Chapter Ten
Maria was quiet and withdrawn. I always caught her daydreaming. If we were in the classroom, she would stare blankly with the look of fear in her eyes towards the door. I always watched her for a long time before nudging her to the present.
Maria’s eyes were always hollow with bags under them. Mama told me it was because of lack of sleep. Instead of peaceful sleep, she almost always had terrible nightmares – drifting in and out. The sisters would run into her rooms after being woken by her earth shattering screams. They always found her curled up into a ball, delirious and shaking uncontrollably.
I really felt sorry for Maria. I loved my sleep – I always slept like a log the minute my head touched the pillow. She was restless, unhappy and always nervous around a group of people, especially grownups. Mama, the sisters and other women in the village always prayed with Maria – hoping she would get some peace. I sometimes joined in some of the evening prayers.
Since Maria hardly ate, the sisters always made her mtori with plenty of butter and kiburu. Her breakfast was always uji wa ulezi with lots of sour milk and butter. Her diet was that of a young mother – the same I had seen Mama make Ikunda whenever she had babies - Mama had told me it was so as to fatten Maria and keep her healthy.
The boys in our class always teased her that she had mashetani since she was always so withdrawn, nervous and jumpy. Mwalimu Temu once heard one of the boys teasing Maria and she punished him harshly for making such an insensitive joke. Despite the heavy punishment, outside class the jokes and relentless teasing never ceased.
One day Mwalimu Temu came into the class and announced that there will be a visitor from out of the village. Immediately Maria jumped up and ran to the nearest exit, which was the window next to us. As she tried to jump out she tripped and fell, hitting her shoulder hard on the window. Her only uniform that she had gotten from the sisters got torn, while her shoulder and arm was cut and bruised. We were all so shocked by the sudden commotion that we jumped. The children were not sure of what was going on, but seeing the sigh of blood on Maria they started screaming hysterically, “mashetani!” causing everybody to run wildly.
Mwalimu Temu, who had seen Maria’s reaction, grabbed her and tried to calm her while she calmly silent the class. Maria shook terribly as Mwalimu Temu held her tightly and soothed her. Once the shakes subsided, Maria sat hunched back staring at the floor sobbing quietly, unable to look up to Mwalimu Temu or anyone else in the room. The terrified look was still on her eyes as she stared at the door sobbing.
“What’s wrong, child?” Mwalimu Temu asked gently.
“The men –“ she tried to reply but hiccupped. She had now moved, sitting next to me cringing and trying to hide.
“What men?”
“The visitors,” she replied between hiccups, “they have come to get me. They have come to take me to the forest!”
“Oh no!” The sisters had told Mwalimu Temu and the other teachers of Maria’s story, “no one will take you to the forest, baby! The visitors are school inspectors.”
Mwalimu Temu then calmly proceeded to explain to Maria about the visit. Maria nodded shyly trying to avoid Mwalimu Temu eyes. As upset as Maria was before, I could see that she was now embarrassed. She tried to hide her tears by wiping them away with the back of her hand.
It was a rainy evening; I was sitting at he baraza alone humming a hymn while knitting socks for Bibi. She had been complaining of arthritis and I sure didn’t want my wonderful Bibi to turn into Aichi’s mother. I knew as long as her feet were nice and warm she would be okay.
“Manka …psst,” I jumped as I hadn’t seen anyone.
Looking around and peering through the dusty claustra blocks I tried to see who it was that was calling me. As soon as the voice again, this time much clearer, I knew something was wrong. She sounded drained, exhausted and frightened.
“Maria,” I called out getting up from the old mkeka I was sitting on.
“I can’t stay here,” she sobbed, “I can’t live in Moshi!”
“Why Maria,” I gently held her hands.
“I don’t fell safe here. Sisters and padres visit the convent from other convents everyday. Someone who knows me might see me and take me to the forests. I have to leave Manka. I just can’t stay!”
“But the sisters would never let anyone take you!” I tried to assure her.
“How about the bad spirits? I see them everyday in my dreams! Can they be stopped?”
