The Atheist's Messiah: Yanif

by Saul Dobney

  “I'd like to go,” said Dr Hill. “You know bird watching got me into science. One step from birds to astronomy and then to physics.”

  “That’s odd,” said the chaplain. “I was completely the opposite. Birds, then nature, then the wonder of God. Strange the way paths take us.”

  39. Angelie

  Kwasi caught Yanif's arm. “We don't have time to listen to Mr Ibrahim today.” He directed Yanif across the open space by the lake in Uhuru Park past where Mr Ibrahim was preaching. “We have to meet Angelie and we're late.”

  Kwasi led Yanif to the other side of the lake. A young woman in her late-twenties was sitting on a bench outside the café. Her hair was swept back from her forehead under a light green scarf which matched the green patterned dress she was wearing. As Kwasi had said she was pretty with bright eyes and dark skin and high cheekbones that complemented her long slender nose. To her side a small girl sat kicking her sandals across the gravel below the bench.

  “Hello Angelie,” said Kwasi. “I'm sorry we're late, the bus…”

  Angelie stood up to greet them and smiled. “I thought you weren't coming again.”

  “I brought you these.” He handed over a bunch of flowers he had picked from the public gardens to disapproving looks from Yanif.

  “And I thought you didn’t like me,” she said taking the flowers and swinging her hips and biting her bottom lip. “You’re still sweet though.”

  Angelie took Kwasi's hand and placed a kiss on his cheek.

  Kwasi squeezed her fingers and his eyes gleamed.

  “And what about me?” asked Salina, breaking the moment.

  “How are you Salina?” asked Kwasi. He bent down and brushed Salina’s long hair away from her forehead.

  Salina smiled up at him and Kwasi could see that she had her right eye half closed, its pupil looking to the right while the good eye looked straight at him.

  Angelie sighed. “It is still no better. The doctors do not help.” She motioned to Yanif. “And who is your friend?”

  “Yanif. Yanif and I grew up together. Riaz says he is the greatest healer in the whole of Kenya,” replied Kwasi.

  Yanif's dipped his head towards his toes, his ears turning pink.

  Angelie stared at Kwasi in disbelief. “Well Kwasi, if this is the greatest healer in Kenya, how come I haven’t heard of him?”

  “Not so many people have heard of him. Yet. But they are going to. Mosi, me and some others from school, we’re all helping people to get to know Yanif. And we need your help.” Kwasi took Angelie’s other hand and looked her straight in the eyes. “We need someone who can help us with money.”

  “I don’t have any money. You came here to ask me for money?” said Angelie stepping back.

  “No. No,” Kwasi shook his head and stamped his feet in fake frustration. “What I meant to say is, we need someone who can help us with the money. We have some work, but we need someone we can trust. Riaz and us, we're not sure of each other. So we need someone who can help out and make sure nothing is hidden.”

  “Is this a job then? Do I get paid? I have a good job at the finance department. If it’s a job the salary better be good,” said Angelie.

  Kwasi winced. “We can’t pay at the moment. We have only just made the Chama. I wanted to see if you would be interested in helping. And to see you of course.” He squeezed her hands and pulled her a little closer to him.

  Angelie's cheeks reddened but she was distracted by Salina.

  Yanif was kneeling next to the girl, murmuring something, with his hands holding Salina’s head, his thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks. He nodded at the girl and she smiled in a broad open grin and ran over to her mother.

  “Mummy, mummy, Yanif would like you to help him. Will you? Will you please?” Salina bounced up and down tugging at Angelie’s dress.

  Angelie turned to face her daughter. “I’ll have to…” Angelie’s voice trailed off. “Salina look at me again.”

  Angelie bent down and held Salina’s chin, turning the child’s head left and then right and back again, examining her daughter.

  “Watch my finger.” She put her hand over Salina's good left eye and raised her finger with the other hand moving it back and forth, watching the pupil of the unhidden eye. “It's gone. What happened?”

  Angelie squatted down to embrace Salina and gave her a large kiss on the forehead. Then she turned to Yanif, “How did you do that?”

  “What?” asked Kwasi. “What’s happened? Has Yanif done something wrong?”

  Angelie reached for Kwasi's hand. “There is nothing wrong. Nothing at all. Salina’s eye is normal again.” She lifted a small silver medal from around her neck and kissed it. “I knew you would send someone Saint Lucy. I knew if I prayed hard enough it would change.”

  “Yanif,” she said. “How can I ever thank you?”

  She let go of Kwasi and placed a kiss on Yanif's cheek, then placed her head on his chest and squeezed. Yanif stood stiff unnerved by the contact. Then to his surprise, Angelie placed a kiss straight on his lips. Yanif squirmed and resisted like a child being kissed by an aunt.

  Angelie grinned and took Kwasi’s hand. “You know Kwasi I think maybe you are right, this man is the greatest healer in Kenya.” She put her arms around Kwasi's neck and pressed her lips to his. Unlike Yanif, Kwasi did not resist.

  40. Mr Chiumbo's party

  Riaz walked into Tremus's workshop and dropped a bulging black bin-liner onto the mattresses laid along the side of the wall.

  “This,” said Riaz, “is for this evening.”

  He reached into the bag and took out two plastic-wrapped shirts and two jackets.

  “What are these for?” asked Eshe picking up a shirt and examining it. “Why do we need such clothes?”

  “Mr Chiumbo said we must dress better for his party,” said Riaz passing a shirt to Tremus. “We have to be more professional. He expects us to wear good clothes.”

  Tremus took the shirt out of its bag to examine it. “These are not cheap clothes Riaz. It has good material. How did you pay for them? Did you tell Angelie?”

  Instead of answering Riaz pulled a blue dress out of the bag. “Here. Eshe, this is for you. I had to guess about the size.”

  Tremus took off his t-shirt and put on the shirt on in its place. He tugged at the sleeves to check the length then straightened the collar against his neck.

  “Wow,” said Riaz. “You've become an important man.” He fished inside the bin-liner and took out a square plastic box. “Here. Something extra special. It will make you look a million dollars.”

  Tremus held the box up to the light and lifted the catch. Inside a gold-coloured watch glinted in the day light.

  “It says Rolex. Is that good?” asked Tremus.

  “Rolex is the best,” said Riaz. “At least a real one would be—”

  Tremus unbuckled the watch and put it on.

  “—but don't worry no-one will know it’s a fake,” continued Riaz. “It's what’s written on the outside that matters, people never notice what’s underneath. I have one for you too Yanif.”

  “Try it on,” said Eshe. She helped Yanif put the watch on and it dangled loosely against his wrist.

  Yanif shook his head and slipped over his hand and put it back in the box. “These things are not important Riaz. Money is not important.”

  “Yanif,” said Riaz. “These are things we need. The man tonight expects a great healer not some maskini tramp straight out of the bush.”

  Tremus put his jacket on over the shirt and Riaz put his jacket on too and the two men admired themselves in the wing-mirror of Riaz's car.

  “We look like wealthy men,” said Tremus brushing down the lapels and lifting his arm to his chest to admire the watch. “Maybe Mr Chiumbo is right, we need to make the right impression.”

  The music throbbed to a low hypnotic beat and low level lighting lit the paths with a glow from the swimming pool. Men in suits and women in party dresses stood in small groups in th
e open plan rooms of Mr Chiumbo's villa while waiters in white shirts brought around drinks on trays.

  “All the best people are here,” said Riaz over the noise. “We should mix a little. Get talking to some people. You wait here Yanif.”

  Eshe, Tremus and Riaz left and Yanif took his drink and returned to the armchair in the lounge. He sat watching the patterns of the party; the animated smiles; people swaying with the jokes and the conversations and ebbing back and forth with gossip.

  After quarter of an hour Riaz returned accompanied by two women who were wearing short skirts, wobbling on high heels. Riaz had his arm around the waist of the taller one.

  “This is Joanna,” shouted Riaz above the sound of the music. “And Susanna.” He squeezed Susanna's waist and she giggled. “Why don't you tell Joanna more about yourself while Susanna and me get another drink?”

  “You're the healer,” said Joanna. She perched herself on the arm of the chair supporting herself with a hand on Yanif’s shoulder. “Riaz has been telling everyone about you. I'm sure you can do something for me.” She took a mouthful of wine, slopping a splash out of her glass onto the chair.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, slurring her words.

  Yanif wiped up the spill on the leather upholstery with the sleeve of his shirt and stared at Joanna.

  She held out her hands, wiggling her pink-varnished nails in front of him. “Do you think you can do anything about my nails?” She giggled again. “And I have an enormous number of split ends.” She pulled a tail of her hair in front of her and tried to focus on the ends.

  Yanif turned away. On the other side of the room Eshe and Tremus were discussing the photographs on the wall.

  “…and you should see what’s in my handbag,” Joanna continued. She opened the bag and flashed the contents at Yanif, then rooted around inside. “Lip-gloss for lips.” She took out a small tube and placed it on the table in front of the chair. “Moisturising cream for my skin, hand cream, plasters for corns and blisters on the feet, hairspray, blusher, aspirin for headaches, face powder, eyeliner, nail polish and emery board and spot cream for acne. Rubbing ointments for aches. Caffeine pills for energy. And that’s just what I need for being out and about.”

  Yanif frowned at the pile of items that lay strewn across the tabletop, then at Joanna. “If you really had what you need, you would not need those.”

  “But I have to look after myself?” she simpered. “Can't you could do something about my skin? I can see the start of wrinkles around my chin and forehead and none of the creams do any good.”

  She lifted Yanif’s hand to her face, rubbing his fingertips at the corners of her eyes.

  “Ohhh, do more.” She moved Yanif’s hands to the back of her neck, rubbing his fingers into her skin. She swung her legs over the arm of the chair so that her feet were in the seat.

  “You’re a handsome man Yanif.” She brushed the hair on Yanif’s forehead and put her face close to his, propping herself across the chair. With her free hand she pressed Yanif’s palm to her cheek, cooing as she felt his touch.

  “You could be my healer,” she said. She moved Yanif’s hand from her cheek down towards her chest. “Would you like to treat me here…?” She licked her upper lip and pouted.

  Yanif withdrew his hand and shrank into the corner of the chair.

  Unsupported, Joanna fell forwards on top of him. “Well now handsome,” said Joanna stroking Yanif's leg. She lunged forwards to kiss him.

  “Stop!” shouted Eshe from across the room.

  Joanna sat up and looked saucer-eyed at Eshe like a rabbit in a lettuce patch. Other heads in the room turned to see what the commotion was about.

  “You leave Yanif alone,” said Eshe striding over to the armchair. She grabbed at Joanna's wrists and pulled her upright

  “We were just getting acquainted,” said Joanna. She freed herself from Eshe's grip. “There’s no problem is there?” She sat up on Yanif’s lap and took a sip of wine from her glass.

  “You know what you were doing,” said Eshe wagging her finger.

  “No problem,” said Joanna. She swept her hair out of her eyes and climbed out of the chair and brushed herself down, preening in front of the watching guests.

  Riaz strode in from the bar to see what the commotion was about and saw the pile of objects on the table. “Joanna, what a lot of creams and medicines. If you’re not feeling so well why don’t you get Yanif to give you a massage on one of the loungers.”

  Yanif slapped the chair arm in a flash of annoyance.

  Joanna smirked. “That’s what I was trying to get him to do.”

  Eshe stamped at the floor and glared at Riaz. “Riaz…” she hissed.

  “Hey Eshe, what’s the problem?” said Riaz. “Why can’t Yanif do something for Joanna? That’s what we’re here for.”

  Eshe turned on Riaz, her face full of fury as though she was going to attack him.

  Tremus stepped in and took Eshe by the arms.

  “It’s OK,” said Tremus to Eshe. “Calm down. No harm done. Let Yanif show her what he can do.”

  Eshe freed her arm from Tremus’s grasp and stormed out into the garden.

  “Come on Yanif, you can use one of the chairs outside,” said Riaz ignoring Eshe's departure.

  Outside, Riaz laid a towel over a lounger and Joanna laid down on her front. Yanif knelt down on the grass and started to massage Joanna’s back. The music went quiet and a small crowd of guests gathered to watch, drinking and creating a hubbub of curious voices while Yanif worked.

  Yanif pressed his fingers into the muscles of Joanna's back. At once she relaxed, purring with pleasure. He ran his hands along her back as if he was smoothing creases out of a shirt.

  “Ummm, that's nice.” Joanna whispered and reached to stroke his thigh.

  Yanif scowled and drove the heel of his hand down onto Joanna’s spine.

  She coughed in surprise. A small cough to begin with, then deeper and harder until she started to retch, putting her hand to her mouth to hold back the sick. She pushed past Yanif and ran inside to the bathroom.

  “What was that about?” asked Riaz. “What did you do to her? And in front of all these people. Are you mad?”

  Yanif put his finger to his mouth to silence Riaz and walked back to the armchair. He swept the creams and cosmetics into his arms and dumped them into a bin by the bar.

  As he did so, Joanna re-entered the living room, drying her chin with her hand; her gait steady, eyes gleaming She reached Yanif and bobbed down half-bowing, half-curtsey.

  “I’m sorry,” she said taking Yanif by the hand. “I should not have teased you. I did detox last year, but it is you who has cleansed me. I feel renewed. My head is as clear as a mountain stream. My skin feels like it is shining.”

  She turned to the group of guests watching through the garden window. “He can do it. He can make you better.”

  A small ripple of applause came from the guests.

  “Very impressive.” Mr Chiumbo's voice came from behind Yanif. He slapped Yanif on the back. “I like a man who attends to the needs of my guests. With my help, I think we can make you famous Yanif.”

  Susanna squeezed Riaz and giggled. “Yanif. Kenya’s famous healer.” She said the words as though they were an advertising slogan.

  41. House from Mr Coombe

  “I can’t believe how pretty the houses look and how clean the pavements are.” Eshe took Yanif's hand as they stepped off the bus in Westlands, Nairobi's upmarket district, and led him past the gated houses and luxurious apartment blocks. “Come on, we have to find number forty-two.”

  A short walk from the bus-stop they found a terraced house with a small garden in front and steps up to the front door. Eshe climbed the stairs and put the key in the lock, glancing around nervously in case one of the neighbours might think they were breaking in.

  “Oh Yanif,” said Eshe as she stepped into the hall, “it’s beautiful.” She ran her fingers along the polished wood of the dresser
in the hall and pressed at the light switches to see the lights working. “And pictures on the wall. Can you believe that Mr Coombe is letting us live here?”

  Yanif followed her through to the kitchen and looked out to the garden at the back. “It is like an American house. Why should we have all this?”

  “Because you're special Yanif. You’ve earned it,” said Eshe. She squeezed him round the middle. “But we have work to do. Mr Coombe said it's company property and it has to be kept clean. It has to be ready before the boys arrive.” She opened a drawer in the kitchen watching as it glided closed.

  Around two hours later the doorbell rang and Eshe half-skipped, half-danced to the front door. Tremus and Mosi were standing on the doorstep each carrying a sports bags that held their clothes and belongings.

  “It’s amazing Tremus,” said Eshe, her eyes glittering. “There are four bedrooms so we can each have our own and one even has its own bathroom. And we have a living room. Can you believe it? A place for just sitting and doing nothing.”

  “So let us in so we can see,” said Mosi. “Or are you expecting us to camp out here?”

  “Come in. Come in,” said Eshe. “But take your shoes off. It has to be kept nice. And remember, Mr Coombe said I am to be housekeeper.”

  Mosi pulled his shoes off and took his bag and bounded up the stairs taking the steps three at a time. Yanif followed Mosi to the first floor and by the time he had caught up, Mosi was bouncing on a bed in one of the bedrooms.

  “I claim this room,” he declared to Yanif, his face beaming with joy. “It will be mine. The first time I have ever had a room of my own. A whole room to myself.”

  Mosi stepped off the bed and took a framed picture out of his bag and placed it on the side-table. “Look Mama and Papa. Look where we are. Can you believe it?” Mosi said directing the comment to the picture.

  Yanif was about to leave when Mosi jumped up and wrapped Yanif in a bear hug, his eyes damp with emotion. “Thank you Yanif. Thank you.”