Once the sun had set, the activity in the streets and the markets started to decrease until it died out completely. It seemed like together with the sun, everybody had deserted the city. How lonesome and scary it was for the woman and the children who had nowhere to go. The woman found a corridor between buildings where it was less cold. There, they would make it through the night somehow and face the new world again once the sun came back. The younger boy started to cry again, demanding to see his mother. The lie had lived too long, the woman did not know how to kill it. She did not try to lie to him, instead, she held him in her arms and swayed him gently and lulled him with a song. All was for nothing as the boy did not sleep or stop asking for his mother. He might have suspected that he would never see her again.
'You'll not see her here-or anywhere.' Zabu told him, 'She's dead.'
Mulokozi restrained herself from striking Zabu. After she had had a moment to think, she realised that it was for the best that Mulinzi knew the truth. He was too young but it was a fact that his mother was dead.
'You're lying!' Mulinzi shouted at Zabu. He had stopped crying.
'I am not lying.' Zabu insisted. Mulokozi wondered if Zabu was revealing this information to hurt Mulinzi. She concluded that could not be case because he was such a good boy.
'You're lying, lying peasant!' Mulinzi shouted again as he sobbed. Zabu did not try to insist. He put his head on his mother's lap and closed his eyes. Mulinzi cried uncontrollably and no one tried to calm him. He had to get through it somehow so that they could face the next day, together.
Mulokozi arrived at the quarry before the sun and any other people. After giving it some thought the previous night, she had concluded that working in the quarry is what would require the least amount of skill. This conclusion boded well for her because she had previously concluded that she was not very skilled in any way that mattered. Looking at the ragged portion of what was left of what had once been a hill, she wondered how much of it she would have to tear away to make a life for the boys and herself. There were very long logs, mounted on some sorts of wheel systems, with flat metal slates embedded into their free ends. Zabu was instantly fascinated by the contraptions. There were several large pools of water scattered all around where stones had been extracted from deep in the ground. The water had turned green from algae and stagnation. A number of piles of large rocks could be seen placed at various locations in the quarry. Some parts were a lot deeper than others and there were many more piles in those deeper parts. The rocks closer to the surface were brownish yellow while those deeper were white and sometimes dark grey.
They had been there for about half an hour when the first person arrived; a short round man with a mean look on his face. What are you doing in my quarry?-is what Mulokozi read off the expression on his face. When he spoke however, he was a lot kinder. And how could he not have been with such a gentle high pitched voice?
'Good morning?' He said, 'How may I be of help to you?'
It was strange. You almost had to look behind you and all around to make sure there was not another person speaking.
'Good morning to you.' Mulokozi responded, 'My name is Mulokozi. I am hoping to find some work here-in the quarry.'
'Okay, alright. I am Bolu.' The man responded half shyly half proudly, 'I am the man who can find you some work.'
'Really? Is there any?' Mulokozi asked nervously. Bolu paused before speaking, likely to find something unordinary to say but he wound up looking like a snob-the furthest thing from what he was.
'For an early rise like yourself,' Bolu finally responded, 'there always is work.'
'Thank you. Thank you.' She reacted sincerely.
'Do you have tools?' Bolu asked though it was easy enough to see that she was not carrying anything.
'In any case, don't worry about that Mukeezi,' he said to her, 'I am sure I can find you something to use until you find your own.'
'My name is Mulokozi.' She corrected him.
'Sure sure.' He said to her, 'Follow me, Mukeezi.'
He called her the wrong name again and she did not bother to correct him that time.
'Do you have any experience in a quarry?' He asked and continued to speak without giving her a chance to respond, 'It's alright either way. What happens is that the axe breaks down the hill. The men break down the blocks into smaller, well not so small, rocks with sledge hammers. And then the women, children and lesser men, turn the rocks into pebbles.'
'A pile of pebbles this high and this big,' he said gesturing with his hands, 'goes for ten silvers, three of those will be taken by the tax man.'
'You're unlikely to pile them that high so, you can expect five silvers two of which will be taken by the tax man.'
At that point, she knew that she could expect three silver pieces but she did not know if it was enough or too little.
Bolu lent her a hammer and she was hitting away before anyone else had arrived. Zabu helped out by bringing the distant pieces closer. Mulinzi remained largely uninterested except when he occasionally complained about particles hitting him. The work was as straight forward as Mulokozi had expected but a lot harder. At times, she hit a rock with all her energy without it breaking! Instead, the shock from the impact travelled through her arm all the way to her shoulder. Each time she thought her bones might have shattered but the effect faded quickly. The worst part was the blistering that came from gripping the wooden handle of the hammer too hard. These stayed for all time and eventually tore open creating soft spots which hurt just from holding the hammer. She was tired and frustrated before her pile had reached anywhere close to what she wanted or needed. Eventually though, she did learn the trick.
Almost from the very beginning, it was too frustrating. She felt like her energy was completely spent. The trick was to ignore all such instincts and persevere. She did persevere but by the end of the day, she had not piled enough stones to make five silvers which meant she would not be paid. It was a cruel system employed by the quarry where crashers were paid in fives. This meant that any pile not worth five silvers was worth nothing and the same was true for any amounts that exceeding worthiness of five but not reaching ten silvers. The rule had been devised and implemented on the orders of the minister of stones who doubled as the first minister. Mulokozi was about to leave the quarry empty handed when Bolu took pity on her.
'Mukeezi,' he called her and handed her three silvers, 'It's not enough to be determined and hardworking. You have to be smart too.'
It was sound advice and Zabu would never forget it.
As it turned out, three silvers were just enough for a warm meal, a cheap room and some old warm coverings. The three of them lay down on a mat in the tiny room and drifted off to sleep with their tiredness as their lullaby. They had learned, especially Zabu and Mulokozi, that home was indeed best despite all its flaws. Zabu swore to himself to take his mother home one day but then he realised such a place might not exist for them if it ever did. His mother had held him tight as she drifted off and that is how he realised that her hands were not so gentle anymore. Just from a single day's work, they had become so rough and unrecognisable. Mulinzi was already snoring with his mouth wide open as if he had not a care in the world. It appeared then that he had already forgotten all about Nafesi. The days were very loud in Sika's capital but the nights, they were eerily quiet. So quiet in fact that you could hear the wind crashing against the sea to form waves. Or you could have heard it if not for Mulinzi's snoring.
'Mother.' Zabu called out. Mulokozi was quickly awakened from her sweet slumber.
'What is it, Zabu?' She asked.
'Thank you.' Zabu said to her. She smiled as she drifted off once again into a blissful quieter world.
'What a silly child.' She thought.