Destroyers

Home > Fiction > Destroyers > Page 3
Destroyers Page 3

by Dave Mckay


  Little Jo-Jo opened the door and then just looked over his shoulder at Amy.

  "Who is it?" Amy asked.

  "Mo-Mo," the toddler responded.

  "C'mon in, Moses!" Amy shouted.

  "I have someone, Winky. Can he come in too?"

  "Sure, bring him in. I'll just be a minute with Karla."

  Moses came in, followed by the man from the micro-bank in Kakamega. Amy recognised him from when she had taken Moses in to get his loan.

  "This is Mr. Barasa from the bank," Moses said.

  "Yeah, I remember him." Amy answered. "What brings you here, Mr. Barasa?"

  "I asked him to come," Moses answered. "It's about that movie they made."

  "Jambo," Mr. Barasa said, extending his hand.

  "Jambo sana," Amy dutifully replied, shaking his hand.

  "Moses says you helped him organise his finances. He's done a very good job of paying off the loan."

  "Thank you," Amy said, knowing with certainty that Mr. Barasa had not come all the way from Kakamega to thank Moses for getting ahead on his payments.

  "I have good news. People at our office in Chicago liked the video we made of Moses. They want to do more filming, but in America this time. It would be a wonderful experience for the boy, and we would look after him, take care of everything. He'll meet others like himself, coming from other countries, and one of them will be used to promote the bank all over the world next year."

  The eye for which Amy had earned her nickname was twitching double-time, as evidence of her concern over this decision. She could see by Moses' face that he was overjoyed at what Mr. Barasa was saying. To her, it sounded a little too good; and she could not escape that bad feeling she had about anything to do with banks.

  "The bank will pay for everything. We'll buy him new clothes, and he'll stay at a nice hotel in Chicago," Barasa continued. "Moses says he doesn't have a guardian, so we thought we should run this by you first. He says you're his best friend." The twitch slowed, but only slightly.

  "How long would he be away? What about his sister... Rosy? He doesn't even have a passport." Questions flooded in, mostly negative ones, like Amy was looking for a good excuse to call off the trip.

  "I know someone who can fast track a passport, and we'll pay you to look after his sister, if you would be so kind. Moses will only be away two weeks... maximum."

  Amy was through with Karla, so she quickly washed her hands over a basin, in a stream of water from a plastic pitcher. She dried them on her dress as she entered the room where Moses and his friend were still standing.

  "Please take a seat, and tell me about this," she said.

  They all sat down.

  The bank manager explained the need for more people to invest with the micro-bank. It would make funds available to help others like Moses, who wanted to start small businesses in developing countries. Shareholders did not receive as much on their investments with his bank, but they had the satisfaction of knowing that their money was being used to help people who would never be able to get a loan from traditional banks.

  Branches all over the world had been asked, he explained, to watch for customers who would be a good advertisement for what the bank was trying to do. The amateur video that Mr. Barasa had made of Moses was one of three that had been chosen, and one of those three people would be named "customer of the year". If he was successful, people in many countries would hear Moses' story, about how he had been able to support his younger sister, despite his disability and despite being without parents, all because the micro-bank had helped him get a bike... a ten-speed... to earn a living and pay off the loan. The fact that he was paying off his loan in half the allotted time would, according to the bank manager, impress the judges in Chicago even more.

  "I don't know..." said Amy. "It's not really up to me to decide. Things are going so well for the boy right now. He's worked very hard to get that loan paid off. This could just take him away from what he's doing here."

  "It's only two weeks, Winky," Moses pleaded.

  "Would you like to see what we filmed?" Mr. Barasa

  asked. "I have a copy in my vehicle."

  "Can we, Winky?" Moses asked.

  "Yeah, sure, that would be fine," Amy replied. "Will it run off a car battery? It's all the power we have."

  "We can watch it on my laptop," Mr. Barasa said, as he stood to leave.

  "What do you think about this, Moses?" Amy asked when Barasa was out of earshot. "Are you sure you want to go to another country? Things would be very different for you over there. I don't think you'd like it."

  "Oh, I do want to go, Winky," Moses assured her. "Me, I want to see America... what it's like! Even if it's a misappointment, I'll be back before two weeks."

  "Who would look after you?"

  "Winky, no one looks after me now!" he laughed. "You think I need someone to bodyguard me? And these people are rich! They'll take care of me. Look at Mr. Barasa!" He pointed out the front window where the bank manager was just leaving his vehicle to return to the house. "See, that's a four-wheel drive he's got. New as a hot loaf of bread! The bank gave it to him."

  Mr. Barasa re-entered the house with a computer bag over his shoulder. The bag itself was impressive, with compartments for everything, and so was the computer. He carefully lifted it out of the bag, put it on the coffee table, and then slipped a DVD in the slot on the side. Amoment later, he had it playing the film clip that had been prepared for his head office. It was edited, of course, to include the best parts of what they had filmed.

  Moses, who had not yet seen the film himself, watched with as much interest as Amy, who was genuinely curious about what her young friend had become involved in. Jo-Jo wandered over to the table and needed to be restrained from interfering with the computer.

  "Me, I was in big troubles," Moses was saying at the start of the promotional clip. "I mean really big. And then I got this loan and it... it... revegetated me!" Then he just grinned his biggest grin for the camera, and held it.

  There were pictures of Moses waiting at the bike stand with the other drivers, a scene with a customer getting on his bike, then one with him riding off with the customer on the back of the bike. Over all of these, Moses' voice could be heard as he explained his situation.

  "Me and my sister didn't have no one to look out for us when my mother died. We was just like that: no work and no food. But when the loan came, even I got a bike, a ten-speed. This is it here. I can't get started properly on a one-speed; but in a low gear on this bike, it's easy as cake." For the last few words the camera shifted back to where Moses was showing off his new bike. The image dropped down to a closeup of the gear sprockets.

  Then it jumped forward to where he was letting his customer off at the destination, and the customer was fishing in his pocket for some money. The camera zoomed in on the money as it was handed over.

  "Now we have food and even we have some extra for stormy times," he said as the final footage rolled.

  The clip finished with a repeat of the final words of the first scene: "It... it revegetated me!"

  Moses' talent for using original words must have played some part in them picking him. But his total disregard for the obvious handicap of having only one arm was the clincher. People could see for themselves what a difference the loan had made to his life, and it would surely inspire more wealthy Westerners to invest in the bank, which boasted that it was not a charity... "just a way of helping others help themselves."

  "When would you want him to go?" Amy asked, as the twitch returned to her eye.

  "We can have the passport by next week," Mr Barasa said. "They want him in Chicago by June 15. They're planning a big dinner for some of our investors. Moses will be a special guest."

  Amy did not want to offend the bank manager, but she had to be true to her conscience; so she turned to Moses. "You know, boy, I can't tell you what to do," she said. "I'm not your mother; but truth is,
I don't feel good about this. I hope you'll pray about it, and make a wise decision."

  Amy often talked about praying like that, as if Moses just telephoned God every time he made a decision. He never quite knew what she expected him to do, but at least he knew when she did that, she wasn't going to stop him. Most of the time she was happy with his decisions too, so, in his mind, it wasn't such a big deal if she wasn't happy this once.

  "Yeah, I'll go!" he said, turning to Mr. Barasa after only the slightest pause to represent "praying about it". Amy seemed more disappointed with his haste than with the decision itself; but she said nothing.

  Table of contents

  Chapter 7. Culture Shock

  The trip started nicely: a ride in Mr. Barasa's four-wheel drive to Kisumu, then an overnight journey on the train with one of Mr. Barasa's assistants, who was there to keep him company. Moses especially liked the train ride. He had started to order matumbo in the dining car when his companion told him he could have chicken instead, because the bank would be paying for it. And what chicken it was! So soft and easy to eat!

  In Nairobi, the assistant accompanied Moses to the airport, and left him in the care of a flight attendant.

  "Is this your first plane trip?" she asked.

  "Yes," he answered, with enthusiasm showing in his eyes as well as his voice. "I'm doing bank business."

  She accompanied him through all the boarding procedures, even leading him to a window seat on the plane before other passengers were allowed to board. She offered to put his little bag of clothes and personal items in the overhead compartment, but he wanted to keep it under his seat, where he could protect it from theft.

  A young Kenyan couple came and sat beside him. They smiled at him, but seemed more intent on talking with each other.

  When all the other passengers were in their seats, there was a video about what to do if the plane should crash. Moses listened intently. He had never heard of planes crashing, and now he was afraid. He looked out the window as they taxied toward the runway, wondering if it was too late to get off.

  His left hand tightened on the armrest and the stump of his right arm bent tightly at the elbow as the captain tested the engines. Never before had he heard such noise. Surely the plane was going to explode!

  Then they started to accelerate. Moses tried to pretend he was riding in a bus, but then the direction changed and the plane was lifting off the ground. They were in the air, and climbing steeply. There was nothing to support them. They could fall at any moment! What a foolish decision he had made, to put his life at risk like this!

  The young woman on the aisle had noticed that something was wrong, and she grabbed a paper bag from a pocket on the seat in front of her just in time to pass it across for Moses to use. He wretched up what was left of the wonderful breakfast he had enjoyed on the train that morning.

  A moment later the seatbelt sign went off, and a stewardess rushed to assist the boy. He was led to a rest room, where he could clean himself up. But inside the tiny room there were more problems. He needed to relieve himself, but there was no hole in the floor for doing that. There was a very big bowl with a cover on it, however, and so Moses opened the cover and stood on the sides of the bowl to use it in that way. His good arm slipped when there was a sudden shift in the plane, and one foot plunged into the bowl.

  The frightened one-armed passenger did what he could to clean himself with some papers in the toilet, before the stewardess knocked and told him that he needed to return to his seat because of turbulence.

  Moses was seated in the first row of the economy section, and so he was offered lunch before anyone else. He had saved up a few hundred shillings to take with him, but he knew they would not go far. There was no one from the bank to pay for the meal, so he refused it and reached under his seat to get some of the sweet biscuits that he had picked up at the railway station in Nairobi.

  There were a few moments of confusion before the couple next to him pointed out (in Swahili, to save him embarrassment) that the meals were free. By this time they themselves had their meals in front of them, and were being offered wine to go with it.

  "Please, Madam, can I have a meal now?" Moses asked, raising his left hand toward the stewardess.

  "Yes, certainly. Chicken or beef?" She asked.

  "Chicken, please," he said. "But please, I cannot drink that wine."

  The stewardess smiled politely and said, "I think you will like the orange juice. Would you like to try some?"

  Moses accepted, and was glad he did. The drink was delicious, and it was colder than any soft drink he had ever had in Shinyalu. In the glass were little pieces of glass that seemed to be making the water cold. They were too painfully cold to put in his mouth, but he later learned that they would change to water over time. The food was good, but there was not enough water to wash his hands after eating it all, and he was disappointed that there was no ugali.

  If you have not had ugali, you will go to bed hungry,is the saying in his part of Kenya.

  By the time he finished his meal, Moses was starting to adjust to being up in the air. He could not see the ground, but there was a forest full of fluffy white treetops down below that he stared at for quite some time. He had never seen such huge "trees" before, and as the plane glided slowly over them, he soon fell asleep.

  The flight was a direct one, from Nairobi to Chicago, and it arrived very late by local time. Moses was assisted through Customs by a friendly stewardess, then taken out to meet a man named Townsend, who represented the bank. Mr. Townsend had been holding a sign with Moses' name on it. Introductions were made, and the stewardess handed the teenager over, after which he and his host caught a taxi to a hotel. There was so much to see that it was just one big blur for Moses.

  He and Townsend had adjoining rooms, so after a few instructions on how to use the TV and work the lights, and after arrangements had been made to meet up for breakfast at eight the next morning, Mr. Townsend excused himself and went to bed. This time his host thought to tell Moses that everything would be free; he could eat whatever he liked at the buffet breakfast in the hotel restaurant, and the bank would pay for it all. It was almost 2am by the time they parted, but back in Kenya it was already the next morning. Moses had slept sufficiently on the plane, and he was so excited by his new surroundings that he could not possibly sleep now.

  There had been only a brief introduction to the facilities in the toilet, but Moses was keen to use the shower. It would be fun to wash without using a bucket, in a huge white tank that was almost deep enough to swim in.

  There was a strange handle that Mr. Townsend had said would control the shower, so Moses pushed it up and then jumped back as water poured out from a fitting above his head. He quickly undressed and hopped into the shower, but reacted in horror as scalding water hit his body. He bounded out of the tub and soothed his sore skin with a fluffy white towel. There was no way to turn off the handle without reaching through the dangerous water. He had no choice but to leave it running, even though such a waste of water would be a crime in Shinyalu.

  His host had shown him how to use the television, and so he turned it on. There were dozens of channels to choose from, but at this hour of the night, most seemed to be selling things, or they featured preachers of various persuasions. Moses would watch each for a minute or two, until he was bored, and then move on to another.

  Then he came to one that grabbed his attention. It was a jungle scene. People on the screen seemed to be frightened about something. He snatched a pillow and sat on the floor with his back to the bed, to take in what was happening on the TV.

  It wasn't long before he discovered what had scared the people on the screen. In the jungle there were creatures with needle-like teeth and sharp claws, that pounced on people, and devoured them. There were close-ups of the flesh-eating creatures with saliva dripping from their mouths, and he was convinced that they were from a real Chicago jungle. He was frozen in
panic, fearing that they might leap out of the screen and attack him right there in the room where he was staying.

  When the scene changed, Moses found the courage to approach the TV and change channels. He came to another, where a young man was surrounded by beautiful women, each trying to seduce him. One by one the women engaged in body movements and enough removal of clothing to shock Moses even further. What kind of a country had he come to? Man-eating monsters, and women who take off their clothes for the whole world to see! He was filled with horror and disgust.

  Even after turning the television off, he could not get the images of the two movies out of his head. He was too frightened to turn the light off, but eventually dozed off to sleep. But it was not long before he awoke in fear, believing that there were creatures in the room that wanted his blood.

  Around seven o'clock in the morning local time, Moses heard noises in the hallway, suggesting that other residents were up and about. He poked his head through the door and then ventured down the hallway toward the restaurant, where he could see that others had already eaten and left.

  A table near the front of the restaurant had the remains of four half-finished meals. There were pieces of toast, slices of bacon, fruit, drinks, even two whole eggs. Moses slid into the bench seat behind the table and, after looking around to see if anyone would object, he started to sample the food. One plate had been cleaned up by the hungry scavenger, and he had moved by another when a hotel employee came over to assist him.

  "What is your room number?" she asked.

  Moses remembered, because there had been a joke about it being unlucky when they checked in. "Thirteen," he said.

  "You may leave these," she explained sweetly. "I'll dispose of them. Just help yourself to whatever you like over at the buffet."

  "But who will eat this?" Moses asked.

  "No one. I'll throw it out."

  "Then I will eat it. This food is delicious!" he said with enthusiasm. "It must not be wasted."

  "But you're entitled to fresh food. Someone else has been eating here," the waitress continued, turning her nose up a bit at Moses' resistance.

  "This food is perfectly fabulous," Moses replied. "Why did they leave it? Surely, we cannot throw it away!"

 

‹ Prev