Pigment (10 page)
July 17 (later)
Jalil tries to open the door to the Kuchuna Office, but it is locked. He knocks. There is no answer. He puts his ear to the door for signs someone is inside.
Rhadi approaches from behind him. “I use the lock now.” Rhadi unlocks the door and they enter. “Too much going on and you never know...”
Jalil doesn’t waste words, “You got what you wanted. She’s all over the news back home.
“That’s not...”
“Now tell me where she is.”
“I don’t know.” Rhadi takes off his outer shirt for the heat, revealing Aliya’s “Skin Deep” t-shirt.
This incites Jalil who throws him against the desk, military training style.
Rhadi is dumbfounded and in pain, “What is it?!”
“What was going on between you and Aliya?”
“Nothing.”
Jalil holds him down on the desk with his body weight while he pulls the phone out of his pocket and pulls up the picture of he and Aliya kissing and puts it in front of his face.
Rhadi repeats, “Nothing.” Sharp pain from his bullet wound shoots up his leg, aggravated by the thrust.
Jalil flips him over onto his back and grabs the shirt by the chest. “You’re wearing her shirt!”
“She gave it to me.”
Jalil pushes off of him and paces the room to regain his composure.
Rhadi catches his breath and continues, “We’re attracted to each other. It is not a crime.”
“I found some of her notes.”
“What did they say?”
“She would do anything to help them. She met this new man who was strong and bold, who didn’t want to lose time, a man who has a plan...something that would really get some attention for the cause. Tell me about this plan, Rhadi.”
“Nothing was set.”
“But you had some points laid out.”
“What?”
“‘Kidnapping.’”
“No.”
“Why did she write it then?”
“We didn’t...”
“Where is my daughter? Is she with Kennen hiding somewhere? Did you kidnap them? Are you keeping them captive somewhere?”
“This is not some media stunt. We talked about it. We talked about many things.”
“This was Aliya’s idea?”
“We all had ideas.”
“Was Kennen in on it?”
“He wanted no part of it. It’s the truth. It’s the truth.”
Jalil could kill Rhadi here, but he sees a picture of Aliya on the computer and releases his grip on him. “Everybody’s got their own truth here.”
Rhadi grabs his pipe and is ready to swing at him. “You should go.”
“Akida will find out what your real truth is.”
Jalil leaves. Rhadi stands after him in the doorway, watching him head toward the police station.
#
Jalil is steaming and rushing to the police station to have Akida arrest Rhadi. But Akida comes out of the station with his men. They are quickly boarding their trucks with guns. “Akida!”
Akida sees him, but doesn’t get out of his SUV.
“Jalil.
Nous devons partir.
We have to go.”
“
Rhadi sait où ils sont. Il est un coup de publicité. Ils ont organisé tout enlèvement.
Rhadi knows where they are. It’s a publicity stunt. They staged the whole kidnapping.”
“
Es-tu sûr?
Are you sure?”
“
Oui.
Yes.”
“
Nous allons parler de lui plus tard.
We’ll talk to him later.”
“
Que faire si il fuit?
What if he runs?”
“
Un véhicule correspondant à la description de la camionnette Camp Kivuli a été trouvé.
A vehicle fitting the description of the Camp Kivuli van has been found.”
“
Emmène-moi avec toi.
Take me with you.”
Akida warns, “
Il est un corps.
There is a body.”
This cuts Jalil to the core. How can this be, if they only staged the kidnapping…“
S'il vous plaît
.
Please.”
Jalil stands determined to go.
Akida nods for one of his men to move to ride on the outside of the truck to make room for Jalil who, stunned, climbs aboard.
The SUVs move out quickly, raising the earth, a wake made of dust trails after them, billowing in the sky.
July 17 (later)
There is nothing but vast dirt, even brush won’t grow here; just dirt and piercing sun. The trucks approach at heavy speed and circle the crime scene. There is the van -- what is left of it -- having been emptied of any valuables and set aflame. It is charred and hardly recognizable. The men move quickly to examine the scene. In contrast, Jalil moves slowly keeping his distance. He wants to run over to the van, but is seemingly paralyzed.
The men remove the blackened skeleton out of the vehicle on the seat. The remains of the body melted on to it.
Jalil finally moves to go to it, but Akida holds him back. “
Son un homme, probablement l'Irlandais. Le coroner nous savons pour sûr. Il a brûlé chaud. Sa peau et les cheveux sont partis pour que nous ne peuvent pas dire à partir de ce. L'essence.
It’s a man, probably the Irishman. The coroner will let us know for sure. It burned hot. His skin and hair are gone so we can’t tell from that. Gasoline.”
Jalil wipes the trail of a fast tear from his face. “
Ceci est certainement le fourgon?
This is definitely the van?”
Akida nods.
“
Pouvez-vous dire si elle était encore en elle
?
Can you tell if she was even in it?”
Akida shakes his head no. One of Akida’s men brings some burnt items to him. It includes what is left of the registration for the van and the partial melted frame for Aliya’s mended eyeglasses. Akida addresses him, “
Je ne l'aime pas Rhadi. Mais je ne pense pas qu'il a fait cela. Au moins pas seul
.
I don’t like Rhadi. But I don’t think he did this. At least not alone.”
Jalil sees this over his shoulder. He reaches to touch the glasses but can’t. He is overcome and pale. He turns his back on it and walks toward the expanse of flat dry land in front of him. He walks another yard and leans over from the wrenching in his stomach. His body wants to throw up, but he hasn’t eaten in days, so he dry heaves. Otherworldly primal sounds convulse as his back inverts with each heave. It goes on for a mere three minutes. Akida and his men just watch him. Then it stops more abruptly than it began. Jalil takes a deep breath, wipes the drool from his mouth and scours the horizon with his eyes in desperation, searching for his daughter, some reason in this madness. Jalil picks himself off the ground and comes back to Akida. He picks up the melted plastic. “
Elle est aveugle sans ses lunettes.
She is blind without her glasses.”
He walks the perimeter and studies the tracks. The other vehicles went toward the woods. He follows them. Tracks the tire marks to footprints, the broken branches, the piece of torn fabric. He heads back toward the van. He finds a woman’s sandal and then another. There was someone else there, someone who ran, someone they caught and struggled with, but no body, no blood. So some one they took.
#
The trucks pull up to the Police Station and park. The burnt body is unloaded and taken inside.
Jalil rushes toward Rhadi’s. Akida directs his men to detain him. “
Il sait où elle est
!
He knows where she is!”
Akida stands his ground, “
Ceci est mon travail.
This is my job.”
“
Puis le faire!
Then do it!”
“
Vous voulez quelqu'un à blâmer, mais il est pas lui. Il est un flingue kak, mais il ne mérite pas votre rage. Aller se rafraîchir. Penses-y. Votre énergie peut être mieux dépensé. Je vais interroger Rhadi. Mes hommes vont le chercher et l'amener à la station maintenant.
You want someone to blame, but it’s not him. He is a kak gat, but he doesn’t deserve your rage. Go cool off. Think about it. Your energy can be better spent. I will question Rhadi. My men will collect him and bring him to the station now.”
Akida directs his men toward the Kuchuna Office.
Jalil is still full of adrenaline and sweating. He reluctantly turns and walks in the opposite direction, toward the Mukuyu Tree.
July 8 (later)
Kennen is surrounded by lean angry men who have their guns pointed at him. Bandits. That’s what he called them that first day. There must be eight of them. She didn’t hear their jeep and truck pull up. He’s calm, outside, his heart races within. He raises his hands in the air.
She hears murmurs but is too far away to make out what’s being said. They are so angry with him -- more the world, and taking it out on him -- a small white man from another country they maybe never even heard of. She squints, trying to see. Their leader, a tall man wearing a blue golf shirt and shorts, pulls Kennen’s head out of the open window and pounds his skull with the heel of his rifle. Kennen’s head falls loose, unconscious.
She stands there frozen, helpless. She can’t go to him. She can’t help him. Her dear Kennen. They take the supplies out of the van. One of the bandits takes a jug of gasoline from the jeep and pours it on the engine at the front of the van, he circles the vehicle covering it and emptying the last trickles on Kennen’s head. The smell and sting of the biting liquid wakes him. He moans from the pain and the bandit butts his head with his rifle again, sending his head back in the van. He sets the van aflame with some matches. Kennen sees Aliya off in the distance through the vapors and birthing flames. He moves to get out of the van, but the men hold his doors closed with their feet until the flames reach and engulf him.
Aliya bares blurry witness to all of this. Her body unleashes a primal guttural screech from the core of her being, sound she didn’t know her body was capable of. Her hand moves to cover her mouth, to take it back. But she can’t. It’s too late and loud. All of the bandits have their eyes on her. Kennen screams and flails in agony, the flames eat away at his innocent flesh.
Four of the bandits take off after this new female albino prey. The bandits become hunters. She is frozen, watching her dearest and nearest friend, her lovely Kennen, burn. The bandits get closer. Something in her awakens. She rises to her feet and starts running away from them, as fast as she can. The trees are the only shelter for miles and even they are at least three miles away. She runs, pushing hard against the hard dirt. Her sandals are slowing her down so she throws them off as she goes. The air is sharp in her lungs and the blood pumping through her veins throbs, but she pushes onward. Three miles feels like ten. She looks over her shoulder. They are gaining.
They coo and call, laughing as they gain on her. And now their leader is trailing with the other men in their vehicles. She is prey. This was not the Africa she wanted nor imagined. This is too real. She looks up to the sun, but finds no mercy. It disappears behind the veil of trees, as she steps into them. They are not as forgiving as she’d hoped. They are skinny with little foliage and will not provide her with cover. She has nowhere to hide. She pushes on. But wait, the catcalling has stopped. She slows down to listen. There is the sound of footsteps crunching on the dry grass on her right, more on her left, then in front of her…she is surrounded. She stops. There is only the sound of her breathing. She can feel them. Their circle closes in. They laugh at her. One of them hits her under the chin with the base of his machete. The force throws her backwards to the ground. He climbs on top of her and tears at her clothes. She is dizzy at first, unable to breathe. He grabs at her underwear and she struggles. He cuts them off of her. Just as he is about to rape her, their leader kicks him in the head, yelling at him and the others -- something she can’t understand. He takes her by the hair and drags her up. She claws at him, kicks and spits at him, getting a good swipe to his leg. He throws her to the ground, and orders them to take her to the truck. The guy who attacked her clocks her again but this time on the back of the head, right where old man Carter got her with his cane when she was a child. She blacks out.
July 17 (later)
The majestic Mukuyu Tree boldly stands on the plain, against the backdrop of a piercing brilliant sunset.
Jalil is not alone in its shade, Elder is there too. They sit in silence. An odd pair. Worlds apart in experience, attire, ...but there are more similarities than differences. Elder squats next to his walking stick with his boney knees cutting into the air in front of him. Jalil is sitting on the ground, in the same slacks he’s been wearing for days. Most striking is their bone structure. These men could be distant cousins maybe even brothers, save for the difference of fifty years and eighty pounds between them. Yes, Mama Nature is powerful. She has her own way of showing us our true selves, whether we choose to see or not.
Elder breaks the silence… His voice runs over in Swahili. Jalil seems to understand what he is saying, even though he doesn’t speak the same tongue. “
Mizizi yake wameshuhudia vizazi vyetu na sisi wazima kutokana na matunda yake. Hawatambui wao ni kukata miguu na mikono ya dada zao na ndugu.”
Its roots have witnessed our generations and we have grown from its fruit. They do not realize they are cutting off the limbs of their sisters and brothers.
Jalil answers with a confession, “When Aliya was born...I didn’t understand. I didn’t believe she was mine. No matter what the doctors said. That little white thing wasn’t mine.” He pauses and then continues, “I kept re-enlisting. It was easier, for me anyway. Then I got caught up fighting other peoples’ wars. Last job, camped in Teheran...” As Jalil speaks he is recalling the vivid recent experience four months ago that helped bring him to this moment…He continues, “I wasn’t on a mission. Wasn’t doing anything, just driving a damn truck. This guy was walking on the side of the street. He had something under his coat. I shouted at him in Arabic, ‘Show me your hands. Open your jacket.’ I kept telling him to open his jacket. I kept telling him. He wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t put his arms up. He started to run. I shot him. When he fell, this little girl fell out from his arms. Both hit by the same bullets. She looked at me, so calm. She looked like Aliya. She held her hand out to me. She stopped breathing. That man died protecting his daughter and I abandoned mine.”
#
The Elder looks at him.
“I came back twenty years too late. I didn’t protect her. I ran in fear...I’m no worse than the Witch Doctors or the father that sold his own son...All she’s ever done is help people and want me for who I am. And I have hurt so many people.”
The moment is still. They remain quiet looking out to the surrounding lands.
