The minister said, ‘Oh . . . Matigari ma Njiruungi! Come forward! Let us have a good look at you.’
The policemen started making a move towards Matigari. But Matigari said, ‘Don’t touch me! I can walk on my own.’ people made way for him. As for the guests on the platform, they all had the same thoughts in their minds. Their eyes converged on Matigari’s-hands. The priest’s lips moved rapidly in silent prayer.
As Matigari drew closer to the platform, the police chief suddenly whipped a pistol from the holster and pointed it at Matigari, shouting, ‘Hands up!’
Matigari took his hands out of his pockets, grinning as he suddenly realised how frightened the police chief was and why.
Then he said, ‘I have girded myself with a belt of peace.’
But the police chief was not satisfied. He waved at two policemen and indicated to them to search Matigari.
He had no gun, no knife, not even the least of weapons. Yet still they handcuffed him. It was no good taking chances with such a character.
All the guests on the platform took their handkerchiefs out of their pockets at about the same time. They felt relieved. Matigari was taken into the little room, where Ngaruro wa Kiriro and the others were. The only person who was not now in the group of those who had escaped from prison was Giceru.
The police chief put back the pistol into its holster, looking a little embarrassed for having betrayed so much fear in front of all (hose people.
The minister appeared uneasy. He was confused as to where to pick up the threads. He coughed as if to clear his throat:
‘Even those who like to blame the government for everything can now see for themselves! What would they suggest that the government did with such a person? You have all heard what he said! A man is arrested for trespassing on other people’s property. He breaks away from prison; he roams the whole country and boasts about his exploits and his lies. To make matters worse, he has the audacity to come here in front of all these people to boast of his dastardly deeds. Yes, a criminal, a murderer and with no shame or guilt, he conies here to boast about it all.
‘What sort of world would this be if those who sow are the only ones allowed to eat? Yes, what sort of world would this be if every time workers have a dispute with their employers they simply resort to arms instead of going through the proper peaceful channels so that the conflict can be settled in justice the way I have just demonstrated today? Anarchy! Yes, anarchy! Remember that a country’s, any country’s, welfare and stability are dependent on three kinds of people: the wealthy, like these capitalists; the soldiers, like our security forces (you all saw how swiftly the police commissioner drew his pistol); and thirdly, leaders, that is people like me, or the priest, or the others whom I shall soon introduce to you. The wealthy, the soldier, the leader — that’s all we need.
‘Let me show you what good leadership really means. I want all of you to see and know that I am truly the Minister for Truth and Justice. Do you see this suit that I am wearing? You sec that I have an inner coat and an outer one. Why do I say this? Because it is a symbol of the two portfolios that I carry. One is for ensuring that the law is obeyed, and the other is for ensuring truth and justice. Did you see how quickly the police commissioner drew his pistol? I will now introduce to you those who bear the onerous task of meting out instant truth and justice. Do you see these gentlemen dressed in robes? They are judges and lawyers.
‘I agree with the English expression that justice delayed is justice denied justice must not only be done, but must be seen to be done. So I want you to see instant justice at work, I think that I am the only minister in the whole world who travels with a whole law court, so as to be able to carry out instant justice. of all those who have been arrested. I shall let you know their verdict before the end of this meeting.
'These gentlemen will be assisted by the Permanent Pro- lesson of the History of Parrotology, the Editor of the Daily Parrotology, the Ph.D. in Parrotology and the hooded informer.
Do you know who the hooded justice is? He is the one wearing a white hood here. I know that in the bad colonial days you used to call him The Hood. But now we call him the Hooded Truth and Justice. He is what one might call the government’s general witness whose profession is telling the truth, A professional truth-teller, if you like. These gentlemen you see here will be asking him whether the person being questioned is telling the truth or not. If he shakes his head this way or that, they will know exactly what he means. Do you know why he always tells the truth? Because he does a lot of secret investigation . . . What did I tell you? The government has eyes and ears all over
. . OK, Let’s now wait for the verdict . . .’
The judges and lawyers, the permanent professor, the Ph.D. in Parrotology, the Editor of the Daily Parrotry and the hooded justice stood up and went into the room where Matigari, Ngaruro wa Kiriro and the others had been put.
‘While these gentlemen are listening to the cases, I shall ask your Provincial Commissioner and the chairman of the local branch of the ruling party to say a word or two.’
The Provincial Commissioner stood up. He wore khaki trousers and a matching jacket. He also wore a topi and wide- trimmed spectacles. He too wore a KKK tie. His colonial uniform seemed to weigh heavily on him. He cleared his throat in a pretentious way before beginning:
‘ I don’t have much to say, as the minister has said everything - all that there is to be said. His decision is just and true. It is now law. If everyone abides by this new law, there will be no more conflicts. There will be abundant peace in the land. There will be no more conflict between employer and employee . . . But there are some people singing a song that could easily ruin the newly decreed peace, A little bird whispered that the song was composed by the dwellers of Trampville. The song claims that when Matigari ma Njiruungi stamps his feet, the bullets tinkle. Tell me, you have all seen the famous Matigari whom so many have been singing about. Where are those bullets? Why did he not try to save himself with them? Matigari ma Njiruungi is in a deep sleep -- like Rip Van Winkle. Rip Van Winkle was a little old American who slept for a century, and by the time he woke up, he found that everything in the country had changed. Things were no longer the way he had known them to be.
‘Now listen to me carefully. I have banned that song from now onwards. No song, no story or play or riddle or proverbs mentioning Matigari ma Njiruungi will be tolerated. AH we are interested in here is development. We are not interested in fiction. Let us now forget that such people as Matigari ma Njiruungi ever existed. Let us with one accord, like loyal parrots, agree that Matigari ma Njiruungi was just a bad dream. That bit of history was just a bad dream, a nightmare in Fact. We have qualified professors here who can write new history for us.
‘The village that composed the song must also change its name. How can a village call itself Trampville? Are there really any tramps living there? Are they claiming that they have nowhere to go? They should turn to the ruling party, to his Excellency Ole Excellence. They should look forward like everyone else. From now on, this village will have a new name: Progressville. And now, my good people of Progressville, forget Matigari ma Njiruungi. Amen.’
The Provincial Commissioner sat down, and the chairman of the local branch of the ruling party, Kiama Kiria Kirathana (KKK), stood up.3 On his shirt were a huge photograph of His Excellency and the party symbol of a parrot. Below this were tin- letters KKK. These initials were also on his handkerchief.
As the chairman of the local branch of KKK, I would like to thank this Anglo-American company for giving shares to KKK. This factory now belongs to all of us. Three cheers for the company! Down with Matigari ma Njiruungi! Down with songs from the history of our nightmare! Now let me come to Karl Marx, the students and the workers. This Karl Marx is driving our students, lecturers and workers crazy. He should have his work permit withdrawn. I say that Karl Marx, Lenin and Mao should have no work permits in this country!’
He sang two stanzas and a chorus from Songs of a
Parrot. He sat down.
The Member of Parliament now stood up. He wore a silk suit, a KKK tie and thick-rimmed sun glasses. He greeted the people by singing one or two verses from Songs of a Parrot. Then he began to speak.
'I staunchly support all that which has already been said, But I shall add one point. It’s about this Matigari ma Njiruungi, I have been told that women around here have been singing that they will give birth to more Matigari ma Njiruungi. Are you drunk with this Matigari ma Njiruungi? The KKK government has said that the main cause of poverty is the fact that women breed like rats. Even during the colonial days when I worked for the community and social welfare department, they taught us that having too many children was dangerous. People should have children according to the size of their pockets. Those who have no money shouldn’t bother to have any children, I shall get the USA to establish one of those open air birth-control clinics where women can have their wombs closed. No more children for the poor! Let us give that responsibility to the wealthy! You see, if people did not have so many children, then we would never have pay disputes, because the pay you get would suffice for each worker and his wife. But there is an even better and more efficient method of curbing population growth. Pregnancies are the result of evil and wiki desires. I shad ask the government to ban dreams and desires of that kind for a period of about two years. Fucking among the poor should be stopped by a presidential decree!’
He sat down.
The minister now spoke again.
‘The villages around here are very lucky to have such leaders.
I shall now call upon the preacher to read us the Ten Commandments. I want you all to listen very attentively to God’s commandments.’
He sat down. The priest stood up and opened his Bible. He read:
Thou shall have no other gods before me.
Thou shall not make unto thee any graven image.
Thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.
Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days thou shalt labour; but the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God, In it, thou shalt not do any work.
Honour they father and thy mother that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord giveth thee.
Thou shall not kill.
Thou shall not commit adultery.
Thou shall not steal.
Thou shall not bear false witness against thy neighbour.
Thou shall not covet thy neighbour’s things; thou shall not covet they neighbour’s wife, nor his land nor his cows nor anything that is thy neighbour’s.
He sat down just as the judges of the court of instant truth and justice were walking back into the room, followed by the permanent professor and the hooded justice. Their leader was an old white man, who handed over the verdict to the minister.
The minister ordered that the prisoners be brought onto the platform to hear the verdict in front of everybody. The police brought them and arranged them into three groups.
want you, together with our visitors from USA, Britain, West Germany and France, to witness how the law works in a country under Christian democracy. In some countries I know old criminals such as these would have been hanged, or made to face the firing-squad. But here everything must be done under the law. For instance, I am the Minister for Truth and justice, but even I must abide by the law. So I must accept the verdict that has been reached by these gentlemen, because I too am under the law, and I believe in the independence of the judiciary. Right,
I want you all to listen to this verdict very carefully.
‘The teacher and the student will be detained without trial. The court cannot allow educated people to mislead the public with Marxist doctrines and communistic teachings. ’
The student and teacher were handcuffed together. In university, the student suddenly felt an upsurge of courage coupled with a lot of bitterness such as he had never felt before.
He shouted:
‘You should heed the riddle told by Matigari. A thieving spirit cannot be appeased by sacrifice. I can see that now even more clearly, I shall sing with those who were detained yesterday, those gaoled the day before yesterday and the fifty who were killed this very morning by the security forces:
Even if you detain us,
Victory belongs to the people.
Victory belongs to the people! ’
Everybody went silent. So the rumour that fifty university students had been killed was true? A policeman covered the month of the student. The teacher took over the defiance:
I also know now that there are two truths. One truth belongs to the oppressor; the other belongs to the oppressed! I shall never sing like a parrot, never! I shall sing the same song of courage and hope that was sung by the brave and courageous students.
But as he made to sing, his mouth too was covered. The student and the teacher were both taken away by prison warders, still resisting. This was not justice! From somewhere in the crowd, a song broke out:
Even if you kill us,
Victory belongs to the people.
Victory belongs to the people!
The people took up the song and sang in one voice. The policemen cocked their guns. The Permanent Professor of the History of Parrotology whispered something to the minister. He in turn shouted:
‘Silence! All of you, silence! I have just been told that there are students among the people. I wish to remind them that this village is under the control of the chief. If you wait to sing, you should sing from the official hymn-book, Songs of a Parrot, I don’t want to hear any more subversive songs. What you have heard from the student is a heap of lies. The university was closed because the students went on strike over food... Only one student died, trampled to death by the others... But we didn’t come here to talk about students... I shall now read the verdict that has been arrived at by the professional judges. I want you completely to forget about the students. Right? Those who broke away from prison arc to be returned to remand prison until the day the court gets a chance to listen to their case. They will be held in a maximum-security prison until that time. ’
The police took them away. The ‘vagrant’ caused laughter by shouting that, since he was sure to find food and shelter in prison, he was grateful to the judges.
‘Now let us come to the case of Ngaruro wa Kiriro. The court is very concerned about this man. Since independence, no one has ever stood up in public to oppose a presidential decree.
People like these sow the seeds of discord in, this country. They are the ones who are making the soldiers mutiny. The question he asked shows that he is mentally deranged. The court has decided that he should be taken into a mental hospital to have his head examined... So, you see, you workers were being led by a mentally deranged person. ’
Before he was taken away, Ngaruro wa Kiriro shouted:
‘You may arrest me, but the workers will never stop demanding back their rights! ’
The minister said, ‘You see how the man’s mind deceives him!
The minister now turned to Matigari ma Njiruungi. Matigari stood tall, fearless, full of confidence. It was this quality about him that made people fear him. His glance was piercing, and he made one feel as if he were looking into the very depth of one’s soul. The minister, for instance, could not look straight at Matigari’s eyes. He hesitated, seeming to have lost his tongue.
Matigari seized the opportunity, and now it looked as if it was the minister who was on trial.
Mr Minister, Matigari began. ‘I asked you a question, but you never answered me. I shall repeat my question. Where in this country can a person who is girded with a belt of peace find truth and justice? ’
The minister stammered. He seemed unprepared for a repeat of Matigari’s question. He turned to the people.
'This man who calls himself Matigari ma Njiruungi should be hanged. Didn’t you hear him confess that he was a murderer? But the judges have found him insane. The hooded justice testified how Matigari ma Njiruungi shared his bread and beer in ga
ol in clear imitation of Christ’s Last Supper. And here you heard him ramble on about his years in the forest and mountains, fighting Boy and Williams. All this goes to show that such a person must be out of his mind. Major Howard Williams and John Boy went to fight against terrorists during the war for independence — well, let’s call it that for lack of a better phrase. It is believed that they died fighting. They were awarded medals in absentia for their courage and selflessness: Williams the CBE (Commander of the British Empire), and Boy the MBE (Member of the Order of the British Empire). But if you give it a thought, do you really think that anyone in their right mind would come here to boast about how he was a murderer? And the sort of questions he is asking, arc they the sort of questions which would come from sane heads like yours or mine? The court has recommended that he be taken to a mental hospital and be kept under a twenty-four-hour surveillance, because he is a very dangerous person, and he has very dangerous intentions in his head. ’
Matigari now turned abruptly and once again stood facing the Minister for Truth and Justice, the police chief, the judges, the Provincial Commissioner, the priest, Boy, Williams, the Permanent Professor of Parrotology and all the other dignitaries on the platform.
Youth seemed suddenly to come over him again. His voice sounded like thunder.
‘The house is mine because I built it. The land is mine too because I tilled it with these hands. The industries are mine because my labour built and worked them. I shall never stop struggling for all the products of my sweat. I shed blood and I did not shed it in vain. One day the land will return to the tiller, and the wealth of our land to those who produce it. Poverty and sorrow shall be banished from our land! ’
Matigari pointed at Robert Wiliams and John Boy Junior.
‘And you, imperialist, and your servant Boy - with all your other lackeys, ministers and leaders of the police force, the army and the courts, the prisons and the administration — your days are numbered! I shall come back tomorrow. We are the patriots who survived: Matigari ma Njiruungi! And many more of us are being born each day. John Boy, you shall not sleep in my house again. It’s either you or me and the future belongs to me! ’
Matigari Page 12
