Two Thieves in Embu Share Stolen Money, By Morning They Are Found Bleating Like Goats
Life in Embu had not been kind to me. For months, I moved from one small hustle to another, earning barely enough to survive. Every evening I sat with my friend Kamau, complaining about how others were progressing while we remained stuck. Slowly, bitterness grew in my heart.
I began convincing myself that opportunities were for the lucky and shortcuts were for the brave. One cold Thursday night, we made a reckless decision. We targeted a small wholesale shop owned by an elderly man who lived alone near the market.
We had noticed he closed early and assumed he kept cash inside. That night, under darkness and false courage, we broke in and stole money from his drawer. My hands were shaking as we ran, but once we reached my place and counted the cash, fear turned into excitement.
We divided the money equally, laughing and dreaming about how our struggles were finally over. I ignored the unease in my spirit. I told myself it was just guilt and that money would silence it. But at dawn, everything changed.
I woke to noises outside and stepped out thinking maybe there was commotion in the neighborhood. What I saw paralyzed me. Kamau was kneeling in the compound, trembling. When he opened his mouth, instead of words, a loud goat bleat came out.
People were gathering, pointing in disbelief. I tried to call his name, but the sound that left my throat was the same. A clear, helpless bleat. Panic gripped my chest as I realized I could not speak like a human being.
Humiliation spread quickly across Embu. Children followed us. Elders whispered that we had offended forces we did not understand. My mother broke down in tears.
