“Now the crowd was in control. Everyone clamoured to hit somewhere, anywhere but the head. A kid pushed through the throng, managed to land a kick on Kamu’s butt and ran back shouting feverishly to his friends,

“I’ve given him a round kick like tyang!”

Angry men just arriving asked, “Is it a thief?” because Kamu had ceased to be human.

The word thief summed up the common enemy. Why there was no supper the previous night, why their children were not on their way to school. Thief was the president who arrived two and a half decades ago waving ‘democracy’ at them, who recently had laughed, “Did I actually say democracy? I was sooo naïve then.” Thief was tax collectors taking their money to redistribute it to the rich. Thief was God poised with a can of aerosol Africancide, his finger pressing hard on the nozzle.”