by Saul Dobney
“Give it a rest,” said Kwasi.
Riaz grunted. “I’m going to go and see some people who do know how to make money.”
He left and headed off along the path to join a small group of traders by the park entrance who were unrolling blankets with sunglasses and handbags in the sun.
Tremus sat and put his head in his hands.
“Lighten up grandpa,” Kwasi called to Tremus. “It can still be a beautiful day.”
“A beautiful day…” Kwasi started to clap and sing a song they had learnt at St Peter’s.
“A beautiful day…” chorused Mosi.
Eshe joined in stepping out a dance, harmonising with the twins’ tenor voices. She took Tremus’s hands and tried to get him to dance too.
From the opposite direction a little girl of three or four tottered along the path. She reached the twins and stopped and stared, listening to them singing. Her face broke into a grin and she wriggled with the rhythm, clapping her hands trying to keep in beat.
“Wait Janee. Wait,” puffed her mother from behind as she waddled along the path, her large pregnant belly wobbling in her cream and flower dress.
Next to her a man was looking backwards at an older boy who was dragging a stick along the path, making long marks in the sand.
Eshe stopped singing when she saw the woman.
“Pamela,” said Eshe, startled. “Pamela. How are you? I almost didn’t recognise you with your bump and headscarf.”
“Eshe. What are you doing here in the park?” asked Pamela.
“It’s my rest day. And you? I couldn’t believe it when Mr Gates said there was some problem that meant you had to leave.”
“Mr Gates was the problem,” said Pamela. “No-one who is pregnant can work at the hotel. He says it disturbs the guests and you cannot do your work. But I will be back when the baby is born. You will see.”
Tremus stood behind Eshe and nodded as he recognised Pamela.
“Tremus,” said Pamela. “The man who chased Mr Joho away. The hotel was so much more pleasant when he left. Isn’t that true Keneth?” She turned to introduce her husband.
Keneth grinned and shook Tremus’s hand. “When Pamela told me what you had done, she said you were a gangster as big as an elephant. And now I see you, you are exactly what I expected.”
Kwasi and Mosi laughed and made elephant trunks with their arms.
Tremus bowed slightly and placed his hand on Eshe’s shoulder. “The strong have a duty to look after others. It is only right.”
“We were coming from the hospital,” said Pamela.
“To check on the baby?” asked Eshe.
“Oh no,” said Keneth. “It was for Isaac. There is something… . But the doctors, they know nothing. It was a waste of time. They just say he is fine, he is fine.”
“There's a problem?” said Eshe. “Yanif is a healer.” She put her hand out and beckoned for Yanif to come over. “You can help can't you?”
“Isaac come here,” called his father. “Come and see this man. They say he can help you.”
Isaac ran, holding the stick between his legs, riding it like a hobby horse but as he ran the stick caught on the ground and he tumbled to the floor face first, his head banging against the gravel in the path.
“Isaac,” cried Pamela rushing to his side.
Isaac’s dark cheeks had paled and his breathing was rapid and irregular.
“Quickly,” called Keneth. “It is going to happen again.”
Keneth took of his coat and laid it under Isaac’s head, stroking the boy's forehead then edged backwards. “Give him space.”
Isaac started to convulse. His body twitched and then he writhed and jolted on the floor in involuntary spasms.
Yanif ignored Keneth's instruction and squatted down next to the boy.
“Keep away,” said Keneth, waving Yanif away with his hands. “He needs space to breathe. It will pass. You will see.”
Instead, Yanif moved closer and placed his fingertips on the boy’s temples.
“You must give him space,” said Keneth.
Yanif kept holding the boy’s head and murmured to the sky, his lips moving but no sound to be heard. And in those murmurs, Isaac’s jerks and convulsions dissipated. A calmness washed over the boy.
Isaac lay still, his eyes open, gazing up at Yanif.
Yanif smiled and brushed the dust and gravel from Isaac’s forehead then lifted the boy to his feet.
“Isaac. Isaac,” said Pamela.
She picked Isaac up, caressing the boy, squeezing him close to her, kissing him on the top of his head. Keneth wrapped his arms around his wife and his son and hugged and hugged, holding them together, tears of joy on his face.
Janee tugged at Yanif’s arm. “How did you do that? How did you make Isaac better?” she asked looking up at Yanif with large childish eyes. “Are you a magic man?”
Yanif brushed Janee’s hair back with his hand.
“You are a healer, Yanif,” said Pamela. She stroked Isaac’s cheek. “You have done something the doctors could not.” She released herself from Keneth and took Yanif’s hand and bowed. “You have saved my baby.”
“The demons will not return,” said Yanif. “They have gone.”
“Is that true?” said Keneth. “You mean he is cured?”
Yanif nodded.
Keneth lay the sleeping Isaac on the grass next to Mosi then embraced Yanif as if he was a long lost brother.
“If Isaac is cured, then we must thank you properly,” said Keneth. “All of you.” He gestured to the others. “You must come to visit our village and I must introduce you to my family. They will not believe what you have done for Isaac.”
“Yanif wants to help more people,” said Tremus. “It is why we were here. We are looking for people that Yanif might help.”
“After what you have done, I will help you find people. I will tell everyone what you did,” said Keneth. “You know I deliver beer to all the villages in the Rift Valley. It is where my family comes from. And who can forget the man who brings the beer every week?” Keneth nudged Tremus with his elbow. “You know, we will have a great party in your honour Yanif and I will tell everyone who you are.”
“I’m all for a party,” said Mosi.
“Me too,” said Kwasi reiterating the enthusiasm of his brother. “But you will need a tank of beer for Tremus the elephant.”
Kwasi ducked as Tremus reached out to clip him around the ear.
“What happened?” Riaz was hurrying along the path, shouting towards them. “Did you find someone?”
“We have business Riaz,” said Eshe as Riaz rejoined them. “Keneth is going to take us to the villages. Yanif was right we just had to try in a new location. Now we will have some work. See we do know how to do this.”
“The villages?” said Riaz. He stopped abruptly and dismissed the idea with a wave of his arm. “The villages? What business is that? There is no money in the villages, only poor men with goats and mud huts. What work is in the villages?”
“Riaz, take care,” said Tremus. He looked towards Keneth and Pamela. “There are good people in the villages.”
“Enough of this charity. My friends are leaving for Mombasa to make some proper money.” He nodded to the traders by the lake. “I am going with them. It’s about time you found some real work too.”
“You can’t quit,” said Eshe. “We’re just starting.”
“Some start,” said Riaz. “You do what you want. I have to go where the money is.” He turned to leave.
“What about the money from the wedding and from Mr Eden,” said Tremus. “And this village could be the start to something bigger,”
“Something bigger?” said Riaz. “It is a lost cause. A total lost cause. I have to go.” He reached out and shook Tremus’s hand. “When my car needs fixing you are the man I will see. It will be a great grand car though, so I hope your workshop will be bigger by then.” Riaz bowed and marched off down the path back towards the traders b
y the lake.
“Hey, you still owe us,” called Tremus after him. “If you’re off we want our share. And you still owe me for that exhaust.”
“I have expenses Tremus. Expenses. See it as an investment. When I’m back from Mombasa I’ll settle up. I always pay my debts,” shouted back Riaz.
“You mean you’ve spent it. That wasn’t your money Riaz. We need that money back now.”
Tremus started to stride after Riaz, but Yanif put his hand on Tremus’s chest blocking his path.
“Yanif, you can't let him go,” said Tremus. “He's cheating us. Don't you understand?”
30. At the village
Yanif, Eshe, Tremus and the twins squished into the lorry as Keneth took them from Tremus’s workshop out to the villages, the sound of beer bottles clinking in the back.
“How does a white boy like you end up at an orphanage?” asked Keneth as they bounced along a track towards a small settlement of rough windowless thatch-and-mud houses.
Yanif shrugged.
“He was found,” said Mosi. “That’s what Papa John said. Appeared out of nowhere by the side of the road. Puffff.” Mosi demonstrated an explosion with his fingers.
“From nowhere,” said Keneth. “How can you come from nowhere?”
“We don’t know,” said Kwasi. “Maybe he came from a spaceship, beamed down to earth.”
“So someone sent you to Kenya to do good,” said Keneth. “You know I told our mganga. He said he had made a spell so you would come. He is coming tonight. He wants to see your magic.”
Keneth drove through the outer fence of the village, a ring of thorny branches laid around the community of huts to protect the animals. He parked the truck under the spreading branches of an acacia tree.
“Is this it?” Tremus whispered as they left the truck. He stared at the circular huts with the dried grasses as a roof. In the dusty space in the centre was the startings of a fire. A handful of people sat chopping wood. The setting sun cast long shadows of the houses in a chessboard of light and dark. “Now I see why Riaz said it would be a wild goose chase. I doubt we will get anything from here.”
“Patience Tremus. Patience,” said Eshe. “Remember lost treasures are always found in the least expected places.”
“Easy for you to say Eshe, but we will have to dig very deep to find any treasure here,” said Tremus.
Keneth lit a hand-rolled cigarette and hauled a crate of beer off his truck. “This is my bomas,” he said. “I was born here.” He nodded his head in the general direction of two or three windowless huts.
“Do you still live here?” asked Eshe incredulous.
“Oh no. Not me. We have a modern house in the next village.” He pointed across the grasslands back towards an group of coloured brick houses by the main road. “But my father is still here. He will not leave this place. He says it is sacred.”
They reached the centre and Keneth put the beer on the floor and picked out some bottles. Tremus, Kwasi and Mosi each took one clanking the bottles in salute. Yanif and Eshe each took a cup of lukewarm water from one of the jerry-cans nearby.
As the evening came, the villagers lit the fire and people started to arrive from the outlying areas. Some brought their own beer. Others brought rough self-distilled liquor in old soft drinks bottles. Two men arrived carrying a goat on a stick, its head hanging down with its legs tied on top.
A second goat appeared and, in the reddish light of the flames, the men made short work of skinning and gutting the animals, before impaling the denuded bodies on the sticks used to carry them, and placing the carcasses to roast over the open fire.
Small groups of people stood talking and Kwasi and Mosi floated from group to group laughing and joking. Keneth knew everyone and it seemed the whole area was related through a network of distant cousins and marriages. Eshe stood and chatted with Pamela, leaving Tremus and Yanif on the outskirts watching the silhouettes in the half light of the fire.
Keneth looked around at the faces and judged the time was right. He banged an oil drum full of rain water that rang across the village. As attention turned to him, he started speaking in a mix of local dialect and Swahili gesticulating towards first Eshe and Tremus, then finally at Yanif and his son Isaac who had appeared holding Pamela’s hand.
The audience listened and followed the sway of the talk, clapping as Keneth pointed to Yanif.
Yanif stood bewildered not understanding what was being said.
At the end, Keneth stopped and signalled for Yanif to come forwards.
Yanif stepped back into the darkness.
“It's OK. They won't bite.” Tremus took Yanif by the hand and led him into the centre of the circle.
“Yanif. We have a gift for you,” said Keneth in English. He waved towards his wife.
From the shadows of the huts, Isaac stepped towards the fire, pulling a small goat on a string behind him. When the boy reached the front, he handed the string to Yanif.
“Thank you,” Isaac mumbled.
Yanif knelt and embraced the boy, but Isaac resisted and hurried out of the firelight and back to his mother.
The audience chuckled at the boy’s discomfort.
Yanif stood in the middle looking left and right, unsure what to do.
“Say something,” whispered Kwasi from the sides. “Say something Yanif.”
Yanif stared towards the twins and raised his shoulders as if to say, “Say what?”
“Anything,” said Kwasi. “Oh, I'll show you.”
He stepped to the front next to Yanif to break the impasse. Mosi slipped behind him and took the string from Yanif and led the goat away.
“On behalf of Yanif, it is an honour to be here and to be with such welcoming people,” said Kwasi. “He will…” Kwasi’s voice trailed off.
From the darkness a car approached, its headlights flashing like Morse code as the car bounced across the pitted unpaved road of the plain.
“It’s Riaz. I recognise the car,” said Mosi to his brother. “What’s he doing here? Why would he come all this way?”
“Am I too late?” shouted Riaz as he pulled up by the huts. He jumped out of the car and jogged to the centre.
Tremus marched over to intercept Riaz. “What are you doing here? You had left and didn’t want anything more to do with us. Now we have something, you want back in?” Tremus prodded Riaz with his finger.
Yanif stepped between Tremus and Riaz and pushed Tremus back.
“He is welcome Tremus,” said Yanif. “Let him stay.”
Tremus pursed his lips and hissed.
“I have some good news,” said Riaz ignoring Tremus’s aggression and clapping him on the back. “I have an appointment.”
“An appointment?” asked Tremus. “What for? To pay us back our money?”
Riaz laughed and ignored the question. “A friend of Mr Eden’s called me this evening. He said ‘Riaz, I have heard you know a man who has magic fingers. I have a daughter who needs that man’s help.’ So I told him all about Yanif and now we have an appointment tomorrow morning at a private hospital.” Riaz rubbed imaginary money in his fingers. “And I've arranged to meet with Mr Chiumbo, the district governor. He heard about Isaac and wants to see Yanif.”
Tremus clicked his tongue and whistled. The tension in his voice subsided. “A proper appointment. Then you can stay. But don’t get ideas about trying to cheat us again.”
As the hubbub from the interruption died down, Kwasi returned to centre circle to the address the villagers.
“As I was saying. Yanif is…” Kwasi hesitated again, unsure of what to say.
Riaz stepped forwards and bumped Kwasi to one side. “Yanif is the greatest healer in all of Kenya. He is a man who I personally have seen cure a broken back with the touch of his hand, cure a broken shoulder with just water, and now this boy, your son has been cured. With your help we will make Yanif the man that will heal Kenya. Will you help us?”
In the audience people nodded their heads.
Riaz smiled. “We will have a collection going round. Help if you can.”
He was about to leave the centre when Keneth called out. “And what about a blessing. The mganga said Yanif must bless our village.”
Yanif hesitated and inched backwards away from the light. Mosi caught him and whispered something into his ear and nudged him back into the centre. All eyes turned on him and he stood paralysed in the moment, lit by the flickering flames of the fire.
“Go on, go on,” Mosi whispered from behind. “Say it.”
Yanif put his hands together in prayer and closed his eyes. “May God bless your village with great luck and great joy. May your crops grow and each of you find happiness.” He looked up in silence at the stars overhead. “May God in the heavens be kind.”
The villagers peered up to the stars, and in the silence only the crackling of the fire could be heard. Yanif stepped back into the shadows.
“Dance,” shouted a voice from the side. The mganga was watching. “You must dance to make the spirits see you.”
Kwasi looked at Eshe and Mosi then he started to clap and move and breaking into song:
“Sweet sweet starlight make me see,
How my life is going to be…”
Mosi joined in tapping and swaying, following Kwasi's lead.
In the audience, people stood and clapped out the rhythm, rolling with the voices.
“If Yanif is to heal Kenya we need your help and support,” Riaz called. “Please give us what you can. If any of you would like more personal help then it can be arranged.” He took out his mobile phone and started to take photos.
A woman hustled to the front to meet Yanif. Yanif placed his hand on her forehead and said some words. Riaz cajoled some others and soon a queue formed, each person shaking Yanif’s hand, or asking Yanif to touch a sore joint or cut.
As the queue lengthened and the twins kept singing, Riaz waved half of a plastic bottle in the air.