Read Online Chanda's Wars by Allan Stratton - Free Book Online

at the gas tank to the left. I look across the lot at the cluster of people huddled on Coca-Cola crates around Mr. Kamwendo’s firepit. Four of them get up to greet us. “That’s our Granny Thela, with the black shawl,”I tell the kids. “And that’s our older sister, Lily, carrying our baby cousin Abednego in a sling. The man in the toque running ahead of them is Mr. Kamwendo, the general dealer.”
    â€œAnd who’s he?” asks Iris, pointing at the stranger slouching along at Mr. Kamwendo’s heels.
    â€œNo idea,” I say. From what I can tell, he’s about my age. His face is set in a frown, but he’s still pretty handsome. Tall, lean, with a strong jaw and forehead. I wish it was daylight, so I could see more.
    Mr. Kamwendo’s out of breath by the time he reaches us. His whiskers are whiter than I remember. “Chanda,” he exclaims, “it’s good to see you again!” As he helps me off the truck, he whispers in my ear: “You coming means a lot to your granny. She’s been talking ’bout nothing else.” Then in a big voice: “And you must be Iris and Soly. I’m Sam Kamwendo.”
    He lifts them down. Soly presses behind me, but Iris plays tough. She puffs out her chest like she’s queen of the town. All the same, she takes my hand.
    â€œThat your stuff?” Mr. Kamwendo says, pointing at our bundles.
    â€œMm-hmm,” I nod.
    Mr. Kamwendo turns to our stranger. “Look lively, Nelson.”
    Nelson plants a hand on the truck’s floor and springs onto the flatbed. He tosses our things to Mr. Kamwendo without a glance in our direction.
    Granny’s stopped a few yards away. Lily has a protective arm around her.
    â€œGranny.” I step forward. She barely comes up to my shoulders. I bend down. She opens her arms and swallows me up in her shawl. It smells of smoke and earth.
    â€œChanda.” She tries to say more but she can’t. I can feel her ribs under her sweater. I’m afraid to hold her tight for fear she’ll break. She hugs me for what feels like forever.
    I pull away gently. “Soly, Iris, I’d like you to meet your granny.” I motion for them to give her a hug too, but they just stare, openmouthed.
    â€œIt’s late. They’re tired,” Granny says. “In this shawl I must look like an old crow.” She smiles at them. “We can have a hug tomorrow. How would that be?”
    â€œBetter,” says Iris, in a voice that says: If we have to get hugged at all.
    I look around for other relatives, but there aren’t any. Why not? Don’t they want us? I mean, I’m not expectingthe world. My cousins are grown up, the male ones tending cattle with the herd boys, the females tending families of their own. But what about my aunties and uncles, my grampa, or Lily’s husband, Mopati?
    Lily reads my mind. “Everyone wanted to be here. But Auntie Lizbet’s tending Grampa’s joints, and Uncle Chisulo and Uncle Enoch are fixing the mule cart—the axle broke when we left to get you. Auntie Agnes and Auntie Ontibile, they’re minding the soup. Still, they’re all waiting to greet you at the compound—except my Mopati, he’s training our son at the shanty.” She nods toward Nelson. “Nelson’s a son of Granny’s neighbors. His people offered their cart, and him to drive it.”
    I turn to Nelson. He’s standing off to the side, our pillowcases and wicker baskets at his feet. “Thank you,” I say. He gives me a sideways look and shrugs.
    â€œNelson’s a real charmer, aren’t you, Nelson?” Lily laughs.
    â€œIf you say so.” He grabs our belongings in both hands and heads to the mule cart tethered at the far side of the general dealer’s. We follow. “Get in,” he says. Lily and I help Granny up and make a comfortable spot for her with the stuffed pillowcases. Nelson