gripping his hand and she had a panicked look in her eyes. He started to worry.

'What is it?'

'The chief ...' she said, before burying her face in her hands.

'What is it about the chief?'

'He ...' She dared to look at him. 'He ... wants to take me as his wife,' she said, stifling a sob and covering her face again.

It took Jelani some moments to comprehend, then the hideous notion struck home. The chief was older than his father. There had to be an explanation, but in his heart he knew it was possible. The chief had become obsessed with finding young women for his bed. Over the last year or so he'd acquired three girls to add to his collection of wives.

'But he can't ... What does your father say?'

'He told the chief's man to thank Chief Muraimu for the great honour he has paid his family and that he will await the formal offer.'

'But what is he going to do?'

'He said there is no need to worry. He will think about it.'

'He will think about it? What does that mean?' Jelani asked.

'Papa says he will speak to the Reverend Farley. He said the reverend can't allow it.'

'Will he really speak to the priest?'

She appeared uncertain. Her tongue touched her top lip. 'I think so ...'

Jelani's mind raced.

'We will leave here,' he said.

'Yes, but go where?'

'Anywhere. Away. I will find a place where we can stay together.' He tapped his head, willing his brain into action. 'My father's brother! In Meru. It is far, but he will help us. I'm sure. The day after tomorrow. I will come for you before dawn.'

But Jelani wasn't confident about it. He was not of anyone's blood. Why would a distant and seldom-seen relative give refuge to the light-skinned child of a stranger?

Jelani crept through the bush to the outskirts of the gathered huts where Beth and her family lived. The shadows had already softened and the sky was turning from purple to green. Soon the old women would come from their beds to feed the lambs and kids.

He hid among a cl.u.s.ter of shrubs and waited.

He watched the women feed the livestock and when the sun was up, turn them over to the younger boys to care for them through the day. He waited as Beth's mother went to the millet store and watched as she returned to the hut to prepare her husband's breakfast.

The sun was up when Beth's father came from his hut and stretched. Jelani was now very anxious and could wait no more. He came from his hiding place and confronted him.

'Where is Beth?' he rudely demanded.

Her father baulked and was at first incensed by his ill-mannered approach, but then his shoulders slumped, and he took a deep breath.

'She is gone,' he said.

'You let the chief take her?'

'No. I sent her to Reverend Farley.'

'The priest? How could you do that?'