text: The village of Mawega was like a wilderness in 1985. It is located between Mt. Kenya and the Aberdare. It was built on land previously occupied by British settlers. Now, it was sparsely populated by families that had moved from more populated areas of the central province. The land had yet to be cleared, and all around there were thick patches of shrubbery and trees. There also were frequent reports of various wild animals. It was here that Mwangi lived with his wife and four children. The day that we begin this story was like any other day. It was dusk and Mwangi’s youngest was watching their sheep in the field in front of his father’s land. He could not see most them but from their bleating he knew they were in the grazing in the shrubbery in front of him. He was preparing to take them home when he noticed that a cloud of dust was coming towards him, he thought it might just be that until suddenly sheep started running from the shrubs in front of him and racing in the opposite direction towards home. This was no whirlwind, he thought. As the dust closed on him shrubs started to shake and he thought he might have seen shapes in the disappearing light. It could only mean one thing, and he was not going to wait to find out. Mwangi was seated on a wooden stool outside his house then his breathless son burst in the compound and screamed “Elephants!” Mwangi looked beyond his farm where his son pointed. The dust had picked up speed and had reached his farm and even though he could not see clearly, the rustling on his tall maize farm told him that this must be huge rampaging heard and they needed to leave now. He called for his wife and children, and they sped out along the path behind the house, running as fast as their feet could carry them. A while later they came across their neighbor. “Many angry elephants. Coming fast” shouted Mwangi as he sped past. His neighbor could see a cloud of dust in the distance. He dashed in this compound, and soon his whole family of eight was behind the Mwangi’s. Any one they met on the road got the same message and took the same actions. So the panicking group picked up steam and more people. Soon, no one even bothered to ask what they were running away from. A hundred people racing across the fields and screaming couldn’t be running away from nothing. It was on. Those who say that women can’t run as fast as men must have not been not present in this great race of 1985. The women of the Catholic Women’s Action were at the front of the confused crowd, with their blue religious headgear flapping around behind them like a tiny flag. Those who argued that you needed two good legs to run fast were proved wrong by our elder, Waruinge. Now in his 70’s, he had lost one leg fighting for our independence. He was at the raising dust at the front of the fleeing mass. It is reported by witnesses that his being did not touch the ground all as he moved. Instead, he hopped forward at impressive speed using his two clutches in a way that might remind one of a kangaroo. Those who say that love is the strongest force must have missed this race. Maina and his young wife Kui had only been married one year. They held hands everywhere they went, and even *Ngai* was pleased with them, for he had recently blessed them with twins. When he saw the crowd pass this house in terror, he did not waste a single second. His skinny legs, only dressed in traditional *akala*, carried him past the crowd, and he was with the women and Kamau at the front in no time. Like everyone else at this point of this embarrassing occasion, he forgot to ask what village was running from. He also forgot his wife. She was later spotted among the horde carrying each of her wailing twins under her arms, although this did not seem to impede her flight. I am not proud to say that i was also part of this mob of cowards. I took the shortest route away from the imagined peril. I went through shrubs instead of around them, and at the end of it all I was covered with the branches of every plant found in our village. I also had thorns sticking out my face. I had done what I needed to do to escape what I thought was the end of the world, which I am sure my kind reader will understand. The priorities of the villagers were clear on this day, since everyone only managed to pick a few items that were of importance to them before they joined the melee. I spotted my brother falling behind as he struggled with a container of beer on his shoulder. I choose to leave him behind so that at least one member of our family could survive. I once again beg you to reserve your judgement. Only one man tried to stop the madness. When our assistant chief saw the mass moving towards his house, he went outside his gate for a better view. When he heard the screams, saw the whole village coming at him with alarming speed, he waved his flywhisk around and screamed for us to stop. However, at this point, we were all beyond reasoning. It was beyond the powers of an assistant chief to stop us. I doubt if even the chief could have accomplished this. The assistant chief lost his small finger and his flywhisk in the chaos. He got off easy, the rest of us lost our pride. Exhaustion finally slowed us down near the shopping center. Logic also seemed to return to us, although no one wanted to admit that they didn’t know what they were running from. The few who dared ask were met with many different answers. A pride of lions was seen, the river had broken its banks, or the mountain had erupted. When asked, I insisted i saw what looked like wildfire and that’s why I ran. Not one of us spoke to the other on the way back home. It is forbidden to speak of this event in Mawega village. If you visit and ask about the time the entire village was displaced by the rustling of maize, you will be met with blank stares. Many will swear that they only moved there after 1985. Others will lie and say that it happened the next village over.