by Frank Coates
She crossed the railway line and followed the path down the hill. It hadn’t taken her long to find where Joshua Otieng was living. A Nubian friend—one of the women on the community security committee whose duty it was to know about the itinerants in the area—knew Joshua’s friend Kwazi. Kwazi had been a recipient of the women’s charity when he was orphaned at age four and again when he received his disfiguring injuries at age twelve. When Joshua moved in to share Kwazi’s shack in Kianda, the Nubian woman knew of his presence.
Mama Hamza was weary by the time she reached Kwazi’s shack, and disappointed when she received no response to her calls of habari.
She poked her head into the opening. A voice that came from behind startled her.
‘There is nothing in there to steal, old woman.’
She swung around to find a fine-looking young man grinning at her.
‘It would not be Kibera if you had something to steal, young Joshua.’
His smile was quickly replaced by a frown. ‘So, my father is sending old women to talk to me?’
She ignored his tone and said, ‘I am Fatima. People call me Mama Hamza.’
Joshua nodded. ‘I have heard of you.’
‘I was hoping I’d find you here, but I am sorry I looked into your shelter.’
He nodded, remaining aloof.
‘I know your friend Gabriel,’ she said. ‘You call him Kwazi.’ Ignoring his silence, she went on. ‘I see him from time to time. He often speaks of you.’
Again he made no response.
She would not relent. ‘He is very popular in Kibera. He can go anywhere; speak with anyone. Kikuyu, Kisii, Luo, Kamba.’
‘Kwazi says tribes make all the trouble. He says we should forget all our tribal things.’
‘Hmm…Maybe Kwazi is correct. But, I think, also wrong. It’s good to know about our customs and heritage. We should be aware of our dances and songs. We should enjoy them. There is much to respect and be proud of among our many tribes, but it is bad if we cannot respect one another’s customs. It is bad if this brings about hatred of the people who celebrate them.’
Mama Hamza fell silent and appraised the young man standing before her. He was exactly as she had imagined him following her discussion with his father: proud, determined, confident. Like many of the young men she now saw leading the gangs in Kibera, he was probably full of his own opinions, ignoring all others. She could see the difficulty his father would have trying to encourage any discussion with him. Like many in this modern age, he had no respect for the wisdom of his elders.
‘Your father is worried about you, Joshua,’ she said simply.
‘He cares nothing for me.’
‘How can you say that? What father does not care for one of his own?’
‘My father is a coward who will not fight for what is right.’
She nodded that she understood his feelings.
‘If you know me, if you know what we do in the Kibera Women’s Association, you will understand that I mix with many, many people who come from all over Kenya. I know all the tribes. I know their customs, their stories, their history. There is nobody who can say one tribe’s customs are better than another’s. We try to teach people to understand one another by knowing something about the other person’s customs and by sharing them.’ She paused. ‘I know a lot about the Luo people, Joshua.’
For a fleeting moment Mama Hamza caught a glimpse of interest behind Joshua’s stern defences, but he quickly concealed it with a sarcastic sneer.
‘Nobody can know about all the tribes,’ he said. ‘There are too many.’
Her gaze didn’t falter under his surly expression. ‘I know things about the Luo that your father and your father’s father know.’
He stared at her before turning to look at the smouldering refuse heap some way down the alley. He studied it to avoid her gaze, but she could see she had piqued his interest.
‘I have heard something about the Luo,’ he said, keeping his attention on the fire. ‘I have heard that it is important for a Luo person to be cleansed after the death of another.’
‘Cleansing is a very important ceremony. Without a proper cleansing the person will suffer very bad luck throughout his life. He will have no peace in this life or the next.’
‘But it is just a children’s story,’ he said with a dismissive gesture. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘I have only heard about it from Luos. You would need to ask a Luo about the truth of it.’
‘Is this cleansing ceremony important even if the person is a boy at the time of the death?’
She shrugged. ‘I believe so.’
Although he continued to stare into the smoke, she could tell he wanted to know more but couldn’t ask.
‘Your father was responsible for the death of a friend,’ she said.
It was a guess, but over the years she had learnt to see into people, particularly those with a troubled past. She had looked into Simon Otieng’s eyes when they met and seen in him something that brought trouble to his heart.
Joshua nodded.
‘He worries about you, Joshua,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he worries that you will be involved in violence and suffer the curse of an uncleansed death as he has.’
Joshua turned from the smouldering waste. ‘He should worry. There will be violence, yes, but it will not fall on me. It will be on people who refuse to defend what is important. It will fall on the cowards who reject their duty.’
He started to go, but turned back to her. ‘And if you are not careful, it will also fall on you, old woman. You and your women’s association are foolish, because it is not possible to be a friend to all people, all tribes. Not these days. You must choose your friends and stay close to them. All others are enemies. You cannot try to remain in the middle. You will be cut to pieces.’
CHAPTER 16
Joshua had slept poorly and felt vaguely troubled all morning. Mama Hamza’s visit had annoyed him more than it should. She brought an unwelcome reminder of his father and had stirred uncertainties that Mayasa had earlier kindled.
He roamed among the alleys, chatting to friends until mid-afternoon, then became irritated by his inability to make a decision about the plan he’d been hatching all day.
He marched along Ngong Road, gathering his thoughts. Ten minutes later he was walking boldly through Adams Arcade as if he were a regular customer, refusing to make eye contact with the security guards. He strode through the auto swing gate of the supermarket and grabbed a plastic shopping basket from the stack.
Once inside, he wasn’t so confident. He moved around the aisles mulling over the speech he’d prepared in his head. It didn’t sound to him quite as eloquent now that he was about to deliver it. Nor as succinct. It had to be brief as he would be in a line of shoppers and he didn’t want to attract the attention of the guards any more than usual.
He stood in line at Mayasa’s register, a packet of Tic Tacs the only item in his basket, and watched her as she served the women ahead of him. She was very efficient, swiping the items under the barcode reader while her fingers flew over the keys. He gained confidence by his anonymity. He would have the advantage of surprise when he reached the register. He would be able to get his message out before she was able to gather her thoughts.
The woman ahead of him collected her receipt and pushed her shopping trolley out into the mall.
Mayasa slid Joshua’s basket towards her and said, ‘Is that all, Joshua?’
‘Yes…um, no.’ She hadn’t even looked up at him. ‘About the other day—’
‘That’ll be five shillings fifty.’
‘I just wanted to say—’
‘Five shillings fifty,’ she repeated, and under her breath whispered, ‘I get off in fifteen minutes. Wait for me at Java House.’
Joshua was out in the mall with his Tic Tacs before he really understood what had happened.
Mayasa found Joshua sitting at an outside table at the far end of Java Coffee House. He saw her coming and smil
ed sheepishly as she sat down beside him.
‘Habari,’ he said.
‘Mzuri.’
‘You are finished working?’
‘I finish early on Thursdays; later on Fridays.’
‘I see,’ he said, toying with the sugar packets.
The waitress came to their table and asked if they wanted to order. They said no. She fussed around them, cleaning and straightening tables.
‘We’d better go,’ Mayasa said.
‘I’ll walk home with you.’
‘I’ll come to your place,’ she said, trying to sound offhand. ‘I’ll say hello to Kwazi.’
‘He’s gone to visit a friend,’ he replied, and explained how the man had been seriously burnt while trying to extinguish a fire. ‘They set alight his duka in Siranga.’
‘That’s awful,’ she said. ‘Who are “they”?’
He shrugged.
‘There’s so much violence like that,’ she said. ‘I hear about it all the time at Adams Arcade. They say it’s just like the last time, in 2002.’
‘No. We are in control now.’
She hesitated a moment, unsure if it would be safe to raise the matter that had led to their previous argument. Then she decided she couldn’t continue to be concerned about him if he couldn’t see the danger he was in.
‘Who is this “we”?’ she asked, knowing he meant Koske and his thugs.
‘I know you don’t trust Koske, and neither do I,’ Joshua said.
‘Then why do you deal with him?’
‘I don’t like the way he gets his money, but he’s on Raila’s side. He helps us get supporters for Raila and the ODM.’
‘But why do you have to be so close to him? Can’t someone else do his work?’
‘Koske helps our football team,’ Joshua explained. ‘He looks after us.’
Mayasa gave him a quizzical look.
‘He also has contacts.’
‘Contacts?’
‘In the National Football Association. He knows people who make selections for the national squad.’
She knew little about football, but enough to understand that Joshua had some skills in that regard. ‘So you believe he can get you selected for the national training squad?’
Embarrassed, Joshua retreated a little, but left her in no doubt that national selection was his goal. She was surprised and pleased that he had ambition. Perhaps it would get him away from his obsession with politics and the dangers that entailed.
‘You’re good, Joshua. Very good. If anyone can get selected, you can.’
Upon seeing her enthusiasm, he brightened. ‘You think so? Koske said he might be able to arrange a game in front of the national selectors. I’ll get my chance.’
‘That’s wonderful. And if you get selected, what happens then?’
He told her about the training camps, usually conducted somewhere outside Nairobi—the food and accommodation provided by real hotels—and the chance to play trial games against teams from other countries.
‘And if I get picked for the national team, I get paid to play football!’
‘You’ll do it,’ she said. ‘I know you’ll do it.’
They continued to talk all the way to Kwazi’s shack.
‘We’re here,’ Mayasa said.
‘But I was going to walk you home.’
‘There’s no need. I can get there myself.’
‘Yes, but I’d like to know where you live. I’ll walk with you.’
‘No.’
She knew she’d said it too hurriedly. And it came out far more vehemently than she’d intended.
Joshua was silent.
She tried to cover her rudeness. ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’ she asked.
He mumbled that he would probably be around.
They continued to make an effort at conversation, but it was strained. In the end she gave up the pretence and said goodbye. She paused for a moment, wanting to kiss him if for no other reason than to undo her tactlessness, but he kept his eyes averted.
She walked home, hating herself for not revealing as much of herself as Joshua had of himself to her.
Fridays were always difficult—Mayasa had a long shift at the supermarket, finishing at ten. Today, it had felt extra long, and miserable. Joshua had said he would come to see her and he hadn’t.
She walked wearily up the hill and reached the alley that led to where she and her father shared their shack. She peered into the alleyway’s forbidding gloom. It was her home neighbourhood and she had walked down the alley late at night many times before. Yet tonight she felt nervous about entering its confined spaces.
She summoned her courage and entered the darkness. Chinks of light escaped the shuttered window openings and closed doors. Muffled voices came from within the shacks but otherwise it was quiet. Kianda seemed to have shrunk into itself at night since the political campaigners had begun their exuberant marches through Kibera. Perhaps it was the same in other parts of the settlement too.
Mayasa became aware of faint footsteps behind her. She peered into the murkiness but could see nothing. She hurried on, using the remembered stepping stones of daylight hours to avoid the filth. The footsteps hurried too. She turned again and glimpsed a tall figure as he passed a slanting column of light. He was approaching fast.
Her heart leapt in her chest. Her house was only a minute away. But then she recalled it was Friday and her father was visiting her sister as was the custom. She could make it home, but she would be alone there. For a brief moment she considered banging on a door, any door, but she was afraid that door might be slammed in her face. She didn’t know what to expect from people any more. Even family members had become distant after learning about her father.
At her door, in the darkness, she fumbled with the key. In her panic it almost slipped from her trembling fingers. The key wouldn’t fit into the padlock, then she realised she had it the wrong way around.
The man rounded the bend, fifty metres away. She could hear his footsteps pounding in the mud.
The padlock clicked and she ripped it open. Inside the shack, she slammed the door and slid the bolt into place.
She could barely hear anything above the beating of her heart, but she knew the man was nearing the house.
At the door—knocking.
‘Mayasa!’
The realisation that he knew her name terrified her.
‘Mayasa, it’s me. Joshua.’
She almost collapsed with relief. Regaining her composure a little, she opened the door. It was dark, but she knew it was Joshua. His voice, his build, the outline of his body, all had become familiar to her. She flung her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. It felt good to hold him.
He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her from him. ‘What is it? Why are you hiding from me?’ he demanded.
‘Hiding? I’m not hiding from you.’
‘Yesterday I told you I was sorry for what I did, but you didn’t forgive me at all. You…you pushed me away.’
‘But I did forgive you. It wasn’t that. I—’
‘I thought we were friends,’ he said. His voice was lower but there was still an edge to it.
‘We are friends. Aren’t we?’
‘Then why didn’t you let me walk you home? Are you ashamed to be seen with a Luo?’
‘No. I’m not ashamed of you. How could I be ashamed of you? I…I like you.’
It was dark, but her eyes were becoming accustomed to it. She tried to read his face. His breathing subsided and she sensed the heat of his anger fade.
‘You like me?’ he asked, his voice now just a whisper.
‘I do. Very much.’ She put her hand on his chest. His heart thumped against it.
He moved tentatively towards her. She slid her arms around him and felt his muscles ripple under her hands. His body was hard against her and he lowered his face and kissed her.
She drew him in, pushing the door closed behind him. He almost fell on her as they stumbled together in
to the darkened room. She muffled a giggle. He laughed. They kissed again, more urgently.
‘Your father…?’
‘He won’t be home,’ she said, barely able to take her lips from his to answer.
She felt a rush of excitement as Joshua’s hands went to her breasts. But even as the excitement rose and he was undressing her, she felt torn. She knew she should reveal her secret, that it was unfair to let him go on, but his hands were now on her bare skin and she could feel his excitement through his jeans.
In the darkness he fumbled with her clothing and his, muttering as he stumbled to remove his obstinate shoes. When he returned to her arms she felt the thrill of his naked body press against hers. She helped him remove her jeans and panties and his trembling hands explored her.
‘Come,’ she said, leading him towards her bed.
‘Oh!’ he muttered as he stubbed his toe.
They giggled together.
She pulled him down beside her and, too soon, his hands were gone and his body was over her and then his weight was on her.
She gasped as he entered her.
Joshua lay beside her in sleep, his arm across her belly, his mouth close enough that she could feel the soft caress of his breath on her ear—like whispers from his soul. But they revealed nothing of what he might feel when she told him her secret.
He had fallen asleep quickly, confirming her belief that he had no worries to trouble his mind. Mayasa had no such luxury. She lay in the silence, staring into the hovering darkness that threatened to smother her. The more she gave thought to her worries, the more they seemed to have no solution.
What would he do when he learnt the truth? Most people couldn’t understand it, and everyone she met feared it. Maybe Joshua would be fearful too. And unforgiving about her dishonesty.