The Brass Bell

Being part of the MAF was a big part of Njeri’s identity ever since she could remember. Her tega, where she spent her entire life, was literally the MAF recruitment and training base. The tega of Shanzu, on the shoreline of Mombasa, was made of six Bolos. Five of these were MAF, which set the lifestyle for everyone who chose to be a part of the tega. Both her parents were MAF, or at least used to be. Baba-Okello was still in active duty while Baba-Sokoro retired. Whether it was to raise her, or due to his manageable but permanent injury, or he just grew tired of it, it was never clear to her but she assumed it was probably some combination of circumstances. He was still very engaged in the community’s social life but was no longer in active duty. They were still together, but Baba-Sokoro moved to the nursing kana to raise Njeri and he loved it so much he stayed there even after she grew old and moved out. 

Human civilization has changed drastically after the last failure of the 21st century’s capitalism. People no longer agreed to participate in an endless, meaningless, “Rat race” (as they called it) and instead focused on restoring nature and bettering their lives socially and mentally. Of course, people who aspired for efficiency and fast-pace would still do that, but the senseless drive for “more materialistic goods,” and particularly “more money,” or even “more extreme experiences” was subdued. The “Mobile Aid Force”, in its various decentralized variations, was a paramilitary organisation formed by former military personnel putting their skills and talents to good use after humanity collectively decided it can no longer afford the expenses of the Industrial-Military Complex. Through long and tedious mutual agreements and shows of good faith, the weapons were disarmed and the tanks were decommissioned. There was no longer an enemy that deserved to be shot, let alone bombarded. Instead, MAF focused on providing support during and after natural disasters and other emergencies where militaristic-like efficiency can be crucial.

Njeri grew up in the “civilian” bolo of the tega, in the “young cadets” kana, as the rest of the tega was occupied by active-duty bolos or training units. Her childhood was normal and for the most part just like any other child anywhere else. Of course, living in a MAF base, she got to see them exercising and drilling and she even volunteered a couple of times as a “staged injured”. But She never felt any expectation, or coercion to join MAF when she became independent, and not many of her age-group did. Yet, she knew this is what she wanted to do. This was who she was. Those thoughts crossed her mind as she marched up the hill with heavy steps, The entire tega, MAF and “civilians”, saluting in her honour.

Anyone can join the MAF when they’re old enough. This is of course a very vague definition, but it is the same as “when a person reaches adulthood”. Adulthood doesn’t necessarily correlate to a biological age, but rather with the mental capacity to take responsibility over one’s actions and mistakes. In a society that encourages independence from an early age, most people become responsible adults around the age of 15 or even 14. Teenagehood, as the transitional step in which young adults who are still treated as children rebelled for independence has lost its meaning as instead of restricting and fighting against them, society gradually gives children more and more agency and preparation for their adult life. It is a known fact that children that grew up near MAF are likely to join at a relatively older age, but this is because the adults are struggling to stop seeing them as their “innocent babies” (as Baba-Okello jokes). Njeri officially joined MAF at the age of 15, after passing the aptitude tests to prove she was ready.

Being a MAFex wasn’t easy. In the first year of training and the first field mission, the drop-rate is estimated at 20%. The majority of which usually drops in the first couple of months when realizing that the overly regimented lifestyle can be quite intense. After that, everyone, and especially one’s kana, will do anything in their power to help whoever is struggling in any way they can. Not far from the entrance to Shanzu, a bare hill stands with a head-sized brass bell with an inscription: “The Journey Continues.” The inscription reminds the person who is about to ring that the journey doesn’t end with giving up, it just takes a different shape. MAF isn’t for everyone. Most people won’t even get admitted, but the bell is reserved for those who decide to leave. Bells normally are less for the person ringing them than for the audience accepting the message the ring conveys. For this bell, it’s the community accepting the loss of one its members, which is never easy. But this particular bell carries a message for the ringer as well. It’s a message of respect. It is a reminder that choosing to step away is not failure, but an act of courage and self-awareness, honoring both the themselves and the community they leave behind.

Due to MAF’s small-sized nature, new recruits often don’t form their own cohort but instead assimilate directly into existing units. They train with them and learn from their joint knowledge and experience, but have their own study sessions to catch up with the vast knowledge required from a MAFex. When the time was right, Njeri needed to choose a bolo to join. Between Transport, Paramedics, Pathfinders, and Logistics – she chose pathfinding as she enjoyed the outdoors the most. Well, that and the fact that her mathematical aptitude and interpersonal skills weren’t ideal for other specialties. Despite learning the basics in every field, her first year of training focused primarily on navigating through impassable terrains.

Njeri was already a MAFex for a year, although hadn’t gotten her field-mission badge yet, when Kato joined as a young recruit to the Pathfinders’ bolo. After he was signed in, a game was played “in his honor” to help him decide which kana he should join. Blindfolded, they all were dropped at random points in Bamburi Forest, south of Shanzu, separately from one another and were tasked to scour the forest and accomplish various tasks. However, as tradition goes, since all MAFex have accomplished these tasks countless times before, they must consume performance-dampening substances to hamper their capabilities. And of course, the more experience one has, the more they need to consume. Playing 3 times before, as soon as Njeri removed her blindfold she threw up. Her head pounded. But it was part of the exercise as she knew she needed to be able to function no matter how disoriented she might feel. She looked around and saw a small creek. She drank a little bit of the water and decided to follow it upstream to gain a vantage point.

She then noticed Kato standing beneath a tall yellow flowered kassod tree. He was examining its 2 meter high canopy. She introduced herself earlier at the briefings but she doubted he would remember her from all the new faces he just met. However, as soon as she came close, he turned around and smiled at her. “Hey, Njeri, right? How’s your day going?” She felt he was a bit too cheerful for her headache, but being patient despite one’s personal issues is a merit ironed into any MAFex from day one. “Oh, it’s a lovely day,” she said, and from his chuckle she knew he saw through her sarcasm. “What do you have there?” she asked. She tried to look at the canopy herself but the headache and the sunlight made her eyes squint shut. “There’s a box hanging there, but I’m not sure how we can reach it. Can you see it?” he said, pointing upward. She looked up and this time saw the small wooden yellow-painted box glistening. It camouflaged perfectly in the tree’s flowers. “Yeah, I see it now. Got a long stick to tip it down?” she asked. In fairness, this is the first time she saw this puzzle. But it wasn’t surprising as there were hundreds of different puzzles throughout the game and the best record ever was to solve 7 puzzles in a single game. In her own trial run, she got 5. She was quite proud of herself. Kato looked around but couldn’t find anything. “I was looking at the vines holding the box in the air. Do you see them?” he asked her. She looked again and it dawned on her. Those vines, as naturally as they may have looked, did not belong here. They didn’t grow on any other tree around except the two trees on each side of the box. She was impressed with Kato’s observance. “I see them now. I get it. Have you ever played ‘pulled-knot-game’?” He admitted that he didn’t. She wasn’t surprised. It was a game the young cadets played a lot to train tying and untying knots. She quickly explained to him the basic principles of the game. “We have two strings that are connected in a standard ‘Carrick Bend’ knot. It’s not simple but it is possible to swing-pull the strings to loosen the knot,” she explained. They tried several times but he seemed to catch the hang of it quickly and on the fifth attempt the knot loosened and the box dropped to a height they could catch. The box contained a code that they both needed to memorize in proof they accomplished the task. They continued the game separately as the rules dictated.

Kato managed to solve 4 puzzles with various people, which is considered a good score for someone his age, coming from the “outside”. Njeri managed to keep her score of 5, which concerned her slightly. She knew that any future attempts, where she would be drugged even further, would prove more and more difficult to get a better score. It is no surprise that the more experienced MAF members often struggle to solve more than 2 puzzles and unfortunately often don’t remember much from each game for any future attempts. After a rather lengthy debrief, they all returned home. A big meal was prepared, followed by a conversation in which it was mutually agreed to which kana Kato would join. Njeri was pleased he should join her kana, even if it was somewhat selfish, as she had enough of being pampered as the youngest in the unit.

That next day, Njeri woke up early for a navigation exercise. Naomi was her active olori and she was in charge of giving the instructions. As there was no official or permanent hierarchy in MAF, they rotated the olori role periodically, although it was very fluid and they helped each other fulfill the role, knowing they would also be helped when in that position. Similarly, this pseudo-anarchistic hierarchy expanded upwards – one ibu was in charge of being the olori of each bolo and one for the entire tega. They had a voting mechanism built on merit and experience but flexible enough to prevent forcing anyone to follow leaders they didn’t trust.

Naomi instructed them to pair up and paired herself up with Kato so she could focus on tutoring him. The instructions were given in sign language, and as some of the words were new to Kato, the rest of the kana helped him out. Sign language is extremely useful for many reasons, especially for MAF in emergency situations. Pairing Kato with Naomi meant that he had no choice but to catch up. They estimated that in three days he would be using signs fluently. Njeri paired with Alhaadi, who was overly excited with the exercise. Despite being an ibu of few words, his positivity was contagious. Each pair received ten random checkpoints to be found by one team member. That ibu then needed to leave a trackable item. Once all items were placed, the second partner needed to track the items in a different order and without the use of a map.

Ironically enough, the exercise was at Bamburi forest again. When they arrived at the entrance of the thick forest, she stopped to wonder if she’d pass the area she visited yesterday. But the forest was too big and her memory was too groggy. “Do you remember anything from yesterday?” she asked Alhaadi, but he, being a silent type, just walked a few steps forward and looked back at her, smiling. “I guess it doesn’t matter,” she sighed. The exercise took her most of the morning. At her level of training, the checkpoints she picked were verbal descriptions that someone in distress might provide, such as “a boulder resting on a tree” or “abandoned building next to a fork in a gravel road”. No map was provided but she was expected to know the forest well enough to recognize the places by their partial descriptions. Alhaadi’s task was meant to be more challenging as he was tasked to identify the items by the bird sounds they were playing, and he still managed to do it in half the time it took her to place the items. As he sprinted from one checkpoint to the other, she barely managed to catch her breath. Whenever she stopped, he would turn back and come sit with her patiently until she was ready to continue. He didn’t say anything but she could see his muscles twitching as he was eager to keep going, while looking at her with calm eyes and a comforting smile. She cursed under her breath and he just howled back at her and sprinted off. She couldn’t help but smile and run after him. While they were heading towards his seventh checkpoint, they heard a crackling noise and a red flare shot up in the morning skies. “Something’s up, Alhaadi,” she told him, “we need to head back”.

The exercise was cut short. As Njeri and Alhaadi got back to the base, two trucks filled with MAFex left the base and headed north. A carrier drone deployed in the landing area at Serena and more MAFex from neighboring bases unpacked their gear. “I guess we have guests,” said Njeri to Alhaadi as they both rushed to the main hall. Noticing their insignia, she could identify the visiting MAFex were from Madagascar. She estimated that if they received the alert the same time she did, then it took them about an hour to fly, assuming of course they weren’t just happening to be in the neighborhood already. That would be a very costly flight in terms of hydrogen fuel. “This is serious,” she thought. “This is an emergency.”

It was a search and rescue mission in Kaya forest, a mere hour drive from Shanzu. They agreed to regroup in ten minutes after each ibu brought the necessary gear. Kato did not have the full gear yet but someone from logistics already took care to bring him what he needed. Not everyone went though, as it was best to keep some of the personnel as reserves and some people needed to keep the base operational. 

“Not meaning to be insensitive,” asked Kato hesitantly, “but why rush? The person has been missing for more than a week. Would an hour more or less make a difference?” Kato was hovering over the people who were double-checking their gear, trying to be helpful on one hand but also asking countless questions on the other. Njeri could tell he would have liked to come as well. Alhaadi brought his bag and since it was quite light with equipment, Njeri moved some of her gear to his.

“We take our tasks very seriously,” she answered Kato, “and if it means we could save someone just by being there a minute earlier, we’ll do anything imaginable to do it.” Time is considered a critical asset and punctuality is regarded as a critical foundation in MAF, drilled down from day one. Njeri wondered how accustomed Kato was to time-keeping as some nima are less concerned with time-keeping than others. Fifteen minutes after being briefed, they were already on their way north.

Hundreds of people, MAFex and civilians, scoured every piece of land and water between Mtwapa and Kilfi, shouting and calling for the missing person. Bird-whisperers listened to bird songs, eavesdropping on any gossip about a human body in the forest. Drones hovered above looking for heat signatures. Boats and kayaks combed the creek and a team of divers went to check whether the body was washed out to sea. Njeri went up the forest with Alhaadi who was the best tracker she ever met. At first he walked around aimlessly, but as he found more and more tracks, interpretable only to him, he began moving faster and faster. At a forest clearing he stopped and looked confused. “Did you lose the trace?” she asked, but he just huffed at her and ran around the edge of the clearing to the other side.

Invisible from the other side, he found a small pathway leading up the woody hill. The ground was muddy soil and the heels of her boots dug in as she climbed. Eventually, he stopped underneath a tree in the middle of the hill and pointed up to its branches. “What’s that?” she asked. There was clearly something there, a human-sized cocoon-like shape, but she couldn’t make out the details behind the thick branches. She tried thinking how to investigate further or whether she should report it first when she heard a quiet breath not far from her. She realized a female leopard was standing in front of her up the path, trying to measure her.

She stood tall. It was her first encounter with a wild leopard but she wasn’t scared. She said firmly “Hello there, is this your territory? I’m looking for a friend”. Alhaadi was calm as well as he was trained and unlike her he did have some experience with wild animals. He was closer to the leopard but he stepped back to make himself almost invisible against the flora. She knew he got her back. The leopard walked slowly towards her, looking disinterested, and then made a quick jump unto the tree. Njeri felt her heart miss a bit but she forced herself to remain calm. The leopard climbed towards the cocoon and before Njeri had time to consider if the cat had anything to do with it, it crashed down on her head.

Seeing something moving fast toward her she wasn’t sure at first if it was the cocoon or the leopard. She tried to jump aside but her boots were stuck on the mucky mud and before she knew it she was already knocked down to the floor. She gained consciousness almost immediately but the first thing she saw was the dead man’s eye staring back at her from a mere inch distance. The body was mostly covered by something organic but the howling white face was clear and in front of her, etched into her mind. She tried to push the cocoon off of her but it was too heavy. Alhaadi came in an instant and together they managed to roll it aside. She was covered in muck. The leopard had vanished. The body was staring blankly at the sky. She used her radio to report her finding. She couldn’t take her eyes off the body until support arrived but the eyes continued to haunt her long after.

The next moment she was lying in her own bed, staring at the ceiling. She knew she called the carrier drone and instructed it to land at the clearing. She then sent Alhaadi to lead the extraction team while she watched over the body in case the leopard returned. It was all automatic. She didn’t feel present. Her mind was lost in the sunken dead eyes. She remembered explaining how she came about the body, the leopard and how it fell on her. She remembered pointing at the tree and someone climbing to find any clues to what had happened. And she cared, or at least she thinks she cared. She also remembered her flight with the carrier-drone. That was her first flight ever and amazing as it felt, looking at the world from a bird’s view, losing her thought to the quiet hums of the rotors, she also thought of the cost of that flight. The price paid by her dead flight-mate.

The flight was short, barely twenty minutes. She gave another debriefing at the base and went for a very long shower. When she was finally done, Naomi came to find her. “How are you? You looked a bit off,” she asked. “I’m alright, I think,” Njeri remembered answering. Naomi asked her about the leopard and about seeing a dead body. She felt very tired and asked Naomi to continue the conversation after she rested. “It’s fine, no pressure. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. I’m here if anything comes up,” Naomi reassured her. They hugged and Njeri retired to her room.

She woke up from her own scream. It took her a moment to realise where she is and recall the events that happened since the body fell on her. In her nightmare the body fell on her again, but this time the dead person’s mouth opened and with leopard sharp teeth tried to bite her head off as she woke up screaming. She heard a soft knock on her door. She opened and Alhaadi slid inside. He sat on the edge of the bed without saying a word. She hugged him. “You heard me scream, didn’t you?” she asked and she could sense his sympathy from his big round eyes. She asked if he had any nightmares. He pointed to her pillow.  She crawled back to bed and touched him, feeling comforted knowing that he’s there. The nightmares didn’t cease, but his presence was comforting nonetheless.

The nightmares continued the next night. They even seeped into the day. Whether it was ghosts or hallucinations from lack of sleep, Njeri was shellshocked. On the third day, Naomi suggested they would visit the dead person’s kana. She thought it would be good if Njeri knew more about him and hopefully that would help her see more of the person than just a dead corpse. They arrived at his home later that day and joined the nugo’dala. The place was crammed with family and friends retelling stories of his life. His name was Bakari. He used to kayak a lot as a child but following an accident at the age of sixteen, he decided to focus his life on environmental restoration. He would spend countless hours in Kaya forest and probably knew the terrain better than any of the pathfinders that mastered that area as if it was the back of their hand.

Death is an unavoidable tragedy. As such, it deserves a place of respect and acceptance rather than fear and willful ignorance. It is customary that when a person dies, everyone who ever knew him would meet and together in a nugo’dala. They would write the story of the person’s life, with as many details and perspectives as they can add. Perhaps there was a time that such a wealth of information would have allowed to resurrect the person in the form of artificial intelligence but now it’s considered more respectful, and healthier for everyone involved, to accept one’s fate to let them rest as the book of their lives is sealed forever. In some cultures they might even burn the book ceremoniously to symbolise that all that remains are the memories shared by the person’s loved ones. In Bakari’s case, the book was kept in the bolo’s library along with his ancestors.

Njeri contributed to the event as she told once again how she found the body. She couldn’t explain about the organic material the cocoon was made of. It was still being examined. The only thing they knew at that time was that whatever it was, it helped preserve the body from decomposing, which actually made it more difficult to estimate how long he was dead before the body was recovered. That night Njeri went to bed at peace, feeling a sense of closure, seeing the whole person and how much he was loved and respected by his peers, friends and family. That night she slept in peace. But she was never the same again.

Her kana was there for her. They knew when to simply let her be and when to push her forward. A hollow shell as she was, she was pushed but something besides Bakari died in Kaya. She could no longer face dead corpses and random encounters with animal carcasses would send her spiralling and incapacitated. Alhaadi would take her by the hand and slowly walk her back home. She was ashamed, despite everyone being compassionate and understanding. She had long conversations with most of her siblings as well as her biological parents. She talked with other people who suffered from post-trauma. Most of them retired from active service after a random event left them with an emotional scar that wouldn’t heal. She never felt alone in her distress and no one tried to push or force her to “snap out of it” as everyone knew that pushing the trauma inwards will only cause it to implode later on. She sat quietly with Alhaadi and watched the sunset together. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to come back. 

She was loved. She knew the entire bolo, if not the entire tega, would do anything in their power to help her. But she accepted her fortune—not without regrets—and so did they. She walked up the barren hill toward the brass bell. Everyone at the base came to honor her departure. They all stood and saluted, but a moment before her hand reached the bell, Alhaadi broke ranks and ran toward her. She felt the warm tear run down her dusty cheek.

When he reached the top of the hill, she hugged him. She whispered, “I’m sorry for leaving you, but know you’ll always be with me.” He stood next to her in salutation as she rang the bell to announce her surrender.

Ringing the bell is a matter of pride. It requires accepting that your fate lies elsewhere. Anyone could, at least in theory, give up anytime they liked, but this didn’t mean their bolo would give up on them. Njeri had heard stories of people who fought their way to the bell, only to realize how much their bolo loved them and decide to give MAF a second chance. She felt the warm evening wind caress her face. No one stopped her, but she knew they all loved her, their glistening eyes fixed on her from the bottom of the hill.

When she came down from the hill, her kana hugged her as everyone else slowly dispersed. She would still spend the night with her family, and although she could stay as long as she needed, she had decided to find a new purpose in the “civilian” bolo. That evening, as they all sat around the campfire, sharing laughs and stories, she noticed Kato and decided to approach him. “I heard you’ve been partnered with Alhaadi,” she mentioned. “Yeah, I guess,” Kato answered. “I don’t know, he seems very… stoic?” They both glanced at Alhaadi, who was sitting by the fire, as quiet as ever—like a majestic beast watching over its pride. They chuckled. “Yes, he’s an old gruff,” Njeri said, “but he is the best partner I could ever hope for. You look after him.” Kato smiled. “I will.” After a moment of silence and fire-gazing, he asked, “Where will you go?” “I’m not sure yet,” she answered truthfully. “I guess I’ll try to find something akin to pathfinding,” she said. “Maybe at the nursery. If I’m bored, I can always send the children to the forest and then go look for them.” She was half-joking. She loved navigating and exploring, and while she could still do it, it would no longer be her ikigai.

Kato was quiet for a while before saying, “On my way to Shanzu, I passed through the sadi of Mombasa and met a facilitator there.” Njeri listened intently. “The sadi is so big that people—especially those coming from out of town—often need help finding what they need, so the facilitators find it for them.” Njeri’s eyes lit up. “That sounds very interesting. Thank you.” She had been to the market a couple of times before but had never inquired too deeply into the lives of the facilitators. Her skills might be useful after all. She felt grateful. The fire died out on its own long after the last ibu retired to bed. It just so happened to be Alhaadi.