I paid, then we loaded the supplies into the Land Rover and drove back to the farm. I sent Jerie to look after the goats while I carried the goods into the house. I opened a bottle of beer, then stepped outside to watch her. She was sitting on a round boulder far up the slope, occasionally waving a stick to drive back straying goats. I opened another bottle of beer and climbed up the slope to join her.
She moved to one side of the rock to make room for me. I handed her the beer. We spent much of the afternoon just sitting, occasionally holding hands, talking and making plans. I found it deeply satisfying. She left me to look after the goats while she milked the cows. I watched her. She disappeared into the house for a while then reappeared climbing the slope. I admired her grace as she climbed. She’d brought another two bottles of beer and a plate of bread and cheese. We sat, until the shadows lengthened then I helped her drive the goats down to a pen made from white sticks. We ushered the goats through a gap then Jerie pulled a pole with lengths of rope attached to it and cans spaced at intervals, across the entrance. Inside the house she’d built a small pyramid of sticks in the fireplace. She swore in Swahili.
“I forget to get water.” She found a large enamel pitcher then tramped up the slope. I followed. She went to a place where the water trickled over a step, making a tiny waterfall, and while I held the pitcher steady, she filled it using a mug.
I thought how in tune with her surroundings she was. “Would you like to stay here with your father?” I asked.
She shook her head and looked at me and around me in her strange way. “I have to stay with you.” She looked suddenly sad. “For a little while.” I tried to get her to explain but she was moody and would say no more.
She lit the fire. I sat on a cushion and watched the orange, red and blues of the wavering flames lick the dried sticks. Smoke began to fill the room, so she pulled a rope attached to a hook on the wall. A square of corrugated iron on the roof creaked open and she tied the rope to the hook. The smoke cleared a little. She suspended a blackened kettle and a pot from the iron bar above the fire, then sat beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder.
“I feel like wife now. I carry your water and cook your dinner.”
I hugged her close and felt a deep sense of peace, closer to my own nature. All the paraphernalia and trappings of my ‘civilised’ life seemed suddenly trivial.
“What are you cooking?”
“Eggs.”
“From our own hens?”
“Yes Bill.”
I thought how capable she was in her own environment. “You are a marvel,” I exclaimed.
She took my free hand and stroked it while she gazed into the fire. After a long silence she asked, “What are you going to do if Baba gives me to you?”
I felt small and humbled at her absolute trust. “I thought that I might send you to a boarding school.”
“I want to stay with you!”
“I have to go back to Scotland. It would take some time to arrange for you to come. I would have to adopt you.” She turned her eyes on me and I saw the whites gleam in the flickering firelight, “We could write, and I would come to visit you and stay with you for the holidays.” She sat in silence for a long time. We listened to the crackling of the burning wood. The water in the pot started to boil and I could hear the eggs bumping against each other. She rose and pushed some more sticks into the fire.
“The eggs will be ready soon do you want tea?”
“Yes please.”
I heard her rattling about in the next room and I thought that I should have bought a paraffin lamp. She returned to spread plates on the floor. One plate was filled with slices of the thin hard native bread. She took a cloth to hold the handle and filled a battered teapot from the kettle. She sat for a while then as if responding to some internal clock, rose to take the pot from the fire and piled the eggs on a plate. We ate, occasionally swearing as we burnt our fingers shelling the eggs. In response to her questions I told her again about Scotland. We went to bed where I lay awake for a long time thinking about the next day and trying to ignore the tickling of fleas and ticks. I decided I would collect Kabero then ask Jerie’s father to come to inspect the farm. But he hated whites, what if he wouldn’t come?
The rattle of pans and the smell of wood smoke woke me. I sat up scratching and looked down. My chest was dotted with bites. Jerie came in, shouting to wake me. She was naked. I jumped up to hunt for my clothes, but she stopped me.
“We go outside,” she said. Taking my hand and leading me out the back door, where she made me sit in the rough grass. She started to hunt through my hair.
I heard faint cracks and looked up. She showed me a huge tick trapped between her thumbnail and forefinger. She squeezed, there was a crack, and she popped the dead tick into her mouth. I felt the colour drain from my face. She giggled. After she’d searched my head thoroughly. I started on her head, eventually managing to crack the ticks, but throwing them away afterwards. We searched each other’s bodies, particularly around the body hair. I felt something primitive stir in me as if the grooming brought back memories of an ancient ritual.
Jerie told me to stand up, and before I could object she pulled my underpants down and began searching through my pubic hair. I felt her hands brush against me as she searched. I noticed as if for the first time the beautiful way her neck sloped to her shoulders and became aroused. She gave me her cheeky grin and began to stroke my erection. I couldn’t stop her. I moaned and bent my head to kiss her neck. She turned her face to me, her eyes deep pools boring into mine. I jerked involuntarily and gasped, she turned her head to look down then looked up at me grinning.
“I did that to boys I know.” She bent to continue her search.
I stood shaken, I thought I ought to feel shame, but I didn’t. It had been so inevitable, no planning or conniving. I didn’t feel guilty, in fact I felt … I couldn’t explain it … it had been beautiful and natural. Maybe I could feel guilty later? I ruffled her hair.
“I thought that I knew my little black girl so well, I’m only just realising what I’ve taken on.”
She smiled up at me. After a thorough search she declared herself satisfied. She examined my underpants then took my hand and led me into the house. We had breakfast sitting naked. She’d made a kind of porridge out of maize. It reminded me of rough semolina. She added tea to a pot of water boiling on the fire, stirred it with a stick, then tipped the dark brown liquid into mugs. As we sat sipping, I felt her arm snake around my waist.
She grinned at me. “I am happy, I have satisfied my man.”
I felt a tickling joy. My hand slipped down her back, I felt the weal’s.
“I’ll collect your father today, and Kabero, then take them out here. Do you want me to get anything from the shop? I’m going to get a paraffin lamp.”
“Maybe we should get some … she used a native word.
“What’s that?”
“A kind of beer.”
“Will we go now?”
“Wait until I boil your pants.” I heard her rake in the pantry. She returned with a pot and stuffed my pants into it added water and hung it over the fire “The water will make good soup,” she said. My mouth opened in shock but then I saw her grin. We held each other for a while, then got dressed to visit the dukha.
We bought supplies then returned. Jerie took my pants out of the pot, wrung them and hung them on the fence. She then freed the goats to wander up the slope. I followed them to stop them straying too far and watched Jerie take the pots and dishes to the stream to scour them in the red mud. Later she came to join me. We sat companionably for a while, occasionally rising to chase back straying goats.
I sighed. “Well, I will have to go and face your baba.”
She gave me a strange look. “Do not worry Bill, I know it will be worked out.”
I nodded and kissed her, then set off, worrying. What if her father refused to even look at the farm? Jerie was due to be returned the next day. What would I do then?
I drove back to Nairobi worrying.
Chapter 9
I drove back to the bungalow, collected my luggage and Jerie’s bike and loaded them into the back of the Land Rover. I told Kabero I was going to leave my luggage at the hotel and asked if he would accompany me to collect Jerie’s father when I returned. Kabero agreed. I drove to the hotel, registered, had my luggage and the bike unloaded, then returned to the bungalow.
After I collected Kabero, I drove to the camp and stopped outside Jerie’s family shack. Kabero looked at me.
“What I say Bwana?”
“Tell him I want to take him to Jerie, she is living on a shamba.”
Kabero nodded and disappeared into the dark interior. I watched the grinning black faces of the youngsters climbing over the Land Rover. I grinned back. How could they look so happy? How could they look so healthy? I wished I could buy a farm for every family in the camp.
Kabero appeared with Jerie’s father and an older youth. The father had a panga hanging from his hand. They huddled at the door of the Land Rover. Kabero opened the door looking apprehensive.
“They want you to come out.”
I felt my stomach knot but kept my face composed and stepped out. The father ran his hands over my shirt, then felt around my waist and trousers. He poked his head into the interior of the Land Rover and rummaged around. He signalled for me to get back in. He asked Kabero a question and Kabero answered. He poked around the back then jumped in followed by the youth. Kabero signalled we could leave.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“He looks for weapons, he not trusting you,” Kabero replied. I was shocked.
It was only a twenty-minute journey to the farm, but I felt a prickling in my back all the way. We passed the dukha then the farms. The two in the back spoke to each other for the first time, pointing to the farmsteads.
I stopped outside the farm, feeling the tension and suspicion like daggers behind me. Jerie’s father jumped out and raced round to be beside me when I opened the door, the panga gripped at the ready. He walked slightly behind me to the gate. There was a cry and Jerie came racing past the house to greet her father. He asked her a question in Kikuyu. She answered, and her father relaxed. He spoke to the youth and gave him the panga.
I opened my mouth but felt an inner warning. The postures, the very atmosphere was electric. Jerie could handle this far better than I could. Holding her father’s hand, the two walked a little ahead. Kabero and I followed. The youth stayed beside the Land Rover. Jerie spoke to her father, and he turned to look at me, then bent down to lift a handful of soil. He sniffed it then tasted it. He looked around the garden, then up the hill at the goats. His back straightened and his head went up proudly. He looked at me again and his eyes were now clear as if he was remembering the man he’d once been. Jerie led him by the hand past the house and the foolish thought flashed through my head that I hoped she’d remembered to take my underpants off the fence. I turned to Kabero.
“There are two cows behind the house.”
Kabero’s mouth gaped open. “All this for one little black girl?” I knew that cattle were prized more than women among the Kikuyu.
We sat in front of the house. Eventually I heard raised voices inside. Jerie’s father came storming out and waved his fist under my nose, shouting in Kikuyu. He grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me to my feet. I was shocked at a blow to the side of my head and I staggered. He came for me again swinging his fists. I dodged and slammed him on the side of the head. I heard Jerie screaming and the youth from the car came running up waving the panga, but Jerie’s father shouted and waved him away. We went for each other again. I remembered the weal’s on Jerie’s back and hardly felt the punches on my face. I slammed my fist into the father’s jaw. He fell. I waited for him to get up. He came off the ground in a rush, his head taking me in the stomach and I fell, gasping for breath. The father circled me. I clambered to my feet and ducked under a roundhouse swing and caught my opponent with a punch to the stomach, feeling my fist sink into the slack muscles. The father doubled up. When he got to his feet we traded punches until we both collapsed on the ground, exhausted, breathing in great heaving gasps.
Jerie started screaming at us in a mixture of English, Swahili and dialect. We sat up and looked at each other. She shook us each in turn, looking at our faces. I staggered to my feet and wobbled into the house. When I came back, Jerie’s father started to rise, then subsided when he saw the two bottles of beer I was holding. I presented one to him and we eyed each other. I took a swig, and he did the same.
The youth returned to the Land Rover. The father rose and gave me a glare. Jerie took his hand and spoke earnestly to him. He shook his head angrily and said something to her. Jerie sat down, lifted her skirt and took down her pants. She pointed between her thighs. Her father touched her and seemed surprised and I remembered my feeling of being at a nexus when I’d found Jerie was a virgin. I felt dazed, as if I was acting a part in some surrealist drama, a play where everyone knew their lines except me and I was having to improvise, but whatever I said or did the play was moving towards some inevitable conclusion with the various scenes clicking into place.
Jerie pulled her pants back on. The rigidity left her father’s posture. He looked at me, the anger had left his eyes. He spoke to Kabero. Kabero translated.
“He says he not sell his daughter.” The father spoke again. Kabero said, “He say would you sell your daughter?”
I began to get an inkling of how I’d hurt a father’s pride, giving her clothes and a bicycle, and the promise of a life, he could never provide for her. I felt shallow.
I told Kabero. “Tell him I am sorry, I did not consider his feelings.” Kabero translated.
I took the title deed from my breast pocket and gave it to Kabero. “Tell him the farm is already his, ask him to look after Jerie. I’ll pay to send her to school.”
Jerie cried, “No!”
Kabero translated my speech to Jerie’s father. I sighed and started to walk away, Jerie ran after me.
“I come with you Bill.”
I turned back, and it was as if time stopped. We all stood motionless. Jerie’s father asked her a question. She took my hand and answered. He gazed into my eyes with a probing stare, then looked at Jerie and gave a sigh then spoke as if reciting a formula. Kabero translated. “He say I give you my daughter.” I breathed a sigh of relief.
Jerie left me to throw herself into her father’s arms. He ruffled her hair and spoke to her in Kikuyu, his voice gentle. She took his hand and led him to me. She spoke to him again. He held out his hand. I took it. We gazed into each other’s eyes as we shook hands. I felt humbled. This man was no less human than myself. There was a steadiness and a pride in his eyes. This was a man, a brother. I felt a rapport, as if having fought and felt each other’s blows and rage, it had brought us close.
We walked back to the house where we sampled a few jars of Jerie’s beer. A discussion took place, mostly over my head. Jerie was to stay to look after the goats while I took the others back to the camp, where Jerie’s father would collect his family and their belongings and return. When Jerie went to the kitchen, I followed her through and pressed a fistful of notes into her hand.
“Your father might need to hire a van and get supplies, it might be better if you gave it to him.”
She smiled gratefully. “It would be better Bill.”
I left to wait in the Land Rover. The rest joined me shortly. “Where to?” I asked.
Kabero turned to speak to his uncle. “He want you to leave him in Nairobi, then you take me to camp.” I nodded and drove into the centre of Nairobi, dropped Jerie’s father off near the native quarter, then was guided back to the camp. I was in a daze. I followed instructions like an automaton. I felt as if I would wake up soon and find myself back in bed in Scotland.
I waited while Kabero and the youth went into the hovel. The woman appeared. She looked at me then went back in. Soon strange bundles star
ted to be thrown into the back of the Land Rover and shouting children were running about everywhere. A crowd gathered. Kabero and the youth appeared, carrying a chest. After a bit of heaving and removing bundles from the back, they got it loaded and reloaded the bundles. Kabero jumped in beside me.
“We go now,” he instructed. I drove slowly off, through the excited throng.
We arrived at the farm and I stopped at the gate. We unloaded and carried the heavy chest to the house and got the bundles stored in the bedroom. I collected Jerie and leaving Kabero with a couple of bottles of beer, in charge of the goats, we drove to the dukha, where she filled the back of the Land Rover with supplies and cardboard boxes filled with jars of the native beer.
“Jerie?” I asked.
“Yes Bill.”
“When can we go?”
She gave me a puzzled look. “We have to have …” she searched for a word, “a party.”
I felt apprehensive. “What do I have to do?”
She laughed. “You do not have to do anything, you just get drunk.”
“Why do I have to stay?”
She gave me an astonished look. “You are …” again she searched for a word,
“the bridegroom!”
Chapter I0
I almost dropped the crate of beer.
“The bridegroom?”
Jerie looked serious. “Did you not know?”
Oh! my God! A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions almost swept me away. I felt sheer panic. I wanted to jump in the Land Rover and race away, it didn’t matter where. I’d thought about marrying Jerie before, but only in an intellectual kind of way; just a possibility I’d explored. Now it was about to happen! Something had certainly been lost in translation. I took a deep breath.
‘Get a grip of yourself Bill.’
I looked at Jerie’s upturned face. “Of course, I knew, but I didn’t know that there would be a ceremony!”
Love Patterns Page 10
