Matigari

by Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong'o

  ‘Ah, you know them, then? ’

  ‘I have heard of them. ’

  ‘What are patriots? ’ Muriuki asked.

  ‘Patriots are those who went to the forest to fight for freedom, ’ Ngaruro answered. ‘People say that some of them remained in the forest. ’

  ‘What on earth for? ’

  ‘To keep the fire of freedom burning, ’ Ngaruro replied.

  ‘But why? ’

  ‘So that it does not die out. You know that the fire of freedom was first lit in the forests and mountains, ’ Ngaruro explained.

  ‘That is true, ’ Matigari said. ‘These children are too young to know. Take me, for example. Settler Williams and I spent many years in those mountains you see over there, hunting one another down through groves, caves, rivers, ditches, plains, everywhere, I would sometimes catch sight of him in the distance, but by the time I was ready to fire, he had disapappeared in the bush, and he would be swallowed by the darkness of the forest.

  ‘At other times he would push me into a corner, but by the time he fired, I had already ducked. I would roll on the ground, crawl on my knees or crawl on my belly, and I would thus slip through his fingers. And so, day after day, week after week, month after month, many years rolled past.

  ‘Neither of us was prepared to surrender. Sometimes I would hit him and think that I had provided him with a ticket to hell. But just as I was about to come out singing songs of victory, news would reach me that he had been spotted elsewhere, searching to destroy me. On other occasions his bullets would catch me. I would crawl, limp and hide in caves to recuperate, waiting for my broken bones to mend. Many were the times he narrowly missed me! It’s just that God was not ready to receive me in His kingdom just then. And what do you think we were struggling for?

  ‘A house. My house.

  You see, I built the house with my own hands. But Settler Williams slept in it and I would sleep outside on the veranda. I tended the estates that spread around the house for miles. But it was Settler Williams who took home the harvest. I was left to pick anything he might have left behind. I worked all the machines and in all the industries, but it was Settler Williams who would take the profits to the bank and I would end up with the cent that he flung my way. I am sure that you already know all this. I produced everything on that farm with my own labour. But all the gains went to Settler Williams. What a world! A world in which the tailor wears rags, the tiller eats wild berries, the builder begs for shelter. One morning I woke up from the deep sleep of many years, and I said to him: Settler Williams, you who eat what another has sown, hear now the sound of the trumpet and the sound of the horn of justice. The tailor demands his clothes, the tiller his land, the worker the produce of his sweat. The builder wants his house back. Get out of my house. You have hands of your own, you cruel and greedy one. Go build your own! Who deceived you into thinking that the builder has no eyes, no head and no tongue?

  ‘By now I was trembling like a leaf in the wind. Not because it was cold; not because I was afraid. I was trembling with rage, rage of a newly found dignity that comes from having the scales of a thousand years fall from one’s eyes. I was now human.

  ‘Settler Williams leapt to the telephone. I crept slowly to the safe where he kept his gun. I took it, yes, took his gun and releasing the catch, I went on one knee and pointed the gun at him. He was still on the telephone and there I was pointing his gun at him. Wonders will never cease! You wouldn’t believe, would you, that it was John Boy, a black man, the settler’s servant, who saved him? I have no idea where he suddenly emerged from. Perhaps he came from the kitchen. He jumped on my back, screaming. The gun fell to the ground, and he and I started wrestling. I was determined to get the gun. Settler Williams was coming to join John Boy against me, and without the gun I would be no match against the two of them, I drew up all my strength, broke free of John Boy’s hold and jumped out through the window. I ran into the tea plantation, through the maize fields, through banana plantations. I crossed rivers, climbed hills and disappeared into the mountains. Settler Williams followed me to see who would silence whom in order to clear any doubts as to who the real master was.

  ‘Thus we spent many years!

  ‘It was only yesterday that the doubts were cleared. Settler Williams fell. I slowly crept up to where he lay, just in case he was pretending to be dead. He was dead. I placed my left foot on his chest and raised his weapons high in the air, proclaiming victory!

  ‘And so today is my homecoming, and I want to bring my family together. ’

  The man’s eyes shone brightly. His melodious voice and his story had been so captivating that Muriuki and Ngaruro wa

  Kiriro did not realise that they had reached the restaurant. His story had transported them to other times long ago when the clashing of warriors’ bows and spears shook trees and mountains to their roots.

  ‘How many stayed behind to keep the fire of freedom going? ’ Ngaruro wa Kiriro asked,

  ‘Ask me another. ’

  ‘No, I understand. Here we are. This is the restaurant. ’ The bar was a stone building with a corrugated iron roof. The restaurant was a small extension at the side, built of wood with a canvas roof. Enclosing the whole compound was a wall of cardboard and sacking.

  People had their food in the bar and in the restaurant. More sat in the compound. The bill of fare hung on the wall:

  MATAHA HOTEL, BAR AND RESTAURANT

  Ugali with Roast Meat and Stew; Greens with Maize and Beans; Mashed Peas and Potatoes; Chick-peas; Soya Beans; Tea; Milk; and Porridge; Chapati, Bread, Samosas, Scones, etc.

  HERE WE SELL EVERYTHING EXCEPT WHAT YOU DON’T LIKE.

  The workers were now beginning to return to the factory in groups of three, four and five.

  ‘I shan’t come in, ’ Ngaruro said, ‘The workers have decided that we must return early and meet outside the factory. There is to be a strike. ’

  ‘A strike? ’ Matigari asked.

  ‘Yes, it starts at two o’clock... You will find all the food you want here. Look for some water and wipe the blood off your face ... I’d better rush. The sun never stops, even for a king! ’ ‘Have you come across or heard of my family at the factory? ’ ‘Matigari’s family? ’ Ngaruro asked. ‘And whose family do you think we all are? ’ he said with a trace of a smile.

  ‘Spread the message: Settler Williams is dead. John Boy is dead. We must go home, light the fire and rebuild our home together. ’

  ‘Just a moment, Ngaruro said, as a new thought struck him. ‘Williams? Boy? One of the company directors is called Williams. Robert Williams. His deputy is called John Boy. ’

  ‘A name can have more than one claimant, ’ Matigari said.

  ‘That is true, ’ Ngaruro answered. ‘I will give the others your message. This is what I will tell them at the meeting: Williams is dead; John Boy is dead. I will call together all the members of the family and tell them: Let’s go home and light the fire together. Let us rebuild our home. The wise among them wilt understand the hint. ’

  Ngaruro wa Kiriro sprung up as if new strength and confidence had been instilled in him by his brief contact with Matigari.

  Matigari and Muriuki watched him as he strode away and caught up with the train of the other workers. After a while they could no longer single him out from among the others.

  The lunch break was nearly over. People could be seen rushing back to work before two o’clock. The two policemen and their dog passed by the restaurant, heading towards the far side of the shopping centre.

  It was very hot.

  Matigari and Muriuki entered the restaurant, crossed a small gutter and went into the bar.

  The wail of the siren filled the air again. It was two o’clock.

  8

  On the wall were murals of wild animals. An elephant, a hyena, a buffalo, a snake, a leopard and a zebra sat in a circle, all holding a bottle of beer in one hand. King lion sat in the centre of the circle, collccting money. On the crown he wore were the wo
rds ‘King of the Jungle’. On his belly was the word ‘Tribute’, and at his feet was a barrel with the words ‘Drink it, Drink It. After All, It Costs So Little, Drink It! ’

  A fat woman sat behind the counter, protected by a grille. Perched on high stools opposite her were other equally fat women, all dressed in white overalls, talking about the impending workers’ strike. ‘What would we do if the factory closed down? ’ Their voices were partly drowned by the juke-box blaring out a song: ‘Shauri Yako’. *

  Matigari and Muriuki sat at a table in a corner at the rear of the room. Matigari placed his hat and coat on a seat.

  One of the women came from the counter to take their order. ‘So now women work in bars? ’ he asked Muriuki.

  ‘Women work everywhere, ’ Muriuki replied. ‘They sweep the factories, cut grass in the fields, pick tea, coffee and pyrethrum and clean all the slime from the smelly drains and gutters. ’

  ‘And your mother? What does she do? ’

  ‘I have no mother. ’

  ‘You have no mother, no father — an orphan? What happened to your mother? ’

  ‘She was burned to death when the house was set on fire. ’ ‘Set on fire? By whom? 1

  ‘The landlord. She used to rent a but in the village but she could not afford to pay for it. The landlord told her to leave, but my mother asked him: Where will I go if I leave this hut? You can’t throw me out into the wilderness like a wild animal. Money isn’t more important than life! But the landlord answered: You have to go whether you like it or not. I will see to it myself that you leave. That night, my mother returned home drunk. She went to bed. It was about midnight when I was woken up by the smell of smoke. I ran to where she lay. She was fast asleep. I tried to wake her up. I jumped out through the window, but my mother got stuck because the window was too smalt. Then the house burst into flames. ’

  Matigari brushed off with his hand a fly that buzzed around his ear. The fly did a few more turns in the air before landing next to others on the wall elose to the window. He turned and looked at Muriuki. Will the day come when our orphans can wipe away their tears? he thought.

  One of the barmaids brought them the food and the drinks they had ordered. Muriuki immediately started sipping his soft drink.

  ‘Don’t open the beer yet, ’ Matigari told the waitress. He stood up and went to wash his face at a tap near the toilet. The dried blood on his face made the water that trickled to the ground a little red. He then drank from the tap, filling up his belly with water.

  The barmaid went back to where the others sat, and they continued talking about the strike, their half-empty bottles and glasses of beer in front of them. One of the barmaids was crocheting with effortless ease.

  The woman who was crocheting suddenly said to the others, ‘Let us listen to the housewives’ programme’. She walked across the room and turned off the juke-box.

  Matigari returned to where Muriuki sat, busy over his food. Sitting down, he just looked at his own portion without eating it. Many questions crossed his mind. He thought about Muriuki and about all his people. When he had come out of the forest, he had thought that the task of bringing his family together was going to be an easy one. But now? It was already afternoon, and he had not yet made contact with his own; he did not even know where or how he would begin his search.

  The radio came on.

  .,. This is the Voice of Truth. Next on the air is the Housewives’ Programme. We shall be talking about family matters today... The

  annual general meeting of the Women’s Development Association was opened by the wife of the Minister for Truth and Justice yesterday. Madam, the minister’s wife, addressing the women, told them that adultery and drunkenness were the principal evils behind the destruction of many homes in the country. Madam the minister’s wife urged all women to take refuge in the safety of the church and to stop competing with their husbands in drinking and adultery. Women were the corner-stones of the home, she said.

  Matigari started. Indeed, women were the corner-stones of the home. How foolish of me not to have thought of it! I should have started looking for the women. The women would then tell me about the children. Women are the ones who uphold the Same of continuity and change in the homestead, just as he wondered what to do, he saw a young woman come into the bar and join the others. They shook hands and clapped one another’s palms jubilantly.

  ‘Hi, Guthera, ’ they all greeted her together. ‘What’s new? ’ ‘Nothing, ’ she answered, smiling. ‘I’m just hiding from the cops. ’

  The women behind the counter turned down the volume of the radio, eager to hear properly what Guthera had to say.

  9

  ‘Why? Have you stolen something? ’

  ‘No. It’s just that one of the cops is after me. He keeps on following me like I am a bitch on heat. He ought to be ashamed of himself, whistling at me like that in order to make me stop. Who is going to stop to let cops chat her up, and in broad daylight? Definitely not Guthera! ’

  What a beautiful woman, thought Matigari; a woman withteeth that gleam white like milk, a mass of hair so black and soft, as if it is always treated with the purest of oils. Yes, a woman who is neither too short nor too tall; neither too fat nor too thin. So well built that her clothes fit her as though she were created in them! See how well she wears her flower-patterned lasso2 around her shoulders so that the flaps fall gently in soft folds over her shoulders and breasts. It was difficult not to stare at her. What was such a rare beauty doing in a dingy bar? The women burst out laughing.

  ‘What is wrong with the policeman? Don’t you like him? Money is money, you know. ’

  ‘To me, cops’ money stinks of blood, ' she answered, turning while she spoke and noticing Matigari and Muriuki for the first time. ‘I’d rather beg for a beer even from a total stranger - like that man over there. ’

  Guthera walked up to Matigari and without more ado sat on his lap, put her arms around his neck and looked at him with feigned love in her eyes.

  ‘Why do you look at me like that, dad? You’ve even forgotten to eat your food and drink your beer. I usually drink lager. Go on! Don’t be mean! Aren’t you going to offer me anything to drink? Or how much do you want to pay for a little pleasure? Pleasures are very expensive, you know. But at this time of the month, the prices are usually low. We even give favours on credit. You can pay at the end of the month. But that is only if you are employed. Are you? Or are you one of those peasants who wait for a cent from the sale of the milk from your one cow? Or perhaps from the sale of coffee picked from your single acre? Or are you the type who ambush their wives for money as they return home after selling their wares in the market-place? Anyway, we don’t mind where you get your money from or how. But luck isn’t always on our side. For instance, if the factory workers go on strike, I have no clue as to how we will get our food. We might be lucky with those who sell their little plots of land. Would you sell off your wife’s plot, or indeed her house? ’

  ‘Can’t you see that I am old enough to be your father? ’ Matigari told Guthera when he got his first opportunity to say something. ‘Sit down hereon this chair, ’he said, pushing her off gently with one hand.

  She squeezed herself between Matigari and Muriuki. ‘Where have you been living, old man? Have you been living on the moon or in space perhaps? Or are you just playing hard to get? Let me tell you something. These days it does not matter whether it’s your father or your son, whether it’s your brother or your sister. The most important thing is money. Even if a boy like this one came to me with money in his pocket, I would give him such delights as he has never dreamt of. Or what do you think, my little hero? The only people I have sworn never to have anything to do with are policemen. Are you a policeman? What is your name? ’

  Before Matigari could answer, Guthera glanced out through the window and saw the two policemen with their dog. She leaped to her feet.

  ‘Good God! Those hyenas are headed here... I don’t want the fools to give me any
foolishness. But stay put, old man. I’ll be back soon, and then you will have to buy me a drink. ’ Guthera disappeared through the doorway.

  Matigari held his chin, sadly contemplating what had taken place. Age crept back on his face; the wrinkles seemed to have increased and deepened. How everything had changed. What was this world coming to? ~

  The women at the counter were now talking about Guthera ... So talkative, this Guthera... I don’t know what she has against policemen. No money bites... If I were Guthera, I would work on him so much that he would end up pawning his police uniform... They continued in this way, just killing time with small talk. They were suddenly startled by the blood curdling growl of a dog, followed by the chilling scream of a woman. The barmaids ran out, followed by Muriuki. The dog continued growling. The woman’s screams were of pure terror. Muriuki returned to the bar, trembling from head to heel.

  ‘It’s... the... woman., he said.

  ‘What’s happened? ’

  ‘They are setting the dog on her. ’

  ‘Who are? ’

  ‘Those policemen. ’

  Matigari shot out of his seat and darted outside, followed by Muriuki. What a sight before him!

  A crowd of people stood around Guthera, watching the policemen unleash terror on the woman. She was kneeling on the ground. The dog would leap towards her; but each time its muzzle came close to her eyes, the policeman who held the lead restrained it. Guthera’s wrapper lay on the ground. Each time she stood up to retreat, the dog jumped at her, barking and growling as though it smelled blood. Some people laughed, seeming to find the spectacle highly entertaining.

  A gush of urine rushed down her legs; she was staring death in the facc.

  A feeling of sharp pain and anger flashed through Matigari. His hand moved to his waist in a gesture he had often performed during his years of struggle with Settler Williams in the mountains. There was nothing there. No guns. He remembered that he was now wearing the belt of peace. But he was very angry. Of what use is a man if he cannot protect his children? However, he did not wrap up his anger in silence. It is no use getting angry about things, he had always told himself, if you have no intention of doing something to change them. He turned to the crowd and shouted angrily: