When the moon shines brightest

There is a disturbing mumbling, the words unintelligible; he presses his hands against his ears; his upper body moves up and down. A woman's scream echoes through the night sky covered with bright stars.

He took his hands away from his ears and slowly sat up. People from the village rushed up to him, some storming into the barely furnished house. Shortly after, he heard a high-pitched scream—but not from the woman before. The screaming turned into crying and lamenting.

The man turned around, his eyes empty, his face pale; as if in a trance, he started moving away from the house made of clay. He lives in a small community on Chula Island in Kenya, on the mountainside. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone who passed him asked the same question over and over again.

What happened? How is your wife? Is the baby OK?

A friend of his touched him from behind his shoulder.

"Let me alone," the man said, brushing the friend's hand away.

Seeing the desperate look on the man's face as he turned around, the friend's bush eyebrow shot up and he opened his mouth...but no words came out. The man staggered and sobbed as he ran away from his home until the darkness swallowed him up.

Standing rigidly, he stared at his friend's house and looked at his hands bathed in blood.

“Michael, you did what you could do,” someone said. He didn't notice the person.

“I did what I could do,” he whispered and his mouth curved into an ironic smile.

He went to the rainwater collection tank, which is also used for drinking water. A deep sigh escaped as he put his hands into the cold water. He sat down on the ground. He looked at the earth and grabbed some of it. The earth does not stick to the finger, it crumbles immediately.

“Death. Everywhere I look.”

He wiped his hands on the cargo pants; the beige color was faded, but he liked the flair and slightness. His fingers pulled out a cell phone from his pocket and tapped the text message that an acquaintance had sent a few days ago.

“Lethabo Mobil 083 173 4608.” The text doesn’t say much, just the name and the number, and yet he hesitates to type it into his display.

“Lethabo,” he said quietly to himself. His grin looked like a slightly upturned face.

He stood up and gazed at his friend's home. By now almost the entire community has gathered there. The man hears a mixture of singing mourners’ laments, with hysterical screams ripping through the voices. Michael strolled along the trail till the echoes of screaming had subsided.

He tapped the number on his cell phone. It rings a few times.

“About time, Michael,” said a man on the other end. The croaking voice was unpleasant to listen to.

“Lethobo,” said Michael, waiting a few seconds. “Do you have something for me to do?”

“Yes. Come to HomaBay tomorrow - you still know our meeting point next to the print service.”

“Hmm, when should I be there?”

“Around noon.”

“Good. I'll be there.”

Before the other could say anything, Michael hung up; he pressed his lips together so tightly that all the blood seemed to escape.

***

Michael parked his Fiat Panda - a small car known to car enthusiasts as a "box" - on a dusty lot a little way from the meeting point. He took a sip of water from the bottle and wiped his forehead.

He tapped his fingers on the driving wheel several times before looking in the rearview mirror and seeing Lethobo sitting with three others he didn't recognize. As he stepped out of the car, children crossed his path; this is not unusual, but they were accompanied by a donkey loaded with canisters of water from the nearby Lake Victoria. The children waved at him, a smile on their faces. 

He made his way over to the four people. Lethobo spoke a few Zulu words and there was laughter. He gestured for Michael to approach after catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye. Lethobo gave the other three men a signal to rise, tapped their clenched fists, and shared a few giggles.

“Michael, please sit down.”

Michael stood waiting, his hands tucked into the pockets of his cargo pants.

"Take a seat," this time, Lethobo spoke in a more stern manner. 

After a few seconds, Michael sat down opposite him.

"Now, let us get to the point: what shall I do?" Michael inquired as he denied an offer to drink.

Lethobo leaned forward, meeting Michael's gaze. 

“I heard what happened yesterday. This is a bloody shame. . . no health care. Michael, you don't back down. That demonstrates our government...

“I don't have time for your wisdom, Lethobo. Get to the point,” said Michael.

Lethobo pulled a crumpled envelope from his look-alike Hop pants and handed it to Michael. Michael looked left and right before opening the envelope. Inside was a map.

“Where are the dogs,” Michael said simply.

"Here is the number to call. The location of the meeting spot will be disclosed by the contact. Over there, the dog will be given over." He gave him a piece of the newspaper that was folded up.

“What’s his name?”

“Just say 'Where should I put the water tank?'”

“Very original,” said Michael, his tone sarcastic, looking at Lethobo. “When?”

“When the moon is bright.”

“Also, tonight.”

Lethobo said nothing else and indicated to other persons. Michael stood up and proceeded to his car, unable to see the color red through the dust. He dialed the number, it rang a few times and someone hung up, but there was no voice.

"Where should I put the water tank?" Michael said mechanically.

"Come to the Blyde River entrance at 8 p.m. I'll be waiting for you there," said a female voice with an open and round tone. She ended the call abruptly.

***

Michael looked at the night sky…he could not remember seeing the moon shining so bright and so below on the horizon. He saw so clearly the rocky surface cratered and pitted from impacts on the moon's surface. Nightjar - An African bird who lives on the ground and is just active at night breaks the silence, the call of Hyenas generates shockwaves to those who camp outside.

“The first time?” asks the voice behind him.

He recognized the round sound of the voice and answered without turning around.

“No,” Michael looked aside, and the driver who had never seen a smile on his expression joined with the emaciated short-haired Sloughi greyhound. 

Sloughis are hunting dogs and have been known in Africa for thousands of years; their intelligence and speed are superior to other dog breeds. 

It was panting and growling and every bone was visible…the dogs for poaching get starved until they are so hungry, that they run into the territory of lions and leopards and chase the antelope or rhino into the corner. In normal situations, dogs will flee back to their handler if danger is imminent, but not starving poaching dogs.

The woman with the angel voice pointed to a spot in the wire fence with a finger and discussed the procedure with the two men. The silver moonlight casts a bright light on the mesh wire fence that can be seen from far away.

“Security cameras are positioned approximately every 150 meters; our informants have alerted us today." Saying thus, the woman indicated once more toward the place where the two men may enter. "Lethobo is waiting. You now have barely two hours to complete this before the Rangers return for the round to check."

The dog yelped briefly as the man yanked him back by the neck. Michael curled his lips and looked away briefly. Michael went with the driver to a location that the video camera couldn't capture. They cut the mesh and bypassed the electric fence, ensuring that no alarm would be triggered. The dog became increasingly restless, yanking on the leash. Both men gazed at each other. The handler let go of the dog and followed it as far as could, but the dog moved quickly.

Their source informed Michael that they were close to where they thought the wild animal would be found. And there it was...the dog barking. The two men moved slowly in the direction...

Michael is armed with an automatic AK-47, ready to shoot either the animal discovered by the dog or protect himself. He is aware that if they encounter Rangers, there will be bloodshed.

“What do you think? A Greater Kudu antelope,” Michael asked quietly as he pushed a branch aside.

“I hope not. The meat tastes like shit! A rhino would be a lucky find.”

As they progressed slowly, every misstep could be their last, and every crack in the branch let others know where they were. The moonlight shone so brightly that the two men could see the silhouettes as clearly as if it were late daylight.

They heard a loud bang, then a mournful howl, and another bang. Silence. Michael and the other man stared in this direction, to look and ready to shoot whatever was in front of them. 

“They caught the dog," the other man grabbed Michael and pulled him back.

“The Rangers shouldn’t be here,” Michael whispered, but the other man had already fled.

The two men sprinted to Lethobo's prearranged meeting spot. Lethobo gave them a wave. Michael and the other man proceeded and they came to an abrupt halt.

His companion exchanged a shocked gaze before returning their focus to Lethobo. 

Michael fixed his gaze on Lethobo's firearm, which was pointed directly at their faces.

"Lethobo!" Michael yelled.

A bright light, followed by a loud bang. The man next to Michael fell. A clear shot to the head. Michael reached for his AK47. Another flash followed. Michael's mouth filled with blood as he glanced at Lethobo. Michael dropped to his knees, and his upper body slumped forward onto the ground.

When the moon shines the brightest, blood will pour on the ground, whether it comes from an animal or a human.