Boss Takes All (19 page)

Alex cut him off. ‘Simon, welcome! And I have a feeling that my wife will think that your coming is a good omen.'

Maura followed up. ‘Alex is right about that. It is wonderful to see you. Brave, but you are taking a big risk. You must know that. Unfriendly eyes everywhere.'

‘Madam, what risk? It is nothing. I want risk. I embrace risk. Eighteen months ago, there was a headline in The Nation: ‘New party on the scene'. Daniel Komar and Paul Miller - now they were taking a risk. Serena, our people called it the joke party, the new home for political misfits. That first day, I became a secret member. Tonight I become a free member. And I am proud to be sitting here next to my successor.'

‘Now just hang on a minute. That is too far and too fast!'

‘Perhaps. But, see. You trust me. You don't believe that I am some spy sent by the big boss. Thomas, the wananchi are longing for someone they can trust. I speak to people on the streets every day. Many of them tell me that they want you. Reasons? So many. They see that you have suffered like they have. Reuben Rubai? They'll take his daddy's kidogo, but they won't vote for a young puppet.

‘Soon you will be married to the most popular woman in the country. They will vote for you to keep her here!

‘And then there is the hospital. For fifteen years our bosses in Nairobi have promised that there would be funds for a new hospital. Big mouth Nyache stands up in front of the people and I share the great news. I am tired of being a fool. But now, when the passengers on the
Eldoret Express
, the kids pedalling by on their bikes, they see a big piece of land and men in machines working. They ask questions and when the answers come, they are excited and they have real hope.

‘I too am excited. That is why the words are tumbling out of my mouth like water down the falls of Niagara!'

His small audience was spellbound. In her time in the police force Caroline had served in small towns and in the capital and had listened to and usually been bored by speeches from hundreds of politicians. What she had just heard was completely new for its openness, for a kind of innocent vulnerability in Simon's manner. The old man was risking his life. He must know this and yet there was no hint of fear.

And there was something else. As she listened, her mind was unconsciously drawing together little signs she had gathered from a variety of sources, sometimes not much more than a sentence, a look, an attitude. Together they suggested there were green shoots of change poking their heads above the soil of the homeland. She felt a lift in her spirits and a change was coming after all, just as Maria kept telling them.

Maria Kabari, sister of Paul Miller, wife of Sergeant Ezra, was a woman of many gifts. One of these was what seemed to others to be a clear foresight of the way things would be, a gift born out of spiritual strength and ancient knowledge. She had come into the lives of the people in that room when to their amazement she had, with her husband, accompanied the body of the murdered Doctor Simon Mboya from Kericho to Cartref, the home of the Daniels family of the Nairobi suburb of Karen. Her work there had won over a sceptical group. Out of the eight members of that family five were doctors, one of them Simon's wife, Sonya.

In the little private surgery close to the house, first Sonya and one by one the others in the family witnessed not a miracle but a demonstration of an extraordinary medical healing. With her oils and ointments she did not try to imitate the ways taught in the great modern schools of medicine. She followed a tradition of ancient skills. David Daniels had tried to restore Simon's hands, sadistically mutilated by his killers, but failed miserably. Maria, with painstaking effort had seemingly brought those fingers, so skilful in life, to look as they had looked when Simon was at his working best. As she worked she sang melodies and words that might have been sung by those women who worked on the body of Jesus himself after he had been laid in his tomb.

Sonya had trusted from the beginning. David was won over from doubt to awe. This beautiful woman with the penetrating dark eyes was the most amazing person he had ever met.

So it was a smiling Maria who had listened to the testimony of the old politician.

‘Simon, we salute you for your courage and for the reassurance you bring us. Recently among us there has been talk of omens, tiny glimpses into the future. Suddenly there is a shaft of light shining in the dark clouds. Risk. Risk is surely no less than life lived to the full, not recklessly but with hope.'

‘I know you. Two years ago, you remember?'

‘Yes, everything.'

‘I brought my neighbours to a church meeting in Kericho. A healer from … Nairobi?'

‘America. Benjamin Johnstone.'

‘Phyllis and Seth. Their boy, Eb, very sick in his mind but strong in his body. The gentle child had become a violent young man. At home, sometimes and without warning he would harm himself with sharp stones, pieces of wood.'

For a second time Simon held his companions in thrall.

‘Eb Joseph. I remember that young man.' Caroline was animated by an unpleasant memory. ‘I was coming to the end of my time in Gilgil. There is a … place, they call it a hospital. It is close to the police station. One afternoon a car pulled up in the yard. Seth Joseph got out and asked me for directions to the home.

‘I have a boy. He needs special help.'

‘That was a very bad day.'

‘Caroline, they came home heartbroken, like they did from the church in Kericho. The Reverend Johnstone tried really hard with his praying and the laying on of hands. Maria, you sat with him and held his hands and you sang. Phyllis told me on the way home that the hour with you was the happiest time of her life. Now Eb spends most of his day strapped into a chair. I am sorry. I am bringing you more pain. I have to go.'

Bertie was anxious. ‘Back to Nakuru? Don't you think …?'

‘I am often on the road at night. Never had any trouble. Perhaps I have been lucky. Festus, my driver, likes it better when only the night coaches are about. And the truck boys have pulled in to rest up. But when I am in Naivasha, late, I stay with Peter and Lilian Lawrence, great people, and two more votes for you, Tom.'

* * *

Next morning, Inspector Caroline stepped out of her Volvo. She had parked in the yard of Gilgil police station where she had some routine business in the office. Her passengers waited in the car until her work was finished. She had brought Rebecca, Lydia and Tom to see the ‘home' or whatever it was called officially. Rebecca had not been able to get the young man, Eb, Simon's neighbour, out of her mind. She had to find out what went on in that place.

‘Caroline, what is it really like? You must have seen it a hundred times.'

‘Many hundred but, well, it is not an easy thing to tell you what it is like. Being there, spending time with the people, it makes some “visitors” want to run away. Some become very angry. I have known a few who find tranquillity there. If you want my opinion … No, I will take you there in the morning.'

The part of the A104 between Naivasha and Gilgil had recently been resurfaced. The endless potholes, enemies of the strongest suspensions and the toughest tyres, had been replaced by a carpet smooth bitumen. European Union money had covered the cost and payment had been made directly to the contractors, much to the annoyance of the bosses in the local public works department. No chance of any kidogo there!

‘Tell your mother, Tom. Another good omen!'

‘Caroline, it seems crazy, but this neat bit of black stuff transforms the whole place. Look at that chunk of green hill out there above Gilgil. Pembroke kids called it the Lion's Head. For the first time I can see what they mean. Even these scrubby bits of plain look like a proper piece of Africa.'

Rebecca was too preoccupied to pay attention to the chatter. Her mind was full of thoughts about sick people and hospitals. She was apprehensive, more so the closer they came to the heart of the busy, untidy, colourful township. Now, as she stepped down from the car, she took notice of a hedge. Through a gap she could see the edge of a patch of thick, rough grass. Caroline pointed the way through the gap.

‘Through there. It's a warm morning. We'll see a lot of people out sunning themselves today.'

She was right, but it took a few moments to realise just how many residents there were scattered across the large stretch of open ground. There were two reasons. Almost everyone out there was sitting or lying on the firm, comfortable surface. And they were all dressed in dark green, short-sleeved Roman style tunics that blended into the background. The only sounds were the noise of the town traffic in the near distance and the low whisper of a light breeze through the branches of the few trees that would offer some shade in the heat of the day.

At first there were no human sounds, no conversations, no calling out.

Caroline set off through the middle of the field. ‘We'll walk through slowly as far as the town clinic over there and come back a slightly different way. See what happens.'

They saw no women and the men were of all ages and sizes. Many seemed not to notice their visitors passing, lost in their own worlds with some enjoying conversations with themselves. A few fixed a narrow gaze on these strangers and kept a close eye as they passed by.

Caroline had crossed this way many times and she felt the old sadness rising in her. So many men lost to the world and destined to spend their time, perhaps their whole lives, watching and waiting.

Lydia and Tom were struck by the sense of peace that the men seemed to share. Tom whispered mainly to himself, ‘Such a different world. No worries, no cares. Perhaps.'

Lydia felt no fear but wanted to be away from the place. She considered returning to the car but was afraid to walk back alone.

Rebecca was bewildered. For several weeks her mind had been full of thoughts of hospitals and her hopes and ideas for the new build in Naivasha. Unwittingly, Simon Nyache with his talk of this place in Gilgil had opened up her mind in uncomfortable ways. She had spent a disturbed night and on the journey that morning felt more and more tense about what she would find.

And now she was in the heart of it. Less than twenty-four hours before she had never dreamed that it even existed. If it was a hospital, where were the nurses, the carers? Was there some building where the serious cases were looked after? ‘Looked after?' The idea did not fit well with what she could see all around her. But by what right could she pass judgement? How had all these men found their way to this … this gathering place for those with troubled minds? There, she was judging again, forming conclusions. Was she so naive, so wrong-headed? Sentimental, even arrogant. She had money, so she would oversee ‘her'creation. Money, compassion, hope but next to no knowledge and now a big dollop of confusion.

Doubts poured in on her, some so quickly that she could not register them in her conscious mind. The strongest of these hit her hard. Should she turn her thoughts to helping these men first? The need was immediate and crying out at her. A moment's rational thought had her reeling again. Suddenly her newly acquired wealth seemed to be more of curse than a blessing. Rebecca, you fool, who do you think you are? I must go.

‘I'm so sorry, so sorry. I …'

‘I know you.'

She gasped with surprise and turned sharply to her right. It must be one of those three men stretched out at ease on the grass not five metres away.

She had been lingering behind the others who, by now, had reached the far hedge and were turning to cross back to the police station. Caroline was hurrying ahead to catch up with her when the voice spoke again.

‘I have heard you sing. When I go home today, you can come to my house and sing to me.'

It was the oldest of the three, a handsome man with a mop of grizzled hair. He showed no emotion except for the excited brightness in his dark eyes. In her overwrought state she was not sure whether to take this look as a sign of happiness or madness. By now Caroline was with her.

‘Rebecca, what's wrong? What's upset you?'

‘One of them just spoke to me.'

Before she could say more the same man spoke again.

‘Caroline, why did you leave us?'

‘That's the one.'

‘I could have guessed. That's Michael. He's from Naivasha. I know his family.'

‘But why would they let him stay in a place like this?'

Caroline hesitated and looked across at Michael before replying. She kept her voice low.

‘Rebecca, Michael was born to an ordinary family. He was a kind of wonder child, a freak some said. As a young man he went to, believe it or not, Oxford University. Came home to be a professor down in Nairobi. Philosophy or something. Very bright. Too bright, perhaps. One day, in a lecture he … lost it. Started raving at one of the students, said that a woman was laughing at him. Three, four more times something similar happened. Michael had to leave. He came home. Didn't work out. Once or twice his sisters said that he was violent towards their children. Three years ago he ended up here. Big families, small shambas, it happens a lot. Rebecca, he's a lovely person. They mostly all are.'

Just as Tom and Lydia were joining them, Michael spoke again. This time he sat up, his face wreathed in smiles and pointing his finger towards Caroline.

‘Telling my secrets again, Inspector. I don't mind you doing it to this lady. Perhaps she will sing a song. I read the papers. She sings in America.'

Rebecca shook her head. ‘My head is all over the place. I really …'

‘Don't worry. It won't bother them. Michael's probably the only one who knows about you.'

Rebecca climbed nimbly to a raised patch of bare earth. She spread her arms out wide.

And she sang. ‘The monkey's wedding' was one of Toni's rare light-hearted pieces that involved a lot of hand clapping and body swaying. As usual, she put all her energy into her performance and felt the adrenalin surge that both calmed and energised her whenever she stood in front of an audience. Caroline, Lydia and Tom mimicked Rebecca's gestures, but otherwise, for a time, she seemed to be putting on a show for just Michael. He was up on his feet and moving rhythmically, totally locked into her every word and movement.