Echoes From a Distant Land (45 page)

‘How does it feel,' Kenyatta said, ‘to be a running dog of the oppressors?' He spoke in Kikuyu so the white journalists would not understand.

Sam narrowed his eyes, looking first to Muthuri and then Jelani.

‘No need for you to use your communist rhetoric on me, Kenyatta,' Wangira replied defiantly. ‘I'm a Kikuyu, and a loyal Kenyan.'

‘You have a strange way of showing it, my friend. In fact, you've been rather strange ever since you were a child. Strange ideas. Strange way of life.'

‘There are many ways to express loyalty,' Wangira said. ‘I don't feel the need to murder innocent people to prove my point.'

‘Nor do I, but others do. And it certainly makes the British press aware of our cause.'

‘Didn't you learn anything while overseas on your junkets?' Wangira said. ‘Don't you realise that the Mau Mau are doing damage to our fight for independence?'

Kenyatta scoffed. ‘Since when has independence been your cause? You're a supporter of the foreign invaders.'

‘I'm a supporter of Kenya for the Kenyans: white and black. And I was fighting that fight while you were trolling through Moscow's bars cadging vodka.'

‘How would you propose we go about winning our freedom if not by fighting for it?'

‘Not by dehumanising people, as the Mau Mau are doing. Peaceful protests and constant pressure will win it for us. Just as Gandhi did it.'

‘You're a dreamer, Wangira,' Kenyatta said. ‘The British will never give up.'

‘They will. They have no choice,' Wangira said. ‘The Atlantic Charter is our ticket. It was signed by the Allies even before the war ended. The Americans agreed to help the Europeans in the war, provided they agreed to give up their colonies after the peace.'

‘If that's the case, why are the Europeans holding on so tightly?'

‘Libya is already independent. Egypt is about to follow. There's talk about the Sudan and other Arab countries following within a year or so,' Wangira said.

‘Commendable. But what about Kenya? Why are the British still here?'

‘This fellow Baring has been sent here for two purposes: to finish the Mau Mau and to bring in self-government. But he can't do the second until he completes the first. Can't you see? As long as the Mau Mau continue to hold out, the British won't grant us independence. Look, Kenyatta, you can use your influence with the Mau Mau to stop the bloodshed. And you must if we are to get what we all want.'

Kenyatta's laugh boomed in the silence of the cemetery.

‘Now I know you're mad, Wangira. First point: I deny having any influence with the Mau Mau. Second point, and more importantly, you're just a puppet in this whole sham of a government. Worse than that, you actually believe your own propaganda.' He turned, adding as they departed, ‘You make me sick!'

Jelani looked back at Wangira, who stood with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, and a look of exasperation on his face.

The whole conversation had been illuminating for Jelani: he hadn't realised that Sam Wangira had many similar thoughts. He was hopelessly optimistic of course, and had a different view on how to reach the goal, but his goal — independence — was essentially the same as Jelani's own.

 

A fuzzy sliver of moon languished behind a film of smoke haze. Over the last few days many Kikuyu huts had been torched to set an example to those who had refused to take the Mau Mau oath. As a consequence, the oathing ceremony that night in the Mathare slums was attended by a large number of new recruits. Jelani was invited as a witness.

It was the first ceremony he'd attended for some time; he was surprised by the changes that had been made. The arch of rushes framed by arrowroot and sugar canes remained, as well as the bowls of traditional food, but the space that night was adorned with figures made from bundled grass and others crudely carved from green timber taken from the forest. At the centre of the clearing among the rough sheet-metal and packing-case huts was a section of a tree trunk with its limbs entwined in a tight embrace, very suggestive of copulating lovers.

One unfortunate goat was lashed into a cradle in the clearing but just outside the cast of the firelight were the remains of another, its viscera and blood already poured into earthenware pots. Its skin was cut into a single long strip to bind the initiates together as had been the case with earlier initiation meetings he'd attended.

The ceremony began, leading to the original oath, but this time the celebrant added another. The assembled men held a ball of earth to their abdomens and recited: ‘I swear by my blood that I will fight to protect the sovereignty of our holy soil that the white man has taken from us. I will strangle, shoot or stab him. I will trick him and do him harm whenever I am able. I will kill his wife and defile his daughters. I swear I will never break this solemn oath and if I do may I die and all of my family die a painful death.'

The assistants doused the kerosene lanterns, leaving only the light of the fire to show what happened next.

The first of the men drank from his bowl of blood, goat excrement and bile, then approached the female goat that was
bound to the cradle and, to Jelani's utter horror, proceeded to masturbate until he had obtained an erection. He then inserted his penis into the goat's vagina. Each man did the same in turn, reciting the words: ‘I will kill anyone opposing this movement,' as he went about his obscene task.

Jelani stood in stunned disbelief and was only vaguely aware of what followed. He left the clearing like a man who had seen the devil. Soon he was beyond the firelight and into the surrounding darkness. He leaned into an open drain and retched.

A touch on his arm made him jump.

‘Come with me.'

It was Chege Muthuri.

Jelani was mortified that he'd been discovered in a moment of weakness, but Chege seemed to have other things on his mind. He led Jelani to a small bar on the edge of the fetid alleys of the slums.

Chege ordered two bottles of Tusker in a disorienting echo of their earlier meetings. Jelani took a mouthful of the beer. ‘The ceremony tonight …' he said, pausing to choose his words.

‘Yes, there were many there. And why not? Who has the power to resist taking the oath when the Mau Mau tap him on the shoulder? Have you seen it, Jelani? I mean the horrible death that comes to those who resist them. Wives and family too.'

‘But what has happened to it?' Jelani asked. ‘Why must the oathing ceremony include that … that disgusting act?'

‘That's what I must talk to you about. So much has happened recently. It started when you were in America. There's been a change of leadership. The young ones in the movement want to step up the battle. Kimathi and his type. They seem to think that the more vicious they are, the better they can control everyone. Each one is striving to outdo the others in perversity. The movement's now under the influence of these mad young ones. Each new leader introduces even more disgusting things.'

‘But why?'

‘I agreed with the strategy initially … binding recruits closely to the movement. But these things go way beyond that.'

‘Why are you telling me this?' Jelani asked, the full import of Chege's disclosure now dawning on him. They were breaking Mau Mau rules by talking about the oathing ceremony at all, let alone critically.

‘Because I can't believe in it any more. I must get out. And you must too. The movement has lost its way. I now believe there'll be a civil war, Kikuyu against Kikuyu. And not only that, the war will end any chance we have for independence.'

Muthuri reached under his jacket and pulled out a cloth bag and put it on the table.

‘I want you to take this,' he said. ‘Get rid of it for me.'

Jelani felt the outline of the handgun through the bag. He slipped it quickly into his pocket.

‘Why have you needed this?'

‘It's not important. Just get rid of it. Tonight. Take it out past the national park. Throw it in the river.'

‘You know how dangerous it is for us to talk like this,' Jelani said. ‘How long have you been thinking this way?'

‘I spent some time with Sam Wangira working on the scholarships. He's always been a man I could respect. Ever since he set up his small bank for the farmers.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Wangira came back from America years ago with money. I don't know how he got it, but he started a bank, making small loans to people in the bush. My father was one of them. Wangira loaned us enough money to tide us over a bad spell. It was a pity he lost everything in the Depression.'

‘He loaned his own money to our people?'

‘He did. And lost it. But he must have found more so he could set up the scholarship program.'

‘I thought it was government money.'

‘No, it was Wangira's. Didn't you know? I suppose not: he's not one to sing his own praises.'

Jelani realised he didn't know Sam Wangira at all. It made him wonder what else he had assumed, incorrectly, about his father.

 

Sam sat across the wide mahogany desk from Governor Baring, watching him tap his elegant, steepled fingers together in thought. The sleeves of his steel-grey suit coat rested at precisely the correct length above the exposed inch of his white shirt cuffs.

‘We can certainly use the kind of intelligence you are offering, Mr Wangira,' the Governor said. ‘Our troops have an impossible task, scouring the forests for the Mau Mau. It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Or more correctly, many needles in a haystack: Kimathi, Kaggia, Mathenge and all the others. I don't mind admitting that when I accepted this commission I had no idea of the scale of the conflict. The Aberdares alone cover nine hundred square miles! And then there are the foothills of Mt Kenya too. As far as we know there are more than twelve thousand terrorists scattered throughout that area, in as many as fifty groups.' He shook his head. ‘It's impossible to cut off all supply lines and starve them out. We have to find a way to focus our resources.' He was thoughtful again. ‘You say you enjoy the confidence of the ordinary Kikuyu out in the bush,' the Governor said. ‘Exactly why is that?'

‘I am well known among them. Many years ago I set up a modest loans fund for farmers, small landholders and graziers. Mainly Kikuyu. These days I suppose you might call it a rural bank, but a small one.'

‘What happened to it?'

Sam shifted in his seat. ‘It went bust in the Depression.'

‘I see. And you believe you still have the goodwill of that community?'

‘I'm sure of it. If they didn't trust me, I wouldn't be able to get the information I have already received.' He paused. ‘And if I couldn't trust them, I'd be dead within a week.'

Baring studied him for a moment.

‘Mmm … yes,' he said, then dropped his eyes to the proposal Sam had prepared for him. ‘You've asked for quite a budget.'

‘If love of the crown isn't enough to motivate people to risk their lives, it will have to be greed.'

‘And you suggest you should be a member of the Colony Emergency Committee.'

Sam knew it would be the most difficult point for the Governor to accept. The committee was headed by General Sir George Erskine, whom Prime Minister Churchill had given full command over the colonial, auxiliary, police and security forces. Other members of the committee were the nominal heads of each of those forces. Baring himself attended most meetings.

‘It's essential,' Sam said. ‘Otherwise I shall have to withdraw my offer.'

Sam watched Baring closely. His features remained unchanged, but he stiffened ever so slightly.

Sam continued: ‘As a civilian, but more importantly, a member of the Legislative Council, I feel no obligation to become involved in the conflict. Nor can you order me to do so. I am offering my services voluntarily as a means of ending this war as quickly as possible. As you yourself have noted, Governor, the haystack is enormous. I can gather information on the movement of the Mau Mau from a dozen different sources scattered all over the Aberdares and Mt Kenya. But I won't risk my life in some academic exercise. If my information is to be useful, it must be coordinated with Erskine's proposed operations. The only way I can achieve that is to be part of that committee.'

Baring smiled thinly. ‘Don't misunderstand me, Mr Wangira. Courtesy dictates that I discuss with General Erskine any new members of the committee. I'm sure there won't be a problem.'

He stood, indicating the meeting was over. They shook hands when the Governor came around from behind his desk. He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder as he escorted him through the outer office to the door.

‘It's a very decent thing you're doing here, Mr Wangira … Sam,' he said, giving Sam's shoulder a brotherly pat. ‘If we had more patriotic Kikuyu chaps like you, loyal to Britain and the Queen, we'd have these Mau Mau animals, these so-called freedom fighters, on the gallows by now.'

Sam turned to him. They were now alone on the wide veranda, surrounded by expansive lawns and manicured shrubbery.

‘You're right, Sir Evelyn, I am a patriot. But a Kenyan patriot. I am completely supportive of the Mau Mau's objectives of land rights and self-government. Our only point of disagreement is the right means by which to achieve them.'

He walked down the steps of Government House, leaving Baring on the veranda, tight-lipped and fuming.

A knock on the door of his cabin woke Jelani shortly after midnight. The previous evening had been long and demanding with the meeting of union members running late into the night. He was groggy with sleep; he lay there for a moment unsure if he'd heard the sound or dreamed it. The knock came again and he was instantly awake.

A member of the Home Guard, a Luo by the look of him, stood at the door.

‘Yes?' Jelani said. ‘What is it?'

The reservist pulled a notebook from his pocket and flicked open a page.

‘Are you Karura?'

‘Yes. What is this about?'

‘The sergeant said I'm to bring you to Fort Hall Road.'

‘What for?'

‘Sergeant Boothby just said to tell you to come and then shut up.'

Jelani mumbled that he should wait while he put on some clothes.

In the car, Jelani nervously wrung his hands. He desperately wanted to know why he'd been collected in the middle of the night and what was happening on Fort Hall Road at that time of the morning. The Home Guard was a paramilitary force consisting of black Africans, led by white officers, some of whom had criminal convictions. Many of them were callous thugs, pleased to be paid to inflict misery on their fellow humans. They used torture to extract a confession from anyone they suspected was a member of the Mau Mau and brutally beat people who stood in their way or complained to the authorities about their tactics.

‘What's this about?' Jelani asked again.

‘The sergeant said to just bring you, and that's what I'm doing.'

Jelani's first concern when the man appeared at the door was Beth, but she was in Lari, where she should be quite safe.

If it was about his association with the Mau Mau, then he was in serious trouble. Torture and incarceration in one of the notorious concentration camps outside Nairobi was likely.

Maybe it was about the union. Some leaders of the movement, Chege Muthuri in particular, had begun to warn their members to resist pressures from the Mau Mau and to support their unions instead. It was the main item on the agenda of the meeting at the Ainsworth Bridge earlier that night — Chege had made his strongest condemnation of the Mau Mau yet.

The guardsman drove past the meeting place at the bridge over the Nairobi River and continued along Fort Hall Road to the end of the tarmac where a number of vehicles were parked with their headlights trained onto a featureless mass on the side of the road.

The driver took Jelani by the arm and led him to a burly Home Guard sergeant.

‘Who are you?' he asked.

‘He's Karura, sergeant.'

‘Did I ask you,
kafir
?' he snarled.

‘I'm Jelani Karura.'

‘Good. Come over here.'

‘What do you want of me?'

‘Just do what you're bloody well told, and come over here.'

He took Jelani to the focus of the headlights. The lump was a body covered by a gory sheet. The sergeant pulled back the sheet and asked Jelani if he could recognise the man.

Jelani was blinded by the headlights. He shielded his eyes and peered at the mangled mess on the roadside. He felt sick to the stomach. The body appeared to have been run over by a truck. He turned quickly away.

‘How could anyone recognise that? Why do you think I can help you?'

‘You're a union man, ain't you?'

‘Yes, but —'

‘Well, this is one of your mob. The car is registered to the Transport and Allied Workers' Union, and he's wearing a Trades Union Council badge on his shirt.'

Jelani strained his eyes against the glare. There was a mass of torn flesh and bone where the face should be, but he recognised the watch. It was Chege Muthuri.

‘My God …' he said. ‘It's my boss, Chege Muthuri.'

‘Muthuri,' the sergeant said. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes, I'm sure. W-was it an accident?'

‘Hah!' the sergeant said. ‘Not unless you call a twelve-gauge to the face an accident.'

‘Who would do this?'

‘That's what we want to know, but I can guess. Have your blokes been stirring trouble with the Mau Mau?'

Jelani remembered his conversation with Muthuri in the
duka
a few weeks earlier, and his boss's speech the night before. Fort Hall Road was on Muthuri's way home. Whoever did this was at the meeting and followed him until they reached this quiet part of the road. He felt sick. And angry.

How could Kimathi turn so quickly against Muthuri? Were they also suspicious about Jelani in view of his close association with his boss? They could be watching him speaking to the police right now. They might have spies among the Home Guard. He looked around. Dozens of men moved about in the darkness. Any one of them might be listening to his conversation.

‘Do you have anything that might help us find the person or persons responsible for this?' the sergeant asked.

‘No.'

The sergeant shook his head. ‘I thought as much.'

He closed his book and slipped into his pocket.

Jelani wasn't sure what to do. He waited until the sergeant turned back, surprised to see him there.

He gave him a firm push in the chest.

‘Go on,' he snarled. ‘Get out of here. You're all the same … too shit-frightened to talk.'

 

The dimly lit
duka
at the end of the tarmac on the outskirts of Naivasha was quiet when Sam entered. It was the night before the civil servants' payday, and only a handful of men, each as shabbily dressed as Sam in his patched farmer's overalls and felt hat, sat sipping their cheap, illegal grog.

He spotted Collins Mutisa — his most important source of information west of the Aberdares. Mutisa was a double agent, feeding information to Sam for cash, and to the Mau Mau for security. As a Kisii, he was a fringe dweller, never entirely accepted by the predominantly Kikuyu Mau Mau. He trod a very dangerous line, syphoning favours from each side. He was grateful to Sam because his loan had saved him from ruin in 1927, though he ultimately lost his farm when the local chief cheated him out of his title. Thanks to the income he received from Sam, he was able to rent a small house in Naivasha for his family, and to ease the pain of his memories with
changa'a
.

Sam joined Mutisa, who was impatiently tapping his fingers on the rough timber of their usual table.

‘
Jumbo
.'

‘
Habari
.'

Sam needed Mutisa, but didn't like him or approve of what he did. He was impatient to hear whatever the spy had found in recent weeks, and be gone.

‘Have you heard anything?' he asked Mutisa.

‘Oh-oh,
bwana
,' Mutisa said with an ingratiating smile. ‘Are we not friends? Ah? And is it not true that friendship needs warming before comes business?'

Sam was irritated, but called for two drinks, and they sat in silence awaiting them.

When the drinks arrived and Mutisa had taken a thirsty swig, Sam again asked his question.

‘Kimathi and his gang have moved camp,' Mutisa said.

‘Do you have any details this time?' Sam asked.

‘I do. They are camped a day's march west from Barako, on the swampy land to the north of Mt Kinangop.'

Mutisa had never been able to get exact details before, and it was timely. General Erskine now had at his disposal nine Lincoln heavy bombers on loan from the Royal Air Force. The existing Harvard light bombers had been chosen because they were slow enough to fly low over the mountainous terrain without overshooting their targets. They carried only eighteen-pound bombs that did little more than scare Mau Mau and animals alike. The Mau Mau soon learned to stand at the base of the largest trees to avoid injury. Because of their low flight paths, a few Harvards had been lost when strong downdrafts caught them, meaning the Mau Mau could spread the rumour that they had brought one down with their primitive rifles.

The Lincolns carried one-thousand-pound bombs, enough to blast the largest trees out of the ground, but dropping them from a greater height required better coordinates. Sam would pass this new information on to Erskine as soon as he returned to Nairobi.

‘Anything else?' Sam asked.

‘Lari. It is becoming a hot place.'

‘What do you hear?'

Mutisa took a swallow from his glass and coughed. ‘I hear there are many men from the mountain gathering there.' His voice was rough from the raw alcohol. ‘They are waiting for something and then they will make a big problem in Lari.'

‘What are they waiting for?'

‘I don't know. They keep very quiet about this. I don't think the Mau Mau soldiers know about it. If they do they are afraid to talk, but when it happens Lari will be in big trouble.'

‘They have chosen Lari because of Chief Luka,' Sam said.

Mutisa nodded, and took another drink from his glass, emptying it.

The village of Lari, perched on fertile farming land above the Great Rift Valley, was a mixed community of loyalist Kikuyu under Chief Luka and landless squatters sympathetic to the Mau Mau cause. The white government had compulsorily acquired the community's original land in Kiambu in 1940 for use by white farmers. Many
Kikuyu refused to leave their farms, resisting the acquisition by force, but they were eventually beaten and gaoled for several years. Meanwhile, Chief Luka and his loyalist followers, who had cooperated with the administration, received first choice of the land at Lari that was offered in compensation. By the time the antagonistic farmers were released all the land had been allocated and a simmering animosity had continued between the two groups ever since. Occasionally, the resentment burst into attacks and counterattacks until the police imposed a return to the uneasy peace.

‘Do you know when it will happen, this big trouble?'

He shook his head. ‘No. Nobody will speak of it.'

Mutisa lifted his glass and pointedly studied it.

‘I'll see you again a month from now,' Sam said, pushing his untouched glass towards Mutisa. He then pulled some money from his pocket, tossed the notes on the table and left the
duka
through the back entrance.

 

At the next meeting of the Colony Emergency Committee, Sam reported the Lari situation to General Erskine, who thought Chief Luka's one hundred and fifty well-armed members of the Home Guard would be more than adequate to dissuade the Mau Mau from attempting anything serious.

‘We've never seen any sign that the Mau Mau can muster more than a score of men,' he told Sam.

‘I have a number of reports from people who are afraid there is a major build-up of Mau Mau forces in the Lari area.'

‘Alarmists. Excitable people who imagine a Mau Mau under every banana leaf.'

Sam knew Erskine well enough to know he would resist any advice Sam offered. He'd been difficult to deal with since Baring cajoled him into letting Sam join the Colony Emergency Committee.

‘General,' Sam said. ‘I deal with all sections of the Kikuyu, not just those who support your views. On both sides of the fence I hear about groups of strangers coming in from the bush, camping
for a day and then moving on. They make none of the usual courteous approaches. It's as if they are sizing up the situation. Many people are living in fear of a blood bath.'

Sam also knew that going behind the General's back would further alienate him, but he was so sure there was imminent danger, he could not afford to take chances. ‘I've spoken to Governor Baring about it,' he added.

The General studied him for moment, straightened his shoulders, and sniffed.

‘I'll talk to General Hinde,' he said in a measured tone. ‘He may be able to send a company of the KAR up there.'

 

The white community of Kenya waited breathlessly for the predicted massive uprising from the Mau Mau, but it didn't come. In October 1952, Governor Baring had gazetted a State of Emergency, banning the Mau Mau. Although Kenyatta had made a speech in Kiambu condemning the Mau Mau, police arrested him, and the military purged the city, arresting nearly two hundred men. Even Sam thought this was extreme. The outcome of this trial was foregone, as it was well known within government circles that the trial judge had recently been awarded an unusually large pension.

By the early months of 1953, many began to suspect that the Mau Mau threat was an exaggeration and the uprising would remain a series of minor skirmishes and cruel attacks on farm animals — all of which would soon be mopped up by the strong British military presence and the local Home Guard.

In March, Sam heard that the newly arrived contingent of the King's African Rifles was preparing to decamp from Lari. He rushed to Nairobi. In a heated exchange with Erskine, he asked if the General wanted to have the massacre of defenceless farmers on his conscience.

‘I'm fighting a war on a hundred different fronts, Wangira. I can't afford to tie up a company of men waiting for an attack from a dozen or so bushies that never eventuates.'

Sam took a deep breath. He knew of Erskine's record in the Second World War, and his intelligence work in Egypt and India, but he also knew it could obscure his understanding of the Mau Mau's unconventional tactics, which were more like those used during the First World War by General von Lettow-Vorbeck in Tanganyika. The experts were starting to refer to it as guerrilla warfare.

‘Since talking to you last, I now believe there are significantly more Mau Mau and their supporters involved.'

‘Even if there were a couple of hundred, the Home Guard and the KAR can handle it.'

‘Make that thousands.'

‘What?'

‘There may be over two thousand men surrounding Lari right now, General. You must order the company back there.'

Erskine stiffened; and Sam cursed his choice or words as he saw the General's blood rise.

‘Listen to me, Wangira,' he growled. ‘I've tolerated your interference to appease Baring, but if you think I'm going to run my campaign on some … some … piece of jungle scuttlebutt, you're howling
fucking
mad!'