Mike Resnick - Kirinyaga

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Kirinyaga

by Mike Resnick

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Hugo Winner, Year's Best SF

Fictionwise Contemporary

Science Fiction

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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the

purchaser. If you did not purchase this ebook directly from Fictionwise.com

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IN THE BEGINNING, Ngai lived alone atop the mountain called Kirinyaga.

In the fullness of time he created three sons, who became the fathers of the

Maasai, the Kamba, and the Kikuyu races, and to each son he offered a spear, a

bow, and a digging-stick. The Maasai chose the spear, and was told to tend

herds on the vast savannah. The Kamba chose the bow, and was sent to the

dense forests to hunt for game. But Gikuyu, the first Kikuyu, knew that Ngai

loved the earth and the seasons, and chose the digging-stick. To reward him

for this Ngai not only taught him the secrets of the seed and the harvest, but

gave him Kirinyaga, with its holy fig tree and rich lands.

The sons and daughters of Gikuyu remained on Kirinyaga until the white

man came and took their lands away, and even when the white man had been

banished they did not return, but chose to remain in the cities, wearing

Western clothes and using Western machines and living Western lives. Even I,

who am a mundumugu -- a witch doctor -- was born in the city. I have never

seen the lion or the elephant or the rhinoceros, for all of them were extinct

before my birth; nor have I seen Kirinyaga as Ngai meant it to be seen, for a

bustling, overcrowded city of three million inhabitants covers its slopes,

every year approaching closer and closer to Ngai's throne at the summit. Even

the Kikuyu have forgotten its true name, and now know it only as Mount Kenya.

To be thrown out of Paradise, as were the Christian Adam and Eve, is a

terrible fate, but to live beside a debased Paradise is infinitely worse. I

think about them frequently, the descendants of Gikuyu who have forgotten

their origin and their traditions and are now merely Kenyans, and I wonder why

more of them did not join with us when we created the Eutopian world of

Kirinyaga.

True, it is a harsh life, for Ngai never meant life to be easy; but it

is also a satisfying life. We live in harmony with our environment, we offer

sacrifices when Ngai's tears of compassion fall upon our fields and give

sustenance to our crops, we slaughter a goat to thank him for the harvest.

Our pleasures are simple: a gourd of pombe to drink, the warmth of a

boma when the sun has gone down, the wail of a newborn son or daughter, the

footraces and spear-throwing and other contests, the nightly singing and

dancing.

Maintenance watches Kirinyaga discreetly, making minor orbital

adjustments when necessary, assuring that our tropical climate remains

constant. From time to time they have subtly suggested that we might wish to

draw upon their medical expertise, or perhaps allow our children to make use

of their educational facilities, but they have taken our refusal with good

grace, and have never shown any desire to interfere in our affairs.

Until I strangled the baby.

It was less than an hour later that Koinnage, our paramount chief,

sought me out.

"That was an unwise thing to do, Koriba," he said grimly.

"It was not a matter of choice," I replied. "You know that."

"Of course you had a choice," he responded. "You could have let the

infant live." He paused, trying to control his anger and his fear.

"Maintenance has never set foot on Kirinyaga before, but now they will come."

"Let them," I said with a shrug. "No law has been broken."

"We have killed a baby," he replied. "They will come, and they will

revoke our charter!"

I shook my head. "No one will revoke our charter."

"Do not be too certain of that, Koriba," he warned me. "You can bury a

goat alive, and they will monitor us and shake their heads and speak

contemptuously among themselves about our religion. You can leave the aged

and the infirm out for the hyenas to eat, and they will look upon us with

disgust and call us godless heathens. But I tell you that killing a newborn

infant is another matter. They will not sit idly by; they will come."

"If they do, I shall explain why I killed it," I replied calmly.

"They will not accept your answers," said Koinnage. "They will not

understand."

"They will have no choice but to accept my answers," I said. "This is

Kirinyaga, and they are not permitted to interfere."

"They will find a way," he said with an air of certainty. "We must

apologize and tell them that it will not happen again."

"We will not apologize," I said sternly. "Nor can we promise that it

will not happen again."

"Then, as paramount chief, I will apologize."

I stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged. "Do what you must

do," I said.

Suddenly I could see the terror in his eyes.

"What will you do to me?" he asked fearfully.

"I? Nothing at all," I said. "Are you not my chief?" As he relaxed, I

added: "But if I were you, I would beware of insects."

"Insects?" he repeated. "Why?"

"Because the next insect that bites you, be it spider or mosquito or

fly, will surely kill you," I said. "Your blood will boil within your body,

and your bones will melt. You will want to scream out your agony, yet you

will be unable to utter a sound." I paused. "It is not a death I would wish

on a friend," I added seriously.

"Are we not friends, Koriba?" he said, his ebon face turning an ash

gray.

"I thought we were," I said. "But my friends honor our traditions.

They do not apologize for them to the white man."

"I will not apologize!" he promised fervently. He spat on both his

hands as a gesture of his sincerity.

I opened one of the pouches I kept around my waist and withdrew a small

polished stone from the shore of our nearby river. "Wear this around your

neck," I said, handing it to him, "and it shall protect you from the bites of

insects."

"Thank you, Koriba!" he said with sincere gratitude, and another crisis

had been averted.

We spoke about the affairs of the village for a few more minutes, and

finally he left me. I sent for Wambu, the infant's mother, and led her

through the ritual of purification, so that she might conceive again. I also

gave her an ointment to relieve the pain in her breasts, since they were heavy

with milk. Then I sat down by the fire before my boma and made myself

available to my people, settling disputes over the ownership of chickens and

goats, and supplying charms against demons, and instructing my people in the

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