Warĩĩnga told her aunt everything . . . all about her affair with the Rich Old Man from Ngorika. . . .
CHAPTER SIX
1
It was about three when Warĩĩnga and Gatuĩria returned to the cave for the afternoon session of the competition in the art of modern theft and robbery. They thought they were late. Robin Mwaũra was leaning against the walls of the cave, near the door. He greeted them as if he had been waiting for them.
“Ah! I thought you weren’t coming back,” Mwaũra said, in a tone that suggested he was holding something back.
“Why, has the session already started?” Gatuĩria asked.
“No, not yet.”
“Where are Mũturi and Wangarĩ?” Warĩĩnga asked.
Mwaũra did not reply immediately. Standing between Warĩĩnga and Gatuĩria, he put his hands on their shoulders and turned them back the way they had come, as if he were taking them aside for a private discussion. They went a few steps without Mwaũra saying anything, until they came to a turning. Mwaũra then looked about him, as if he were taking great care not to be overheard.
“Let’s run away from here—now!” Mwaũra said, in a low voice.
“Why?” Gatuĩria and Warĩĩnga asked simultaneously.
“Because . . . because fighting is bound to break in this place.”
“Fighting? But why?” the other two asked.
“We shall be blamed for bringing two lunatics with us last night!” Mwaũra blurted out the story. “Even when we were still at Kineeniĩ, I had already guessed that Wangarĩ and Mũturi were not to be trusted. And this morning, if it had been left up to me, Mũturi and Wangarĩ would not have been allowed into a place where there were such important men and distinguished guests from abroad. The Mũturis of this world can bring only untold trouble to important men . . . and I bet those two are not alone!”
“But what happened after we had gone for lunch?” Gatuĩria asked. “Were you thrown out of the cave like Ndaaya wa Kahuria?”
“Where are Wangarĩ and Mũturi?” Warĩĩnga asked, burning with impatience. “Why are you telling us things like the chameleon that was sent to the people by God but never managed to deliver its message?”
“Let me tell you the whole story from the beginning, so we can decide what to do,” Mwaũra said, and he told them what had happened.
2
“When the morning speeches had ended, you two left and went your own way. We left soon afterward, and we said to each other: ‘Let’s take to the road to look for something to silence our gurgling stomachs. Let’s go to Njeruca for some roast meat; we can’t afford the food in this cave.’ We got into my matatũ. Then there we were, in the heartland of Njeruca. We went into a small butchery, full of flies. But it had a self-important name, the Hilton. The sign outside read: BETTER EAT AT HIIRITONI. We ordered four pounds of meat. Mũturi paid for one half, I paid for the other. We then went into a room at the back to wait for the meat to roast and to get something to drink. Me, I had a Tusker, and Wangarĩ had a Tatino and Mũturi drank Whitecap.
“It was Mũturi who started the discussion. He began as if he were picking up the threads where we left off outside the cave. He said: ‘As Mwaũra said last night in the matatũ, I’ve seen many things in this land. I have done all sorts of jobs in Kenya, I have been to many places in Kenya, and I have witnessed many happenings in our country. Once, while working as a watchman at a certain school in Nakuru, I saved a girl who wanted to take her own life. It was quite dark, and I was standing near the school’s swimming pool. I saw her walking along, stealthily, close to a small hedge. When I asked her what she was doing there alone, she said that she was staying with her brother, who was a teacher at the school. Then she went away. The following day I found the same girl standing in the middle of the railway track, waiting for the train to run over her. I was on my way to Bondeni, and I passed her standing on the other side of the line. But God’s case has no appeal. When I had gone a few steps toward Section 58, something made me stop and look over my shoulder. I tell you, I rescued her from the very jaws of death. She fainted in my arms. Luckily, in her handbag I found an envelope on which was written her address in Section 58. I left her there with her family, and I went on to Bondeni. Why am I recalling all this? Because what I have seen and heard in that cave beats all the miracles I’ve ever experienced.”
Gatuĩria and Warĩĩnga looked at one another, inwardly saying: This is a miracle indeed! Mwaũra went on: “It was then that Wangarĩ joined in, and she said: ‘So it really is true that from the womb of the same country emerges both the thief and the witch? I too have never seen wonders to beat those in the cave.’
“I kept quiet, for I know very well that a little stealing here and there is not really bad. And robbery that does not call attention to itself is not bad.
“It was Mũturi who said, ‘Did you know that a thief or a robber is worse than a witch?’
“There I strongly disagreed, and I told him: ‘A witch is worse than a thief. A thief only steals your property and leaves your heart beating. Tomorrow you can acquire more property. But a witch takes away your life, and leaves all your property for others to eat. A thief steals property, but a witch steals life.’
“And at that point the meat was brought to us on a wooden dish. It was roasted very nicely! I took a knife, and I cut the meat into small pieces. While we were eating, Mũturi told us a story about a thief and a witch.
“A long, long time ago, in a certain village, there lived a very dangerous thief. He had brought misery to the whole village, but nobody could catch him in the act, for he was very cunning. Now in the same village there lived a very dangerous witch, who was also very much feared because his witchcraft was even more potent than Kamĩri’s. The village elders gathered at the meeting-ground. They decided to invite the witch to cast a spell on the thief that would bring about his death. The witch boasted that that was nothing to him. He collected together his potent medicines and his divining gourds and nuts. Then he lay down to sleep. In the morning, he woke up at the usual hour. He went to check his divining tools. Lo! The thief had stolen everything. The witch gathered up more paraphernalia. The thief crept in and stole it all. The witch was forced to move away from that village. That’s the origin of the saying that a thief is terrible for he forces a witch to leave home. And again, a thief even steals from his own mother. A thief is like the white man, of whom it is said that he has no close friends.
“It was then that Wangarĩ said: ‘But modern thieves are worse, for they invite foreigners to rob their own mothers and in return receive a few hand-outs. But you two are wrong. A thief is no worse than a witch, and a witch is no worse than a thief. A thief is a witch, and a witch is a thief. For when a thief steals your land, your house, your clothes, isn’t he really killing you? And when a witch destroys your life, isn’t he stealing everything you own? That is why I say a thief is a witch, and a witch is a thief. Even Gĩkũyũ knew this. Long ago, the sentence imposed on a thief and a witch was the same. It carried the same punishment—death by burning or by being rolled down a hill in a beehive.’
“We ate up the meat and finished it all. I told Mũturi and Wangarĩ that we should hurry up and return to the cave so that we wouldn’t be late for the afternoon session.
“It was then that Wangarĩ’s madness took wing. She said that she wouldn’t go back to the cave, that instead she would go to the Ilmorog police station. To do what? I asked her. She told me: ‘An agreement is an agreement. A crowd of thieves and robbers like those cannot be allowed to gather and then go free!’ I said: ‘So you were serious about the story you told us last night?’ Wangarĩ said that she was a good and loyal citizen, and that she had to join hands with the police force to bring an end to theft and robbery. ‘If the police arrest pickpockets who snatch women’s handbags in market places, and petty criminals who steal five shillings, and thieves who steal hens in villages, what
do you think they will do to these men, who steal from the masses and rob the whole nation?’ For my part, I tried everything I could think of to dissuade her: ‘Don’t ruin other people’s feasts. Have you got enough evidence? Wangarĩ, remember that a lawsuit can turn against a witness.’ Wangarĩ disagreed with me, and said: ‘If every time you see a thief stealing or a robber robbing, you turn the other way or shut your eyes and seal your lips, how will theft and robbery be brought to an end in this land?’
“I left her to her schemes. The case of a fool remains unsettled. And again, if a wise man argues with a fool for too long, it is difficult to tell the difference between them. A person destined for ill-fortune cannot be diverted.
“All this time Mũturi had kept quiet, like a hypocrite, listening to the argument between me and Wangarĩ. Can you imagine my surprise when Mũturi entered the fray and said that he would help Wangarĩ to catch the thieves and robbers? I asked him: How would he help? He said that he would go around Njeruca awakening the workers and the unemployed, urging them to follow him so he could show them where all the thieves and robbers of the people’s wealth had gathered to compete to see who had stolen most from the people. The victims of theft were the only ones who could effectively demand the return of their stolen wealth.
“I reasoned with Mũturi. ‘Mũturi, you look like a sensible man. Beware of being swept off your feet by the whims of modern women. Remember how Ndaaya wa Kahuria was thrown out of the cave. Ndaaya only steals five shillings here and there to buy himself a few cakes. That shows that the rest of them are very important thieves and robbers—Wanyang’anyi Mashuhuri; wao si wezi wa mandazi na kuku—and they should not be disturbed.’
“Mũturi shook his head and said: ‘I, Mũturi, do not believe in the saying that silence saves lives. Wangarĩ has spoken the truth. If whenever we see theft and robbery, we shut our eyes or look the other way, doesn’t this mean that we support the system of theft and robbery? There is no difference between a thief and him who observes the act, Gĩkũyũ once said. You say Ndaaya wa Kahuria was thrown out of the cave. Yes, but what does that show us? The truth of one of Gĩkũyũ’s sayings: that a thief in rags often becomes a sacrifice for the thief in finery. Why did Gĩkũyũ say that? Because in many cases we point at a thief in rags, forgetting that perhaps he steals because he is hungry and thirsty. In the old days a Mũũgĩkũyũ never took it out on a thief who stole only to silence a hungry belly. If in the old days you went to someone’s farm and cut down sugarcane and sat down and ate it, or if you lit a fire and dug up enough sweet potatoes to satisfy your hunger and roasted them and ate them then and there, the owner of the farm would never bother you. But these modern thieves, who reap where they have never sown, to the extent of even inviting foreigners to join in the harvest, and who store all the grain in foreign granaries, leaving the owner of the farm dying of starvation, and who slaughter a herdsman’s own sheep, fattening themselves on the stolen meat—have they not shat and farted beyond the limits of tolerance? Let them be arrested by the working people now that they, the thieves and robbers, have congregated in one den to parade their full bellies and to pour scorn on us. Mwaũra, you say that we should wait for more evidence? No. Procrastination destroyed the beehive. It is never too early to go to the market, before the sun scorches the vegetables.
Come one and all,
And behold the wonderful sight
Of us chasing away the Devil
And all his disciples!
Come one and all!
‘Wangarĩ, I don’t think you’ll get much help from the police station. But he who has not drunk from a calabash does not know its measure. Go your way, and I’ll go mine. Our aim is the same. We’ll all meet at the cave, each with his own forces.’
“When Mũturi had finished, he stared at me with eyes that seemed to be challenging me to a fight. But I, Mwaũra, am a man. I looked him in the face and told him very firmly that I would never support any action that was designed to increase conflict in the land. I told them this: ‘A person is eaten up by his own mouth. Mũturi and Wangarĩ, because you know that what is done can never be undone, leave these people alone. A thief who has not been caught is said to be eating his rightful share.’ Mũturi quickly replied: ‘Ndio, ndio, that’s why they should all be arrested. . . .’
“That’s how the two madmen and I parted company. I thought I should hurry back to the cave to tell you all about it, so that you won’t be caught unawares by the drama and the chaos that are bound to follow. That’s why I’m suggesting that we should race back to Nairobi now, so that at least we can share the cost of the petrol. I’ve also been looking for Mwĩreri wa Mũkiraaĩ, so that he can tell the master of ceremonies to end the feast before everyone is caught by the police and the workers. Those two, Mũturi and Wangarĩ, are not alone!”
Robin Mwaũra finished his story and stared about him again as if he were afraid that the police and the workers would suddenly appear. Gatuĩria and Warĩĩnga looked at each another. They did not know whether to rejoice or to pity Wangarĩ and Mũturi.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Gatuĩria said. “Let’s go inside and wait to see what happens.”
“Don’t you think it would be wise of us to tell the hosts and guests at the feast what is going on?” Mwaũra asked.
“No,” Gatuĩria replied quickly. “Let’s leave them alone. Let’s leave the two sides alone. We are just spectators.”
They moved off toward the cave. Warĩĩnga was thoughtful. Is it because of such coincidences that the Earth is said to be round? To come across the very man who twice saved my life—and in a place like this? Who is Mũturi? When they were close to the entrance to the cave, Mwaũra tugged at Gatuĩria’s sleeve. They both stopped. Warĩĩnga went ahead and waited for them at the door.
Mwaũra whispered to Gatuĩria: “Listen, although you say that we are just spectators, that we’re not here to take sides, I’d like to enter the competition.”
“And leave Warĩĩnga and me as the only spectators?” Gatuĩria asked, checking his laughter.
“That’s right,” Mwaũra said. “But would it be a good move?”
“To give your testimony about theft and robbery, or to abandon us?” Gatuĩria asked.
“What I want is a chance to show them cunning to beat all cunning in the art of theft and robbery. Would that be a wise move?” Mwaũra asked again, forcing Gatuĩria to offer him advice.
“Well, didn’t I tell you that I was a mere spectator? If you get a chance, by all means jump on to the platform and try your luck. All a competitor is required to do is to show what he has done with his talents for stealing and robbing, and what he would do now if he were given more opportunity by the foreigners. . . . But I’m not telling you to do this or not to do that. Do what you want to do. The decision is yours,” Gatuĩria said, like a judge trying to disguise his real position in the struggles of life.
But Mwaũra seemed very pleased with Gatuĩria’s words. He spoke up a little. “There, you have spoken the truth. That’s why I always say that education is a good thing, a very important thing. Now, if it had been Mũturi and Wangarĩ, they would have tried to dissuade me. Why? Because they don’t have much education. They have no idea what makes the world turn. I can see that you are quite impartial. In Warĩĩnga’s case, take care! She seems to pay much too much attention to the words of the two madmen. But you certainly seem to know how to get to the heart of things. And you have put it well. It’s not the number of one’s talents that one should count. Oh, no, what’s important is the quality of one’s skills and the use to which one has put them. You say that I should do what I want to do. . . . Ha, ha! Do you remember what Mwĩreri wa Mũkiraaĩ told us in my matatũ last night? He also that had received . . . talents came and said. . . .”
The Testimony of Mwĩreri wa Mũkiraaĩ
“Because the white man once said Time is money—yaanĩ, hours are the same thing as mon
ey—I will only take a few minutes to offer you the kernel of my wisdom.
“As for women, I have one wife. But she is a woman with a good education, for she has a degree in home economics—yaani, a degree in how to manage money in the home and maintain a civilized way of life.
“Girlfriends? I haven’t got any. Or let me put it this way: whenever I want a good time, I look for white or Indian girls. I don’t believe in tribal or racial discrimination when it comes to women. I have always maintained that women belong to no age group, no clan, no country. Wanawake ni watumishi kwa wote. So if you come across a white girl, take her; if you come across an Asian girl, take her; if you come across a beautiful girl called Ready-to-Yield, take her.
“As for our children, we have only two, a boy and a girl. We won’t have any more. I believe in family planning—yaani, the planning of births, the freedom of parents to say how many children they want to have or are able to support—and not in the unplanned arrival of a mass of children who will not let you eat delicacies in comfort. I am a member of an international body for regulating births (it is called the International Planned Parenthood Association), whose headquarters are in New York, USA. Let me tell you, children are our biggest enemy. Any increase in the population is contrary to our interests. Imagine if the whole world belonged to you and your wife alone? You see what I mean? The greatest threat to us is the increase in the number of people who will be demanding food, clothing and shelter. For if those people fail to land jobs, fail to find food, fail to buy clothes, what is to prevent them from taking up clubs and swords and guns to split open our own well-fed bellies? We of the Planned Parenthood Association have only one desire: to find ways and means of decreasing conflict between nations, and especially conflict between those of us who have grabbed wealth and those from whom we have grabbed. That’s why we who belong to the Association maintain: let the wives of the poor bear only the number of children that they can support with the food we have left them in their granaries, or according to the size of their salaries. If a man is without a job, then let him not burden himself with women and children.
Devil on the Cross Page 22
