Jerry awoke, listened for a while, and exclaimed, "Mama!"

  He was alone. Otherwise, Mama could have answered from anywhere in the house. 

She would frequently yell back. "Yes, baby!"

When it was bad-bad in the house, she would scream, "Why in the name of the Lord would this boy shout my name like that?"

It was bad-bad in the house. Baba hadn’t sent any money. When Mama spoke with Baba yesterday, she didn’t know Jerry was hiding behind the curtain. She held the phone near her mouth and spat, “Listen here, Omolo. You’re an irresponsible piece of sh*t. Either I starve to death with my son or find myself a responsible man!”

Now Jerry sat on the bed and looked around, mostly taking in the light on the eaves. It was a new dawn. Why was Mama not beside him in bed? 

Which day is this? Thought Jerry. Sunday? They often slept a lot, he and Mama, especially on weekends.  

Where was Mama? Jerry jumped from the bed and stormed out of the bedroom, calling, “Mama!”

The living room was dead quiet, with dawn light pressing on the windows. The furniture was neatly arranged. A few were missing covers, just as they were last night. Jerry realized that Mam hadn't done her living room cleaning. Yes, it was early—not the time for cleaning. But where was Mama? 

Was the door locked? Jerry crossed the living room. 

The door didn't budge as he shook it, which meant it was padlocked, and Mama went with the key!

Jerry, curious, went to the right window and pulled out the latch. He must get out. Not a child anymore, he turned thirteen last week. As such, Mama should’ve treated him as an adult and should’ve told him she was leaving for somewhere early in the morning and not locking him up like an animal. 

Jerry wanted answers. He opened the window wide and stared outside, standing on the tips of his toes. By his estimation, it was six in the morning, and the sun would soon be up.

Then Jerry heard the birds chirping and saw villagers walking as well. The villagers were hurrying, mere blurs behind the euphorbia trees fencing off the home.  

Jerry thought for a while. Should he go back to bed, wait for Mama, and confront her about locking him up? Or should he go out? After all, it was a bright day outside. After all, he’d get something to do outside. Like checking on his rabbits, four of which were inside their house in the yard. Jerry could as well work on the farm. Mama had planted tomatoes, and lately, Jerry had enjoyed a farm tour, admiring small, green balls dangling from tiny branches. 

Going out got to Jerry; no other way would he accomplish that except through the window. First, the legs left the living room one by one, guided out carefully, and just as the last one touched the ground, the rest of Jerry followed. 

Only while outside did Jerry realize he was wearing nothing except brown shorts. He considered going inside for some clothes. Or exploring the new day while half-naked. 

“Nah!” said Jerry dismissively. 

Jerry didn’t go to the farm. Neither did he go to the rabbit house. As he walked about the lawn barefoot, grimacing at the cold touch of dew on his bare feet, four men hurried past the gate and started running. 

“Hey!” Jerry called out, craning his neck. 

The men probably didn’t hear Jerry. Or were in a hurry. Jerry didn’t know which. Had they stopped, he could’ve asked if they’d seen Mama. 

Jerry clicked his tongue. He hated himself. Why had he left the warmth of the bed only to soak his legs in the dew? And he could’ve worn the slippers!

After a moment, Jerry saw people again. Men and women were all hurrying, others barely keeping up with the leading pace. 

“Have you seen Mama?" Jerry yelled. 

A woman stopped at the gate. She shouted, “Maybe she’s ahead of us!”

“Where are you going?” Jerry asked. 

“At Obing’s place!”

“Why? What has happened?”

The woman ran after the others. “Boy,go back to bed. Your mama will be home soon!”

Jerry ignored that order. After all, he was no boy. He had a girlfriend, for one. Grace had smiled at him often. He’d smiled back. They’d exchanged books and gone home together last Friday, holding hands. For another, he was the only man in his father’s house, with his father gone to the city and rarely calling. 

Jerry knew Obing’s home; he must go because Mama was there. Maybe they’d return home together, with Mama talking proudly of Jerry. 

The path meandering between the homesteads hurt Jerry’s legs, with some pebbles sharp as needles against the softness of Jerry’s feet, but Jerry hurried. Near Obing’s home, he saw a crowd at the gate.  

Jerry’s drumming heart echoed in his ears. Maybe somebody had died. Maybe it was Obing himself. Jerry hid behind the line of trees and sneaked slowly toward the crowd, hearing familiar voices. Jerry then noticed something else about the crowd. Those just joining in were carrying leaves, and, as far as Jerry could see, a growing green heap was among the villagers, onto which the leaves were being thrown. 

Jerry figured it out while crouching. Last night, the village men killed a cattle thief now covered with leaves. Normally, the villagers would blanket the dead with green leaves to appease their spirits. As Jerry had heard, the spirit of a man killed painfully, like being stoned to death, would be vengeful and must be allayed. 

Jerry could not go home without throwing a leaf to help save his village. He reached out a hand to a low tree branch, plucked an unblemished green leaf, and followed the treeline toward the crowd. While behind the crowd and not yet spotted, Jerry emerged with the leaf in hand, gingerly slipped between standing bodies, and threw the leaf.