mapmaker wouldn’t have called a road. Both men still wore their sunglasses. One of Awaale’s technicals trailed them. Wizard waited for Awaale to speak.
“You know we got to talk,” Awaale finally said.
“Talk, then.” Wizard hated the way Awaale said “you know” with every sentence.
“Shabaab, you know they’re gone.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Juba open. Me and you come together, it’s ours to take.”
Awaale slipped off his glasses. Wizard followed. Down to it now.
“Plenty much room,” Wizard said. “We do our business, you do yours.”
“What I’m telling you, you know it can’t be that way no more. With you, without you, I’m taking over. Bring your men in, you can be my number-one commander.”
“You mean I give you my men and you tell me what to do?”
“I mean you my big lieutenant.”
“Too much miraa, Awaale. Make you crazy.”
“How many men you have? Sixty? Seventy? I have two hundred, and more every day.”
Awaale was lying. He didn’t have but 140 fighters, and they weren’t nearly as good as Wizard’s. But Wizard knew better than to argue. Arguing showed weakness. He contented himself with saying, “One of my men is worth five of yours.”
“Two hundred. It’s true. I got backing now.”
“From who.”
“People in Eastleigh. They see this chance. You don’t believe me, come to my camp, count my men yourself.”
Wizard stopped the Rover. “I come to your camp, I’ll leave a hole in your head.”
Awaale slipped on his sunglasses. “Then nothing else to say.”
They didn’t speak on the way back. Wizard wondered if Awaale might try to ambush him and his men when they returned. But he found that during the drive, Ali had moved the other Rover and the technicals outside the watering hole, making an attack impossible. Smart man. Wizard stopped the Rover beside Ali.
“Out.”
“You won’t drive me back to my men? Thought you were a wizard. No one touch you. Your men may believe that nonsense, but I don’t, and I see you don’t either.”
“Out. Now.”
Awaale offered Wizard a mock salute. “See you soon, Wizard.”
—
Back at camp, Wizard told his men to be ready, that Awaale could attack at any time. But he knew that in Awaale’s position, he’d wait. He’d add more fighters while letting the White Men exhaust themselves with overnight watches.
That night Wizard ordered a feast. He told his men the meal was a reward for their hard work. In fact, he wanted an excuse to slaughter the camp’s animals. The herd wasn’t much, a few bad-tempered goats and a dozen stringy hens. But if the White Men had to flee, they would leave the animals behind, and Wizard didn’t plan to let the Dita Boys have them. A handful of younger boys protested. Wizard realized too late that they liked taking care of the goats and especially the chickens. He let them keep three hens and two goats. He wondered if he should put off the culling entirely, but reversing the order would seem strange to his men.
So they ate well that night, too well, and it was with a full belly that Wizard called Waaberi into his hut for a meeting. From the footlocker by his bed, he unearthed the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue he had bought after his first successful smuggling run. Muslims weren’t supposed to drink, but Wizard didn’t much care. He poured them both a glass. Not too much. They needed clear heads tonight. Somewhere in the vast emptiness to the west, a hyena howled. A few seconds later, another answered. Then a third. The hyenas roamed all over East Africa, and they weren’t afraid of war. They liked it. War left them meals.
“Take a drink and I tell you about the meet,” Wizard said. He handed Waaberi a glass. Waaberi sipped carefully and listened. He knew his place. He didn’t interrupt.
“You told him no,” he said when Wizard finished.
“Of course no. Wants our men. We link with him, won’t be a month before he slit my throat, and yours, too. You know he don’t want a wizard around.”
“You think he told true, about having two hundred? No brag?”
“I think. He had swagger, like he only needs one leg to walk. Told me to come by his camp if I didn’t believe.”
“Must have happened sudden or we would have heard.”
“Said he getting money from Eastleigh. Someone fronting cash to pay new boys, give them guns, feed them. Even so, we can hold off two hundred. Those Dita Boys can’t fight.”
“But in three months, what if he have three hundred, four hundred?”
“What I’m thinking too, Waaberi. Plenty boys out there.”
“So we bring in new boys, too.”
“Could be.” Wizard had enough extra weapons for another fifty men, and he could buy more. But recruiting might be tricky. Awaale’s camp was closer to the main refugee routes, and Wizard guessed he was paying bonuses to anyone who joined. Plus adding men too fast had its own risks. Wizard knew the names of every one of his fighters. Every one of them had heard his story, seen his scars up close. They believed in him. He didn’t want to risk that bond for a bunch of half-trained boys who might run if the Ditas attacked. “We can add ten or fifteen quick, but after that I don’t know.”
Again the hyenas howled, closer now. Wizard drank his Johnny Walker in one gulp and felt it glow inside him. He refilled his glass. He’d never had more than a single drink before.
“What about we talk to the villages? Everyone know we fairer than Awaale or anyone. They help us, we have plenty power.”
Wizard wasn’t so sure the villages would take sides. No doubt Awaale had spread the word that any village that supported the White Men would face payback after the Dita Boys won. The local elders didn’t like Awaale. But they feared him even more.
“This my fault, Waaberi.”
“Not so.”
“Just so. Should have seen it, built us up. Should have known Shabaab gets weak, someone else going to try to get strong. How it is. Any weakness and the hyenas jump.”
“You fix it, Wizard.”
“I will. Always. Sentries posted?”
“You know it.”
“In the morning, I’ll talk to the villages.”
—
But the elders put him off everywhere he went. They were polite. Some even friendly. They agreed when he told them they’d be sorry if Awaale took control. But not one would pledge support, not even weapons. Such important decisions had to be made carefully, they said. They had to talk over the situation. Like they ran provinces instead of villages with fifty families. Like they couldn’t gather around and choose a side in five minutes. He knew what they were doing, but he couldn’t argue.
The days ticked by. The sun rose at six a.m. and set at six p.m., as it always did on the fattest part of the globe. Twelve hours of day, twelve hours of night. The White Men added a few soldiers and buried their weapons reserve south of their main camp. Wizard knew he had to do more. The scouts he sent to the Dita Boys camp told him that Awaale was adding soldiers every day. In a month he’d have an overwhelming advantage. Then the White Men would have to run. Or die.
Yet Wizard felt paralyzed. He couldn’t imagine crossing to the camps in Dadaab. Giving up his home and his Rovers and his men. For how would their faith in him survive such cowardice? He thought of attacking the Dita Boys, trying to catch them in the night. Spiking into their camp and killing Awaale and his top men. But the White Men would be hitting a force more than three times their size. They would need perfect surprise to win. And Wizard’s scouts said that Awaale had his own sentries outside his camp. Wizard wished for the weapons the
