Chapter 6
Her very frowns are fairer far. Than smiles of other maidens are. Hartley Coleridge
We slept late the next morning. Jerie seemed almost recovered and scoffed the porridge I prepared for her, but again I had to remind her about the bicycle before she could be persuaded to take the medicine. I allowed her to get up and wear a dress, with the proviso that she stayed in the house or garden and was to try to rest. I boiled an egg for my breakfast and she sat with me munching toast and drinking warm milk while I ate.
“Bill?” she gave me a quizzical look.
“Yes Jerie.”
“What does dopting mean. I can’t find it in the dictionary.”
“You must have been listening to me and Doctor Balfour. The word is adopting, and it means I want you to be my daughter.”
“How can I be your daughter? You are not my father?”
“If a mother or father does not want their children then they can give them to someone else who does, then that person becomes their father or mother.”
“Baba will not give me away to you.”
“Even if you want to come?”
“I want to come but he could sell me for wife and get money.”
“What if I were to buy you?
She gave me a sly look. “You want me for a wife?”
I smiled. “No, as a daughter.”
“He not like coombas, you have to give much money.”
“Would you like to be my daughter and go to school?”
“Would I stay with you?”
“You could come back to Scotland and stay with me and my wife, or you could go to a boarding school”
“What is a boarding school?”
“A school and a kind of hotel as well, where you stay and get meals.”
“I want to stay with you and be your number two wife.”
“In Scotland we are only allowed one wife.”
“Then I will stay here and be your Kenya wife.”
I sighed. “Jerie we talked about this before and we agreed that you are too young.”
“No! you agreed I am too young. I am old enough I have my …” She used a native word, then when she saw that I didn’t understand, she lifted her dress and was about to roll down her pants, when I stopped her hastily. I’d seen the wadded toilet paper stuffed into her pants and understood.
“I know what you mean.” She let her dress fall back and gave me a triumphant look
“You see? I am old enough.” I mentally mopped my brow.
“What did you do before when you didn’t have paper?”
She shrugged, “I used rags.”
I was appalled. No wonder disease was rampant. But then what did women do in the past? What did primitive tribes do? Probably much the same thing, it wasn’t the kind of subject that appeared in books or magazines. I decided I’d better visit a chemist after I’d been to the lawyers that afternoon and get her something more suitable than toilet paper. Kabero appeared, looking the worse for wear and apologised.
“Jambo Bwana I not wake this morning. You have breakfast?”
I smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay Kabero, I knew you might need a rest after doing business for me. Did you find any bicycles for sale?”
“Yes Bwana, Mhindi dukha (Indian shop) near market sells them very cheap.”
“I’m going in to town on business this afternoon. I will pop into the shop then. Could you make sure Jerie doesn’t eat too much?”
Kabero bobbed his head. “I do that Bwana.”
I looked at Jerie who’d made a sound. Her mouth was open, but she shut it again, gave me an injured look and flounced out. I smiled after her.
Kabero gave me a sly look. “You like her now Bwana.”
I looked him straight in the eye. “I like her very much.”
I thought of the visit to the lawyer that afternoon and realised how little of the two weeks was left.
“Do you think her father would let me have her for another two weeks?”
Kabero’s eyes turned sly again. “He might want much more money.”
I pretended unconcern. “Well it doesn’t matter, there are lots of other girls.”
Kabero hurriedly retreated. “I try to get her cheap.”
I named a figure. “I won’t pay more than that.”
Kabero bobbed his head approvingly. “I get her for that price Bwana, I promise. When you want me to go?”
“Wait until tomorrow and see if I manage to get the bicycles, then you can ride out there tomorrow. Can you ride a
bicycle?”
He looked at me proudly. “I ride bicycle very good, I get rides on friend’s bicycle.”
I was doubtful, but I kept my doubts to myself. The natives didn’t exactly tell lies by their standards, but where Europeans were concerned they had a habit of telling us what they thought we wanted to hear.
“Well, we will find out soon enough.”
I finished my breakfast and went to find out what Jerie was up to. I found her in her bedroom, lying on the single bed and reading a book. I sat down near her on the bed. She ignored me. I ruffled her wiry hair, but she shook her head angrily and continued reading.
“What’s wrong Jerie?” She just grunted. “I wanted to ask you what kind of bicycle I should get, but if you are not in the mood, I won’t bother.”
I could almost feel the opposite emotions warring inside her. She decided to come out of her sulk and sat up, but kept her eyes on her knees.
“What kind of bicycles are there?” She asked in a low voice.
“I think I’ll get an old bicycle to start with, but I wondered if you wanted a bell, or a basket in the front, or a special
colour?”
She looked at me out of the corners of her eyes as she pondered while I pretended not to notice.
I fancied she tried to keep the excitement out of her voice as she replied. “A bell and a basket would be very good, I do not care about colour, but not black.”
I remembered the lawyer and took out my pen. “Can you tell me your father’s name and address?” She had a quick glance into my eyes, then told me her father’s name, but I didn’t know how to spell it. I gave her the pen.
“Can you write it for me?” She took the pen and wrote the full name confidently. Again, I felt wonder at how much she’d improved in a week. “Would you write his address?”
She thought for a moment then wrote ‘District 35, Nairobi’ I looked at in surprise and shrugged.
“Well, I’ll leave now, remember don’t eat too much, I’ll be back about five o’clock.” I ruffled her hair again and stood up.
I was at the door when I heard a strangled cry and turned just in time to catch her as she threw herself into my arms. I held her for a while and let her cry, hugging her while her crying ran its course. Eventually she dried her tears by rubbing her cheeks against my shirt and smiled up at me.
“Why are you so good to me Bill?”
I smiled and said softly. “Because I love you Jerie.”
Her face became serious as she digested this and again she seemed to look through me and around me then she smiled radiantly and looked me in the eyes.
“I love you too Bill.” I held her for a while longer.
“I must go now Jerie. Remember, be good.”
She grinned cheekily. “I will Bill, I will even take the medicine.”
I gave her a grin, then as she hurried after me I put my arm round her shoulder and held her close until I got to the door. I smiled and waved to her as I reversed the Land Rover and drove off.
Her smile remained with me even as I was thinking, how did I get into this? And what did I mean when I said I loved her? She is only a young girl, but I loved her presence. I loved everything about her. I’d love to see her growing up and, the thought came to me without any feeling of jealousy; finding a suitable young man, getting married and having children. I gave up my ruminations as I got nearer the city centre and had to concentrate on my driving.
&n
bsp; The lawyer’s office was on the upper floor of what once had been Nairobi’s equivalent of a ‘Residence’, but had been allowed to become dilapidated. A pleasant young woman, obviously of English extraction, greeted me, and after waiting a few minutes, I was shown into the presence of a lean Indian gentleman in his forties, who introduced himself as Mr. Bhachu.
After ritual pleasantries, we got down to business. I was asked several probing questions, after which Mr. Bhachu assured me he could see no problem in adopting Jerie provided that her father agreed, but there might be difficulties in trying to take her to Britain permanently as the British authorities were becoming much stricter about allowing native Africans entry.
I assured him that my main concern was that Jerie got a good education, either in Britain or Kenya.
“Well,” Mr. Bhachu said as he stood up. “The next step is up to you. You must get Jerie’s father to agree, then I can take over. In the meantime, I will set some wheels in motion. It would be a help if you could get a copy of her birth registration, if it was registered, so many aren’t. Get back to me as soon as you can. You know the system here?”
I smiled. “I know the system.” I left, getting a smile from the secretary.
I drove down to the market, found the bicycle shop and rummaged around the racks of second hand bicycles with the owner hovering near me and extolling the virtues of each bicycle I looked at. I easily chose a bicycle for Kabero, an upright model with a basket on the handlebars and a pannier at the back but it was more difficult finding a lady’s model for Jerie. I eventually had to choose a black, rather old-fashioned model with a wicker basket in the front, but consoled myself it was only a learning bicycle and I would buy her a new one later. I paid cash and even remembered to get a bell fitted. The proprietor obsequiously reminded me that I needed pumps and repair kits, so I bought these as well.
Next, I went to a chemist and looked round the shelves. I couldn’t see anything that would help. I plucked up my courage, telling myself that half the population are women. I asked the young lady at the counter for something for a young lady who was having her periods.
“Are they painful?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“What is the problem?” she asked.
I looked around me embarrassed, but no one was apparently listening. I took my courage in both hands.
“I have a thirteen-year old girl who is stuffing toilet paper down her pants. Have you anything more suitable?”
The assistant was most helpful, discussing the merits of towels and tampons while my face got redder and redder.
“I’ll take some of both,” I interrupted her and left quickly with my purchases.
When I got back, Kabero came out to meet me, obviously excited and told me that Jerie was sleeping. I took his bicycle out of the back of the Land Rover and presented it. His eyes lit up and he spent some time stroking the bicycle, and rubbing his hands along the various parts before even trying to ride it. When he eventually did climb on, I had to try to keep a straight face as he wobbled up the drive then disappeared down the road with my shouted warning to be careful ringing after him.
I was relieved to find that Jerie was asleep as I didn’t think I would have been able to stop her trying out her bicycle before she was completely recovered. She was lying on her side of the bed with just a sheet over her and her breathing was slow and steady. I stood smiling down at her, suppressing the urge to stroke her cheek. Her vulnerability almost made me weep. I felt strange conflicting emotions chasing each other inside me until happiness bubbled up and swamped my other feelings.
As I prepared chicken soup for her I thought about my visit to the lawyer. Surely her father would agree to sell her? But what if he wouldn’t? Maybe I could smuggle her away? I could arrange to meet her somewhere, so no one would suspect.
I woke her. She sat up grinning, her eyes bright. She seemed back to her old self. The first thing she asked about was the bicycle.
“It’s in the back of the car,” I told her.
“Can I try it now?” She was shaking with excitement.
“You had better wait until tomorrow when you’re better.”
“I’m better now. Please Bill. PLEASE!” I couldn’t resist her excitement.
“We’ll have something to eat first, then we’ll see.”
She scrambled out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. I set a place for her in the dining room. She appeared dressed and I had to warn her again not to gobble the soup. After she’d finished a plate of peach slices, we again went through the ritual of the medicine for the last time, and I allowed her to see the bicycle.
As I lifted it out of the back of the Land Rover, I apologised.
“I’m sorry Jerie, but I could only get a black one. But this is just a learning one. When you can ride it, I will buy you a new one.”
She didn’t seem to mind. She stroked the wheels then turned the pedals with her hand.
“It is beautiful, can I ride it?” I couldn’t resist her appeal.
“Well, just for a short distance.”
She hitched her dress up to her thighs and I helped her sit in the saddle. I adjusted the height of the seat then held onto the back of the seat as she wobbled around the lawn, falling a few times and almost bringing me and the bike down with her.
Eventually I told her. “I think you have had enough exercise for one day, we’ll put it in the garage and we will have a long ride tomorrow.”
“You promise?” She looked at me and I felt my heart skip a beat.
“I promise.” She reluctantly let me take the bicycle away. I led her into the house “I’ve got something else for you.”
“A present?”
“Well no, just something.” I gave her the packages I’d bought from the chemist. She tore off the paper, then looked at the two packages in puzzlement.
“What are they for?”
“Read the instructions,” I suggested.
She perused the outside of the package, and comprehension dawned. She gave me a smile and disappeared into the bathroom. Sometime later she called. I peeped around the door reluctantly. She was sitting naked on a towel.
“I do not understand Bill,” she wailed.
I mentally mopped my brow, sighed and sat down beside her on the bathroom floor. “What seems to be the trouble Jerie?”
She waved a tampon under my nose and handed me a leaflet. I read carefully through the instructions then repeated them aloud. I watched her following the instructions and struggling.
“Let me try,” I suggested. I read the instructions again but couldn’t see how to carry them out without tearing her. I gave up. “Maybe you should just use the towels?” I watched as she fitted one. As far as I could tell it looked all right. I caught a glimpse of myself. What would Kathleen say if she could see me now! The humour of the situation got to me I started laughing. Jerie gave me a surprised look, then grinned. I ruffled her wiry hair and left her to dress.
I strolled outside to see if I could spot Kabero. After a few minutes he came into view, cycling confidently. As he passed he lifted his hand to give me a wave, then hurriedly replaced his hand on the handlebars as he started to wobble. He circled around, came to a shuddering stop outside the gate and wheeled his bicycle up the path, looking pleased with himself.
“I ride bike very good Bwana?”
I nodded. “Maybe you could ride the bike to see Jerie’s father tomorrow?”
Kabero looked pleased. “I do that Bwana.”
I opened the garage to let him wheel the bike inside.
“Try to keep to the quiet roads and keep well to the side. Matata’s will drive over you if you get in their way.”
Kabero grinned, “I be careful Bwana.”
Jerie seemed to be back to her old self. She fell asleep in my arms that night, but I lay awake for a long time, stroking her face and hair thinking.
The next day I sent Kabero to visit his uncle while I took Jerie to a park to
practise her cycling. I spent the early afternoon running after her holding on to the cycle’s seat. I occasionally let go to see her wobble for a few yards then come crashing to the ground. She would immediately jump to her feet more worried about any damage to the bicycle than to herself. When she could manage about ten yards without falling, I took her to the top of a mound which sloped gently down to a football pitch. As I prepared to launch her, she gripped the handlebars as if she was about to be hurled over Niagara Falls. I ran my hand down her back. Her spine was rigid.
“Relax Jerie,” I told her as I loosened her hands on the handlebars.
She gave me a tight smile and I pushed her off down the hill. She screamed and took control. She weaved a zigzag path down the slope, as I ran after her. When she reached the bottom, she began pedalling, crossed to the far side of the football pitch and after a wide wobbling turn, cycled back. As she passed close to me she threw herself off into my arms, bowling me over onto my back.
“I can ride Bill,” she exclaimed as she looked down into my face while I tried to recover my breath.
“Very good Jerie,” I panted. “I think your next lesson will be about how to use your brakes.”
We arrived back at the bungalow in the early evening, tired but smiling.
As Jerie helped me unload the bicycle she asked, “Can I ride it on the road tomorrow?”
I thought for a while. The practice on the slope had given her the boost she needed. Before we had come home she had been riding confidently round the football pitch, practising her hand signals and tinkling her bell.
I gave in. “Yes, but only when it is quiet, and you must pull in when cars come.”
She wrapped her arms around me, buried her face in my chest and cried happily, “Thank you Bill.”
Love Patterns Page 7
