Boss Takes All

by Carl Hancock

  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.

  As the song rocked along, heads began to turn further out on the field. Tom moved off to encourage patients, residents or whatever to move in closer. Some seemed to be unmoved, even unaware of what was happening in their safe and normally tranquil home. But most were more positive. They stood up and peered over to where the new noise was coming from. When a fat young man made the first move and trotted in across the thick grass with short, pattering footsteps, green tunics were coming in from all sides.

  ‘This is something new! I’ve crossed this field hundreds of times, but look at this!’

  Part of her was thrilled to see this animation, this life bursting out on a recreation ground where inertia was normally king. There was a risk that these men were about to have some fun and enjoy themselves for the first time in years.

  But Caroline, the professional guardian of law and order, saw danger, too. Rebecca was stirring the emotions of potentially volatile, in many ways, childish men. The excitement must not be allowed to boil over. When she looked up at Rebecca, she saw from her expression that she, too, was aware. What Caroline could not see was that Rebecca had been in front of large audiences and understood a lot about the dynamics of group emotions.

  Gradually she reduced the pace of the song and calmed her movements. Without a break she moved into a wordless lullaby. Instantly the clapping and the swaying ceased. The rise and fall of the beautiful voice and its power held them firmly in her emotional grasp. A hundred men, most of them bewildered by what was happening in front of them and inside them, stood silent and motionless.

  Caroline touched Tom on the shoulder and, without a word, started on her way towards the police station. Lydia followed while Tom held out his hand towards Rebecca as she stepped unhurried from the mound. There was no break in the lullaby, but she raised and let fall her arms gracefully like some fish eagle coming in to land on the surface of a calm lake. Distracted by the movement, her audience hesitated and, in the brief interval, the four friends were united.

  Caroline, well aware that the harmony of the moment could easily be shattered by some hasty action, slipped back to walk with Rebecca. Someone watching from a distance would have been puzzled but held by the scene opening in front of him. At the head of the procession four people dressed in blue jeans and an assortment of other colours were leading a large platoon in dark green uniforms. The leaders were moving in unison, following the rhythmic rise and fall of a soothing melody sung by one of the three women in the group. Some of those behind were imitating the example of the gliding movement, but as the slow march continued towards the hedge that marked the boundary of the field, there was a gradual falling away of the followers as each felt he was straying too far from his territory, the area where he was used to spending his long days out in the field.

  The Volvo was visible through the gap in the hedge. They were left with a single follower.

  ‘Michael, I saw you singing. You knew all the words.’

  ‘I’m feeling very good, just like in the old days. I know this because I am remembering things. Today I would be no trouble at home. I would like to see the lake again. Someone told me that if I climb that hill, in the distance the lake will be there. Perhaps tomorrow …’

  ‘Michael, I wish we could take you.’

  ‘Yes, but this is a peaceful place and I have friends here.’

  He smiled sadly and held out his hand. She took it and felt his firm grasp tightening briefly.

  ‘Kwaheri, beautiful Rebecca.’

  ‘Kwaheri, Michael. Thank you for being a good audience.’

  * * *

  It was quiet in the car on the bumpy road out of Gilgil town. The contractors had not been in to fix this loop off the A104. Tom knew every speed bump and most of the potholes from travelling this way to school in Pembroke. When they had passed the tollgate and were cruising down between the groves of yellow fever trees, Rebecca broke the silence. It was obvious to her companions that she had been shaken by their visit, but her reaction was not what they had expected.

  ‘Wow! Now that was no easy way to learn a good lesson!’

  ‘So it wasn’t a mistake for me to take you.’ The smile returned to the face of a relieved Caroline.

  ‘My stomach still feels like liquid jelly, but I can’t feel my heartbeat any more. My, my, I was one very confused person there for a while.’

  ”Becs, are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, Tom. And thank you for being anxious about me.’ She sighed before going on. ‘This may sound crazy, but seeing all those men made me feel like a, what’s that word you like, Tom, a prat, stupid, arrogant, naive, all in one lump. What kind of fool would think that she could go on some kind of crusade to save the women of Naivasha? Tom, when you become the MP for Nakuru South, those men will be your responsibility.’

  ‘Oh, gawd!’

  ‘Donkey, don’t look so scared. You can make those big shots down in Nairobi take notice of the little people.’

  ‘Salina Amin, I’ve told you about her. She owns hotels in Kisuma. She’s in Serena, another female dynamo.’

  Lydia was puzzled by what Rebecca was saying.

  ‘Do you mean that there will be no hospital in Naivasha?’

  ‘Lydia, yesterday I was sure. Today, I just hope.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  bi pulled into the lookout point at the highest part of the Escarpment for the boss to take a call. It was his secretary ringing from home.

  ‘Joan, an hour ago?’

  ‘I waited to make sure they arrived at the hospital before I let you know.’

  ‘The doctor and the nurse travelled in with her. Everything was fine.’

  ‘But a week early. Okay, we’ll go straight th
ere.’ Turning to Reuben he continued. ‘You’ve worked that out? Your brother’s on the way. Obi, straight to the hospital.’

  ‘Congratulations, Boss. Nothing like a new baby to make a man feel young.’

  ‘So, Obi, my friend, you think the bwana is a mzee already!’

  Looking in the mirror, Obi was relieved to see a smile on the boss’s face.

  ‘Oh, no, Boss. It’s just that my seventh …’

  ‘Made your point. Seven eh, Obi. You need a raise. I won’t forget. But, for now, I want the inside of this car to be as quiet as an empty room in the middle of the night. Time for a little silent prayer.’

  Reuben looked across at his father with a quick double take. Prayer? This was a first. All the same, he was glad to hear the call for silence. Pa was into one of his unpredictable moods, angry one minute, friendly the next. Reuben pushed himself into the corner of his side of the seat and closed his eyes. He considered making a mumbling movement with his lips, make out he was praying, just like his daddy.

  But prayer was the furthest thing from Abel’s mind. He liked to be driven at just above a sedate speed, way below the capacity of the powerful German engine.

  ‘Slow it down, Obi. Try being a racing driver with me and you’ll soon be behind the wheel of a taxi downtown.’

  Abel wanted time to take in the passing scenery and the sight of his countrymen going about their daily business. It was never dead time. He did some of his clearest thinking in these interludes of peace. Unfortunately for Mister R, joyful thoughts were not uppermost in his mind at this special time. Yes, it would be good to set eyes on the new Julius. He hoped he would come out of the womb heavy, with strong bones. But Abel counted himself as an expert in the processes of thought. He fully understood that the mind too often had its own agenda. On this occasion he could not shake off events of earlier that morning. The anger that had grabbed him hard when he was sent on his way twice by those jumped up farm people had loosened its grip but not released him. The stone that plopped into the centre of the pool sent its unpleasant eddies out to trouble him. It severely tarnished the image he had built about himself and his career, the village boy who made it big through natural talent and hard work, the Kenyan version of the American dream.