Souls of Independence
Peter Ngĩla Nzeli
Death is a poet, and he won't let his favourite soul reader die. In a post-apocalyptic Kenya, the one woman who can see the coming catastrophe drinks a bottle of whiskey called Independence to escape it.
Full Synopsis
In the year 2233, thirty-three years after the world burned, humans and animals speak as equals, borders have dissolved, and even the calendar bends to the sky's moods. In the parched community of Kabaa, where the River Athi has run dry for a generation, three unlikely souls carry a gift no one asked for: the power to read the moral truth buried in every living heart. Kalekye, a fierce and lonely woman. Sunny, a dog hiding his gift from the family that loves him. Ngoso, a bird who speaks from her nest and sees more than anyone wants her to. Each has already tried to die once. A mischievous, all-seeing Spirit won't let them.
About the Author
Peter Ngĩla Nzeli is a Kenyan novelist and short-story writer from Machakos, Kenya. He is known for writing stories inspired by African culture, history, mythology, and everyday life. His novel The Legend of Beach House won the 2023 James Currey Prize for African Literature. Nzeli has also received recognition through several literary fellowships and writing programmes. His work contributes to contemporary African literature by exploring Kenyan identity, traditions, and social experiences.
Excerpt
January 66, 2233 – Century Number Twenty-Three Because I have always been a poet, I flew into Kalekye Katiwa’s room at exactly hours nine and thirty-three minutes in the morning. Kalekye Katiwa was a dreadlocked girl who was born thirty-three years ago – just three days after the apocalypse. Presently, the girl was lying on the sofa holding a bottle of Independence in her hands. When I smelt the reek of the whiskey in her breath, I realised what she had done. I am not surprised Kalekye is one of my three soul readers in the whole of Kabaa, for she has always been this tortured soul who with time lost the essence for life. Snapping my fingers in the air, the hands of time went back in time to hours nine. Thirty-three minutes ago, to be precise. In that recent past, Kalekye rolled on her thin bed. Despite reading the souls of tens and tens of Kabaa residents, Kalekye had never requested for any compensation from her clients. Otherwise at that very moment she would have been lying on an expensive bed. Anyway, Kalekye felt the sun of disappointment scorch her insides. Hadn’t she already done more than enough to restore their world? Why did no one believe her? She couldn’t believe why her residents seemed so blind to their environment. Maybe everyone had been so used to their bad conditions that they didn’t see the need to change. Though Kalekye was never a prophetess, she could read in the soul a terrible disaster coming in the near future. Maybe all this thing of saving people who never seem interested is all useless, Kalekye told herself. Our star sat up on the bed, picked a bottle of Independence from the low table beside her bed. With fingers eager than those of a lover undressing their person, Kalekye opened the bottle. She started taking the whiskey from the bottle, while her left hand held the poison close to her mouth. Kalekye, this whiskey is called Independence because now it’s your time to take charge of your own life. Why would you keep sacrificing for people who can’t sacrifice to themselves? As Kalekye Katiwa further spoke to herself, the whiskey started hitting the right spot in her body. She felt her body shake slightly, but the demon in her soul kept urging her to drink on. Soon, she slumped the bed, the short spikes of the dreadlocks on her head lying on the bedsheets. Though by now she had freed all the whiskey out of the bottle, she couldn’t understand why she was still breathing. And that’s exactly when I appeared in her room located in the area of the river Athi which used to be called the ‘women’s place’. Snapping my finger again to bring back the scene to the present moment, I watched Kalekye start writhing on the bed while holding the lower part of her stomach with both hands. The whiskey didn’t waste one more minute to free the breath out of Kalekye’s body. Our star’s body gave up with a kick of the legs. As soon as the breath of life left Kalekye’s feet, I breathed the air and watched as our girl rose on the bed with the look of confusion on her face. Then I blinked thrice to put her to a deep sleep.
