Red Strangers

by Elspeth Huxley

  “Thirty cents of a shilling !” Karanja exclaimed. “For a bed to sleep in for one night ! I believe that you are no better than a thief.”

  “And we have not yet been given that for which we pay,” Karioki said. “We will pay to-morrow morning, when we have slept.”

  “Pay now, or go,” the woman answered.

  Karanja was so horrified at the woman’s behaviour that he wanted to leave at once, but Karioki, after further useless argument, produced the money, and they stayed.

  For the next few days they walked about the red, shadeless roads, breathing the thick dust and seeing many peculiar things.

  “The houses are built as close together as yam-vines in a shamba,” Karanja remarked. “What do all these people eat, when no one has enough land to cultivate?”

  “Food is brought here in trains,” he was told, “and by people who carry it in to the market on their backs; and there is a house where a big herd of cattle is slaughtered every day.”

  “Is it not a dangerous thing for so many people to live together in one place?” Karanja persisted. “If enemies came, what is to stop them from falling upon this place and destroying everyone in it?”

  “Such dangers belong to the past,” he was told. “There are no enemies powerful enough to fight the Europeans.”

  9

  ONE evening Karioki won ten shillings at a game played with hard pieces of paper on which were bright designs, in a house where many people went every night to gamble. He bought a great deal of beer and gave a party for his friends. Several women came to their hotel, and Karioki told his friend to take any one that he fancied. He himself had already purchased several different women for a night, but Karanja had been afraid. He thought that such women, who obeyed no husbands or fathers, would know much of evil magic; or they might be infected with a thahu which would fall upon him if he slept in their bed. It upset him, also, to hear that they demanded money in exchange for their favours. Among his own people, he pointed out, such a thing would have been absurd. If a girl disliked a young man she would not let him share her bed; and if she liked him, for what would she expect payment ?

  “Here it is different,” he was told. “In your country young men have to be very careful. The girl’s small apron must not be lifted, for if she conceives her lover must pay ten goats. Here the women are no longer virgins, and you may do whatever you like with them on these occasions.”

  Karanja thought this a remarkable arrangement, but, on reflection, one that might well have its advantages, and he put his fear of thahu out of his mind. The woman he selected made him pay a shilling, but on the whole he considered it well spent.

  The next evening, however, Karioki lost all his money. Karanja had only a shilling left, and suggested that it would be best to return home.

  “I have a friend who helps an Indian in his shop,” Karioki said. “This Indian is looking for someone to work for him. I will do so, and then perhaps I can make enough money to buy a bicycle, which I want above everything else. Let us stay a little longer, and then we will go home.”

  Karanja reluctantly agreed, and asked employment from many Europeans whom he saw walking along the streets. But no one seemed ready to offer work. Then he went to Europeans’ houses, and spoke to their servants. Here he was successful, but when the European woman heard that he had lost his kipandi she refused to employ him until he brought another. He did not dare to do this, so he gave up asking Europeans and took a job with an Indian, unloading heavy stones from lorries at a place where a house was being built. The wages were very small and he could only afford enough food to cook one small meal a day on the charcoal brazier in his hotel. He hoped that Karioki would soon get his bicycle, so that they could go home.

  CHAPTER III

  Benson Makuna

  I

  FOR several months Karioki and his bicycle remained as far apart as ever. Karioki’s wages vanished like the dust of roads after rain. Often he had nothing left for food, and shared the meagre half-calabash of ground maize or the few bananas that Karanja had managed to buy. He would have abandoned hope of the bicycle altogether had it not been for his new friends. Many of them occupied positions of importance and seemed to be men of wealth; but Karanja observed that, although Karioki boasted of their friendship, his friends never gave him food.

  One whom Karioki admired above all was called Benson Makuna. He was a Christian, an educated man who could write and speak fluent English. He did work of the highest importance for the Government, work which made him exceedingly rich. Nothing was hidden from him, even the most mysterious customs of the Europeans; he knew what was in the minds of those who governed the country. The great chief of the Serkali, in fact, often asked his advice on what to do.

  But Benson Makuna was not content, as many might have been, to enjoy riches great enough to buy him all the wives, the cattle, the bicycles a man could ask for. He was a friend of a Kikuyu leader whom the Government had persecuted and banished to a distant part of the country, and now he carried on the work this leader had begun. On the day called Sunday, when all offices and shops were closed, he would summon meetings and deliver splendid orations. His audience listened entranced, silent at first, then stirred by deep emotions. For Benson spoke always of injustice, of the work and hardships which his people had to endure while Europeans sat at ease in their houses, plotting new methods of oppression.

  Karanja went one day to such a meeting and heard Benson Makuna say:

  “Long ago, did not our fathers fight bravely when the Masai came to steal the cattle and goats of the Kikuyu ? Were they not strong warriors, guarding their land and their homes?”

  A murmur passed through the listeners like a ripple of wind over tall grass.

  “Why then do we allow the Europeans to steal from us what the Masai could not ?” he demanded. “Have not the Europeans taken away our land, and made their own shambas on stolen property? Are not many of our people homeless, because Europeans have driven them from land rightfully belonging to their clans? And who cultivates these same shambas now? Are the Europeans able themselves to plough the land, to weed it, to reap the crops ? Why then do you work from sunrise until late in the afternoon in order that Europeans may become rich on land they stole from your fathers?”

  “How else can we get money?” a voice asked.

  “Who takes your money when it is earned ?” Benson retorted. “Does it not go to pay the Serkali’s taxes? Twelve shillings every year must be paid for every wife ! These shillings are taken from us, and for what purpose ? Do you know what becomes of all the taxes you pay ? I, Benson Makuna, am able to tell you ! The shillings are given to the D.C.’s, that they may buy motor-cars and send their children to school! The Europeans pay no taxes, none at all—only we are taxed ! Those who cannot pay are caught by the police and taken away in iron fetters; they are beaten and starved and made to labour all day until their backs break. Or if a man fails to carry a kipandi, as if he were a criminal, then also he is captured by the police! Friends, is this justice, according to Kikuyu law?”

  A deep sound shook the throats of the assembly. “It is not just!” the people cried.

  2

  “WHO is it that oppresses our people?” Benson continued. “Who forces you to work, and forbids you to brew beer, and betrays you when you do not pay taxes ? Is it not the old men, the elders, who are friends of the Europeans? Do they not claim all the land that is left to us, so that the young men, who know far better how to grow crops, cannot obtain land? A European who owns a shamba can get a paper from the Government to say that it is his. Why cannot a Kikuyu do the same ? Is it not time that we, the young men who are educated and understand how unjustly we are treated, rise against these elders who obey the Government, and drive out all the Europeans, and govern the country ourselves?”

  “We will make you our chief!” a voice cried.

  Benson looked pleased, but he held up his hand for silence and went on:

  “There is another thing. W
hy do the Europeans not build schools everywhere quickly, so that our children can become educated and learn to read and write, as I can ? It is because they wish to keep us in ignorance so that we shall not know how to claim our rights! To a few they give education, to deceive us, but I, being an exceptionally clever man, can see through this.

  “Now they are scheming to take the rest of our land away from us. They mean to drive us into poverty and starvation, and then all the young men will be killed. They are keeping this a secret, but I, who work in a Government office, have found it out. After the rains they are sending soldiers, and all who resist will be shot. Men of the Akikuyu, shall this be allowed?”

  Again there was a deep stir in the audience and a cry of “Never!” One voice shouted: “Tell us, Benson Makuna, how this can be stopped.”

  “I will tell you,” the orator cried. “I shall stop it, because I understand European ways. But can a tree grow without seed, or a man check the advance of weeds without tools? We have formed a great Association, as Europeans do, in which all the Kikuyu must join. Only thus can we resist the treachery of the Europeans ! Friends, will you join this Association to protect our land and our people?”

  Everyone shouted : “We will join, we will protect our land”; but one voice asked : “Will you demand money from us, Benson, if we join ?”

  “How can we fight the Europeans without money?” Benson replied. “Must we not pay Indians who understand European laws ? Can an Association exist without an office and without clerks ? Have we not a newspaper now, to bring us the truth, instead of the lies which the European newspaper tells in order to deceive us ? Men of Kikuyu, each shilling is a sword that will sever the thongs with which Europeans have bound us! The fee to join this Association is two shillings.”

  This statement was received in silence, and one or two standing on the edge of the group slipped unobtrusively away. But most of the audience were stirred by Benson’s words to fill with cents and shillings a hat that was handed round. Benson started another speech, but the word “Police” rippled from mouth to mouth and in a few moments the group had dissolved as quickly as a flock of pigeons disturbed by the bird-scarers’ shouts. Benson Makuna strolled off amid his companions, swinging his cane, his hat tilted over one eye. He was slim and spruce and wore magnificent yellow shoes. At the end of the road he got into a car with a driver and went away.

  “Is he not a clever man ?” Karioki said. “All the Europeans are afraid of him because he knows their secrets, but they dare not kill him. I have heard that King George, who is above all chiefs, has sent for him to offer him bribes if he will stop this Association, and offering also to give him a European woman for a wife; but he has refused.”

  “What is he going to do with all those shillings?” Karanja enquired. “I heard someone behind me in the crowd say that he has bought a motor-car. I do not know how that will make Europeans give back our land.”

  “He has a motor-car, but it was given to him by an Indian, his friend,” Karioki said indignantly. “You must not listen to such wicked talk. Have you not heard the saying: slander is the bead ornament of the rich man ? He is a great leader, and one day he will drive all the Europeans out.”

  Karanja remembered a story that his father had told him a long time ago. “I think that he must have eaten the beetle of eloquence,” he said.

  3

  KARIOKI was dismissed from the Indian’s shop soon after Karanja’s work came to an end. For several days they wandered about the hot streets of Nairobi seeking work, eking out their last shilling on a few cents’ worth of maize flour and a banana each day. At last Karanja could stand it no longer. The floor of the lodging-house was covered with filth and some unclean woman had given him a thahu that was making him sick. He told Karioki that he was going home.

  “How will you get there?” Karioki asked. “You have no money for the train.”

  “I shall walk,” Karanja said. “Surely on the road I shall find Kikuyu people who will give me food; it is only in Nairobi that every rice-grain has a price.”

  “Wait for three days,” Karioki begged. “Something very great is going to happen to me. In three days I shall have a bicycle, and one for you also, and we will go home.”

  Karanja did not believe this; but he agreed to wait for three days more before starting for home.

  On the evening of the third day Karioki did not return to eat at sunset. Very late at night Karanja heard him come in, panting quickly, and go to bed. Before dawn next morning he felt his shoulder shaken and awoke to find Karioki standing by his bed.

  “Come !” Karioki whispered. “We are going home.”

  Karanja knew that something important had occurred. He dressed quickly and went outside. Karioki was standing still in the half-light, his hands cupped around a small cloth bag. He opened the neck and Karanja peered inside. He could see the dull gleam of coins and hear the rustle of currency notes. He gasped at the sight of so much money, and then gazed at his friend. Horror, alarm, admiration were blended in the look.

  “You will be caught by the police!” he whispered.

  Karioki shook his head. “The police do not know me. Only the Indian came, just as we had finished; he did not see my face. I hid behind the door and struck his head with an iron tool. He had no time to look at me.”

  “You have killed him !” Karanja exclaimed in dismay. Instinctively he drew back lest he should touch the hand of one contaminated with death.

  Karioki laughed, but the sound was not one of a man at ease. “You are like a child,” he said, “you would be frightened of a francolin in the bush. I did not kill him; it was only a light blow. A man of experience was with me; he had iron tools with which to break open the safe.”

  “This is folly,” Karanja said angrily. “Now the police will seize us and we shall never see our homes again.”

  “How can they find me?” Karioki said. “It is you who are a fool. This morning I will buy two bicycles, one for each of us, and trousers and shirts, and European hats and shoes. Then we will go to Kijabe, to the mission; I wish to become a Christian and to learn to write.”

  “I shall go back to Njoro,” Karanja said.

  4

  BUT all his worries sank like pebbles into a deep pond of ecstasy when the bicycle was his. It shone and glittered in the sun like a fish, it moved lightly beneath his hand like a coy woman. It filled his soul with a pride almost too great to bear. He had never dared to hope for ownership of such a thing. Its mere possession assured him a place among the aristocracy of the rich, the sophisticated, the educated men. Only clerks, teachers and the highest-paid servants of Europeans owned bicycles. Yet by some miracle, he, Karanja, was of their company. As he pushed the graceful shining machine along the street he could hardly keep his feet from a dance, his throat from song. It had cost one hundred and eighty shillings; a sum equal to twenty goats, perhaps more; half the payment on a bride.

  They had bought also light brown cotton suits, such as were worn by Christians, and hats and shoes. Karioki paid for everything; his pockets were like granaries full to the roof after harvest. They ate like chiefs their first full meal since they had come to Nairobi, a big plate of rice and meat; and then, heavy of stomach but light of heart, they set out for Kijabe. Karioki had insisted on going to the mission. Benson Makuna, he said, had promised to make him a clerk in the Association; but he must first become a Christian and learn to write.

  They wheeled their bicycles carefully through the streets until the houses thinned out and shambas began. When they reached a hill Karioki announced that he was going to ride. He flung his leg over the saddle as he had seen others do, and fell in a heap on to the road. Annoyed, he tried again; this time he reached the saddle, but the bicycle bolted with him and ran into an old woman carrying a basket of fowls. The woman and the hens screeched at him together, in the same tones, and he shouted back angrily, while Karanja shook with laughter on the road.

  “Perhaps there is a curse upon your bicycle,”
he suggested when he could speak. “It does not seem gentle in its habits.”

  “That fool of an old woman was in the way,” Karioki said. “She has less sense than one of her hens. Bicycles cannot be cursed; besides, this is a particularly good kind, it has a charm attached to it which prevents a lion from catching anyone who rides it.”

  Karanja knew this, for he had seen pictures of the bicycle being chased by a lion and understood that this kind was so swift that no lion could overtake it. Nothing had been said, however, about its behaviour towards old women.

  Karanja’s bicycle behaved no better. It threw him into the road and fell viciously on top of him.

  “I do not think I shall ride mine yet,” he said, rubbing his shin. “No doubt at Kijabe there will be someone who can teach us the secret.” So they walked to Kijabe, pushing their bicycles along the road.

  Kijabe was a big place with many buildings : hospitals, dormitories, schools. At first, when they said that they had come to school, the missionary rejected them because of their age. Karioki explained that they had come from a long way off and brought all the money they had earned for fees because they wanted to be Christians. Finally the missionary smiled and said that they could stay, but that they would have to sit with uncircumcised boys in the lowest class of the school. They agreed, and found a place to live with the father of a man who worked on Marafu’s farm. Every day they attended school, sitting on long benches in a big light house of grass while a teacher wrote words on a flat black stone with a piece of white chalk.