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splashed his forehead. The thatch was leaking again. He had helped Baba patch it up in the last rainy season. He skirted past the bed where Baba was snoring. His father slept lightly and Mugo hoped the rain would cover the sound of him tugging the metal bolt on the door. Then he opened the creaking wood just enough to squeeze out. He eased it shut behind him.
    Sheets of water pitched down from the edge of the thatch. The rain was driving a stream across the compound and he decided against trying to reach the toilet area. Instead, hugging the wall, he hurried to the back of the house to relieve himself there. He took his time, enjoying the freshness ofthe air and the damp earth. The rain was a blessing. With luck it would help everyone forget the incident of the fence.
    He was feeling his way back when he realized that he was not alone in the compound. He pressed his back against the wall, his heart thumping. Three shadows were slicing through the torrential rain, aiming for the room where his parents were sleeping. They were almost close enough to touch with a long stick! The one in front was bent double, carrying something. A gun? The door was unbolted and they could go straight in! There was no chance of Mugo getting back inside in time to lock it.
    His instinct told him to hide. Could he conceal himself between the maize stalks in the shamba? But he needed to know what was happening. Diving through the rain, he reached the entrance to the shamba and, trembling, felt his way along its thorny hedge until he thought he was in line with the front of the house. He scratched his fingers trying to feel for an opening through which he could peer. The downpour was easing slightly and he could just make out a shape standing outside like a guard. Then Baba’s and Mami’s shapes came stumbling through the door. They were probably still half asleep. There was no screaming or shouting but Mami huddled close to his father. Where were his little brother and sister? Had hisparents been forced out of bed so quietly that the little ones were still sleeping?
    More shadows emerged and there was talking. Mugo strained to hear. One of the strangers was much shorter than the others and his high-pitched voice carried through the rain.
    ‘Where is the kitchen toto?’
    ‘…not here… sometimes he sleeps there… kitchen… Mzungu keeps him late…’ Baba’s bass voice was more difficult to follow but Mugo also saw him wave his arm towards the bwana’s house.
    ‘If you lie, you will pay.’ The words flew sharp as arrows.
    Mugo’s mouth felt dry. How did these young men know about him? If they had an informant, they would soon know Baba was lying. He had only once slept in the shed by the kitchen.
    ‘Why should I lie?’ Baba sounded composed. ‘Are we not coming with you without trouble?’
    ‘Must I look, Captain?’ The shape of the guard stepped away from the door.
    ‘Hapana. No, we go.’ It was the same rapid, higher voice that had asked about the kitchen toto. He was the one with the gun and clearly the leader. Mugo was surprised how short he was, probably not much taller than himself. Mugo made out a peaked cap but could see nothing of the face underneath.
    With Mami and Baba between them, the young men headed briskly towards the row of banana trees that separated Mugo’s compound from Mzee Josiah’s. Mugo was torn. Shouldn’t he go back to his brother and sister? That’s what his parents would want him to do. But he also had to know where the strangers were taking them! He would lose them in the rain-filled night if he didn’t follow instantly.
    The shamba extended almost to the banana trees but the thorn hedge was so thickly planted that it would be difficult to get out at that end. He was obliged to hurry back to the shamba’s entrance and, by the time he was running softly on the other side, he had lost the figures in the thick wet darkness. Mugo imagined, however, that they might be heading for Mzee Josiah’s door.