The Business of Cow Finale
“Don’t insult me Ailemu. You're going to sit amongst all us here and lie? In front of our elders, of all people?”
Shaiku roused early, determined as he got dressed for the day of the grand feast. He wanted to be on time—noon on the dot—since his commute from the mountainous terrain was not an easy trek: the hardest trek in all of the northern province despite the breathtaking scenery. Not many would expect his attendance at the feast since, after all, it was hosted by his long standing rival. Three years had elapsed since the pivotal deal for the 75 cows, a loss that not only inflicted financial strain but also left a lingering mental burden.
In stark contrast, Ailemu thrived in the aftermath, more than tripling his herd and land acquisitions, solidifying his status as the preeminent cattle dealer. The man once dubbed the "fat rat" had grown even fatter and wealthier, commanding a legion of salesmen scouring the northern province and bordering country—as well as villages and towns in between—for prime livestock, not just only cows. For the best livestock and most lucrative deals, Ailemu was an unavoidable force, aptly earning the moniker "Big Boss" in the community.
Mentally, Shaiku remained ensnared by the unresolved deal, incessantly replaying scenarios in his mind, seething on if it had been him instead of Ibrahim and how he would overcome all the ploy of “that cheating fat rat.” In the six months that followed the ordeal, he spiraled into a state of reduced eating, diminished sleep, and neglect of his business – a downward spiral halted only by an unexpected wake up call from his workforce. However, by then, the gap between him and Ailemu had become too big to close.
Despite Shaiku's fixation on the past deal, the memory of 10-year-old Suleiman lingered persistently. The boy, who had been with the 75 cows, returned home after his uncle's death and never came back. He left behind his 5-year-old cousin. Shaiku refused to entertain rumors of family discord and abandonment. How could Suleiman and his family forsake their own blood and the 50 cows rightfully theirs?
Shaiku rejected these rumors and the supposed "lies" spread by Ailemu. In truth, it was the pursuit of the real story, the uncovering of these "lies," that motivated him to regain his footing, return back to his business and discover the truth about Suleiman. After years of searching, the revelation finally came to light, hidden in plain sight: the river's fishermen and the old but still-sharp ferryman, Karimo.
Shaiku arrived at Ailemu's house, which was much smaller when he last saw it. Greeted by both Abu and Ibrahim at the door, he struggled to conceal his anger toward his former confidant, who had defected along with a half of his workforce for higher pay. Despite the cordial greeting from the man, Shaiku couldn't help but suck his teeth, muttering under his breath "deceiver'' loud enough to hear.
Entering the house, Shaiku found the men seated in a circle on a Persian rug in the living room: indulging in a feast featuring the choicest cuts (from Ailemu's fattest cows), marinated with rich sauces and included multiple stacks of pita bread. Among the men were prominent figures in the community – successful inland cattle traders, wealthy merchants, respected elders, and religious scholars.
Squeezing his way into the circle, Shaiku washed his hands in a nearby bowl, trying to quell the burning sensation inside his chest. As he did so, a familiar, deep boasting voice rang out.
"My guests!" Ailemu exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Your presence at my invitation is a great honor. I’m very happy."
With Ailemu directly across from him, Shaiku lowered his head, taking a deep breath in an attempt to ease the turmoil within.
“Allah has truly blessed me,” Ailemu continued. “Truly blessed me to have you all here today…Even Shaiku is here.”
Laughter erupted, the men turning their gaze towards Shaiku. Unable to contain himself any longer, Shaiku locked eyes with Ailemu, speaking with a restrained yet serious tone. “You know Ailemu, you've got a lot of courage to mention Allah after what you did to that boy, Suleiman.”
A hush fell over the room, every eye fixed on Ailemu.
“What did I do Shaiku?” Ailemu asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Don’t insult me Ailemu. You're going to sit amongst all us here and lie? In front of our elders, of all people?”
“You still have anger about those cows. Let go. That’s life.”
“I don’t care about those stupid cows, you fat rat!”
Ailemu's smirk morphed into a smile. He looked at his once rival: breathing heavy and revealing a thick neck with bulging veins.
“Karimo told me,” Shaiku continued. “He said he did not even see the boy all day to take him across the river. You must have made Abu take him in the evening when Karimo had already closed for the day. You left him there, knowing full well there are wild animals that come out at night.”
“That boy knew his way back home,” Ailemu said, reaching for a piece of meat. “Abu told him that we can go back and try to catch Karimo the next day early to cross the river, but he did not want to hear it. He himself said that there are other ways to get back besides the river. So what I can do? I can’t keep him as prisoner.”
“You damn liar! The fishermen saw the boy and he did not even know where his two feet were. You left him to die so you can take the cows. You greedy rat! No, you worse than a rat! You kafir! You snake…”
While Shaiku unleashed insults, Ailemu savored the meat, meticulously sucking and relishing every morsel inside the cow bone. Once finished, he quenched his thirst with an ice-cold Vimto from a large glass cup, punctuating the act with a resounding burp that appeared to amplify Shaiku's irritation.
“You fat kafir! All you can do is sit and eat, eat people’s hard earned sweat in your stomach. One day, you will answer to Allah. Even Hell is not enough punishment for you.”
“Would a kafir take in and care for the daughter of a stranger as his own?” Ailemu asked, wiping his mouth with a small handkerchief in his pocket. Tegedantay was now 9 years old and around the community she was considered part of Ailemu’s household just as his four biological children.
The men looked at Shaiku, soaking in sweat.
“So that’s how you are saying it, eh?” Shaiku said, shaking a fist in the air. “A stranger dies in your house. His nephew disappeared, never to return. And you take the man’s daughter plus all his cows?”
All eyes reverted back to Ailemu.
The cattle herder with a protruding belly reclined, a composed smile gracing his face as he uttered a common phrase that would elicit nods of agreement and be echoed three times by the men in the room, with the exception of Shaiku. This phrase, laden with multiple meanings, could be spoken in moments of triumph or profound despair. Its utterance would lead community elders to intervene, urging Shaiku to reconcile with his adversary and "let bygones be bygones."
Later, upon returning home, Shaiku lamented to his wife about the naivety of thinking he could walk into Ailemu's house—the "wolf's den," as he called it—and persuade the men about their host's treachery. These were men whose stomachs were already stuffed with Ailemu's meat and pockets padded with his cash gifts, information Shaiku gleaned days later from a merchant at the feast who only wanted to speak on condition of anonymity.
Moreover, the phrase that Ailemu uttered at his grand feast carried a weight of truth and resonated with the men's nomadic patrimony, where survival often depended on swift and pragmatic decisions in the volatile world of cattle trading. It was a phrase Shaiku couldn't argue against, even if he wanted to, because any argument would be seen as an affront to his family's livelihood and heritage.
"That’s the business of cow.”
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