Chapter 9: All of Us
Chapter 9 · 9 min read
That night, when the others had stopped talking, Mama Leki sat with her back against the wall and listened to them breathe.
She did not sleep.
Down in the cave, stones had fallen over the entrance. Lumani pushed them aside one by one. His fingers bled. It took him most of the night to make a gap big enough to crawl through.
Just before the sun came up, he climbed out through the hidden well and walked through the gray mist to the sleeping shed.
He opened the door.
Three heads turned.
For one second, nobody moved or breathed.
Then Kofi made a small, broken sound, like something tearing. He was off his mat before anyone else. He crashed into Lumani so hard they both hit the doorframe. He did not say anything. He just held on and cried into Lumani’s shoulder.
Jabari came next. He grabbed them both and squeezed.
“You stupid—” His voice broke. “You stupid, stupid—”
He could not finish. He pressed his face into Lumani’s head and shook.
Ayo walked over slowly, like she was afraid he might disappear if she moved too fast. She stopped in front of him and looked at his face. His muddy cheeks. His bleeding hands.
“We thought—” she said.
She could not say the rest.
Then she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into the pile, and Ayo, who never cried in front of anyone, cried.
Lumani held on to all three of them. He had been brave for a whole day and night in the cave. Now it all came out at once.
“I am sorry,” he sobbed. “I am sorry. I am sorry.”
“Do not be sorry,” Jabari said into his hair. “Just do not do it again. Never do that again.”
“I will not.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
Behind them, Mama Leki pressed her hand over her mouth. She did not get up yet. She let them have this.
They stayed like that for a long time, a knot of arms and tears in the doorway.
Then Kofi sniffed loudly and lifted his head.
“Wait,” he said.
Everyone looked at him.
Kofi wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Were we not supposed to act normal?”
Ayo looked at the four of them, tangled together on the floor, faces wet, Jabari still gripping Lumani’s shirt with both fists.
“This is not normal,” she said.
“This is very not normal,” said Kofi.
Jabari slowly let go of Lumani’s shirt. He cleared his throat and sat up straight.
“Good morning, Lumani,” he said in a flat voice. “Nice weather.”
Lumani stared at him.
Then he laughed. A real laugh, the first one in a while. It burst out of him, and he could not stop it.
Kofi laughed too, still crying. Ayo pressed her face into her knees, her shoulders shaking. No one could tell whether she was laughing or crying. Maybe both.
“Your face,” Kofi gasped, pointing at Jabari. “Your face gave us away.”
“My face?” Jabari said. “You knocked him into the door!”
On the next mat, Jojina sat up and rubbed her eyes. She looked at the four of them on the floor.
“Weird-eyes came back,” she said, and went straight back to sleep.
That only made them laugh harder.
Mama Leki finally stood up. She walked over and looked down at them with her hands on her hips.
“Very normal,” she said. “The guards will never guess.”
Then she knelt, pulled Lumani into her arms, and held him longer than anyone.
Lumani had barely slept when the work horn sounded.
He stood in the cold mud with his body aching. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the boots again, and Kamau’s voice.
Along the row, people whispered.
“They say Kamau was hiding rebels,” a man muttered.
“Kamau?” a woman said. “That man only fixes bowls.”
“Then why is he in the cells?”
Nobody had an answer.
Lumani stabbed his shovel into the mud. Again. Harder.
Jabari set down a box of clay beside him. “Easy,” he whispered. “The mud did nothing to you.”
“He saved us,” Lumani said, angry. “He took the blame to save us.”
“I know,” Ayo said quietly. She glanced up at the tower. “So we stay strong. For him. If the guards see you angry, they will watch you. And then who helps Kamau after that?”
Lumani breathed. He made his hands slow down.
From the edge of the pit, Malanga watched the workers. Ayo looked up at him, then away.
Three rows over, an old man was struggling with his tray. He was thin. His arms were like dry sticks. His legs shook as he tried to lift a frame. Then his legs could not hold him, and he fell face-first into the mud.
As he fell, a few words slipped from his mouth. Old words, loud enough for the whole row to hear.
“Lamuka tūtū… bulongo bwa Alkebulan buna kuita.”
The whole pit went silent.
Lumani did not know most of the words. But he knew one. Lamuka. The place Kamau had told him about. The place he came from.
Malanga’s head turned. He crossed the mud in long steps and stopped over the old man.
“Silence!”
The stick came down. The sound cracked across the yard.
At the cooking shed, Mama Leki’s spoon stopped halfway to the pot.
“Only Ngaru names,” Malanga said. “Only Ngaru prayers.”
The old man did not cry out. He lay in the mud, breathing hard. His lips were still moving.
Lumani’s hands curled into fists. The mud under his feet felt warm.
Kofi saw it. He stepped close, shoulder to shoulder with Lumani, looking at the old man.
“We see him,” Kofi whispered. “We will remember him. That is how we fight today.”
Lumani swallowed. His fists opened, slowly.
On his other side, Ayo moved closer too. “Stand tall,” she whispered. “Let him see he is not alone.”
So they stood. Three children in the mud, side by side, watching.
Jabari’s hands were shaking. He pressed them flat against his legs to make them stop. Then he stepped in next to Kofi.
“Yesterday Malanga lied for you,” he whispered. “Today he does this?”
“Remember both,” Ayo said. “Then we will understand him.”
Malanga waved two guards over. They grabbed the old man under the arms and dragged him through the mud.
As they pulled him past, the old man lifted his head. His face was bruised and dirty. But his eyes were clear and looked straight at Lumani.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Ayo pushed an empty frame toward Lumani. “He looked at you.”
“I know.”
“Why you?”
“I do not know.”
Kofi pressed a handful of clay into Lumani’s frame, then another into his own. “Weird things, huh?”
“Very,” Lumani answered.
Lumani pressed the clay down with both hands. He could still see the old man’s eyes.
And somewhere deep under his feet, the ground was still warm.
Behind them, two guards spoke in low voices. “Count was wrong again,” one muttered. “Western pits lists one more than shown.” “Then someone can’t count.” Lumani’s stomach tightened. He knew exactly who could not be counted. Ayo’s eyes flicked to his, then away.
That evening, Mama Leki gathered the four of them in the quiet corner of the shed. She brought thin stew and split the last of the bread, so no bowl sat empty. Kofi tucked half of his bread away for Kamau.
“The guards are watching closely,” she whispered. “Just keep your heads down and say nothing.”
They nodded.
Lumani did not eat. He was looking at the door.
“I kept asking him questions,” Lumani said. His voice was small. “About my dream, about who I am, and where I come from.”
They all listened.
“If I had stopped asking, he would not have taken me to the cave. He would be here now.”
“Lumani,” Mama Leki said.
“It is all my fault.”
A tear slid down his cheek. He wiped it away fast. Another came.
“And now there is nobody to—” He stopped and looked at the bowl. “Nobody.”
Mama Leki set down her spoon. She moved close and took his face in both her hands.
“Look at me.”
He looked.
“Kamau chose to take you to that cave. He chose it because he cares for all of us. Do not take his choice and turn it into your fault.” Her thumbs brushed his wet cheeks. “Now look around you.”
Lumani turned.
Jabari sat across from him with no joke ready. Just watching him, steady.
Kofi gave him a small nod.
Ayo shifted closer and put his hand on her shoulder.
“You are not alone,” Mama Leki said softly. “You were never alone. Your family is right here.”
Ayo squeezed his shoulder. “Next time you disappear, you tell us first.”
“I did not plan to disappear.”
“I know. Still.”
“I kept your tray,” Kofi said. “And it was well guarded.”
Lumani’s mouth twitched. “Thank you, Kofi.”
Jabari leaned forward. “And I have two more bad ideas planned for this week. Someone has to stop me. Kamau usually does it. So now that is your job.”
“Not now, Jabari,” Ayo said.
“I said someone has to stop me. I did not say now.”
Lumani laughed. It came out wet and shaky, but it was a laugh.
Then, without thinking, he hummed two notes of the lullaby under his breath. Beneath his shirt, the birthmark warmed, faint as breath held too long.
Then he reached over and picked up Kamau’s bowl. He turned it in his hands, his thumb running along the crack.
“I could fix the crack,” he said quietly. “Before he comes back.”
Mama Leki’s eyes shone. “He would like that.”
“He will say I did it wrong.”
“Of course he will,” said Mama Leki. “That is how you will know he is home.”
Lumani held the bowl in his lap. Then he looked up and whispered.
“Mama. Kamau said I am from Lamuka. What was it like?”
Mama Leki was quiet for a moment. She took his hands, bowl and all, into hers.
“Your home was a great kingdom,” she said. “The Shadow Lord destroyed it.”
“Was it beautiful?”
Her eyes went somewhere far away. Then they warmed.
“Yes.”
Lumani waited for more. She did not give it.
“There is more I can tell you one day,” she said. “For now, know this. The world is bigger than this camp. Much bigger.”
“One day, will we see it?”
Mama Leki looked at the four of them. Lumani holding the cracked bowl. Ayo’s hand still on his shoulder. Kofi and Jabari, leaning in to hear.
“One day,” she said. “All of us will.”
Keep reading
Chapter 10 is on its way
Never miss a chapter
New chapters every week. Get each one by email the day it goes live.
Share this chapter
X · Facebook · WhatsApp · Reddit
Lumani Rewards for this chapter
Earn up to 10 Lumani Sparks from this chapter.
Sign in or create a free account to earn rewards for reading and engaging.
Chapter Discussion
Share your thoughts, theories, and favorite moments. Be respectful—comments are moderated.
No comments yet. Start the discussion.