Late one sunlit afternoon, Wambui and the other girls of Kigeru were wading in the shallows of the Nyanza, collecting succulent shellfish in baskets of woven grass. The work was tedious, but with the songs of Wambui, the time passed pleasantly.
Like beautiful wading-birds were the girls of Kigeru, with their slender, graceful bodies, long legs and satiny, mostly unclothed, black skin. That the girls’ heads were shaven to the scalp did not in the least detract from their comeliness. Loveliest of all was Wambui, whose smile was as striking as her songs.
As Wambui bent down to gather up yet another handful of mollusks, her eyes noticed something gleaming on the shallow lake bottom. Swiftly, her hand darted into the water, and brought up a strange-looking object. It was an empty shell with nothing to eat inside it – hence, of no value, unless one looked at it closely.
“How long has this beautiful shell lain in the Nyanza, waiting for me to find it?” the fascinated Wambui wondered aloud. “What manner of creature once dwelt in it, long ago?”
In the meantime, the other girls of Kigeru had surrounded Wambui and were themselves gazing raptly at the shell.
“See what I have found!” exclaimed Wambui. “I am going to take it back to the village and keep it forever.”
The other Kigeru maidens were naturally envious of Wambui’s beauty and her songs. And for her to have discovered this wondrous thing – that was simply too much for them to bear.
“You’d better throw it back, Wambui,” they advised. “You know the old women will beat us if we bring back empty, useless shells in our baskets.”
Wambui knew they were right. She did not wish to feel the sharp sting of the old women’s sticks across her back.
So, sadly, she said: “Very well. I will return it to its home in the Nyanza.”
However, Wambui was a clever girl. When her companions’ backs were turned, she secretly slipped the beautiful shell into her basket, and it was an ordinary mollusk that she threw as far as she could into the Nyanza. The brief splash it made brought satisfied smirks to the faces of the others.
Later, when all the baskets had been filled and the girls were about to return to Kigeru, Wambui told the others to go ahead of her; she would catch up with them. They went, smugly assured Wambui wanted to be alone so she could cry in private over the loss of her precious find.
As soon as the girls were out of sight, Wambui fished the shell out of her basket, and admired the rosy tint reflected by the rays of the setting sun. Then she held it to her chest, and the shell seemed to radiate a special warmth of its own. Reluctantly, Wambui placed it upon a nearby rock. As though she were addressing a friend, she said, softly:
“You will not be lonely for long. I will come back to you tonight, when the moon rises.”
And that is exactly what she did. Late that night, while the rest of the village was asleep, Wambui stole stealthily from her father’s kibanda. The dogs that guarded Kigeru at night did not bark at Wambui, for they knew her and loved her songs.
Quickly, she walked to the beach. Due to the protection of N’gonjo’s magics, she had nothing to fear from predators or night spirits. Still, the creeping moon-shadows sent tiny chills tickling up her spine. To bolster her spirits, Wambui began singing a bright, happy song, and the night seemed to soften in response.
But when she reached the rock upon which she had earlier set the shell, shocked surprise stilled her song. For instead of a mere empty shell, there sat upon the rock – a man! He was clad in a flowing robe of the same rose-like color as the shell, and his dark face was the handsomest that Wambui had ever before seen.
Slowly, majestically, the stranger rose form the rock and approached Wambui, arms outstretched and a smile on his face. Entranced, Wambui rushed into the stranger’s embrace and lifted her lips to his.
Then she noticed something unusual about his eyes. And his arms were clasping her much more tightly than they should. And beneath his rose-colored robe, his body did not feel human.
Wambui struggled to free herself from that merciless grip, and opened her mouth to cry for help. But it was much too late for that ...
FOR WEEKS, THE PEOPLE of Kigeru scoured the bush and savanna and shore in search of any trace of their beloved singer of songs. But nothing could be found. It was as though Wambui had vanished from the face of Nyumbani.
The girls who had been with her on the last day she had been seen did not mention her finding of the mysterious lake-shell. One look at the bleak eyes of Wambui’s uncle, N’gonjo, had silenced their tongues, for fear of the punishment they might receive for not having immediately told what they knew.
In the meantime, after most of the village had become resigned to the loss of Wambui, word began to filter up from the villages to the south. It seemed a stranger had come – a stranger who had a drum that sang. People all across the lands bordering the Nyanza flocked to witness this amazing phenomenon, and the stranger was the recipient of many gifts of food, ivory and gold.
It was rumored that the man with the Singing Drum would soon be coming to Kigeru. Speculation abounded in that village as to what the secret behind the Singing Drum might be. Some said the only answer was that the stranger must be a sorcerer as mighty as N’gonjo himself. More skeptical opinion held that the man was but a charlatan who had achieved mastery
