by Carl Hancock
The line of successes was unbroken for so many years stretching back to his schooldays. He had been a good servant to his president and his country. He had cut profitable deals, charmed foreign envoys, never touched a shilling of the wananchi’s money. Alongside this, he had married his childhood sweetheart, raised a family and made himself the richest man in the country by simply understanding the ways of money and having the nerve to back his own judgement.
For the last ten years it had been accepted that it was not the president but Abel Rubai who was the strong man of Kenya, the shadowy figure who had no official position but made the big decisions. It was well understood that it was unwise for his countrymen to oppose his wishes. He was ruthless and had the boys to deal with the fools who tried.
The list of achievements was long and as a special bonus he had preserved good order and stability in the country.
Then along came … Londiani. Looking out as they joined the dual carriageway that would bring them down to the city centre and the hospital, he winced and saw the reflection in his window of a face twisted by anger and regret. That insignificant flower farm that he could have bought out a thousand times over had bred the scum that turned his life upside down. The eldest McCall kid whom Julius had called piggy face should have been dead long before he engineered the death of his own boy out on that accursed golf course. His own hesitation, his weakness at a crucial moment had helped to send his world crashing down.
His hate was as strong as ever, but even since that morning he had felt an involuntary shift in its focus. At last, he understood. It was the woman, the wash girl. It had taken a long time for him to see the truth of it, but her defiance when he had caught her fooling about on that rough land, talking rubbish about building a hospital confirmed it. She had had her revenge and her careless tongue was giving her away.
He recalled the afternoon almost a year before. He was visiting that place with Julius and Sally. He and McCall were going through the usual banter about selling the farm. He had just laughingly trotted out the street vendor’s cliche, ‘I give you good price,’ when he was astounded by the sight of his son naked and unconscious in the arms of the witch’s father who, minutes before, had beaten the boy senseless.
Whether the talk about rape had any substance or not, he understood how that hour in that place set in train the tragedy in the lives of his family. From that moment Julius became her target. She would bring him down. She sang her way into the hearts of the people. She played the innocent, simple country girl part to perfection. Perhaps she had used piggy face and her ‘love’ for him as a front.
He looked up through the trees that lined the road into town and saw the peaceful blue of a beautiful African morning. Surely he had earned the right to a share of the wonderful gift of peace of mind. But he had been a blind fool, a blind fool! He also saw the danger of being swept along by the storm of anger. It would be so easy to be careless and overreach himself. He must not lose control.
When the hospital came into view, he experienced another mind shift. An involuntary smile formed on his lips when he thought of the ironic link between the death of one Julius and the imminent birth of the new child. As he stood in the lift taking him up to be with Sally, excitement got on top of his hate. When he peered through the porthole window of her room, he saw his wife sitting up with the child lying on her breast.
‘Papa, let me introduce you to the new man in the house!’
‘Sally, what’s happening here? You have just given birth but …’
‘But I am sitting up like the queen of the world? Well, let me tell you, no queen has ever had such a beautiful jewel to show to the world.’
‘He is a big boy for his age!’
‘And something else. It was so easy. He gave me not a moment of pain. I hardly knew that he was coming. And …’ The smile was replaced by a serious, solemn expression. ‘We share everything, Abel, but don’t think me crazy. When the nurse took him to give the smack …’
‘Is something wrong, Sally?’
‘No, but when the little cry came, I swear to God that little fellow looked into my eyes … and smiled.’
‘You sure he didn’t give you a wink as well?’
‘Abel, my heart is beating so fast. It was like he knew me.’
Abel broke down in tears. Even if they had not been alone in the room with their new son, he would not have been able to hold back the surge of the conflict of emotion.
‘Sally, I am so sorry. It’s just that Julius, big Julius …’
‘No need for sorry, Abel. Perhaps there is a cleansing here. The child is starting his work.’
‘Work?’
‘Don’t forget where he has come from.’
Abel was baffled. His eyes narrowed. ‘You mean …’
‘Of course, all children come from God’s presence.’
‘Oh, yes. I forgot.’
‘Time for the old poison to be drained away.’
Abel let the sobbing pass off. He sat silently with his head lowered and his eyes closed. He was taking the chance not to have to speak. ‘We share everything.’ Did Sally really believe that? Perhaps she was stronger than him and could shut off thoughts that were uncomfortable and inconvenient to the point where they did not exist. He looked up to find her smiling down on him with pity in her eyes. He shuddered.
‘Abel, the people expect too much of you. The burden is too much. Jesus is willing to share that burden.’
Abel groaned inwardly. He was fighting hard to find even the tiniest spark of real hope and Sally comes up with the old mantra which she had pounded him with so many times. But Abel, the master of deception, managed to dig out a smile, even a throaty chuckle.
He leaned back, languid and content. ‘Perhaps it is time. Tell you what. First time you go down to church, I’ll come, drive you myself. Just now when I looked up, you seemed to be pitying your old man. Ah, much better. Those eyes are sparking again. No prettier sight in the world. Sal, do you think I could hold him for a second?’
‘God has blessed us. Here’s our son. Take him.’
Abel stood and took the boy, lifting him tenderly and letting him lean into his chest and shoulder.
‘Now, young man, you take a good sniff of your daddy. My, my, Sally, this is one big child you’ve brought us.’
Abel closed his eyes again but this time not to hide away. The solid, warm flesh and the clean, new smell were intoxicating, thrilling.
‘Sally, how many times have I heard you say that we must live for the moment? What a moment! When are you coming home? But, hey, I’m forgetting. Reuben is sitting out there some place. I’ll get him.’
He pushed the door open and, without checking to see if his son was in hearing distance, shouted along the corridor.
‘Reuben, get yourself down here! Your brother wants to say hello!’
Before he let the door close, Abel spent a few seconds checking out the surroundings. ‘Mmn, clean, lots of activity, smart looking staff, quiet. Nothing much wrong with our hospitals. This country doesn’t need any help from singing witches.’
Reuben was enjoying a pleasant conversation at the desk of the maternity block when he heard his name called out somewhere in the distance. The order signalled the end of his freedom for the day. He knew where his mother was holed up, but he insisted that his new companion show him the way. He wasn’t quite done with showing off and besides, having a pretty girl by his side would distract him from unwelcome thoughts.
Alone at the door, he stood back and looked in. He psyched himself up for the ordeal that was awaiting him inside. He was not excited about the prospect of the new Julius making his entrance into the world. This unexpected latecomer would be fussed and pampered from morning till night. His first tooth, his first step, his first word would be for family and friends to drool over. He pushed open the door, determined to be a successful hypocrite.
‘Con-grat-ulations, Mama and Papa! I thought you were never going to invite me in.’
&
nbsp; Sally saw through him straight away.
‘Aw hush up, Reuben. I remember you when your brothers and sister came along. Couldn’t get you to hold any of them for a kiss and I do believe that you disappeared into your room for days.’
‘I’m older now. I understand these things a whole lot better.’
‘You know, Sally, I think the boy may be telling it like it is. He’s been a model of common sense these last couple of days. Said the right things at the funeral and, this morning, when there were a few problems, he was right there behind me. If he carries on like this, he’s going to be a top rate MP.’
Sally seized on the word that troubled her.
‘Abel, what do you mean “problems”?’
‘I picked the wrong word, Sal. All the excitement …’
‘Won’t wash, husband. You called in to Naivasha on the way home.’
‘Mama, how did you work that out?’
Abel cut him off.
‘Now, son, that is not a smart piece of that common sense I was just talking about. And yes, Sally, we did call in. But problem? No. Some people over there think that they can take over from the government …’
‘You mean the Kamau girl and the idea of a hospital.’
‘Sally, what are they feeding you in here?’
‘So far nothing. Haven’t been in here for that long. But, Abel, long enough to think some more about that girl. I’ve had two Juliuses on my mind. Remember what I said about poison? Not so easy to get rid of, is it?’
‘Sal, this a day for celebration, not gloomy thoughts.’
‘Just had a crazy thought. Do you think that our little one can take any of this in? Anyway, some day …’
‘He’s going to understand that she has been bad news from the start. Some day she will pay the price. Ever heard of the word “karma”?’
‘Oh, yes. “You reap what you sow.”’
‘Jesus talk?’
‘Jesus talk. But this karma doesn’t always turn out the way you might have expected. But, gentlemen, this child and I have shared the most wonderful experience. Now we are emotionally drained. And, even more important, Mama must give Julius his afternoon tea. And, Abel, tomorrow, I’m having a check-up. I hope to be home for coffee at eleven. Perhaps we could talk a bit more about hospitals. If we made a contribution to Rebecca’s project, that would make it semi-official and …’
‘Sally, you’ve got that naughty schoolgirl look on your face. Yes, tomorrow. I think I need to explain a few things to you.’
* * *
Now there were just over four weeks to the wedding. By that time every last vestige of fire damage would have disappeared from the farm and from the ruin of Big House. Already the tents were going up on the flower fields and the first stage of planting around the new, infant garden was almost complete.
But as for the house, it would be impossible to have even the ground floor finished by then. It would be a very tidy building site. Jim Sawyer would see to that. The unexpected arrival of four young men changed the time scale considerably.
* * *
Two beautiful women were moving from plant to plant around the garden, ‘bowling up’, as Rafaella had described the work.
‘When we feed our little children we make sure that none of our precious water is wasted.’
Rebecca loved a dirty hands job, sweeping the fertile soil up into little craters. When she knelt she always made sure that she was facing in the direction of the lake. Every time she sat back on her haunches and looked out across the plain, there it was on the raised piece of meadow, her own house, ‘Long House’ as everyone had begun to call it. Having Maria for company gave the work an added delight. They had shared so much in such a short time.
Rebecca had just finished a bowl around another young plant. She leaned back, shaking her head gently but smiling.
‘That first time when you called my name. I felt so … irritated. You were inside the Daniels’ little surgery with Simon. Really, I think I was plain scared. I still can’t work out how you knew I was there.’
Maria laughed. ‘And I cannot give you a sensible explanation. Suddenly, a thought comes into my head and, well, I have learned to trust them. Tell you the truth, I was the one who was in awe. There I was in the presence of the beautiful singer, the most famous woman in the country.
Rebecca moved on to her next plant, focused hard on it so that her face was hidden from Maria.
‘You changed my life, a lot of lives around here. Without you, Papa, we would have lost him. “Blood Sisters”. If men can be blood brothers.’
‘Wonderful. I’ve never had a younger sister before. Two of the most talkative brothers in creation and you can’t always share with a brother.’
‘Martha and Jane are a bit young for sharing.’
‘Especially ugly, painful thoughts, maybe about a certain Nairobi man who was here yesterday. Lydia told me. You know how much she looks up to you. She said she was so proud of you. Sent him on his way like he was some naughty schoolboy.’
‘Was it wise though?’
‘Were you speaking the plain truth, Rebecca?’
‘My truth.’
‘The more he hears the truth, the more it will eat into that shell he has built around himself. The tiny worm will eventually destroy the whole apple. We all know that he is a rotten apple to start with.’
‘But the people love him. When he makes speeches …’
‘They simply fear him.’
‘There was so much hate in his eyes. I even felt some pity for Reuben. He looked frightened standing behind his father, embarrassed, too. “You don’t meddle in government business. There will be no new hospital built on this scrubby bit of bush”. I think he’s a little bit crazy.’
‘Not so much of the little bit! Doctors have a name for his condition. I have two words, “murderer” and “coward”. Just remember Simon Mboya and the forty-five young people burned to death on the flower fields of this farm. Burned to death, Rebecca. Sonya and the boys are coming up this afternoon. And there is another word, from a wise man’s teaching. I don’t suppose he ever thinks about it. “Karma”.’
‘She’s bringing material for the boys’ suits. The page boys. I should be excited about the wedding.’
‘Sister, be excited. I’m excited. The whole country is excited. Got an idea. We need a coffee break. How about if we go for a walk over to that house on that little hill and take in the views?’
* * *
‘Noah won’t even come over. Seems that he’s a bit old for being a pageboy. Says he’ll do it if he can wear his football kit! He’s got it on now, teaching Ewan how to kick the ball like a proper player. He’s got this idea that since we lost Simon, he’s the man in the family. He wants to look after us all. He can be so serious sometimes. I want him to be a nine year old.’
‘Sonya, it’s so touching. I can feel my throat tightening up.’
‘So you don’t mind, Rebecca?’
‘Tom says we are short of someone to show people to their seats up in Pembroke. Perhaps he’ll be willing to do that. Bertie will help him. There are so many strange rules in these English weddings. Tom says it’s all right. The “real” wedding is down here at the farm. It’s a mystery. I’m glad I was born in Africa.’
‘But so was Tom, Rebecca.’
‘I know that, Maria. I’m getting confused. Perhaps it’s wedding nerves.’
‘You’re reminding me.’ Sonya bit her lip hard and closed her eyes before she went on.
‘About a hundred years ago, when I got the news that Simon had been taken, I had just been to a wedding, in Kidwelly, a small town near Carmarthen. The boys loved the place because it had a castle. A Welsh wedding can’t be so different from an English one, except that this one was in Welsh. I’m pretty good on what goes on. Any questions, ask Noah and me.’
The long and solemn silence that followed was set against the sound of building noises coming from somewhere behind the veranda where the three friends were si
tting at a small table while Moses and Sammy were finishing their Coke and cake on the steps, waiting for the call to be measured up.
Half an hour later, at four-thirty, there was a general gathering at the official time for tea at Londiani. Jim Sawyer’s men were making their noisy way to their transport while Jim himself joined the group on the veranda to make his daily report on progress on the site. Jim had a surprise when he took his place at a table with his tea and biscuits. Sitting opposite him was a familiar face but one he had not expected to see at Londiani. He shot to his feet.
‘Sonya! I never expected …’
Jim was a big man, in his fifties now. He was of old European stock. His grandfather, one of the early pioneers who had travelled down from the Aberdares, bought a fertile patch of land just north of Nakuru and never left. Jim had followed his father into the building trade. A Sawyer house meant top quality work. But at the end of a day on site, pulling his weight with his men, he looked as immaculate as when he stepped down from his pick-up eight hours before. His bronzed face revealed his disturbed emotion. His lips were moving but not bringing out any coherent words and his eyes flickered rapidly as though they were struggling to hold back tears.
Sonya understood and was moved. There were no tears in her eyes. A nod and a warm smile persuaded Jim to sit back down.
‘Sonya, I feel ashamed, bringing it all back again for the nth time.’
‘Don’t be! Of course, it hurts, but that will never go away. Our Simon has left a big, big gap in so many lives. How many weeks is it since we saw you?’