https://www.facebook.com/464362644091463/

Kaffa Storytime, Nairobi, Nairobi South (2026)

24/09/2026

THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW

PART 33 — THE LAST LIE

11:57 p.m.

Two vehicles waited outside the abandoned church.

Their headlights cut through the broken windows like pale knives.

Grace stood beside Baraka.

“You said we weren't going alone.”

Baraka looked at the Bible in his hand.

“We're not.”

He turned toward the old altar.

“Dad.”

Daniel stepped out of the shadows.

“I heard everything.”

Baraka held up the letter.

“You knew there was a way out.”

Daniel nodded.

“I knew.”

“Then why didn't you tell me?”

Daniel looked down.

“Because I was afraid.”

Baraka's voice hardened.

“You let me walk into this.”

“I tried to stop you.”

“You disappeared!”

“I disappeared because I thought distance would protect you.”

Baraka stepped closer.

“It didn't.”

Daniel closed his eyes.

“No.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Daniel said:

“The greatest lie they ever told me was that the covenant was permanent.”

Baraka stared at him.

“What actually happened?”

Daniel sat on an old wooden bench.

“Years ago, I believed power could protect my family. I believed I could take what they offered, use it to build a better life, and walk away when I had enough.”

Baraka whispered:

“Just like me.”

Daniel nodded.

“Just like you.”

He opened the wooden box again.

Beneath the documents was a small, rusted key.

Daniel placed it in Baraka's hand.

“They told us the covenant belonged to them.”

He paused.

“But the covenant only survived because people believed it did.”

Baraka looked at the key.

“What does this open?”

“The place where they keep the original agreements.”

Grace stepped forward.

“You mean there are records?”

Daniel nodded.

“Names. Agreements. Families. Everything.”

Baraka suddenly understood.

“They've been doing this for generations.”

“Yes.”

“And you kept evidence?”

“I tried.”

Daniel pointed toward the church floor.

“There is an underground room beneath this building.”

Baraka looked toward the altar.

“How do we get there?”

Daniel stood.

“With that key.”

Before they could move, headlights flooded the church.

A car door slammed.

Then another.

A voice shouted from outside:

“BARAKA!”

Victor.

Daniel's face changed.

“They're here.”

Baraka looked at the clock.

11:59 p.m.

Victor entered the church.

Behind him stood the older man and several others.

The older man smiled.

“You found your father.”

Baraka tightened his grip on the key.

Victor looked at the wooden box.

“You were told to bring that.”

Baraka stepped forward.

“No.”

The older man's smile disappeared.

“You still don't understand.”

Baraka raised the Bible.

“No.”

His voice was calm now.

“You're the one who doesn't understand.”

The church clock began to strike.

MIDNIGHT.

The older man's expression changed.

Daniel whispered:

“Now.”

Baraka turned the key.

Somewhere beneath the altar…

a lock clicked.

TO BE CONTINUED…

24/09/2026

THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW

PART 32 — THIRTEEN MINUTES

11:47 p.m.

Baraka stared at the message.

MIDNIGHT.

Thirteen minutes.

Grace stood beside him, watching his face.

“What happens at midnight?”

Baraka slowly shook his head.

“I don't know.”

But somewhere inside him, he knew.

The covenant.

Whatever they had been building for years was coming to its appointed hour.

He opened Daniel's notebook again.

There were only a few pages left.

One sentence caught his eye:

“They will make you believe you have no choice.”

Baraka turned the page.

“That is their greatest weapon.”

Then another:

“The moment you believe you have no choice, you have already surrendered.”

Grace looked at him.

“Baraka…”

He closed the notebook.

“They want me afraid.”

“And are you?”

He looked at her.

“Yes.”

Grace nodded.

“Good.”

Baraka frowned.

“Good?”

“Fear tells you something matters. But don't let it make your decision for you.”

For the first time that night, Baraka smiled faintly.

Then the church lights went out.

Grace grabbed his arm.

A voice came from somewhere beyond the storage room.

“Baraka.”

He froze.

It wasn't Victor.

It wasn't the older man.

It was deeper.

Older.

Almost familiar.

“Baraka…”

Grace whispered:

“Don't answer.”

The voice came again.

“You have thirteen minutes.”

Baraka switched on his phone flashlight.

Nothing.

Then Daniel's wooden box began to move.

Just slightly.

The lid lifted.

Baraka stepped backward.

Inside was another envelope they had missed.

He picked it up.

His father's handwriting was across the front:

FOR MY SON—OPEN ONLY WHEN THEY COME FOR YOU.

Baraka tore it open.

Inside was a single sheet.

He read silently.

Then his face changed.

Grace noticed.

“What does it say?”

Baraka handed her the paper.

She read:

“My son, they will tell you the covenant cannot be broken. That is a lie.”

Grace looked up.

Baraka continued:

“There is a way out.”

“What way?”

He pointed to the final line.

“But it will cost you everything you are still trying to keep.”

Silence.

Then Baraka's phone vibrated.

11:52 p.m.

A new message appeared.

COME TO THE OLD HOUSE. ALONE.

Another followed immediately.

BRING THE BOX.

Baraka stared at it.

Grace shook her head.

“No.”

Baraka looked at her.

“They know about the box.”

“They've known all along,” Grace replied.

Outside, an engine started.

Baraka looked toward the broken church windows.

Headlights appeared.

One vehicle.

Then another.

Grace squeezed his hand.

“What are you going to do?”

Baraka picked up the wooden box.

For years he had run from darkness.

Tonight, he was going to face it.

But this time, he wasn't going alone.

He opened the Bible in his other hand.

And whispered:

“Jesus, if there is a way out…”

He looked toward the headlights.

“…show me.”

The clock on his phone changed.

11:57 p.m.

Three minutes.

TO BE CONTINUED…

24/09/2026

THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW

PART 31 — THE BOX

The headlights outside the church remained still.

Someone was waiting.

Daniel pointed toward the wooden box.

“Take it.”

Baraka picked it up.

It was heavier than it looked.

“What is inside?”

“Answers.”

A car door slammed outside.

Grace whispered:

“Someone is coming.”

Daniel stood slowly.

“There isn't much time.”

Baraka looked at the entrance.

“Dad, who are they?”

Daniel's face tightened.

“The same people who have been following our family for decades.”

He pointed toward a small door behind the altar.

“There's another exit.”

Baraka shook his head.

“I'm not leaving you.”

Daniel looked at his son.

“For thirty years, I have waited for you.”

His voice trembled.

“Don't waste those years by getting yourself killed tonight.”

Baraka hesitated.

Daniel pushed the box toward him.

“Go.”

Grace took Baraka's hand.

They moved toward the rear door.

But before leaving, Baraka turned.

“Dad.”

Daniel looked up.

“Why did you never come home?”

Daniel's eyes filled with tears.

“Because I was afraid that if I returned, they would follow me to you.”

He paused.

“I thought staying away was the only way to protect you.”

Baraka nodded slowly.

Then they disappeared through the rear door.

---

They reached an old storage room behind the church.

Baraka placed the box on the floor.

Grace stood beside him.

“Open it.”

He lifted the lid.

Inside were several things.

Old letters.

A faded photograph.

A small notebook.

And a sealed envelope.

Baraka picked up the photograph first.

His father was standing beside several men.

One of them was the older man Baraka had recently met.

But there was something else.

A younger Victor stood in the background.

Baraka's heart stopped.

“Victor?”

Grace stared at the photograph.

“How old is this?”

Baraka turned it over.

A date was written on the back.

1979.

Grace looked at him.

“Victor wasn't even old enough…”

Baraka shook his head.

“This isn't possible.”

Then he opened the notebook.

The first page contained Daniel's handwriting:

“If Baraka ever finds this, tell him the truth.”

Baraka turned the page.

There was only one sentence.

“They don't recruit families. They wait for them.”

Baraka's breathing became heavy.

He turned another page.

More words.

“The covenant follows bloodlines because fear is easier to inherit than faith.”

Grace looked at him.

“What does that mean?”

Baraka didn't answer.

He kept reading.

Then he reached the final page.

Only one sentence was written there:

“The first person in our family to break the covenant will suffer the greatest loss.”

Baraka stared at the words.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated.

A message.

Unknown number.

YOU FOUND THE BOX.

Another message appeared.

NOW YOU KNOW WHY YOUR FATHER RAN.

Then:

BUT YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT WE WILL TAKE FROM YOU.

Baraka looked at Grace.

The phone vibrated again.

This time, there was only one word.

MIDNIGHT.

Grace looked at the clock.

11:47 p.m.

Baraka slowly closed the notebook.

They had thirteen minutes.

TO BE CONTINUED…

23/09/2026

THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW

PART 30 — THE MAN IN THE CHURCH

Baraka stood frozen at the entrance.

“Dad?”

The darkness inside the church remained silent.

Then the voice came again.

“Don't come any closer.”

Baraka's heart pounded.

“It's me.”

“I know.”

Grace held his arm.

Baraka slowly stepped inside.

Moonlight entered through the broken windows, revealing rows of old wooden benches covered in dust.

Then he saw him.

An elderly man sitting near the altar.

His hair was almost completely white.

His face was thin.

His shoulders were bent with age.

But Baraka recognized those eyes.

The same eyes he had seen every morning as a child.

“Dad…”

Daniel looked at him.

For several seconds, father and son simply stared at each other.

Then Baraka walked forward.

Daniel raised his hand.

“Stop.”

Baraka stopped.

“Why?”

“Because if you came here looking for the father you remember, that man is gone.”

Baraka's eyes filled with tears.

“You let me believe you were dead.”

“I had to.”

“You had to?”

His voice rose.

“I buried you in my heart!”

Daniel lowered his head.

“I know.”

“You watched your family suffer?”

“I watched from a distance.”

“Why didn't you come home?”

Daniel looked at Grace.

“Because every time I thought about coming back, I remembered the people following me.”

Baraka stepped closer.

“Who are they?”

Daniel's face changed.

“The same people who found you.”

Silence.

Victor.

Miriam.

The meetings.

The money.

The threats.

It all came rushing back.

“They knew about me?”

“They knew about you before you knew about them.”

Baraka's blood ran cold.

Daniel reached beneath the old bench and pulled out a small wooden box.

Baraka recognized it.

The same kind of box his father had kept at home.

“What is that?”

“Everything I couldn't tell you.”

Daniel placed it on the floor.

“But before you open it, you need to understand something.”

Baraka knelt.

“What?”

“You think you sold your shadow for money.”

Daniel looked directly into his eyes.

“You didn't.”

Baraka frowned.

“Then what did I sell?”

Daniel's voice became almost a whisper.

“You sold your freedom.”

Baraka stared at the box.

Daniel continued.

“And now they want something much more valuable than your money.”

“What?”

Daniel looked toward Grace.

Then back at Baraka.

“Your bloodline.”

Grace gasped.

Baraka stood immediately.

“What do you mean?”

Daniel's expression became fearful.

“They don't want to destroy you, Baraka.”

He paused.

“They want to make sure what happened to me happens to your children.”

Outside the church, a car suddenly stopped.

Headlights appeared through the broken windows.

Daniel's face went pale.

“They found us.”

Baraka turned toward the entrance.

Daniel grabbed his arm.

“Whatever happens…”

He pointed at the wooden box.

“Don't let them take that.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

23/09/2026

THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW

PART 29 — THE ROAD TO THE WEST

Baraka folded the piece of paper and placed it carefully in his pocket.

The address was old.

But it was all he had.

Grace looked at him.

“When do we leave?”

“Now.”

She nodded.

They said goodbye to the few villagers who still remembered Baraka's family.

Then they got into the car.

As they drove west, Baraka barely spoke.

His mind was crowded with questions.

Why had Daniel disappeared?

Why had he allowed his family to believe he was dead?

And most importantly—

Who had he been running from?

---

Several hours later, they stopped at a small roadside shop.

Baraka stepped out to buy water.

An elderly man sitting outside watched him carefully.

“You're Daniel's son.”

Baraka froze.

Again.

“How do you know my father?”

The man smiled.

“Everyone who travelled this road years ago knew Daniel.”

Baraka walked closer.

“Did you see him?”

The man's smile disappeared.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Many years ago.”

“Where was he going?”

The old man pointed toward the hills.

“He was carrying a small wooden box.”

Baraka's heart jumped.

“What was inside?”

“I don't know.”

“Did he say anything?”

The man thought for a moment.

“He said one thing.”

“What?”

The old man looked directly at Baraka.

“If my son ever comes looking for me, tell him not to trust the people who bring him money.”

Baraka stood completely still.

Grace looked at him.

The words felt like a warning written specifically for him.

The old man continued.

“Your father knew you would eventually come.”

“Did he leave anything for me?”

The old man shook his head.

“Not with me.”

“Then where?”

“There was an old mission station farther west.”

Baraka's eyes narrowed.

“Which one?”

The man gave him directions.

“Follow the old road until you see a church with a broken bell tower.”

Baraka thanked him.

They returned to the car.

Neither spoke for several minutes.

Then Grace said:

“Your father knew this day would come.”

Baraka nodded.

“And he knew I'd be tempted by money.”

Grace looked at him.

“Maybe he knew more about you than you realized.”

Baraka stared through the windshield.

For the first time, he wasn't simply searching for his father.

He was searching for the truth about himself.

---

Near sunset, they reached the old mission station.

The church stood abandoned.

Its windows were broken.

Grass covered the pathway.

Baraka stepped out.

Something about the place felt familiar.

He walked toward the entrance.

Then he noticed something carved into the wooden door.

Three words.

“BARAKA, FORGIVE ME.”

His breathing stopped.

Grace came beside him.

“Baraka…”

He touched the carving.

His father's handwriting.

He knew it immediately.

Then, from somewhere inside the abandoned church, came a sound.

A slow movement.

Someone was there.

Baraka pushed the door open.

“Dad?”

Silence.

Then a man's voice answered from the darkness.

“Baraka…”

He froze.

The voice was old.

Weak.

But unmistakably familiar.

“You should never have come.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

23/09/2026

THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW

PART 28 — THE FATHER WHO DISAPPEARED

Baraka stared at Mzee Kivuva.

“My father is alive?”

Kivuva nodded slowly.

“I believe he is.”

Grace stepped forward.

“Where?”

Kivuva looked toward the hills.

“That is what I don't know.”

Baraka's frustration grew.

“You just told me he's alive!”

“I said I believe he is alive.”

“Then how can you not know where he is?”

Kivuva sighed.

“Because Daniel disappeared deliberately.”

“Why?”

“To protect you.”

Baraka shook his head.

“All these years, I thought my father was dead.”

“He wanted you to believe that.”

“Why?”

Kivuva looked at him.

“Because the people following him were also watching you.”

Baraka felt a chill.

“So my whole life…”

“Your father stayed away because he believed distance would keep you safe.”

Grace asked quietly:

“Then why come back now?”

Kivuva's eyes moved toward Baraka.

“Because you opened the door he spent decades trying to close.”

Silence.

Baraka remembered the men in the city.

Victor.

Miriam.

The agreement.

The threats.

The photographs.

Everything suddenly seemed connected.

“Where do I start looking?”

Kivuva reached into his old coat.

He removed a folded piece of paper.

He handed it to Baraka.

Baraka opened it.

There was an address.

And beneath it, a name.

DANIEL MWANGALE.

Baraka stared at it.

“When was this written?”

“Three years ago.”

“Three years?”

Kivuva nodded.

“I received it from a man who had seen your father.”

“Where?”

“Near the western border.”

Baraka's heart raced.

“He could still be there?”

“Perhaps.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

Kivuva looked away.

“Because I was afraid.”

“Of my father?”

“No.”

Kivuva's voice dropped.

“Of the people searching for him.”

Baraka folded the paper.

“I need to find him.”

Grace took his hand.

“Then we'll find him.”

Kivuva looked at Grace.

“Be careful.”

Baraka turned.

“Why?”

“Because if Daniel is still alive, he may not be hiding from them anymore.”

“Then who is he hiding from?”

Kivuva looked directly into Baraka's eyes.

“Maybe from you.”

Baraka froze.

“What does that mean?”

Kivuva didn't answer.

Instead, he walked back toward his house.

Baraka watched him disappear through the doorway.

Then he looked at the address again.

For decades, he had believed his father had left him through death.

Now he had discovered something far more painful.

His father had left him alive.

And Baraka had only one question left.

Why?

TO BE CONTINUED…

23/09/2026

THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW

PART 27 — WHAT HAPPENED TO DANIEL

Baraka stood silently.

“What happened to my father?”

Mzee Kivuva looked at him for a long time.

Then he turned toward the hills.

“Your father was a good man.”

Baraka frowned.

“But you said he made the same choice I made.”

“He did.”

“Then tell me.”

Kivuva sighed.

“Daniel worked on the settler's farm because he wanted a better life. He learned to read. He learned English. He saw a world beyond this village.”

Baraka nodded.

“I know.”

“But what you don't know,” Kivuva continued, “is what happened after he returned.”

Baraka stepped closer.

“What happened?”

“Your father became interested in things he should have left alone.”

Grace looked at Baraka.

“Like what?”

Kivuva lowered his voice.

“Power.”

Baraka's heart sank.

“He came to me.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He wanted protection.”

“From whom?”

Kivuva looked directly into Baraka's eyes.

“From people who had noticed him.”

Baraka remembered the photograph.

The three men standing beside his father.

“Those men?”

Kivuva nodded.

“They were already involved in things your father feared.”

“Then why did he stand with them?”

“Because he thought he could understand them.”

Kivuva paused.

“That was his mistake.”

Baraka felt a chill.

“What did they want?”

“Your father had something they wanted.”

“What?”

Kivuva looked at the ground.

“Knowledge.”

Baraka frowned.

“My father wasn't powerful.”

“Not the kind of power you're thinking about.”

Kivuva's voice became quieter.

“Your father knew how they operated. He knew names. Places. Agreements.”

Grace whispered:

“And he tried to leave?”

Kivuva nodded.

“He walked away.”

Baraka stared at him.

“Then what happened?”

“His life changed.”

“How?”

“He began receiving threats.”

“From them?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't he go to the police?”

Kivuva looked almost amused.

“Would you have believed him?”

Baraka fell silent.

Kivuva continued.

“Then one evening, Daniel came to me.”

“What did he say?”

Kivuva's eyes hardened.

“He told me he had made a terrible mistake.”

Baraka's breathing became heavy.

“What mistake?”

Kivuva looked at him.

“He said the people he had trusted were not interested in money.”

“Then what were they interested in?”

Kivuva whispered:

“His family.”

Baraka froze.

“My family?”

“Your mother. You. Everyone.”

Grace held his arm.

“What did Daniel do?”

Kivuva looked toward the old homestead.

“He tried to protect you.”

“Did he succeed?”

Kivuva's eyes filled with sadness.

“For a while.”

Baraka swallowed.

“What happened to him?”

Kivuva finally answered.

“Your father disappeared for three days.”

“And then?”

“He returned home.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

Baraka stared at him.

“Then how did he die?”

Kivuva looked directly into his eyes.

“He didn't.”

Silence.

Baraka's face went pale.

“What?”

Kivuva whispered:

“Daniel Mwangale is still alive.”

TO BE CONTINUED… 🤝

22/09/2026

THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW

PART 26 — THE VILLAGE THAT REMEMBERED

The following morning, Baraka and Grace left the city.

Neither spoke much during the journey.

The road stretched ahead through hills and valleys, taking them farther from the world Baraka had built.

Closer to the world he had tried to forget.

As the landscape changed, memories returned.

The old school.

The dusty paths.

His father's voice.

His mother's hands.

And that dark room where, as a little boy, he had first felt the presence of something he could not explain.

Grace looked at him.

“Are you okay?”

Baraka shook his head.

“No.”

She reached across and held his hand.

“But I'm ready.”

---

By late afternoon, they reached the village.

Much had changed.

Some houses had disappeared.

New ones had been built.

But the old hills remained.

Baraka slowed the car as they passed the place where his childhood home once stood.

The house was gone.

Only a few stones remained.

He parked.

For several seconds, he simply stared.

“This was home,” he whispered.

Grace looked around.

“It feels quiet.”

Baraka nodded.

“Too quiet.”

They walked toward the old homestead.

An elderly woman sitting beneath a tree suddenly looked up.

She stared at Baraka.

Then her eyes widened.

“Daniel's son?”

Baraka stopped.

“Yes.”

The woman stood slowly.

“Baraka?”

He nodded.

She covered her mouth.

“My goodness.”

She walked closer.

“You have your father's eyes.”

Baraka smiled faintly.

“Did you know my father well?”

The woman's expression changed.

She looked toward the hills.

“Your father knew things.”

“What things?”

She hesitated.

“Things he was afraid to tell people.”

Baraka's heart began pounding.

“About Mzee Kivuva?”

The woman immediately looked at him.

“You know that name?”

“Yes.”

She lowered her voice.

“Then you should not be asking questions here.”

“Why?”

“Because some people remember.”

“Who?”

Before she could answer, a man's voice came from behind them.

“Baraka.”

He turned.

An elderly man stood several metres away.

His back was bent.

His hair was white.

But Baraka recognized him immediately.

His heart stopped.

Mzee Kivuva.

The old man looked directly into his eyes.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Kivuva smiled.

“You finally came back.”

Baraka stepped forward.

“You know why I'm here.”

Kivuva nodded.

“Your father warned you.”

“About what?”

Kivuva looked at Grace.

Then back at Baraka.

“About the door.”

Baraka's voice hardened.

“What door?”

Kivuva's smile disappeared.

“The same door you opened.”

Baraka stepped closer.

“Tell me the truth.”

Kivuva looked toward the hills.

“Your father once stood where you are standing.”

He paused.

“And he made a choice.”

“What choice?”

Kivuva looked back at him.

“The same choice you are now trying to undo.”

Baraka's blood ran cold.

“What happened to my father?”

Kivuva's face became strangely serious.

“He didn't die because of old age, Baraka.”

Silence.

Grace gripped Baraka's arm.

Kivuva whispered:

“Your father was running from them too.”

Baraka stared at him.

“Who are they?”

Kivuva looked toward the darkening sky.

Then he said:

“That's the question your father died trying to answer.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

22/09/2026

THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW

PART 25 — THE PHOTOGRAPH

Baraka held the empty space in the wardrobe.

The photograph was gone.

His father's photograph.

The only picture he had of Mzee Daniel Mwangale.

Grace stood behind him.

“Why would they take that?”

Baraka didn't answer.

He was staring at the empty shelf.

Then suddenly, a memory returned.

He was a boy again.

Six years old.

Burning with fever.

Lying inside that old healer's room.

His mother, Nalia, beside him.

And the old man staring at him.

Mzee Kivuva.

Baraka's breathing changed.

Grace noticed.

“What is it?”

“I've seen this before.”

“Seen what?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“Someone knowing something about me that I don't know.”

He turned.

“When I was a child, my mother took me to a traditional healer.”

Grace nodded slowly.

“You've never told me that.”

“I never wanted to remember.”

Baraka walked toward the bedroom door.

“I need to find something.”

“Where?”

“My father's old things.”

---

They searched through boxes stored at the back of the house.

Old clothes.

School certificates.

Letters.

A rusted watch.

Then Baraka found a small wooden box.

He recognized it immediately.

It had belonged to Daniel.

He opened it.

Inside was an old photograph.

Baraka stared.

It was another picture of his father.

But this one was different.

Daniel was standing beside three men.

One of them was a much younger Mzee Kivuva.

Baraka's heart stopped.

Grace leaned closer.

“That's him?”

Baraka nodded.

“Yes.”

There was something written on the back.

Daniel's handwriting.

Baraka turned the photograph over.

Only one sentence had been written:

“Some doors should never be opened twice.”

Baraka read it again.

Then again.

Grace looked at him.

“What does that mean?”

“I don't know.”

But deep inside, he knew.

His father had known something.

Something about Kivuva.

Something about the darkness surrounding their family.

And perhaps the reason Baraka had been targeted all these years wasn't simply because he was successful.

Maybe they had been watching him long before he ever met Victor.

His phone suddenly rang.

Unknown number.

Baraka answered.

No one spoke.

Then an old man's voice whispered:

“Your father tried to warn you.”

Baraka froze.

“Who is this?”

The caller continued.

“He failed.”

Baraka gripped the phone.

“What do you want?”

“You opened the door he closed.”

“Tell me what you know!”

A pause.

Then:

“Come back to the village.”

Baraka's heart pounded.

“Why?”

The voice became almost a whisper.

“Because the truth about your father is buried there.”

The call ended.

Baraka slowly lowered the phone.

Grace looked at him.

“Who was that?”

Baraka stared at the old photograph.

Then he said:

“I think we're going back home.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

12/09/2026

THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW

PART 24 — THE THING THEY TOOK

Grace was still holding the photograph.

Her hands trembled.

“Baraka…”

He couldn't answer.

He stared at the picture of their youngest child sleeping.

Someone had been inside their home.

Someone had stood close enough to take that photograph.

And they hadn't noticed.

Baraka looked at the bedroom door.

“Everyone stays together.”

Grace nodded.

He checked every window.

Every door.

Every lock.

Nothing was broken.

Nothing was missing.

Yet the message remained.

THE FIRST PAYMENT HAS BEEN MADE.

Grace looked at him.

“What does that mean?”

“I don't know.”

“You do.”

Baraka turned.

“What?”

“You know more than you're telling me.”

He wanted to deny it.

But he couldn't.

Not anymore.

“I think…”

He paused.

“I think something happened because of what I did.”

Grace stared at him.

“What did you do, Baraka?”

“I don't know exactly.”

“That isn't good enough!”

Her voice broke.

“Our children are being threatened.”

“I know.”

“No, you don't!”

She pointed toward the photograph.

“Someone photographed our child while we were in this house!”

Baraka lowered his head.

“I will fix this.”

Grace laughed bitterly.

“You said that when you started taking their money.”

Silence.

Then Baraka's phone rang.

Unknown number.

He answered.

“Hello?”

A man's voice spoke.

“You've seen the photograph.”

Baraka's blood ran cold.

“Who are you?”

“You don't need my name.”

“Leave my family alone.”

“You still don't understand.”

“What do you want?”

The voice paused.

“Something was taken tonight.”

Baraka looked at Grace.

“What?”

A quiet laugh came through the phone.

“You'll discover it soon.”

The call ended.

Baraka immediately ran upstairs.

He checked the children.

All of them were there.

Sleeping.

Safe.

For the moment.

He returned downstairs.

Grace was standing beside the family cabinet.

She was holding something.

“Baraka.”

“What?”

She opened her hand.

His wedding ring.

Baraka stared at it.

“I found it on the floor.”

His face changed.

“That can't be.”

He touched his finger.

His own ring was still there.

Grace looked confused.

“Then whose is this?”

Baraka picked it up.

There was something engraved inside.

A date.

The date he had signed the agreement.

He stepped backward.

“That isn't mine.”

Grace looked at him.

“Then whose is it?”

Baraka couldn't answer.

His phone vibrated again.

A message appeared.

WE DIDN'T TAKE YOUR CHILD.

Another message followed.

WE TOOK SOMETHING YOU LOVE.

Then a final message.

AND YOU HAVEN'T EVEN NOTICED YET.

Baraka stared at the screen.

He looked around the house.

His wife.

His children.

The photographs.

The furniture.

Everything seemed to be there.

But suddenly, he realized something.

There was one thing he hadn't checked.

He ran toward the bedroom.

Grace followed.

Baraka opened the wardrobe.

He froze.

His father's old photograph was gone.

The only photograph he had kept from the village.

The only picture of Mzee Daniel Mwangale he possessed.

Gone.

Baraka slowly sat down.

They hadn't taken an object.

They had taken a piece of his past.

And somehow…

they knew exactly what it meant to him.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Kaffa Storytime

24/09/2026

24/09/2026

24/09/2026

23/09/2026

23/09/2026

23/09/2026

23/09/2026

22/09/2026

22/09/2026

12/09/2026

Address

Telephone

Website

Alerts

Contact The Business

Shortcuts

Share

Category

Listing takedown request