WRATH OF A MAN’S SWEAT
JUST BECAUSE OF CHARCOAL…
Never joke with what a man/woman does to earn his daily bread. The story below explains why you should respect a man’s daily bread earner at all cost. Whatever one does to survive and fend his/her family is none of your business. Try and make ends meet for your own and leave others to do their affairs to have their daily bread laid on the table after a hard day’s work.
There lived a man in the far end of the alpha horizon in a village called Kamanga. His name was Dimba. Kamanga was an area popularly known for charcoal business. The commoners did their best to burn firewood in pits during the night in preparation for the next day’s business. Although charcoal was the main produce in the area, other sources of wealth were cattle and livestock keeping. Kamanga village was also known to be the home for hard working herdsmen who did their best to pocket something in their robes. You wouldn’t survive Kamanga village if you were the lazy breed of human beings.
Women were also committed to be attracted to men who were hard working. This motivated the men to work hard to earn favors from the women of whom they wished to marry. The common life of the people of Kamanga was the non-civilized type. They followed traditional forms and ways of living.
Dimba was a married man who possessed a lovely wife and three healthy children. He depended on charcoal fully for sustainability. He lived in an enclosed timber homestead where he planned his business and protected his charcoal. His wife was supportive to his husband in any way possible.
The daily routine of Dimba was waking up at 4:30 am in the morning to prepare his charcoal which he usually left overnight for it to be quality. He would pack his bags on his custom made bicycle which supported 4 bags of charcoal. Arriving at the charcoal sale point at 7:30am, Dimba would sell his charcoal and garner profit which he took back home. This job was his life and it had successfully sustained him and his family for 6 years. He loved his job too.
He came into his realization one day that someone was meddling with his charcoal at night. He usually left his charcoal at a certain area at the edge of a forest. It was reducing from the usual amount expected. He gave it a deaf ear at first but as the ‘smuggling’ continued, he assured himself he needed to do something. Days later,his charcoal was stolen again. This time around, the ‘thief’ took almost all his charcoal. He got furious and wrath had engulfed his mind. That day, Dimba took all his produce at home. He lay in his bed to cool his temper.
His wife got back home and was flabbergasted on meeting about 7 bags of charcoal at the homestead. What made it clear to her that her husband was there, was the bicycle he used on daily basis. Dimba was ‘crippled without his bicycle.’ She rushed inside to check on him; her mind told her that not all was good.
On opening the bedroom door, she met her husband on top of the bed. He was deep asleep. She shuffled closer to him and touched him. He didn’t twitch a muscle. She called him by his name. He didn’t respond either. His wife decided to kiss him. She bowed down towards his lips. Before their lips would meet, Dimba got up and gripped her neck lifting her up. His eyes were bhang-stained. His muscles were augmented and his mood was the killer type. On seeing her wife straining to gulp more air, he dropped her on the bed and apologized as he tried his best to resuscitate her. He had completely got rid of the limbo.
She stopped screaming and held her husband in disbelief. She asked of what had happened. Dimba poured all he had to say as her wife calmed him down by tapping his shoulders. He vowed to avenge the one who occasionally uses his charcoal for his daily bread. His wife remained silent all that moment as Dimba spoke his heart out. He didn’t want to talk about it because she had lived with a lovely tiger for almost 22 years for now. He would even kill his children if his climax of wrath would ever be attained at their presence.
That evening, he walked to the area he used to prepare his produce and made a great preparation of charcoal. He made it in two attempts. The first attempt was to woo the thief as a trap; the second was to reap great in spite of it being stolen. He was sure he would get the one who steals his charcoal. He got back home and ate supper a bit earlier. He then had a good time with his wife to arouse each other’s emotions after an exhaustible day. He set his alarm an hour earlier- 3:30 am.
The alarm rang as set. He got up slowly. Dimba wore his athlete clothes. He equipped himself with his panga which he had sharpened the previous day. He carried with him his pincers too and walked out. Hunching his bicycle, he cycled slowly to the usual place he had prepared his charcoal. He parked his bicycle at a rather dark place and hid in a nearby bush. He was at a strategic place where he viewed his wealth-charcoal clearly. It was intact. Nobody had touched the pile. He waited.
Few minutes later,he heard the rustling of leaves across the border of his charcoal. Dimba put himself in a position to view what was passing. He saw a silhouette of a man walking towards his charcoal. The man started excavating his ‘fleshly-piled up’ charcoal. He scooped the charcoal using a spade and put it in a number of bags he had.
Dimba’s hand was getting tight as he held his panga. He watched in disbelief. It was an unbelievable scene for him. A drop of sweat trickled down his face. He hadn’t imagined that someone could be too mean to dwell and survive on his own sweat. He had been leaving on charcoal for over 6 years yet someone had the guts to uproot his produce. He held his panga tightly and got up. He walked like a warrior; full of pain in his heart. On reaching the man, Dimba tucked his tongue to attract the man. Their eyes met. The moon was the only witness to what that transpired.
With the strength of a demon, Dimba struck deep inside the shoulders of the man with his tool forcing him to kneel down groaning for forgiveness. With a mighty force once again, Dimba ejected the panga from inside his flesh and hurled it into his right leg breaking the limb completely. A bone had already ejected from his femur bone; he was crippled. He was crying painfully as he pleaded for mercy. Mercy wasn’t in Dimba’s calendar anymore. He got his pincers and knelt before the man. He broke his front teeth and also clipped out his nails using the pincers. This wasn’t the end; he later crushed his testicals and left him for the dead. Dimba removed his own shirt and curbed the man’s mouth to cut the loud cries. The man’s white meat was visible. Dimba left the area.
As he was about two-hundred meters away, he walked back to the person and took him to hospital using his bicycle. Blood trickled drop by drop on the muddy route to the hospital. The patient died as soon as he was received by nurses. To the medical staff surprise, Dimba claimed responsibility and fled. He got back home and gathered all his belongings and his family. He fled in thin air.
People in Kamanga village kept the story alive on their lips. Cases of charcoal theft became minimal especially after people visited the area where on of their own was butchered.
All this were due to charcoal! Dimba’s sweat.
We should respect everybody’s hard work and also try and make ends meet in our lives. Being dependant on someone can be very hurting as in the story. Let’s strive to fend for ourselves. This life is a cycle, what goes around always comes around and forty days are for a thief.
Kennedy Mawira And Speranza Ndung’u