by Saul Dobney
“This is our work,” said Mosi as he hit the can high into the air.
“But aren't you supposed to be at the farm?” asked Eshe.
Kwasi shook his head. “There’s no work. They got rid of all the hands. Since Wednesday, we have been staying with Tremus. We have moved in.”
“But they can’t do that to you,” cried Eshe.
“They did and they have,” said Mosi placing the piece of wood on the floor. “It happens. The farmer's cousins lost their jobs in the city, and they came and took our jobs on the farm.”
“So how are you going to live?”
“We'll find something. Maybe do a little trading, some oddjobs or we can help Tremus if he wants,” said Kwasi. He threw the can into an empty oil drum and it resounded through the workshop.
Tremus came out from the dark interior, a scowl from the noise turning into a grin when he saw Eshe and Yanif. “How was it Yanif?” he asked, wiping away the grime before shaking hands with Yanif. “Did you eat hamburgers every day?”
Yanif smiled. “America is like a toy shop. Everything is so shiny. Cars are everywhere. And so many people rushing, talking to machines, pressing buttons and watching screens.”
“A toy shop,” said Mosi. “So do we get any toys?” He bumped Kwasi with his shoulder.
Yanif bent down and unpeeled the cellophane from his case, folding the wrapping so as not to waste it. From inside, he took out a cavers head torch and gave it to Tremus.
“To help you see,” said Yanif. “In the dark.” He waved towards the interior of the workshop. “And for Kwasi and Mosi, t-shirts. This top is for Eshe. Martha helped me choose.”
The twins took the t-shirts feeling the thick cotton in their fingers, smelling the freshness of the fabric.
Tremus strapped the torch to his head and turned it on so the beam bounced off the unpainted grey blocks of the interior walls. “You are talking Yanif. That's new.”
“It is time to help,” said Yanif. “Time for work to begin.”
“How do you mean work?” Tremus shined the spotlight at Yanif, trying to read his face to understand what he meant. “Do you mean Martha and Lyndsay won't pay your allowance? What sort of work?”
“Helping people,” answered Yanif. “Making people better. Like Riaz said.”
“You mean like with Mr Eden?” Tremus raised his eyebrows. “You said you didn't want to do that before. We will get a drink and talk about it. Riaz will be here soon.”
As Tremus came out with cups, Riaz's car pulled up outside. Riaz stayed seated in the driver's seat for a moment. He looked at the workshop, half smiled, then grimaced. Then he stepped out of the car, walked towards them, stopped, then returned and took a box from the back seat and trudged forward, avoiding eye contact.
“What's the matter Riaz?” asked Tremus. “Troubles?”
“It's not good,” said Riaz biting his lip. “Not good at all.” He handed the box he was carrying to Tremus. “I have bad news. With the violence and the economy, no-one is buying. You will have to take these back.” An expression of pain crossed Riaz's face.
“How can we take them back?” asked Tremus. “You made a deal and you owe us for the next box. You have to pay for them. And you owe me for fixing your car.”
Riaz sighed. “It can't be done. They are chasing the traders away from the hotels now. The tourists are too afraid to go into the streets. Nobody is buying and the traders are fighting. Look, one of the other sellers scraped me with a knife and told me ‘Do not come back here.’ It is getting crazy in the city.”
Riaz rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to show a long thin cut. Yanif licked his fingers and rubbed them against the injury.
Riaz winced at the first touch, but then relaxed. “I knew I would feel better if I saw you Yanif.”
Yanif smiled back bashfully.
“There is no money,” said Riaz. “Everyone is suffering.”
Tremus swore and threw his cup into the depths of the workshop. “You mean you cannot pay me. I have fixed the exhaust on your car and now you have no money. You haven’t even paid us all the money Mr Eden gave you.”
Tremus glowered at Riaz and started to move towards him, menace in his eyes. Yanif put his hand on Tremus’s arm and Tremus sat back down.
“It is time to help,” said Yanif to Riaz.
“Yanif says he wants to heal people,” grunted Tremus. “You know, like you said before he went to America.”
“At last some good news,” said Riaz. His face brightened up. “You know you’d never make a living selling these carvings without the tourists. But healing and medicine, that’s a different business. People pay a lot of money not to be sick.”
“So you can help?” asked Mosi.
“Sure,” said Riaz. “I will speak to Charles to see if Mr Eden will help. There is something happening at the house soon. They've already asked if I would help out. I'm sure we can go.”
24. The reception at Mr Eden's
Gazebos with white and golden streamers filled Mr Eden’s garden, their colours reflected in the flower arrangements and tables festooned with glasses and bottles of champagne. The bride and groom had arrived from the church in an old-style open top white Rolls Royce and guests milled around the gardens waiting for the photographer to call on them.
“How is your back Mr Eden sir?” asked Riaz catching Mr Eden outside the house.
“Very good Riaz. Very good. I’ve not had a twinge since I met your friend. Everyone is astounded at how nimble I seem.”
Mr Eden rubbed the lower part of his back to remind himself that it had once been so painful he had been unable to move, then he inspected Riaz in his starched white uniform and black trousers and shoes. “But you? Is business very bad at the moment? Seeing you here waiting on people something must be wrong. You always hated the idea of being a servant.”
“It would be true that business is not so good recently Mr Eden, sir. But they are worse for my friends. I spoke to Charles and he said my friends could work at this reception, but only if I came too. I do not want to work like this, but I do want to help them.”
“Hard times. Difficult to know what to suggest. Don’t think I’ve seen the situation in Kenya this bad for quite a while,” replied Mr Eden. He took a sip from the champagne glass he was nursing. “You know it sort of upsets me to see you as a servant. I took quite a pride in knowing that Asim’s boy was working his way up in the world with his own business.”
“Actually Mr Eden, sir, I have a request of you. Yanif, the young man who treated your back, he is working here today and you know you said you had a friend that perhaps Yanif could help…”
“Yes, Alice, she’s here with her husband. What? You think he might work his magic here, at my niece’s wedding. Is that why you came?” Mr Eden peered at Riaz from under his eyebrows. “That’s mixing business with pleasure. A bit underhand I’d say.”
“But your friends, he may be able to help them, and well for Tremus and myself, we are not sure if Yanif really has a gift or whether he has just been lucky.”
“And you tell me this now, after I let him work on my back. Riaz. Please…” Mr Eden raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Tell you what. You find your friend Yanif and I’ll introduce him to Alice and her husband Ian. But that’s it. If Ian or Alice are not interested, you are not to bother them about this again. This is an important day and I don’t want you or your gang haranguing my guests. If you do I’ll have you thrown off the property. D’you understand?”
“Yes Mr Eden sir, of course sir. I would never do anything to disrespect your guests sir,” Riaz gave a little nod of the head in submission, but underneath found his heart beating double and he was trying to suppress a grin. He turned and walked off rapidly to find Yanif, resisting the temptation to break into a run.
Yanif and Riaz had difficulty finding an opportune moment to catch Mr Eden’s attention a second time. When they did Mr Eden broke into a great grin on seeing Yanif and shook his hand with gusto.
>
“Very good to see you Yanif. You have no idea how much better I feel. What you did to my back did wonders. Riaz tells me you would like to see if you can help one of my other friends – we’re a bit of a decrepit lot I’m afraid us oldsters.”
The three of them walked out across the lawn, past the flower beds of flame lilies and hibiscus to a bench under a large musine tree that provided shelter from the sun. On the bench sat an elderly couple; he in a blazer with a cravat and she in a flowery long dress with her hair tied up on top of her head. They were both chatting and occasionally sipping from the champagne flutes in their hands.
“Some problem Tom?” Ian asked in a clipped old British accent. “Coming over here with a couple of helpers. Think we might be taking root eh?”
“No, no. Ian, Alice this is that wonderful young man I was talking about who sorted out my back. Thought he might be able to help with your shoulder.”
Yanif dithered uncertain, but Riaz motioned him towards Alice.
Alice smiled. Her face revealed a happy life that had left its mark in the wrinkle of smile lines, her cheeks blotched red where once they might have shown blushes.
“My body, young man, is not as good as it was and my shoulder gives me such a lot of problems. I can’t move my arm most of the time. The doctors have me on medications, but you never know what they’re giving you and well it doesn’t get any better.”
Yanif bent down and touched the shoulder gently, then gingerly lifted her arm. The flesh was heavy and puffy around the joint. Placing Alice’s hand on his own shoulder, Yanif ran his fingers along her upper arm from the elbow to the nape of her neck, pressing as he went.
Yanif looked up at Riaz. “Water. Water would help.”
Riaz skipped over to a table and picked up one of the serving bowls then found a tap in the garden for watering the lawns and filled the bowl before returning with it.
Yanif dipped his hands in the water. It was cool and fresh and with both hands he scooped it out of the dish and dropped it onto Alice’s shoulder with a splash. He went back to work, kneading and rubbing along the muscles, occasionally stopping to douse her back with another palmful of water.
Alice gazed at Ian. “You know darling, this is lovely. I could have someone do this everyday.” She smiled broadly.
Yanif increased his intensity. All his focus was on the shoulder muscles, plying his thumbs as if he was trying to loosen something from deep inside. Then with a final slosh of water he said, “It is finished.”
Alice sighed and closed her eyes, bliss across her face. After a moment she opened them again and took Ian’s hand, pulling her husband close to her. “You know young man that is the best massage I have ever had. My shoulder feels wonderful.”
Alice leaned against Ian and slowly raised her arm into the sky. Ian held her steady and she started a languid windmill around her head.
“Look I can rotate my whole arm.” Alice lifted her hand into the sky then stood and turned on tiptoes.
“My my, Alice you’re almost dancing,” Mr Eden joked. He patted Yanif on the back. “Your friend here has a talent Riaz, a real talent.”
“Then if I might have a word with you sir.” Riaz approached Mr Eden and spoke to him quietly out of Yanif’s earshot.
Mr Eden listened intently and nodded in agreement. “Yes, yes. Of course I understand. Hard times and all.” He put his hand in his pocket and counted out a roll of notes and gave them to Riaz who put them in the pocket of his uniform.
“Tell you what, things are quietening down until the evening entertainment comes on stream. You and Yanif go and set yourselves up under that gazebo over there and I’ll go and spread the word around. Donations only though, don’t want you bloody battering or haggling. And only for the next hour – there’s more important work to be done when everyone comes down in their evening togs.”
Mr Eden left and they went over to the small empty gazebo that was acting as a store for glasses and waste. Riaz put his hand around Yanif and patted him on the arm. “You are doing good. Yanif. Real good. Let’s move that table and make you some space so you can see people.”
Mr Eden was as good as his word and over the early afternoon a steady trickle of people came over to see Yanif and he massaged away their discomfort.
Riaz too lived up to his word, but placed a plate with some coins and notes on it to remind people to make a donation.
As the afternoon lull ended, Tremus and Eshe came to get Yanif and Riaz back to their duties for the reception evening.
Tremus noticed the plate and nodded at Riaz. “It seems we have some business. But take care you count the money properly Riaz. You wouldn’t want to be taking any for yourself.”
For the rest of the evening the six of them vanished into the anonymity of the servants' white jackets, working to clear away the debris of the party long after the guests had retired for the night. It was almost five in the morning when they crashed out in the old stable unit, too tired to talk. Eshe was the last to bed and as the others slept Eshe placed a gentle kiss on Yanif’s cheek. “Well done.”
Yanif turned and went back to sleep.
The next day, the six of them were woken by Charles. In his hand he held a case with six bottles of champagne. “Mr Eden said that you are to have these. If I may say so, I think that you all did an excellent job. I was worried a little when Riaz asked me, but you greatly exceeded my expectations.”
“Yanif, you did it,” shouted Riaz as Charles left. “You really can do it. Your magic fingers made people dance. And look, fancy champagne for us. All for a bit of water and fingers. Money for old rope. Gold from lead. Like Mr Eden said Yanif, you have the talent.”
25. The police and the Hands of God
“Your children?” asked the policeman. He stood nursing a cup of tea, studying the photographs on the sideboard in the living room of Dr Hill’s house. Faces of children stared out from the picture frames and in the background a photograph of Jill in a nurse’s uniform.
Jill shook her head. “Nephews and nieces. Children never happened for us.”
Dr Hill got up from the sofa and walked over to the window. He sipped at his tea, his attention directed down the drive to the policeman standing outside the front gate.
“We’ll be taking away the police guard tomorrow,” said the police officer joining him by the window. “There’ll be a police car around every so often for the next little while, but I’d recommend upgrading your security. Motion detectors. An emergency alarm button. And an internal safe room where you can lock yourselves in securely. You need to be vigilant sir, take precautions.”
“In Cambridge?” said Dr Hill. He turned and put his cup down on the dresser. “This isn’t the Wild West.”
“Sir, someone tried to kill you three days ago. They sent you a threatening note which you chose to ignore. We might have been able to stop them if you’d reported it on time. You’ve already told us you saw David Pagan at least three times.”
“Yes, but James didn’t know who David Pagan was, or that he was some raving religious nut,” said Jill.
“Look,” said Dr Hill. “I’ve told you everything I know. I’ve shown you the letter from the Hands of God and told you where I saw the men in the green parkas. But I can’t know which are threats and which are just people doing everyday things. Do you also want me to tell you about the white van who seems to cut me up every day as I cycle into college?”
“Sir, now you’re being facetious.” The officer clinked the cup back onto the saucer.
“But we don’t want to be prisoners in our home,” said Jill placing her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Or have surveillance cameras and all that paranoid nonsense. England wouldn’t be England like that.”
“You can’t be too careful.” The officer put his empty teacup down on the coffee table. “We’ve linked The Hands of God to the murder of a new love preacher three months ago. The anti-terrorist branch found documents at Pagan’s flat in Cardiff linking him with extremists
from other mainstream religions talking about targeting atheist groups and new-wavers. You really have united your enemies.”
“But why?” asked Jill. “This is a free country.”
“I don’t know,” said the policeman, “That’s what we want to find out. But you should know that you’re making a small group of dangerous people very angry. A little moderation in what you write or say might not go amiss.”
“So I shut up and they win,” said Dr Hill. “Is that what you’re saying?”
The police officer drew a breath. “I don’t know that it’s a competition sir. But if you poke at a wasps nest, you have to be prepared for what’s coming.”
Dr Hill sat down on the sofa, breathing hard. He took a cushion and squashed it in his hands twisting it like wringing out a towel.
“You should take a break James.” Jill sat on the arm of the sofa and smoothed his brow with her hand. “We could take a holiday, get away for a while. Let things get back to normal.”
“A very good idea,” said the officer. “Now if you don’t mind…”
Dr Hill shook his head. “That would be a defeat. A victory for the other side.” He punched the cushion and batted it across the room.
“Please love,” said Jill to her husband as the officer did up his coat, “I’ve got to go to the doctor’s for the next check up. Think about it will you. Don’t rush. It won’t matter if you take a few weeks off.”
26. Looking for business
“Clear off or I’ll set my dogs on you. We don’t want whatever it is that you are selling.” The man returned to filling his swimming pool with a hose pipe.
“But we’re just trying to offer you some help,” called Mosi through the gaps in the high metal gate. “We have the best healer in Kenya with us and we are trying to find people who could use his help.”
“Look, I don’t know what your game is, but this is a good neighbourhood and we don’t want con artists like you lot messing the place up, so bugger off before I set Jack on to you.” The man dropped the hose pipe into the water and marched to the gate. He whistled and from behind him a large black labrador bounded over.
