Nakhumicha rounds the bend and races towards the hut, her Christmas present in hot pursuit. I watch her agility in amazement. It probably serves her mean spirit right. After all, hadn’t I expressly instructed her to slaughter that goat and share the meat out to her children and their wives? God only knows those children could do with some meat on their bones.
Nakhumicha would have none of it. No, that goat is too nice, look at how shiny his coat is. I’ll keep him until January. Anna needs school fees. Maria needs a new pair of sandals…
Can one he-goat fulfill everyone’s wishes? Can he make the whole family rich overnight?
Miser, that’s what Nakhumicha is. That black shiny he-goat was destined for the market alright, but not for Anna or Maria. Nakhumicha has had her eye on this Black Mamba bicycle for months. That’s where the money was going.
There she goes, careening round the hut one more time. The children are gathering in alarm. Thomas, my brother-in-law runs in front of the agitated goat. I turn away before the resounding ‘thwack’ and corresponding yelp. Idiots. We’d better have goat stew tonight.