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A Court Of Fowls: Episode 51

Amina, now happily married to Nimrod, spares a thought for Stewart Munro.

Michael Conrad Wood continues his gripping novel.

To read earlier episodes of Michael's story visit
http://www.openwriting.com/archives/a_court_of_fowls/

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Chapter 17
Kaambooni (continued)

Within a year I fell pregnant with our first child and in due time
gave birth to Sanya. I was assisted by a retired midwife as there was
no functioning maternity clinic at Kaambooni – a matter which infuriated
Nimrod. I hadn’t been taken with his suggestion that we travel
all the way to Malindi in Kenya for the birth.

Our daughter grew into a lovely little girl, whom we both quite
naturally adored. In due course we sent her to a primary school run
by a Scottish woman whom we later befriended. Her name was Annie
McInnes. She spoke with a soft highland accent which reminded
me of my erstwhile friend, Stewart Munro. I often wondered what
happened to him. I guessed he would be living contentedly in Scotland
so different to our existence in Somalia.

It seemed strange that Annie should want to live in our unobtrusive
little town. I found out that coincidentally, she too had taken up
with a Maasai. His name was Kakenya. Like Mursal had done before
he decided to shoot Red Berets, Kakenya’s living came from the
cross border tomato trade. It turned out he had known Mursal. Like
my disgraced Uncle Jama, Kakenya was also the owner of two fishing
boats.

Late one afternoon, he and Annie came to our camp. They
brought a gift of cold beer and suggested that we share it around before
it got warm. However comfortable and established our camp
life had become we didn’t yet enjoy the luxury of refrigeration. It
was a rare treat to consume cooled liquid.

I soon detected our friends had not come to party. Each bore a
look of deep concern.

‘What’s troubling you?’ I asked.

‘There is something happening in the ocean,’ Annie confided,
mysteriously, her brow more than usually furrowed.

‘How do you mean?’ Nimrod had been fooling with Sanya but listening
intently. Kakenya took over the explanation.

‘Our boats have been out three times this week. Half a mile offshore
there are thousands of fish floating in the water. As far as the
eye can see. Not just fish. Dolphin, shark, small beaked whales, turtles
and seabirds too. Something terribly unnatural has happened out
there.’

‘But how?’ I asked, shocked by their news. ‘What can it be?’ I was
thinking of the delicious fish we had eaten the evening before. My
question was aimed at Nimrod.

‘Don’t ask me. All I know about the sea is how to sail a dhow.
Anything which lives in water is not my speciality.’

‘Do you think it was a seaquake or something like that?’ This time
I was looking at Kakenya.

‘I doubt that a seaquake could kill on this scale. No, I tell you.
This has to be the work of men. My boats are too small to go further
out to sea in safety. I was hoping you’d agree to take me out in
the dhow, Nimrod. Maybe we will find some clues.’

‘I can do that my friend. We will start out early tomorrow. I’ll ask
Joseph to make sure the boys are ready to leave at dawn. Now, why
don’t you enjoy one of these cold beers you have so kindly brought.’

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