EASTLANDS STORIES.

BY PETER KURIA
YOUNG e-STORIES 2012

AN ANTHOLOGY DESCRIBING LIFE IN THE EAST SIDE OF NAIROBI CITY

EASTLANDS STORIES.

ABLE OF CONTENTS

FOREWORD .......................................................................................................................... 4 EASTLANDS STORY 1: LEGENDS OF EASTLANDS BY PETER KURIA.5 EASTLANDS STORY 2: CASE OF THE RINGI BY PETER KURIA. .................................... 20 EASTLAND STORY 3: RUMOUR HAS IT BY PETER KURIA. ..............................................23 EASTLANDS STORY 4: NOT A CINDERELLA STORY BY PETER KURIA. .......................28 EASTLANDS STORY 5: WILL THE REAL DAD PLEASE STAND UP BY PETER KURIA. .43 EASTLANDS STORY 6: A MOTHERS AGONY BY PETER KURIA ................................... 50 EASTLANDS STORY 7: SALAMANDER STRIKES BACK BY PETER KURIA ..................68 EASTLANDS STORY 8: CLOSED MINDS AND OPEN CASKETS BY PETER KURIA .........77 EATLANDS STORY 9: THE RENAISSANCE MAN BY PETER KURIA ..............................88 EPILOGUE..........104

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

MAP OF EASTLANDS COURTESY OF GOOGLE MAPS

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EASTLANDS STORIES. EASTLANDS STORIES Published by YOUNG e-STORIES in 2012 ISBN-9966-21-460-7 YOUNG e-STORIES 2012 This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. No reproduction without permission. All rights reserved. The rights of PETER KURIA to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988. NO PART OF THIS e-STORIES BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED WITHOUT HIS WRITTEN CONSENT. CONTACTS EMAIL: kiboikuria@gmail.com TEL NO: 0720-551-548 P.O.BOX 00515 282 YOUNG e-STORIES is a subsidiary of YOUNG BOX OFFICE LIMITED

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

F OREWORD
Following in the British tradition of settling the less opulent members of society in the East End of a town, The East side of Nairobi city like its cousins East London and Eastlands in Manchester among other British cities is where a huge majority of the citys working class reside. Bordered to the North by Thika Road, to the south by Mombasa Road and to the west by the Central Business District, Eastlands includes estates such as Muthurwa, Kaloleni, Shauri Moyo, Likoni Carlifornia, Eastleigh (Near East). Makadara, Hamza, Buru Buru, Jericho, Umoja, Kimathi, Pioneer, Baba Dogo, Imara Daima and Dohnholm (Middle East). While to the Far East we have Pipeline, Embakasi, Dandora, Kariobangi, Kariokor and Kayole among others. It also incorporates slums such as Mukuru Kwa Reuben, Mukuru Kwa Njenga, Mathare and Bangladesh. Eastlands has over the years gained notoriety for its grinding poverty, high crime levels and a population largely left to its own devices. As is often the case with such a place, a lot of bizarre things happen. This writer, having lived in Eastlands all his life, brings you some of the common and not so common stories that have taken place in this God forsaken place.

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

1
L EGENDS OF EASTLANDS

he east side of Nairobi city, like in most major cities around the world, is the poor side. So bad is the situation in the east side with its life sapping everyday struggles and glass ceilings that to be born here is considered in some quarters a false start in

the race of life. But as it is with every adversity, there are always those who profit from it. Call them slum lords, Madams, gangsters, politicians, goons or mama pimas; they are simply savvy entrepreneurs with the mettle to offer what is most in demand and in the process make a huge fortune in the midst of callous dearth. In a place where the primal instinct of survival trumps ethical considerations and therefore material possession, no matter the source, is greatly revered these men and women become legendary. Their stories are told and retold with the magnanimity of a Greek epic. Homer would be jealous. Take the case of Shiro or as she is commonly referred to in Eastlands, The Rice Queen. At the tender age of 12 Shiro had seen her mother and two aunties die of a disease that slowly ate them away leaving them but skeletons. She had heard the disease being referred to as Mokigo (Aids) and knew that it had no cure and was transmitted through sex. She had sworn she would never have sex. With her mother and aunties gone, there was no one to assist her grandmother in her
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EASTLANDS STORIES. changaa (illicit brew) business so Shiro had to quit school to come help. She brought along three friends who had been kicked out of school for lack of fees. From the onset, Shiro realized that men become vile creatures when drunk. They would grab at her and her colleagues still developing breasts and backside with no shame and talk smack about women. Though she loathed being touched by this despicable breed of humanity, she accepted it as a work hazard. She saw over time regular customers wane into shadows of their former selves. Wives came to take their husbands home after they had squandered a months pay on a days binge leaving the familys finances in a very precarious position. She had sworn off alcohol too. Shiro also saw her friends fall into the easy money trap and sometimes show a patron to the several vacant rooms for short time. She never judged them for she knew it meant the difference between plain porridge or ugali and vegetables for supper. After a colleague was badly injured by a brutish client, Shiros wish was that the trade could be controlled so that each party got only what they bargained for. By her twentieth birthday, Shiro had set up an organization that guaranteed just that. Shiros girls were known to be clean, beautiful and honest; woe unto any man who laid an unacceptable finger on them. She recruited young girls who needed the money and instructed them in her philosophy of fair pay for work done. She neither instructed them on the craft of seduction nor ways of pleasing men for demand was ever high and the men knew not of fore play or other such shenanigans: their only drunken desire being to expend their seed. Shiros grandmother had since aged and become too weak to run the den. Shiro, now at the helm expanded the den as her girls brought in more clientele. Hers though wasnt a life of glamour even though it could be said she was better off than all her clients.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Up to this time, her world had been a little corner of Eastlands for though she occasionally ventured out to the greater Eastlands and other areas of Nairobi she never had any real interactions with the people there. This would however soon change as to everyones surprise, one of her girls announced that she was about to get married to a man from the well to do side of Eastlands. She had revealed to Shiro while asking her to be in the bridal party that the wedding was a sham, a charade designed to create a faade. The man was gay and only getting married to get his family off his back. As can be expected from a gay man with taste and deep pockets the wedding was a beautiful affair and for once Shiro got a taste of life not as a bitter struggle for survival but as a cake to be savored and enjoyed. She instantly wanted this life and more. She longed to be served instead of always serving others, to live among a civilized lot who said excuse me and thank you instead of the drunk Neanderthals she dealt with every day, to wear fine clothes, make-up and have her hair made up so that she felt pretty. The more she thought about this the more she wanted it but how would she ever be able to afford this? Marry a rich man? She was too independent to rely on someone, had been ever since she turned 12. Still, she really wanted this life so as the evening wore on a plot started hatching in her brain. From observation, Shiro knew that the men here required that a woman carry herself with some form of class. Theirs wasnt a simple urge to fulfill carnal desires, rather it was a thrill seeking venture. Taking mental stock of her girls, Shiro knew only two could make it in this market. Get new girls? She already had the best and she couldnt see how a girl from this side of the tracks could be so desperate as to sell her body. There was only one thing to do.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. Though Shiro had previously vehemently opposed drugging of clients for she knew the hardships they went through to bring in the little they did, she had no compunction over drugging her new clientele for she felt no remorse over taking something small from people who had it all. Through use of a system of agents, thorough training on how to pick the best marks and rotation of the girls, Shiro was able to keep not only the girls identity safe but hers as well as she expanded into new territories. Before long every drunk in Eastlands had a mchele, as the drugs came to be known from its resemblance to a grain of rice, story to tell. They ranged from the very common, I was sucking on her bosom one minute the next I found myself near naked in the other side of town. To the hilarious ones about men taking their new trophy girls to meet their parents. The girls would offer to assist in the cooking only for the family to find themselves tied up in a room with their homes swept clean after regaining consciousness. There were also the out rightly bizarre ones of men who would disappear for up to one week then show up with no recollection of what had transpired the only pointer being their daily ATM withdrawals in different towns across the country. All in all Mchele came to be accepted as an unavoidable hazard by all drunks for despite all the extra caution they still found themselves with embarrassing stories to tell. It was not uncommon to hear a drunk beseech any person with ill will towards him to please use mchele nusu (half the dosage) for he had to report to work the following day. Indeed it could be said that the

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EASTLANDS STORIES. productivity of Eastlands workforce decreased by at least a sixth for employers were inundated with sick leave requests if not days off to look for or after a mcheled (drugged) loved one. Conventional wisdom had it that this was the work of random individuals if not groups. Not even the mchele having the same chemical trace rang bells within the perceptive police force. It was inconceivable that one person could be behind this menace let alone a young woman. But as is often the case it was whistle blowers who unraveled the mystery leaving the force with more egg on its face. Confessions from newly saved former Mchele distributors shed light into the hitherto unknown well run organization and its wealth. The former Mchele distributors described how they were taught to identify their marks, usually the most braggadocios ones; how they would collude with barmaids to slip them a dose of Mchele (the drug) and how they would then take the inebriated mark for everything hes got. They confessed that on average, they each made about Ksh 50,000 a week for which they were entitled to 20%. They further estimated that though they could not tell with certainty, Shiro had over 50 girls working for her. That was a cool Ksh 2,500,000 a week in turnover! Even her victims were impressed if not jealous that they hadnt thought of it first. With no pictures of Shiro and confessors giving differing accounts of what she looked like, police sketchers had a torrid time coming up with a composite of her. The public nick named her The rice queen. Shiro, understanding that there was a time for everything quietly retired a fortune under her belt. She went on a luxury cruise around the world to let the publics short memory move on to another subject. Currently in her late thirties and living the Eastlands dream of gaining wealth through crime Shiro shuffles between her 5 luxurious homes in Nairobi, Mombasa and Jamaica. From not knowing where her next meal would come from Shiro now has under her payroll a 4
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EASTLANDS STORIES. star chef who accompanies her in her travels. She is chauffeured in top of the range cars and flies only first class. It is rumoured that she has never found a man worthy of deflowering her.

********************

B
others!

ut even Shiros exploits are dwarfed by Michaels, last name withheld. His rise from a mere street hustler to the not so hallowed halls of the august house as a peoples representative is perhaps the epitome of the Eastlands dream. He was once

heard saying his is the best job in the world for he is paid to do what he does best, make fools of

Michael wasnt always this ambitious. He had dreams of getting rich and the threat of serving a little jail term was not going to distract him. So after conning an old lady off a couple of million Shillings in a land deal, he had without gripe accepted his 3 year jail sentence for the white collar crime. It was in jail that as he puts it, he got saved. One of his fellow inmates was a former Member of Parliament whose stories more than captivated Michael. He painted his time in power as one of loads of kick back monies, endless parties with free flowing single malts and young nimble women not to mention the world travel at tax payers expense and red carpet reception everywhere. There was this time the government was planning to set up a fertilizer factory here in Kenya so as members of the agriculture committee we were sent to The Netherlands on a fact finding mission. There we met a Mr. Van Basten the CEO of one of Netherlands biggest petro-chemical companies. Because he wanted the tender to build the Kenyan fertilizer factory so bad, for the
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EASTLANDS STORIES. two weeks we were supposed to be fact finding he distracted us by chauffeuring us around Europe in his private plane and Limos, took us to all the fancy parties where there were all kinds of exotic women and we drunk only Dom Perignon. He also paid for our shopping and when we got back home each of us had 5 million in our accounts! Michaels jaw dropped when he heard this and other stories of opulent lifestyles financed by taxpayers or groups with vested interests. He had never dreamed so big but he instantly knew this is what he wanted. How did you get elected in the first place? Michael asked as he set his plan in motion. I was lucky to join politics at a time when the country was clamoring for change. I think I offered something different to my constituents. At that time, they were willing to try anything so long as it was new And how come you lost your seat? Michael probed further. Ahhh, the great mystery, came the reply. Would you believe me if I told you it is because I wasted precious time building roads, schools, hospitals and providing water for my constituents while I should have been politicking, being seen with the right people, holding press conferences, attending funerals. How I would do things differently if I had known then what I know now. What do you mean? Michael had asked puzzled. That is why it is a great mystery for according to the projects I initiated I should have been a shoe in for re-election but because I was working, well most of the time anyway, I wasnt in the limelight so much. Apparently peoples idea of a working Member of Parliament is one who is in the news all the time thumping his chest.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. I had never thought of it like that. Its true; and here is the other shocking fact, the way to win the peoples undying love is not to be like them but to be the object of their admiration and desire by flaunting wealth. He had seen the confused look on his keenest students face so he explained further. If people see you as rich, they will not only think that some of your wealth will trickle down to them, but also that you already have enough and therefore wont misappropriate their money. We even have a word for it, The African Big Man Syndrome where the more money one has the more the followers and people ready to put their lives on the line for you regardless of the source of ones wealth. He had said as his audience nodded. Michael, eager to learn more often bombarded him with more questions. How do you gain peoples attention and show them you are serious? He asked one night. Getting peoples attention is easy it is the nature of the attention that matters, had been the reply. My advice, get involved in a business that is at the heart of the community and make as much noise about the unfavourable business environment as possible. This will get you some spotlight. Next, be seen to be giving back to the community and when elections are around the corner, pick a very public fight with the incumbent stating it is his ilk that is retarding development. He concluded thus, Remember politics is not issue based, it is people based and being in a good fight will give you all the spotlight you need to advertise your candidature. The media just cant get enough of he said she said stuff.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. But if you do not initiate any projects, how will you sell your re-elections? Michael asked confused. I didnt say dont initiate any projects, initiate the right ones. If you build a road, hospital or a school, your constituents will take it as their right furthermore you cannot name them after yourself. But if you build say a toilet or a small market, you can claim it as your initiative and brand it with posters as so. Political mileage is all about how many times people talk positively about you. To this end nothing beats a funeral. Always contribute generously to these occasions and speaker after speaker will praise you. Give the people a generous politician and a good administrator and they will choose the generous politician every day. In grief, people are always looking for someone to blame. Dont disappoint them. Get them riled up and promise to get to the bottom of it. If the cause of death was an accident, accuse the transport minister of sleeping on the job. If the deceased was gunned down by thugs accuse the police and if it was an illness put the health care system on the spot and promise reforms. Another top tip to note, no promise is ever too big. Five hundred shillings in the hands of a constituent will be remembered longer and will carry more favor with him than the best equipped hospital or school you can build. Michael had been advised. The best news Michael heard though was that he wasnt obligated to contribute to debate in parliament for he wasnt the most eloquent of men even among his fellow convicts. A good bare knuckle verbal exchange he knew he could handle, it was practically a tool of trade for a conman.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. Michael learned these and many other lessons about politics. By the time he was finishing his sentence nay studies, Michael was resolute in his resolve to join politics. The first thing he did when his term as the states guest came to an end was to change his name to an easier one to wrap the tongue around. So he said but he was really trying to hide his past. Through prudent investment before lock up, his millions had appreciated but it still was not enough to launch a political career according to his mentor. He used his prison contacts and got into high risk high returns import export business of highly nefarious commodities. It wasnt long before he had accumulated enough to start pursuing his political agenda. He started several ventures including transport, real estate and retail businesses positioning himself as a social entrepreneur with diverse interests. He joined trade organizations and was soon appearing in the news decrying conditions that were harsh for business. He sued the city council for not providing proper amenities then the power company for too many power outages and then the police for harassment when he was arrested for leading a protest. People started taking note of him as one who didnt condone mediocrity. That he was using his own money to champion for strangers rights was welcome as an act of altruism; they never bothered to ask where he had come from nor the source of his wealth When the elections were around the corner, he got into a spat with the incumbent MP at a funeral where he had contributed generously earning him prime speech time right after the incumbent. He promised to file legal proceedings against the incumbent for mismanaging the Constituency Development Fund, never mind this was a funeral and not a political rally. The mourners sang his name. At the next funeral, he launched another attack accusing the incumbent Member of Parliament of being stingy.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. How come I, a mere businessman can contribute more to this funeral than a Member of Parliament? Didnt you elect him to serve you? How is he serving you if he cant even properly assist you say good bye to your loved ones? The mourners cheered. He would continue with the relentless attacks on the incumbent who was forced to defend himself and launch counter attacks. The media as predicted was quick to pick this up and hardly a week passed without the two occupying acres of space in print media and their faces being splashed on television. Michael claimed it was the people who sought him out to give them youthful and uncompromised representation. He had all the money he needed so he wouldnt be after public coffers was his campaign rhetoric. He campaigned with a fleet of sleek cars that attracted huge crowds both young and old as they stared in awe at the display of grandeur. He didnt say much; just doled out wads of notes as if they were mere pieces of paper. Youth groups and womens chamas (organizations) sprung up in every corner and crevice of the constituency. They asked for his patronage: he didnt disappoint them with even more cash being dished out. Ask anyone what his policies were, they didnt care! He was one of them, a hustler. He would make it better for all the hustlers out there in their thousands. On elections day there was going to be only one winner. He run away with the votes leaving his opponents leaking their wounds. Alas! It had worked. A street hustler and former convict had made it all the way to parliament. The seat of power was his to use and abuse as he pleases. That he has recovered all monies spent in the campaigns is no secret. Michael, using his new alias, is often seen on television hob knobbing with the political elite. Cheers of that is our man up there from his constituents ring in the air whenever this happens. To this day, not a metre of road has been tarmacked, not a schools window has been repaired
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EASTLANDS STORIES. and no live patient has ever received a helping hand from their representative. But a fleet of buses has been procured using CDF funds to ferry mourners to burials in any part of the country. All one need do is book a bus three days in advance and declare the crowd number he/she expects so the MP can decide which burials are worth attending. He has already set his sights on higher office. All signs point to a landslide victory for the modern day Machiavelli. Those in the know call him The Prince. ***************************

N
within.

ot all the legends though gain fame or notoriety through crime, some are actually victims of their environment; their crimes or deeds borne out of necessity. Take Mawe for example, he was posted as head of a police division in Eastlands as a

reward for pacifying warring communities in upper Eastern Province against the wishes of a powerful politician. Upon arriving in Eastlands he had seen what was at first glance a civil community but as he began to peel the proverbial onion he discovered the barbarism that lay

In his previous posting he had seen clan wars that dated back five generations. Fights were over scarce resources which actually meant life or death and even in these fights there was a code of honour the warriors followed. The lives of the innocent women and children were spared. When things got out of hand you could trust the elders to bring back sanity. Life was harsh and everybody accepted it as such without pretense. In Eastlands though people pretended to be civil during the day but turned into creatures worse than brutes under the cover of darkness. Precious life was lost due to such mundane things as stepping on ones shoes, giving someone a look they didnt appreciate and coming from a different side of Eastlands. Young kids barely in their teens
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EASTLANDS STORIES. robbed and killed so they could spot the latest footwear and roc-a-wear jeans. Mothers were forced to prepare hash tea and ugali by their sons and brother turned against brother because of a pretty girl. The situation bordered on something out of Twilight Zone. It was such disregard for life that got Mawe riled up. Setting out to restore sanity, Mawe had instructed his officers to arrest and prosecute all known criminals. Many were brought before the courts but with witnesses afraid for their lives most recanted their testimonies. To circumvent the need for witnesses he instructed his officers to obtain written and signed confessions by any means. A few held up in court while most were rejected. Still it was better than nothing. The last straw that radicalized Mawe however was seeing a robbery with violence convict he had himself testified against in court and seen sentenced to life in prison walking the streets not a care in the world. It had dawned on him then that the corrupt criminal justice system was one of the biggest contributors to societal decay. If he was to bring change he would have to be the judge, jury and executioner. The young man had been his first victim. Knowing criminals like this never change, he had trailed him for a whole week often sleeping in his car so he wouldnt slip away. His persistence had paid off for exactly one week after he had started trailing him, he was on hand to witness him and his crew of three robbing a motorist. He hadnt bothered to arrest them. Call it extra judicial killing or police execution, the motorist didnt care. He was so happy to have been rescued he hugged Mawe and when the other police arrived he said he didnt know what had happened. Knowing that he needed an inside man to uncover the workings of the criminal underworld, Mawe had taken the leader of the crew to a clinic and ensured he survived his injuries. While recovering, he had under duress from Mawe, explained the entire network including the cops,
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EASTLANDS STORIES. magistrates and prison warders who were on the take. Knowing he could trust no one within his own police force and the criminals were too many to be trailed, he divided them into two lists: the hard core criminals whom he gunned down in cold blood and the novices whom he warned in the presence of their mothers, their fathers were almost always absentee parents, to leave Eastlands immediately failure to which they would face a similar fate to their fallen brothers. Not a single complaint was lodged against Mawe for extra judicial killings. To the contrary, notes were slipped into his office with names of even more criminals and tip offs of crimes that were about to happen. Mothers asked him to talk to their wayward sons before it was too late and his phone was full of text messages reporting suspicious activities and more tip offs. Several attempts were made on his life but each time he knew of them well in advance. For his efforts, several names were coined for him, Terminator, Rambo, Paka Mweusi (Black cat) and Shaw II after his equally legendary predecessor. Indeed so feared was he that crying kids were warned by their mothers that they would call Terminator which always got the desired effect of shutting up the kids. Within one year of his arrival, the streets of Eastlands were for the first time in as long as anybody could remember safe. Businesses opened until late while workers could afford to get to work before sun up. Mothers stopped constantly worrying about the safety of their children and got down to work. The number of funerals reduced drastically and children returned to school. All in all some semblance of a civilized society prevailed but as always, the powers that benefit from chaos were not pleased. They worked overtime and before long, Mawe received his transfer letter. Protests followed but knowing the short memory span of Eastlanders, the transfer order remained. Within a week, Terminator was spoken of in the past tense.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Mawe was later adversely mentioned in a United Nations Special Rapporteurs report on extra judicial killings. When asked for their opinion on the matter, the people of Eastlands had some interesting sound bites. He should come live in Eastlands for a week then he will know what extra judicial really means, was one. When it is either us or them, better them, came another. Eastlands problems can only have Eastlands solutions, asituletee uzungu hapa (let him not bring his Americanness here)! All in all unlike the heroes in Homers epics, these legends and many others have lived and walked amongst us the victims and beneficiaries of their deeds eager to tell their tales. Trust me when I tell you, in Eastlands, reality is stranger than fiction.

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

2
C ASE OF THE RINGI

rue story. Mike, name changed for obvious reasons, has been carrying out a clandestine affair with the house help (Ringi) for the past 8 months. Since there is always someone in the house, either the mom, the dad or one of his two little sisters,

and they cannot as well go to a lojo, again for obvious reasons, they have devised an ingenious ploy; just as the Ringi is about to go to the shower, Mike sneaks in and hides in the water heater closet. When the Ringi comes in, she signals Mike to come out and for 5 brief minutes they are lost in their own little world of unbridled romance, save for the soundtracks (moans of pleasure), again for obvious reasons. To say they cherish these private moments would be an understatement. One cold August Saturday morning, the Ringi gives Mike the heads up that she is making for the bathroom. Mike, right on cue, heads into his hiding place. In the cold and darkness of the heater closet, Mike hears her come in, undress then open the shower taps. He waits impatiently for the 8 month old signal, two knocks on the door indicating she is ready for him. The first minute seems a long time, the second he swears lasted a decade and the third seems to last forever. He cant
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EASTLANDS STORIES. bear this anymore. Driven by his libidinous desires for her, he throws all caution to the wind and comes out of the closet, literally and figuratively, a smile on his face and ready to start

undressing. But Alas! It is not the Ringi but his Mum! The mum, shocked, stumbles backwards as she instinctively reaches for her towel which is hanging on a rail. She hits her head hard on the linoleum tiling and falls to the floor unconscious. The towel covers her face and nakedness saving Mike further embarrassment; for now. Mike panics. He instinctively reaches for the heater door to go back into hiding as would be the norm but just before he goes in it hits him. What if she wakes up and looks in here, I should be getting as far away from this scene as possible. He opens the bathroom door a crack, peeps around and on seeing no one makes his way to his room. There he paces keeping his ears pealed for any noises. After 3 minutes he has come up with the perfect plan: PLAN A: If she didnt see him come out of the heater closet, which he is convincing himself she didnt, then Mum forgot to lock the bathroom door and since he didnt know anyone was in there . it was an accident, pure and simple. PLAN B: If she is adamant she saw him come out of the heater closet then he was playing a prank on his little sister. Chock it up to bad taste. He was willing to take the heat for that. Thank goodness he hadnt stripped in the heater as he had been so tempted to do; it would have made it infinitely harder to explain. All bases covered. He cannot help but smile at his genius; now to execute the plan. As he is about to leave his room, Mike hears a scream that instantly chills his blood. He doesnt need to
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EASTLANDS STORIES. be told that someone has discovered his little secret and it is worse than he had thought. He rushes to the bathroom and shoves aside the screaming Ringi only to be met by the sight of his near naked motionless mother on the floor. The towel covers her as before only this time it is soaked! Cause of death, asphyxiation by a wet towel. Water boarded by her own son! Apart from the occasional stares from the Ringi, Mike is sure no one knows his now enormous you can be jailed for it secret. A lot of good things about Margaret, Mikes mum, are said at the funeral. Mike reads her Eulogy; the Ringi is one of her pall bearers. The husband is inconsolable for the jewel of his heart has been taken from him too soon. Since the incident, the Ringi has refused any advances from Mike. Two weeks after the funeral Mike is kicked out of the house by his dad. He cannot live with the killer of the love of his life, so he says. The reality though is that he doesnt want competition; for father and son have been drinking from the same cup! 2 weeks after that the Ringi moves into the master bedroom! Sasha, Mikes 6 year old sister is instructed to start calling the Ringi Mum instead of Aunty. Wambui, 10 years old, refuses. A week later she is taken by a real Aunt, Margarets sister. Mike today can be seen scrounging for drinks at various shopping centres in Eastlands. Nobody knows where he sleeps. To this day, house helps in Eastlands are referred to as Ringis, short for Waringitaji aka devious, deceitful, scheming, conniving, crafty conmen.

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

3
R UMOUR HAS IT

f a rumor was heard in the estate, you could take it to the bank that Mama Muya was somehow involved, more often as the one who blew it to stratospheric heights. The woman could spin enough tales to go around the world. Twice! She preferred to go by the

name Anne but everybody referred to her by her acronym, RHI for Rumour Has It. That she was beautiful was not in doubt. In fact her husbands favourite quote when drunk was from Samba Mapangalas famous song Marina which went thus, Uzuri wa mwanamke sio sura, ni tabia ahhh, (the beauty of a woman lies not in her looks but her manners) perhaps indicative of his deep regrets. Speaking of her husband, if there was a special Olympic for battered husbands, he would have won the gold outright. You see Timothy had not been a drinker before he married Anne. In his campus days while others made merry with their boom monies, Timothy gave it to his parents who invested in grade cows. They became the envy of the neighborhood. Anne on hearing this knew she had found a man who would provide her with the life she wanted. Right there and then she had sworn she would marry Timothy.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. Fast forward 15 years into the marriage and the constant whining and barrage of unwarranted attacks had turned Timothy into a DDO, Daily Drinking Officer. The one time rising star had stagnated at the office and everyone said he had a drinking problem but what he really had was an RHI problem. It was not only on Timothy that RHI unleashed her sharp tongue with the ferocity of a Tasmanian devil; other innocent bystanders too succumbed to her wrath. Take the case of Angote for instance. He had been called to pick up his sick child from school only to find his wasnt the only sick child. Tracey, RHIs first born daughter, was also sick and neither she nor Timothy could be reached. In an innocent kind gesture, one he would regret for the rest of his life, Angote had decided to take both of them to hospital and later drop Tracey home. After all he knew Timothy from PTA meetings and they had once shared a drink. Later, when RHI finally shut up about a hot new gossip, she found the text message requesting her to go pick up her sick daughter from school. Hurriedly she made her way to the school where upon hearing that her daughter had been taken by another man all hell broke loose. She called Mr. Angote and gave him an earful despite pleas from him that her daughter was already safely at home. Next she called Mrs. Angote and asked her what kind of home she was running where her husband was bringing in all sorts of little girls. On lookers blushed with embarrassment. When she got home she asked Tracey to show her to the Angotes. What followed was the most inexplicably excruciating thing to ever happen in the estate. Among others Mr. Angote was accused of being a lecherous and lascivious pedophile. No one came to his rescue; in fact some said they had suspected him for years. From that day hence parents held their children tighter whenever they saw him. Following pressure from the PTA, Mr. Angote was regrettably asked to
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EASTLANDS STORIES. transfer his kids from the school and keep off the school grounds. This was the final straw. He moved out in a week never to be heard from again. Dennis didnt have it any better. RHI swore to everyone she saw him coming out of a VCT Centre looking haggard and that he had recently lost a lot of weight. Before long, his girlfriend of three years damped him, friends started avoiding him and no one was willing to shake his hand. Fast food joints suddenly didnt have anything he ordered, even the sodas he could see in the fridge. Enough was enough. He too moved out of the estate. RHI hadnt bothered with the volunteer T shirt Dennis had on when he saw him at the VCT Centre or was it that the volunteer angle didnt make for good fodder for the rumour mill? Such was the price of a good deed! RHI boasted to anyone who gave her an ear that she had rid the estate of a pedophile and a health risk. That her justice was fast and swift, justice pap! She called it. What was that Churchill? A lie gets half around the world before the truth can put on its pants? I couldnt have put it better myself. For all her machinations there was one woman RHI couldnt get to, June, for she wore her dignity like an impregnable armor. Always composed, graceful and self-assured, she was the kind of woman who would make a great queen. RHI, secretly jealous of her, had a long time ago started a rumor that her husband had left her for a younger more fun to be with woman but everyone in the estate knew he had been a spineless coward who couldnt handle being overshadowed by a successful woman. June had handled the rumor with her usual poise and grace. Before long it was forgotten.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. It so happened that Junes only son, John, was graduating from engineering school and so June threw him a party. Out of sheer courtesy, RHI was invited for she would have invited herself anyway. As expected the party was classy and as always, RHI started her rounds loudly criticizing everything, from the food to the linens, the tent to the impressive guest list that counted several prominent businessmen and politicians. For all her money you would think she would hire professional caterers, RHI said to no one in particular while rolling her eyes as she chewed on a juicy drumstick. And didnt you all see Mheshimiwas (the honourble members) name in the papers recently? Something about him being charged with incitement and hate speech! You know white people say you are defined by the company you keep. Everybody wanted to tell her to shut up but no one dared so they

scrambled away from her table. June got wind of her mouthing off and as usual took it in her stride, perhaps understanding the woman had no sense of decorum. The final straw though came at the tail end of the celebrations when guests were shaking the graduands hand(a norm at such occasions whereby guests take turns to congratulate the graduand while giving him envelops stuffed with cash or cheques). While all the other guests commended the graduand for his achievement and asked him to aim higher before quickly handing over their envelops, RHI saw this as the opportunity to grind the axe she had always had for June. Who would have thought a day would come when the poor would be giving the rich money? she began her axe grinding with a joke only she found funny. Timothy, sitting in the back, took a gulp of his drink and slid a little lower in his chair. I have seen John grow up and go through so much that at one point I didnt think we would ever be here celebrating his graduation. I
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EASTLANDS STORIES. remember his sadness when his father left and how as a result he took to drinking from a very young age. I remember several incidents when he was brought home by his friends having had one too many and that terrible accident he had. It was I who talked to him several times just to let him know everything was going to be alright. After seeing that he really had no one to turn to it was I again who reached out to his father and encouraged him to be in his sons life for every young man needs a father figure. I am just ecstatic that as a result we are here celebrating this young mans graduation The guests clapped while looking at the floor hoping it would open up and swallow RHI. The Master of Ceremony to his credit was quick on his feet. He yanked the mic from RHI though she undoubtedly had more to say. Thank you Anne for being a source of inspiration to our young graduand. The Master of Ceremony joked to ease the palpable tension for the damage had already been done. RHI, too satisfied with herself to realize she was being mocked waved at the other guest who laughed even louder while looking away. No one missed the cold hug the two women exchanged nor the satisfied grin on RHIs face as she made her way to her seat. It is anybodys guess what must have gone through Junes mind for it is one thing to embarrass her infront of her guests by bringing up the subject of her ex-husband but to call her son a drunk in front of such distinguished guests was crossing the line. Try as she might, enough was enough. June had had all the RHI she could stomach but not being one to stoop to RHIs level she excused herself from the high table and made her way to where Timothy was seated. She pulled him aside. Timothy expecting he was being requested to escort his wife out of the party was quick to apologize for her behavior and was about to offer to escort her out when he was silenced by the wave of a perfectly manicured hand.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Under whose name is the title deed to your house? She went straight to the point. Only power does this. Timothy was struck by the question but recovered quickly. He too understood the language of power. Time is money. His palms started sweating, he could smell his freedom. Mine. What figure do you have in mind? A fair price provided we agree on some conditions. Within 10 minutes a deal had been struck. They shook hands. June felt sorry for the man. He was obviously brilliant but had wasted his better years on that wretched woman. The following week when RHI came back from her rounds, she was shocked to find the house empty and the padlocks changed. She was informed by the watchman that June had bought the house and he had been expressly instructed not to let her near the property, after all she was no longer a member of the estate. She too disappeared. Rumour has it she patronizes bars in Nairobi West tormenting any man nave enough to offer her a place to rest her head.

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

4
N OT A CINDERELLA STORY

t had been the same old routine for Mercy ever since she turned ten years old. After waking up at the second cocks crow, she would assist her mother in preparing breakfast of thick gruel and on better days yams or sweet potatoes. She would then wash the dishes

and tend to the chickens before picking up a 20 litre jerry can to fetch water from the river 2 kilometres away. Of late though, her mother had noticed a slight difference that caused her alarm. Mercy was taking her daily trips to the river a tad too seriously. She would apply milking jelly on her face, arms and legs until her skin shimmered in the early morning amber rays. She combed her hair with a hot iron comb then applied coconut oil to give it a glossy look and while she previously went barefoot, she now insisted on putting on her only pair of sandals. What her mother didnt know was that she carried one of her two unpatched dresses with her and would change in the bushes a few metres from their homestead and then change back to her tattered clothes when she got back from the river. It had all started 3 weeks prior. Mercy had been an ordinary sixteen year old village girl who hadnt given her looks too much thought. While she was slightly aware of her blossoming femininity for her bosom was blooming and her mid-section was becoming more pronounced
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EASTLANDS STORIES. such that her clothes now fit much tighter, she hadnt dwelt on it much. She had felt mens stares linger on her a bit longer than they previously did but this embarrassed her more than it excited her. That was until she received the best news of her life, at least that is what she thought at the time. Her good friend Mildred had excitedly informed her that Vicky had asked after her. Vicky was easily the village heart throb. Leading his high schools football team to the finals of the National Secondary Schools Term II Ball games for the first time ever the previous year had earned him instant celebrity status. Though they hadnt won, a village school going up against the big boys and giving a good account of themselves had been sensationalized by the media as a Cinderella Story placing the village on the National map for a rare few seconds. As the teams top scorer, most of the acknowledgement had gone to Vicky who to his credit had remained firmly grounded. There was always talk of him joining a top rated football team and moving to a big town but nothing had come to be so far. At first Mercy had taken news of Vickys interest in her casually but when she saw him playing football bare chest and he smiled at her with that gap between his upper incisors that reminded her of Kanda Bongoman she had been instantly smitten. Later that day she would excitedly ask the more knowledgeable and worldly Mildred, What do I do? Men like the thrill of the chase. Flirt with him to show that you are interested but dont let him touch you too soon lest he thinks you are lose. Mildred had told her in their mother tongue. Mercy had looked at her blankly not understanding what she was on about. Mildred had stared back at her in disbelief for a minute. How nave can you be? She had thought to herself. But then it had dawned on her, here was an open book on which she could write any story, a fresh canvas on which she could paint a masterpiece!
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Two weeks later, fetching water had turned from a tiresome dreary routine into an event Mercy looked forward to. She didnt have to struggle with the weight of the water now, Vicky carried it for her. She had been instructed by Mildred that the sure way to win his heart was to tag at his ego by laughing at his jokes, whether they were funny or not, and to compliment him often; she found that she neither had to fake a laugh nor look hard for a compliment for he was as good as advertised. Though every inch of her body now itched to be touched by him and she often dreamt of running her fingers over his taut masculine body, she had remained true to Mildreds instructions not to let him have his prize too soon. He is used to girls falling all over him so to get his attention you have to be different. Show him that yes you might be interested but no you are not that into him. Put on a dress that flatters your figure and make sure he sees it. How? A bewildered Mercy had asked. You know, walk in front of him several times, if you can run a bit, your behind will bounce more. And dont forget to bend over to pick a rock or something, it will drive him crazy. Mercy had waited for Mildred to smile and let out a hearty laugh signifying she was joking but it never came. She had chuckled at the thought of such deviousness. Nevertheless she did as instructed and it worked like a charm. Thrice she caught Vicky staring at her behind. His advances were now also less subtle if not aggressive. It took all of her will not to give in. Mercys mothers fears were confirmed when a neighbor whispered she had seen Mercy chuckling with a boy. Mercys mother rushed to her husband and reported the same. Mercy was
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EASTLANDS STORIES. called and asked if the allegations were true. For an answer she cried. Her father had declared in his unnerving gruff voice that he would not stand by another embarrassment like Mercys sister who had a child out of wedlock. Mercy herself was unsure. She had not given marriage any thought but knew better than to speak up against her father. Before the marriage negotiations could begin in earnest though, Mercys head teacher came calling. He begged Mercys father to allow the bright Mercy to finish high school first. A waiver of school fees was not enough; only mention of a tripling in bride price for an educated woman got Mercys dad to listen. The head teacher had to use all his charm but finally Mercys father agreed to let Mercy go to school. Mercy herself was never consulted. On the eve of schools opening day her sadness at not being able to see Vicky for the next 3 months clouded her judgment allowing him too far up her skirt before she bolted leaving him stunned. In school, she cursed herself for not asking for his address but none the less she poured her heart out in letters that would never be sent. For her it was an excruciating three months but they were soon over. Or so she thought. As per the fee waiver agreement, Mercy was supposed to work in the school on holidays so all she had was a one week break. That Vicky was away on trials on that very week didnt help in alleviating her pain either. It would be nine more months before they could see each other. By then life had been kind to them both. Playing semiprofessional football had developed his physic and he looked more mature now. She had shed her baby fat thus enhancing her feminine figure not to mention she was now more comfortable in her skin. The gods were truly in their favour. She had heard rumours that he had been seen with other women who were not mere girls like her. Mercy had a good mind to tell him off but when they met she couldnt bring herself to
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EASTLANDS STORIES. do it. The temptations were too great. She succumbed by the riverside: again and again and again. Mercy had never known such bliss. The two lovebirds gravitated toward each other with only time their enemy. Sooner than they would have wished, they had to part company. Promises of correspondence were made. They would never be kept. Upon arrival at school, Mercy learnt of a new rule that caused her alarm. All the girls had to undergo a pregnancy test before they could be admitted back in school. No exceptions. She hadnt received her period yet and her gut feeling said it all. The test proved more a confirmation than an inquisition. She was sent away with a letter. The journey to her village couldnt be more agonizing. She first looked up Vicky but he was already gone. She would learn three other girls were pregnant by him including her best friend Mildred. How could she have been so blind! With nowhere else to go she gathered up all her courage and headed home. She spoke first to her mother who had throughout advocated marriage. To her good graces her mother chose not to be sanctimonious at this hour. Her father though was a different kettle of fish. He was adamant he never wanted to see her again. With threats leveled against her mother if she so much as went against him on this, Mercy had no choice but to leave. She was told of relatives who lived in Nairobi; they would help her find work for with a child, marriage was now almost out of the question. And so it came to be that Mercy found her way to Nairobi, specifically Eastlands. Growing up, it had been to her that far off place with bright lights where dreams came true; she was in for a shocker.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. It is said that a child cries right after entering this world as a sign that it understands the suffering herein. If that be the case then Alvin must have known that his would be a life of endless strife for he cried long and hard then suddenly stopped. Accepting his fate? If only he could remember. It would mark one of the few times he would cry in his life. Mercy named her son Alvin after no one in particular. It was a break from the past. A new beginning after all the men in her life had betrayed her; her father, Vicky and her uncle who had tried to have his way with her the pregnancy notwithstanding. She had run away. With a little seed money she had saved while working as a packing girl in a shoe polish factory, Mercy started a vegetable vending business after giving birth to Alvin. Children were not allowed in the factory yet she couldnt find anyone to take care of him while she was at work. From his third month Alvin was strapped to Mercys back all day as she attended to her customers. She made only enough to get them both by. Growing up, Alvin had tomatoes and onions for toys, a leaf of spinach for a rattler and butternut for company. Hardened from a very young age, Alvin would find pleasure only in football and talking to his mother. Like father like son. He wasnt particularly bright but he worked hard in school. By the time he turned ten, Alvins mission in life was to get him and his beloved mother out of this cycle of poverty. He knew football would be their ticket so he gave it his all. It was not to be. As Alvin was preparing to leave for school one drizzling May morning, he heard loud banging on the door followed by the all too familiar shouting of the landlord. He locked eyes with his mother and could see the worry in her eyes. Mercy went out and locked the door behind her. He could still hear her mother begging for only one more day to come up with the rent. It took five

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EASTLANDS STORIES. minutes of pleading for the landlord to leave but not before giving her a very stern warning of what he would do if she didnt pay up. If I dont get my money by sundown today just know that I wont be as charitable as I am right now. By two Oclock that day Mercy had the money. Thank goodness it was her turn to collect Chama (Merry-go-round collection). But as if cursed by the gods, the money would not make it to the landlords hands. At a quarter to three, Mercy was one of those arrested by city council askaris in their random extortion swoops. She had to part with three hundred Shillings, a princely amount back then, to secure her freedom else it would have been a night in jail and a much steeper fine in court the following day. She was lucky she had the money on her. Most of her colleagues, some with babies barely a year old, were short. She knew a night in the cells for those babies was a sure death sentence yet if she didnt pay her rent today she might spend the night in the cold. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. The look in the mothers eyes said it all. After all she too was a mother. She loaned them monies to cover their bribes. She would have it back the following morning, they promised. Her landlord wasnt as generous nor understanding. He went into his usual monologue. What did I tell you this morning? I had the money but.. Mercy tried to explain. But but but but what? If you had the money why didnt you bring it to me? Dont you know where my office is? Tonight you are going to sleep on that butt. He said as he locked the door with his padlock. I have been soooo generous with you lot that you are beginning to think I
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EASTLANDS STORIES. have gone soft, havent you? You are taking my kindness for weakness; today it ends. Today you will find out that this is a business, not a charity. Do I look like mother Teresa? No. Then why is everybody coming to him with their hands out? Mercy by now was at his feet begging, as he looked down at her with contempt. Please Ken, just till morning. I promise you Ken I will have it by then. The landlord did not move for a minute as he studied her. That is what you said last week and the week before that, also yesterday and this morning. I am tired and weary of your promises. He said with his chin and voice raised for the benefit of the several neighbours who had come out of their apartments to see what the commotion was about. Clearly he cherished the attention. Please dont lock me out, Ill do anything. Now Ken looked at her with lowered eyebrows. You know you are not bad looking, he went on a little flirtatious, I could introduce you to some people who can help you make more money. Mercy slowly stood up and shoved him in the chest before hugging her son who was staring daggers at the Ken. Ken stumbled backwards but quickly regained his footing. He turned and as he walked away smiling, suit yourself. Remember though, this is Nairobi, you either make money or you make money. One neighbor after another walked back to their apartments and shut their doors leaving the sobbing Mercy and quiet Alvin alone in the hallway. It is not that they were mean, they had barely enough for themselves and their families.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. With nowhere else to go, Mercy and Alvin spent the night in her shed. She covered him with her shawl and wrapped her arms tightly around him to keep him warm. All she had to protect herself from the bitter night cold was a light blouse. Her colleagues found her early the following morning. Sleep had come very late the previous night for them both so they had overslept. Word quickly went round the market of her sacrifice. Touched, contributions flowed in from people she didnt even know. All who owed her paid up. By nine in the morning, she had her rent money and then some. Her landlords tune changed when he was handed his money. See, that is the motivation you needed. I know people think I am cold and heartless but you all dont know how hard it is to deal with you people, he went on in his new monologue. Inside her one roomed apartment, Mercy wrote Alvin a note to take to his teachers then went to bed. She would not get out of that bed alive! Mercy went to be with her maker a week later having been bedridden the entire time. The pathologist said the cause of death had been pneumonia. Alvin met his grandparents for the first time at the funeral. His grandmother seemed to genuinely mourn the loss of her daughter but his grandfather was stoic. He was asked to come live with them but knowing how they had treated his mother, he refused. Thus barely eleven years old, Alvin found himself alone in the world. School was out of the question. The priority was fending for himself. His first job was collecting discarded food items from the market and selling it to pig and chicken farmers. He supplemented this income by hawking fruits to motorists during rush hour traffic. On his way to his hawking
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EASTLANDS STORIES. job, he would pass by his former school and press his face against the mesh wire fencing as he watched for five minutes his former classmates playing football. After his mother, it is the one thing he missed the most and wished he could do just one more time. Alvin tried to save every Shilling he made so he could start a proper business. However with no access to banking, thieves kept breaking into his mud and paper shack and set him back several times. By the time he was turning eighteen though, Alvin had saved enough to rent a shed in one of the prime locations in the market where he sold the more profitable electrical and electronic goods such as pocket radios, wires, sockets, bulbs, extension cables and many more. His industry and honesty earned him a good reputation among fellow traders and customers. For the next two years, business boomed. He acquired two more sheds next to his and supplied other traders with electrical and electronic goods. His plan to move into the more lucrative wholesale business was slowly taking shape. It would not be. On the morning of February 18th Alvin and his fellow traders woke up to smoldering embers of what had been their market: very little if anything had been salvaged. With no insurance, they had lost everything invested in the market. There would be no rebuilding: the city council had allotted the plot to a developer. It didnt take a genius to put two and two together. Protests, running battles and press conferences followed but no one came to the aid of the traders. Having mouths to feed and rents to pay, the traders sought other avenues of generating incomes. Even the little they had had been taken away. More begets more while less, well it loses out. It was another painful start from scratch for Alvin. Using the savings in a jar hidden in the rafters of his roof he made a small shed on a street corner and started a kiosk business. To save money, he lived and worked in the kiosk thus it was open eighteen hours a day. Within three years he
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EASTLANDS STORIES. had moved into the ground floor of a permanent building and by the time he was turning thirty he was operating two supermarkets in the estate. He was destined for great things, everybody said. Six years earlier he had met Alice, his first employee. A single successful man working long hours so closely with an attractive single lady would undoubtedly have sparked something. But it had not been her beauty that attracted Alvin, rather it was her hard work and talkative nature. Being a quite reserved person, Alvin had been amused by the motor mouthed Alice who always had an interesting story to tell. She became the bright light in his otherwise dull life. It had taken him two years to make a move. He would regret it for the rest of his life. Their short courtship and subsequent marriage was not the stuff fairy tales are made of for their difference didnt end with how many syllables each could say per minute. Thrift had always been one of Alvins strongest suites but Alice knew she was marrying into money and expected the full package of nice clothes, salon trips, a furnished house and a maid. Hell she knew how much he was making and he could easily afford to provide nice things for her. Love left the homestead as soon as she moved in the only bind between them being the child she was carrying. To Alvin, the erstwhile charming employee had turned into a monster. Having had no relation with a female other than his mother, he couldnt comprehend Alices moody, irrational and emotionally over the top nature. How one spent two thousand Shillings on their hair while his hair cut cost only a twenty was beyond him. In any case, whom did she want to look good for? Wasnt she already a married woman? In his view this and her myriad other demands were unreasonable and would keep him from growing the business. To her he was a stingy unromantic fool who didnt care about the mother of his yet to be born child.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. And so it was that they reached an impasse each not willing to yield. For years a cold war would exist between them. Unkind words were said to him by Alice which drove him to spend more time working. In time he would hear rumours of Alices affairs. He either didnt pay them much attention or didnt care. On his son Ians sixth birthday, Alvin had taken a rare day off to celebrate the occasion. He planned to take him to lunar park for Merry go round rides. When he got home in mid-morning he found a man in a vest playing with his son. He knew this was the man screwing his wife but mad as he was he was in no mood for a confrontation. He gave instructions for Ian to be cleaned up. It was Alices statement that made him see red. Where do you think you are taking our son? She had asked standing at the kitchen door with only a negligee on. No reward for guessing she was very comfortable around the man in the vest. Alvin trying to remain as cool as he could walked towards Ians bedroom to put a rush on the cleanup. He would deal with this when Ian wasnt around. Alice moved to intercept him. I asked you a question! She had said shoving him. I dont care what the two of you do but keep my son out of it, had been Alvins whispered between the teeth reply. And what makes you think he is your son? Alice had said while poking his chest with a finger. You stupid useless man, cant you see he looks like his father, She pointed at the man in the vest. It had taken three men to pull Alvin from her and when they finally did her swollen face was covered in blood. The neighbours understood. It had only been a matter of time before Alvin snapped; after all he was only human. However the police arrested him for assault. Such is the
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EASTLANDS STORIES. law. What about emotional assault? Causing gross embarrassment? Cruelty! Torture! And what of being a bitch! Arent there laws against such heinous crimes? It would take 4 days for Alvin to regain his freedom for Alice had bribed almost every cop at the station. At home more bad news awaited him. Alice had cleared out the house to the last light bulb and tissue paper. Same with his supermarkets; she had fired the staff, emptied the tills and carried away all the stock. Only empty shelves stared back at him when he went to inspect the damage. She hadnt left a note. Her actions had been loud and clear, TAKE THAT YOU BASTARD. He never bothered to look for her or Ian, he was afraid of what he would do if he laid his hands on her. Just the thought of her made him shake with rage. Two weeks later he used the last of his savings to buy a second hand matatu. Thank goodness she couldnt access his bank accounts. We will rebuild, he told himself. How many times have we done it before? He wouldnt. Between rival gangs fighting over bus terminus, extortion from the police and his employees stealing from him, he soon realized the matatu business was no cup of tea. He was barely breaking even and when he fired the driver so that he could drive it himself, save on the wages and look after his investment a delegation from one of the gangs posing as route managers was sent to warn him that is not how the matatu business is run. You either pay a drivers registration fee or employ one of our drivers! he was told. Considering he had already forked out a fortune for his matatu to be allowed to ply the route and was seeing no returns on his investment despite earlier promises of healthy bottom lines, Alvin refused. His matatu was torched. Such is the lawlessness that you have to pay someone to embezzle from you.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Alvin took the loss of the very last of his life savings very hard. It is said he walked around for three days dazed. Friends whispered amongst themselves that the previously ever present glee in his eyes had disappeared. He walked around like a zombie, going through the motions of life but not actually living. What had he done to the gods? Why had they forsaken him? Everyone who heard his story concluded he was cursed. They didnt want to associate with him lest they catch the curse too. To earn a living, he took up the only job available to an outcast; crashing stones at the quarry. From dawn till dusk, under pounding rain or scorching sun he swung his hammer to crash stones without saying a word to anyone. He wore the same expression throughout: the expression of a man who didnt care for anything in the world. No one knew where he went after work. They were content to let him be. Three months after he started working at the quarry dozens of city council askaris descended there for their routine extortion raids. Alvins colleagues had urged him to like them, run away but he had stayed put crashing stones seemingly with no regard to the looming arrest. One stone crasher said he heard Alvin chanting under his breath, please let this be the day Lord, please let it be. The first Askari to touch him had a closed casket at his funeral for Alvins hammer, swung with all the pent up rage, connected with his temple. His soul met its maker before he hit the ground, his face smashed beyond recognition. Two more askaris would suffer critical injuries before he was subdued. It is rumoured that for a very brief moment Alvin had smiled! He didnt speak a word at his trial. The prosecutor, judge and the media called him a cold hearted killer among other things. Many in the court knew only fear of losing everything prevented them
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EASTLANDS STORIES. from swinging a similar hammer at a council askari or any other authority figure for that matter. They silently cheered for him. He was sentenced to hang, a sentence he to this day awaits at Kamiti Maximum Security Prison. The glee in his eyes returned twelve years after when his then eighteen year old son Ian came to see him. Asked if he has any regrets about his life he said without flinching. Not moving out of Eastlands when I had the money.

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

5
W ILL THE REAL DAD P LEASE STAND UP

rom an early age it was evident that he was a special child for he exceled in everything he did. In his nursery school Christmas Carol, he was the lead singer. By the time he reached standard four he had been appointed class monitor and had

participated in national Tae Kwon Do championships. That he was bright was also not lost on anyone who observed or heard him speak. The apple of his fathers eye, he paraded him to his friends and talk of a future career in politics perhaps even the presidency was never far from his fathers lips. That he lacked for nothing was no surprise. All this attention he took in good grace. Instead of asking for bicycles and other fancy toys like other boys his age, he asked for paint and a range of brushes. His father didnt understand but couldnt bring himself to deny him. The resultant landscape painting took everyones breadth away. The master piece was hung in the living room. The paint and brushes were stored away never to be used again. Next he asked for drawing pencils. Six of them, from B to six B. The father couldnt understand how a pencil could cost one hundred and fifty Shillings while some were going for as little as three Shillings. Again he couldnt bring himself to deny him. He
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EASTLANDS STORIES. wouldnt regret it for the resultant portrait of the family was simply genius. The use of light and shadow, texture and movement made the images appear life like. Everyone agreed it was way beyond the boys years. People go to art school for four years to learn how to do this, a guest commented to the delight of the father. When asked what had inspired him, he said like Michael Angelo before him, I want to free life out of the carbon in the paper and pencil. No one understood him. The drawing was hung next to the painting and the pencils found a permanent place in the back of a drawer. The folly of genius, easy come easy go. Only the mother noticed her sons constant change of heart. When she casually mentioned it to her husband, she was dismissed for a scare monger. She would never breach the subject again though she was sure of what she was talking about for her son had never concentrated on any one thing for more than a week. Next the son trained his sights on novels. He found John Grishams novels to be particularly intriguing. He couldnt get enough of the intricacies of the law and before long he mentioned to his more than delighted father that he wanted to be a lawyer. After all arent most members of the august house lawyers? His father could be heard saying at his watering hole. No one doubted that he would make a great lawyer. High School came and went. He scored good grades but not enough to get into Law School for in High School he had picked up other interests, sports and girls. The father was disappointed but insisted on paying for a parallel degree. You must be a lawyer, he told him. Keen not to disappoint his father a second time, he obliged.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Two years into Law School he loathed the law. For him everything had always been clear; black or white, right or wrong. The law is full of gray areas. Reading through court files he found that most rulings didnt fit in with his conscience. Deep down he knew he would never practice law. Bored in the library one day, he picked up a copy of the student magazine. Reading through it he decided to do an article aptly titled Someone Must Know Something Others Dont. In the article he decried lawyers and lawmakers for complicating even the most mundane of things. He juxtaposed between the law and the automotive industry thus. .We refer to our brethren as learned friends, me wonders what this means. Could it be that we know something other people dont know for certainly other professionals have been to school too yet we are the only ones that are learned! My thinking is as learned friends, we are on to something other professionals are yet to master and that something is complication. Today, armed with only a manual, a barely literate man can assemble a car for the unspoken rule in the industry is simplify, simplify, simplify. Today computer codes get simpler and simpler while constitutions and new laws get more and more complicated.. .. As other industries moves towards simplicity, the opposite is true for law as lawmakers use complicated language while drafting laws so that they can be hired to argue their interpretation in court. Hardly can you find two lawyers with the same interpretation of any chapter in the constitution. Albert Einstein, he who was undoubtedly more learned than all of us stated thus, If you cannot explain it to a child and make him understand then you too dont understand it He further argued any fool can make it bigger and
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EASTLANDS STORIES. more complicated, it takes genius to simplify. I dont hear any other interpretation for thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal or thou shalt not commit adultery yet with such a magnificent precedent why do we continue on the path we are on? Someone must know something others dont! ..From Hammurabis Code to the magna Carta and the Napoleonic Code laws were designed to protect the people not just from one another but also from the king and those in authority. Today, laws are drafted in complex language to save the king and his minions from the people. Is it any wonder that a criminal with a sharp lawyer always gets off scott free while an innocent man without means to hire a lawyer is guaranteed injustice! Is it any wonder also that todays constitutions are written by lawyers while Hammurabi, Napoleon and the drafters of the Magna Carta were simple soldiers. Surely someone must know something others dont Everyone on campus commented about how on point the article was. He was offered a monthly column. Two months later he was inundated with requests to write for other student magazines. In the Campus Economist he wrote an article titled Micro vs. Macro, The Main Pillar of The VISION. Economic professors couldnt agree more. In Fine Art, after 2 days of research, he did a piece about the influence of Rembrandt on Self-Potraits. Art professors blushed. A few days later he received a phone call from a literature professor inviting him to coffee. Over tea and croissants the professor informed him that he had been thoroughly impressed with his work. Over subsequent discussions it emerged that the two were quite similar and that they were blessed with too many talents to waste in one profession. Writing was the only way to make use of all their faculties. It was further agreed by both men that while soldiers alter the course of
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EASTLANDS STORIES. history it is thinkers/writers like Niccolo Machiavelli, Oliver Cromwell, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Voltaire and Jomo Kenyatta among others who actually change its course. It was finally clear as crystal what he wanted to do: what he was meant to do. Without a second thought, he quit Law School. The father was beside himself with fury when he heard the designate lawyer wanted to pursue writing. The following one year was both the darkest and most joyful in his young life. His father refused to talk to him leave alone look at him. To his friends the song had changed, he was now that cursed boy. If he noticed his fathers cold shoulder, he didnt dwell on it much for he immersed himself in his thoughts and writing. It was to him a period of splendid isolation. The book came out a year and a half later. Opinion was sharply divided. Those who understood it hailed it as work of a certified genius. Those who didnt rubbished it as not worth the paper it was printed on. The former were a very small minority. The book was titled Hearts of Men and was about human psychology and how to bring about lasting change in Africa through a mix of the velvet touch and real politic. Sigmund Freud, Otto Von Bismark and Machiavelli would have been proud. His publishers arranged a European and North America speaking tour for him. He could bring along two people. His father refused so he took his mother and the literature professor. The tour was moderately successful. Small but passionate audiences showed up, mostly Africans in the diaspora. They were thoroughly impressed with the young mans knowledge and eloquence. The three had a wonderful time touring the two continents when they had some free time. He found his mother quite knowledgeable too; perhaps the source of his genius? If only there was a way to find out. The three blossomed in each others company.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Three months later, he was back in Eastlands and with his mind open he was sure of his next project; his sights were firmly trained on the world. Unfortunately, his father had been taken ill, prostate cancer. The hospital was asking for a three hundred thousand Shilling deposit for him to undergo an operation. Apparently the father was broke; he had already mortgaged the house to cover his university tuition hence his resentment towards his son. More bad news was to come; the literature professor had been fired. Absconding duty, they said. On receiving the news he had a heart attack. The doctors said he needed open heart surgery and a pace maker. Deposit amount, three hundred and eighty thousand Shillings. He had lost his medical insurance along with the job and his supporting 6 destitute children hadnt been healthy for his savings. He had no family. On inquiring he found that after expenses and the publishers cut, he only had four hundred and fifty thousand Shillings left. There was no time for a Harambee. Only one could be saved. A decision needed to be made and be made fast. His mother was no help either, she had secretly fallen in love with the witty and charming professor and come to loath the man she had been married to for twenty four years. The decision wasnt as hard once he invoked the principle of utilitarianism. Whose life would serve the greater good? It was black and white. He passed by the hospitals accounts office and gave them a cheque. As he was handing over the cheque he got a call, it was worse than they had initially thought. The professor had succumbed. He withdrew the cheque and quickly wrote another one. The world would never know he had chosen his intellectual dad over his biological dad.

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

6
A MOTHERS AGONY

aising 3 children with the streets of Eastlands for a father figure is not an easy task, so has Maria Kungu come to learn. Her first born, Kanyi, was killed in what was clearly a deal gone sour. He had been only 17 years old but he was known not to be

a saint. Some neighbors had actually rejoiced when they heard the news. Maria hadnt shed a tear; she had resolved to work harder so that her remaining daughter and son would not resolve to crime to put a few Shillings in their pockets. She had also started keeping a keen eye on them as well as vetting their friends and taking them to church at least three times a week in the hope that they would find God. For good measure, Maria had also visited a witchdoctor to ward off any curses or spells that might have been cast their way. Two years later when her daughter Alison turned 16, Maria noticed her new and expanding wardrobe for which she could not account where she was getting the money from. Maria confronted her severally but she declined to say anything more than Ive earned it. Maria couldnt believe her ears for she had a deep suspicion of what Alison meant by this. What had she done wrong this time? Why does this keep happening to her? She had prayed and fasted over this night and day for 2 weeks but could see no changes in her daughter. When a neighbor
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EASTLANDS STORIES. informed her that she had spotted Alison in a bar with a much older man, Maria had known there and then that it was neither her parenting skills nor a curse. The streets of Eastlands are simply made of quicksand, when you step on them there is only one way you are going, down! Seeing no hope in Alison, Maria turned her attention to the 12 year old Ray. She had to get him out of Eastlands as fast as possible. She sent him to boarding school and to his uncles over the holidays. He was never allowed back in Eastlands and contact with his sister who was now almost always pregnant was kept to a minimum. Though Maria missed her son terribly she promised herself that he would never set foot in Eastlands again. She was convinced that keeping him away from the negative life sucking influences of Eastlands was the only way to protect him. It is all for a greater good, she told herself every night as she kissed his picture and said a prayer for him. Ray flourished in his new world. His diligence and hard work endeared him to his teachers and uncles. Perhaps he had seen his brother and sister waste away their lives and didnt want to end up the same. Perhaps it was because he was now surrounded by positive influences. Perhaps it was just his nature; we will never know. Maria was beside herself with joy at this turn of events. After all there was a ray of hope, she dared hope. Determined that Ray would be the first Kungu to see the inside of a university lecture theatre Maria had saved every cent she could spare towards this end. And so it was that when the university admission letter finally came Maria could be forgiven for her overkill. She was an insufferable bundle of joy. Those who didnt know her misunderstood her new found happiness for conceit. Those who knew her story celebrated with her, whispering among themselves, After all she has been through, she deserves a good turn.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Convinced more than ever before that sending Ray away from Eastlands was the best decision she had ever made, Maria insisted that Rays going away party be held at his uncles place in the village. She sent money to cover the cost of a goat and several drums of local brew. The villagers had a most wonderful time celebrating the achievements of a local hero. She couldnt make it to the party herself, work commitments. This though still didnt dampen her spirits as she attended Kesha (all night praise and worship) at her church to celebrate and give thanks. After six years of saving and a few lucky investments, Rays university fund was substantial by Eastlands standards. With the near eighty percent government sponsorship, Maria was able to pay two years tuition and boarding fees and set an expense account for Ray. She was determined he would lack for nothing in his quest to become the first Kungu to be conferred the right to read and do all that appertains to his degree. First year of university whizzed past and before long it was time for the long break. The tea factory near his uncles place was only too willing to give Ray an internship. Maria, whose elation had since ebbed due to her daughter Alisons troubled fourth pregnancy, received the news as a brief pause in the cycle of bad news. It wouldnt be long before more unwanted news would knock on her door. Two weeks into Rays internship, the minister for National Security gave a shoot to kill order against members of a certain proscribed gang after a protracted war with them. Within days many young men in the neighbourhood and the region at large disappeared only to be found dead, their bodies riddled with bullet holes, decapitated or mutilated. Some would never be found. Who committed the heinous acts was a tossup between the police and the gang. In the war between these two armed groups, it was the innocent young men of the region who suffered.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. The police shot first and asked questions later while the gang eager to bolster their ranks declared an either you are with us or against us policy; neutrals were deemed infidels and treated harsher than the enemy. After a long phone conversation in which no alternatives were found, it was agreed Ray would be safer in Eastlands for the duration of his holiday. And so it came to be that Maria was forced to go back on her promise never to allow Ray to set foot in Eastlands. Rays return to Eastlands was not one of fanfare nor was there merriment of any form. Most of his childhood friends had since died at the hands of the police, rival gangs or been exiled from Eastlands by the no nonsense Mawe aka Terminator (related story in Legends of Eastlands), a fact Maria didnt hesitate to remind him. Ray assured her he was well aware of the vagaries of life in Eastlands and would stay well clear of them. True to his word Ray spent his days watching movies, reading and helping out his sister. He found living with three ill-mannered nephews and a pregnant, moody and temperamental sister life sapping. He took hour long walks round the neighbourhood in the evenings to enjoy a smoke while winding down after a long day of shouting and fighting to remain sane. He had had to fight Maria hard to get this much needed me time. Three weeks passed without incidence. The previously apprehensive Maria was beginning to get used to the idea of her son being around. Perhaps I worry too much, she told a friend. She was right to worry though, for her worst fears were about to come true. The nightmare started with a simple cryptic text from Ray. Mum, Im at the police station. Please come! Maria had tried to call him back but his phone went unanswered and soon after went off completely. Sensing trouble, Maria had immediately handed cooking duties to the less than enthusiastic Alison who wasnt too pleased with Ray being babied. She then made her
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EASTLANDS STORIES. way to the police station a thousand thoughts running through her mind as to what might have happened. On arriving at the police station, Maria had first searched among the usual small groupings of people outside the station for her son. It was the best case scenario she prayed for. Maybe he came to see a friend and his phone ran out of charge. She hoped but deep down she knew it didnt make any sense for why then would he ask her to come over so urgently? Still she searched, for the alternative that her son had been arrested for criminal behavior was untenable to her imagination. This cant be happening again, it cant! she repeated to herself as she looked around for him. Ten minutes into her search it was clear he was not outside. There was only one other place he could be: she braced herself as she walked over to the Occurrence Book desk at the station. Knowing how things work there, Maria had pressed a folded hundred Shilling note into the hand of the police constable manning the occurrence book. The constable had looked at it then unnecessarily loudly asked in Swahili, How can I help you Maam? I am looking for Ray Kungu, She had replied. As he opened the occurrence book, When was he brought in? He called me about forty minutes ago telling me he was here. Ahhh, the loiterers, the constable said as he closed the occurrence book and picked a folded piece of paper from the desk. He skimmed through it for a minute while repeating the name Ray Kungu, Ray Kungu, Ray Kungu as he went down the list. He suddenly stopped and looked up at Maria. He is here, arrested for loitering.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Maria breathed a sigh of relief. As far as bad news go it was the best she could have hoped for for she was well aware of this extortion ploy by the police whereby young idle men are arrested allegedly for loitering and since everyone dreads the unpredictable court system the victims undoubtedly doll out bribes to the police to secure their freedom. That Rays name was on a piece of paper and not in the Occurrence book also boarded well for Maria for it meant her son was not officially in the system, just a victim of an extortion plot. It was an unnecessary inconvenience but one they had learned to live with. Can I see him? She asked. The constable looked at Maria here is one ripe for the taking written on his face. Maam, you will see your son in court tomorrow. Maria knew this was the second act in the script, threats to up the ante. She too stuck to the script and delivered her line. I am sure we can come to an understanding, she said with her most disarming smile. Any other day I am sure we could have but they, he said tapping the list, were arrested by the OCS who has already left for the day. There is nothing I can do. "He is raising the stakes by invoking his superiors name, clever this one, Maria thought. Out loud she persisted, why cant we deal with this just me and you? Maam Ive told you I wasnt the arresting officer so my hands are tied in this matter. Just come tomorrow bright and early before they are taken to court. I am sure the OCS will listen to you I am supposed to be at work early tomorrow. Are you sure I cant just finish up with you right now? The constable shook his head NO a smile on his face. Does he really have to spend the night in jail for such a small offence? Maria pleaded.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. It really is out of my hands but dont worry, he is safe here. He replied. Maria pleaded and offered bribes for five more minutes but the constable remained adamant that Ray was the OCSs prisoner and much as he would have liked to help there was nothing he could do. Eventually Maria resigned herself to the fact that Ray would have to spend the night in jail. She shuddered at the thought plus how deep in her pockets she would have to dig especially with the knowledge that the higher the rank, the deeper in her pocket she would have to dig. Before leaving for home Maria bought a half a loaf of bread, a packet of milk and a pack of cigarettes. She again had to part with another hundred Shillings to make sure Ray got the goods. Upon insisting that her two hundred had bought her enough goodwill to at least see Ray receiving the goods the Constable had gone to a small grilled window on a wall behind the occurrence book desk and shouted Rays names. A few minutes later Maria saw her frightened son on the other side of the grilled glassless window. He tried to smile and wave but fear was clearly evident in his eyes. Maria had waved back before turning away as tears welled in her eyes. The constable pushed the bread with the cigarettes hidden between the slices and the milk between the grills then ordered Ray back. There being nothing else she could do, Maria had sought reassurance from the constable that her son would be safe before leaving. Are you sure he is going to be okay? A concerned Maria had asked. There is nothing to worry about, just be here early tomorrow. The constable had reassured her. The next day, Maria was at the station bright and early. She was surprised at the courtesy extended to her when she introduced herself to the new constable manning the occurrence book. Is the OCS in? She had asked the new constable manning the Occurrence Book on arrival.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Yes, what do you want from him? had been the initial rude reply. My son was arrested last night for loitering. Ahhh, the criminals, he retorted rather tastelessly. Whats his name? Maria swallowed hard. It was all she could do not to lose her cool after spending the night tossing in bed worrying about her son. Ray Kungu. She replied her eyes narrowed. It was as if the names jolted the constable for he suddenly recovered from his slouched position and stood at attention. Mrs. Kungu! Yes, the OCS has already arrived. Ill show you to his office. Maria was baffled at this sudden change in attitude. As she followed the constable she thought to herself, What just happened? The constables change of attitude was bizarre to say the least. After taking a left then a right corner, the constable suddenly stopped at a door marked OFFICER IN CHARGE OF STATION (OCS). He knocked on the door then opened it to reveal an office with a huge old desk flanked by two metal cabinets, three guest chairs and a high backed chair on the other side of the desk. Above the high backed chair was the national coat of arms, the police emblem and framed pictures of the President and the Police Commissioner. On the desk next to a sheaf of papers was a black peaked cap, undoubtedly the OCSs. He must have just stepped out; please wait here as I try to get hold of him, the constable said ushering Maria in. Can I get you anything? Maria shook her head no. Are these the reforms everybody is talking about? Maybe they have also stopped demanding for bribes. She hoped but quickly rubbished the thought for that would be too giant a leap. Maybe this is part of the extortion plot, she got suspicious. They are really pulling all the stops! She thought to herself
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EASTLANDS STORIES. worrying they might demand a figure she couldnt afford. Darn it, why was I so generous last night! They must think I am rich! She cursed herself for as a secretary in an advertising agency, she had seen a thousand times over clients getting pampered before being slapped with huge bills. They are in for a rude shock, she thought as she smiled. The unusual civility, unheard of within the police force, would turn out to be the calm before the storm for nothing could have prepared her for what came next. The OCS came in three minutes later. His booming voice had announced his presence well before he got to his office. Mrs. Kungu, he said clasping Marias tiny hands in his huge sand paper rough hands when he came into the office. Have you been offered a beverage? Thank you but I have to get to work soon. About my son.. Maria said as she stared up at the giant of a man. The OCS turned the chair next to Maria to face her and sat on it. Maria was immediately intimidated by his huge physique but tried not to let it show. After consulting a notebook on his desk, Ray is it? Yes, She replied rather timidly but then bolstered her courage. Yes, she said more confidently. Mrs. Kungu, do you have someone we can call? At this Maria had gotten apprehensive. Something was definitely wrong. She shifted forward in her chair, Can we just get down to business sir, I am already running late and my boss doesnt take very kindly to tardiness. She said trying to look the OCS in the eye if only to read him. She noticed he was a little shifty; perhaps he wanted her to initiate the conversation. She decided to bite the bullet. She dug around in her handbag and produced a white envelope which she pushed
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EASTLANDS STORIES. towards the OCS. That is all I have, I dont even know how my son and grandkids will survive for the rest of the month. She pleaded. After about five seconds of the OCS moving stuff around his desk but not touching the envelope he leaned forward and looked straight at Maria with his big cold eyes. He again clasped Marias outstretched hand this time with both his hands in a consoling gesture. Maria was surprised but didnt move. Mrs. Kungu I am afraid I have some bad news, he had said in the most consoling tone he could master but he still sounded like a drill sergeant issuing an order. How hard it is to shed decades old habits in an instant. Your son hanged himself in the cells last night. Maria stared at him blankly for five seconds waiting for him to call his own poor joke but when she noticed he wasnt smiling her mouth went dry while her heart thumped in her chest. Wha.whawhat do you mean he hanged himself? She stuttered. I saw him, he was okay last night. Hang himself! Maria was now talking to no one in particular. The OCS moved closer to Maria. I am very sorry for your loss Mrs. Kungu but is there anyone we can call to come pick you up? I want to see my son. Maria said curtly before pulling back her hand from his clasp. The OCS just stared at him with those huge eyes not knowing what to do or say. I SAID I WANT TO SEE MY SON! Maria shouted. He has already been taken to the mortuary. Do you have anyone we can call to accompany you there? Maria who had started tearing lost it, DONT YOU GET IT! YOU HAVE TAKEN AWAY THE ONLY PERSON I HAD IN THIS WORLD, MY ONLY SOURCE OF HOPE! She
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EASTLANDS STORIES. shouted again. With this the floodgates really opened. The OCS sat there helpless staring at her as she cried and heaved. Ten minutes later Maria was still weeping and sniveling with no end in sight. The OCS who just sat there not a clue as to what to do eventually left his office and a minute later two constables came in. They tried to gently usher Maria out of the office but she fought off their effort slapping them in the chest with her hands. Dont you touch me you murderers! Dont you dare touch me! She shouted at them repeatedly as they led her to an open area at the back of the police station. There in relative isolation, Maria sat down, placed her head between her knees and continued weeping. Passersby didnt bother to ask her what was going on: it was an all too familiar sight. An hour later Maria had ran out of tears with only bloodshot eyes and the periodic sniffle announcing her mourning. Within the hour Maria went from denial to angry stage of mourning. She couldnt believe Eastlands had robbed her of yet another son. I have done everything within my powers yet Eastlands has claimed yet another of my children. What am I to do? Where am I to go? Who can I turn to? She asked herself. YOU HAVE ROBBED ME OF YET ANOTHER SON! She shouted at no one in particular. Another hour later, Maria was helped into the back of a police Land Cruiser. She had insisted she had no one to call so off to the mortuary they went to identify Rays body. At the mortuary, her knees buckled under the weight of overwhelming emotions when she saw her sons lifeless body on the table. She had to be carried outside. If there was any anomaly she didnt notice for her eyes were clouded with tears.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. It was her brother, Rays uncle, who raised the alarm two days later. On his visit to the mortuary, he noted a bump on the back of Rays head. On closer examination, neither a hang mark nor a mark of any nature was found on Rays neck. The family raised this issue with the police and demanded an autopsy plus an explanation of the circumstances that led to the late Rays arrest. The government pathologists report released three days later stated Ray Kungu had died of a crashed windpipe consistent with hanging. He did not take questions. As for why he was in jail in the first place, the police said he had been a known and wanted criminal! They refused to answer any more questions. How can a hanging not leave any mark on the neck and where did the bump on the head come from? Members of the family and close friends asked themselves after learning about the pathologists findings. Other pertinent questions raised eyebrows. What did he hang himself with? People in jail are stripped off belts and shoe laces for exactly this reason. Everybody knows there are no bed sheets in jail so what exactly did he use to hang himself with! And how come no one came to his aid in time while we all know jails are overcrowded? Why was he in jail in the first place? What crime had he committed? The more questions they asked the more convinced they were of mischief by the police who remained loudly mum. The family demanded another autopsy and refused to inter Rays body until they got some concrete answers. How can his soul rest in peace without justice? His uncle asked at a press conference he called. Rays colleagues in university too were at the press conference. Their fiery leader asked questions that resonated with everyone present. Why had the police told Rays mother that he had been arrested for loitering? Why was there no entry of his arrest in the Occurrence Book? How could a hard core criminal have been so easily arrested? Judging from his modest living
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EASTLANDS STORIES. where had Ray taken the fortune that had accrued from his alleged criminal activities? Where were the witnesses and /or victims who could attest to his alleged crimes? How could he or any other person for that matter live a double life as a star student and a criminal mastermind? How could he have perpetrated crimes in Eastlands when he had not set foot there for over seven years? Who were his accomplices? Was there any tangible evidence to support their claims? Rays roommate in campus meanwhile said that in the year he had known Ray his only vice had been smoking cigarettes. He urged the police not to be economical with the truth. We have lost a dear loved one, please dont let us send him to the afterlife with lies and falsehoods attached to his name. What happened has already happened and we cant change that but the truth can at least help us come to terms with it. The familys pastor summarized. Unfortunately the story of Rays death never aired on television nor appeared in the newspapers; the latest opinion polls on presidential candidates dominated television and newspaper headlines for a week. What is one death compared to the presidency? The noise subsided and within the week Ray was but a distant memory to everyone but Maria. Family and close neighbours urged Maria to bury her son and get on with life, after all she still had a daughter, three grandkids and a fourth on the way. You cannot fight the system! they told her. For her however it was not that easy. What reason did she have to work hard to provide for her daughter and grandchildren if a similar fate awaited them? Is there a purpose to all her sacrifice when they would still amount to naught? She had grappled with these and other questions day and night since her sons death but had not found an answer. After much soul searching and reading from the scriptures she still did not have a single

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EASTLANDS STORIES. answer to any of her questions. She refused to bury her son with these questions hanging over her head. It was a newspaper column The Diary of a Person Living with HIV in a local daily brought to her attention by a neighbor who understood her predicament that shed light to her situation. I used to ask God everyday Why me? Why me? Why me? To which I got no answer. I fell into a depression for I couldnt understand why God was punishing me yet I had endeavored to live my life as the ideal Christian. I prayed every day, observed the Sabbath, gave tithe, was kind to the poor and obeyed the Ten Commandments yet He still sent me this death sentence. I couldnt understand how other men and women, greater sinners than me and thus more deserving of this punishment than me, went about healthy as a horse while my days on earth were numbered, so to speak, by my condition. I listened to various men of the cloak and attended counseling but still no one provided me with a satisfactory answer. That was until one day when I was very near the end of my rope and suicide was increasingly becoming an attractive option I happened upon a sermon on radio. It was as if the preacher was addressing me personally for he answered all the questions that had been nagging me. He said ninety percent of Christians misunderstood Christianity. That Christianity is not a faith based on punishment for evil doers and rewards for the righteous here on earth but a quest to understand the nature of God. That temptations and trials are sent our way to test and strengthen our faith. That God doesnt set temptations He knows we cannot overcome nor should we expect them to be so obvious. The preacher, I remember, referred to Job who was tested to the limit yet his faith in God never wavered despite losing all his wealth, family, friends and his body
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EASTLANDS STORIES. being riddled with diseases. The man of God beseeched all of us Christians to be unquestioningly faithful to the Lord for all good and bad comes from him and all will be explained in the end. At the time the sermon just encouraged me to keep my faith and live one day at a time. However with hindsight, I can say the preacher was spot on for this curse has turned out to be the biggest blessing in my life. It has given me a purpose to live and today I find more meaning in life than I ever would have without this disease. In my quest to fight the disease as well as alleviate the pain of others who suffer from the condition, I have travelled the world and met some of the brightest and most interesting people on earth. Today, I wake up knowing I have a purpose in life. I often ask myself what if I had taken my life, how much would I have missed Maria immediately related to the writer. This was definitely a temptation sent her way. She had to keep her faith and she had to look forward to a brighter tomorrow. Hope is all we have in this life. Hope for a better tomorrow is the only thing that can keep us going. Maria interpreted the article. But Maria knew that for her to hope for anything, she first had to find out the truth; what really did happen to her son? While she accepted to get up and get on with life with the hope that things would turn out better for her living relations she refused to lay Ray to rest before the truth was known. The only people who knew the absolute truth were at the police station; Maria pitched tent there at the O.B. (Occurrence Book). She would be there by eight in the morning and leave only when darkness crept in and again show up bright and early the following day. She shared not a word with anyone only staring blankly at the walls. How would she get any information if she talked
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EASTLANDS STORIES. to no one? She didnt know herself but she still hoped. For five days the police officers at the station ignored her but other visitors talked among themselves while pointing at her. On the sixth day, four mothers joined her. They too sat there only talking among themselves and sharing their pain at the hands of the police. On the seventh day, a Sunday, over thirty mothers joined them in the afternoon after Sunday service! The grapevine had done the rounds. They jammed the O.B. as each narrated the loss of an innocent son in questionable circumstances. Who would have guessed so many mothers lived with differed hopes? Because of their numbers, no business could be conducted at the O.B. Under orders from the OCS, the mothers were roughed up and pushed out of the police compound by officers young enough to be their sons. There they sung and wailed mourning songs until it was time for them to go and cook for their remaining relatives. The following day their numbers swelled to well over a hundred. All day they sang while holding hands in solidarity. News crews came in the afternoon, several mothers narrated harrowing experiences at the hands of the police and the damage their unfounded accusations had had on their family relations. They all had a similar request to Marias, We know you cannot bring our sons back but please tell us what really happened so our sons can rest in peace. That Monday night as Maria was serving supper, she heard a knock on the door. She had sent her first grandson Tom to find out who was at the door. Tom had informed her that a Mama Rashid and Rashid wanted to talk to her. She didnt know any Mama Rashid nor a Rashid so she approached the door cautiously. Peeping out from the slightly opened door, Maria saw a nervous looking heavy set woman with an equally nervous young man of medium build standing next to her. Shaking hands the woman had introduced herself as Mama Rashid and the young man her son Rashid. Not knowing what to make of this Maria had stepped out and closed the door behind her. Mama Rashid had gone on to tell her she had seen Maria in the news and being a mother
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EASTLANDS STORIES. herself knew the agony she must be going through and that is why she was there. It turned out that Rashid had been in jail with Ray on the fateful day having been arrested himself as well for loitering. Do you know what happened to my son? Maria asked. Yes, came Rashids reply. There was a scuffle in jail between members of Mungiki and Kamjesh. The police had rushed in beating everyone with batons and nyahunyos (rubber whips) in their attempt to quell the scuffle. It was only after the scuffle was over that we discovered Ray was ehhh . He stuttered as he looked for the right word. He must have been hit in the back of the head by a baton or hit his head against a wall. Maria was shocked beyond words. She stumbled backwards and sat on the steps short of breath as she contemplated what was being said to her. Could it really have happened like this? Was Ray yet another victim of police brutality? She asked herself. Are you sure that is what happened? Maria asked placing her left hand over her chest to calm herself. I was lucky to escape with a broken hand. Rashid replied pulling his jacket back to reveal a cast on his left hand. Why didnt you come forward earlier and why didnt the police just come out and say that is what happened? I didnt know whom to tell. The police were obviously out of the question, I didnt know where you lived and the media, who knows whether they would have believed me? had been Rashids

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EASTLANDS STORIES. reply as he looked at his apologetic mother. Mama Rashid then jumped in to answer the second question. The police were perhaps trying to cover up the extortion and also the obvious use of excessive force not to mention negligence by putting the two sworn enemies together, she said matter of factly. It made sense; the police were known to lie for a lot less. A breathless Maria exasperated by the revelation thanked them both for coming forward telling them how much finally knowing the truth meant to her. They exchanged contacts before finally saying goodbye. Anger at the police and a feeling of guilt denied Maria a wink of sleep for the next one week. Night after night she thought to herself that had she been more adamant about Rays evening strolls he wouldnt have been a victim of the extortion plot by the police and would therefore still be alive. He would have been in the living room right now laughing at the antics of Eddie Murphy, his favorite actor. Guilt would overwhelm her and she would cry till morning. What if I had insisted they release him that night, would he still be alive? She asked herself repeatedly. To mitigate the guilt, she decided to lay Ray to rest: two days later she buried Ray in a small ceremony on the family farm after which she attended counseling. The counselor reiterated to her she had no reason to feel guilty; no one could have foreseen that chain of events. But if I had offered the constable a bigger bribe maybe things would have turned out different. Maria bemoaned tears flowing down her cheeks. Maybe, maybe not; the fact of the matter is we cannot be sure of what could have happened either way. You are the last person to blame for this and while we may say a lot here, only time will heal you of your feelings of guilt. In the mean time you have to be there for those who depend on you despite your hurt. The counselor advised her.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. After three more sessions with the counselor and whole nights of quiet contemplation Maria came to the conclusion this was as good as it was going to get. No matter the pressure, police were never going to incriminate themselves by clearing her sons name; furthermore she had four mouths to feed. The knowledge that her son was innocent would have to suffice. He happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. She still could not wholly exonerate the small part she played but she recalled the counselors words It could have happened to anyone. She asked the Lord she had served all her life to avenge for her and decided to close the matter at that. A week later she was back at work motivated by hope that somehow things would be different this time round. She has refused to live by the law of reduced expectations as described by Hama Tuma thus, the less you expect the less you get frustrated and the more is your happiness when you get more. Instead she has subscribed to Chinua Achebes philosophy, Nothing Puzzles God. She still clings to the hope that her grandchildren will have it better for without such high hopes what would all the years of blood sweat and tears have been for?

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

7
S ALAMANDER STRIKES BACK

Y
least.

ou would think that even in Eastlands a thirty something father of two would behave with a little decorum; not Salamander. For the life of him, he cant remember exactly when the moniker Salamander was coined for him but even

he, given his sense of humour, appreciates the ingenuity of the nickname. Every night after making merry at the local his long legs will without fail inadvertently give out on him forcing him to crawl home using every wall for support; just like a salamander slithers sideways on a wall. That he is light skinned with dark acne scars from puberty, has a long slender frame with a wide arm reach, a small balding head at one end with big round eyes and spends Sunday mornings soaking in vitamin D bare chest on his 3rd floor veranda as he does the weeks borrowed crossword puzzles does not help either. Yes the resemblance is uncanny to say the

Salamanders neighbors have long gotten used to his middle of the night quaky out of tune renditions of popular hits. One day he will sing in his usual heavily slurred baritone.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. Ananigeukia. ehhh, wananigeukia. Ehhh, munanigeukia.. ehhhh. Dunia niambie kwani me ni nanaehhhh, ananigeukia. ehhhh, wananigeukia ehhhh, munanigeukia ehhhh, Salamander munanigeukia..ehhhhh. (He turns on me.ehhh, they turn on meEhhh, you turn on me .. ehhhh. World please tell me who I am ehhh, he turns on meehhhh, they turn on me .. ehhhh, you turn on me .. ehhhh. Salamander you turn on me .. ehhhh) Another day he will be heard corrupting lyrics to famous songs in praise of himself. Life ni fupi Salamander ni mrefu, babababanjuka juu. Babababanjuka juu. Tunatupa shida chini na kuweka Salamander juu, Babababanjuka juu. Babababanjuka juu. (Life is short, Salamander is tall, just get up and dance. Just get up and dance. Lets throw our problems to the floor and lift Salamander up, Just get up and dance Just get up and dance.) It is said that a quarreling couple will stop to listen to Salamanders out of tune renditions long enough to forget the reason behind their squabble while kids will be heard singing his version of the popular songs the following day. Yes without Salamander life in this crook of Eastlands wouldnt be as interesting if not a tad dull. It goes without saying that Salamander is the life of the party at the local he frequents and his fellow patrons treat him as some kind of a cult hero for he often throws rounds in exchange for their ears whence he will spew his skewed opinions on everything, from life to politics. To him, women belong within the confines of a kitchen and nowhere near positions of authority for they cannot be trusted to be rational at all times. His answer to perennial food shortage in some parts
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EASTLANDS STORIES. of the country is to transfer entire populations from the arid and semi-arid lands to the more arable regions of the country let alone that these areas are already overpopulated. Kwani wamepandwa hawawezi toka huko? (Have they been planted there that they cannot move?) he barks whenever there is a call to assist our brothers in need of food supply. On the issue of unemployment he strongly advocates nationalization of factories, antiimmigration and anti-mechanization so that the youth of the country can get employment opportunities. To be frank he is not the sharpest tool in the shed but neither are members of his gawk eyed audience who always praise his keen observations and infinite wisdom. Nevertheless Salamander fancies himself an enlightened man, so much so that when he read a newspaper article on Buddhism and how Siddharta Guatamas friends referred to him as Buddha meaning the enlightened one he tried to change his nickname from Salamander to Buddha without much success. Like all other DDOs (Daily Drinking Officers) Salamander has borne witness to and he himself participated in philandering though his are more out of alcohol induced machismo than planned philandering. In his skewed thinking, it is okay for a man to step out on his lady but utterly inconceivable for a lady to step out on her man. Ile siku nitampata ndio atajua Salamander ni nani! (The day I will catch her in the act is the day she will discover who Salamander really is!) He replied once when asked what he would do if he found his wife with another man. He didnt wait long to put his words to the test. It was a Tuesday night and like all nights after he had imbibed enough alcohol to embalm a grown man Salamander crawled home. As he struggled to open the padlock to his apartment he heard the unmistakable sound of moans of pleasure coming from the bedroom just three metres away.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Alarmed, he moved to the bedroom window to investigate. There it was again, louder now. How could Mama Junior do this to him? In his own house! He had never heard her sound this pleased! The nerve of this woman! She would learn why monkeys dont give birth to hyenas! Without a second thought, Salamander cracked a window pane with his bare fist, pushed his hand in and unhooked the lever then opened the window. He stuck his head in and screamed unprintable obscenities and threats commanding his wife to open the door. He didnt know what hit him. By the time Salamander came around, he was being rushed to hospital. It was while waiting for a doctor that he learned that in his stupor he had gone to the second floor apartment instead of his on the third floor! The moans he had heard hadnt been his Mama Juniors but Mama Junior from down stairs. Mistaking Salamander for a thief, an alarm had been raised prompting the neighbours to descend on him with kicks and blows until one identified him. Though barely alive he was lucky to have escaped with his life. Salamander spent the next three weeks in hospital in a morphine induced high. He was in heaven. In between the highs he plotted his revenge. Three beds from him was a boy in pretty bad shape; victim of a leopard attack in The Mara. Several news crews had paid him a visit, some accompanying politicians. The boys story featured in the television bulletins severally. From this Salamanders malevolent mind hatched a plot to get back at those who had conspired against him. The reason for his anger; he had been warned to stay off alcohol for 3 months as he took his medication. Somebody had to pay for this abomination! Upon discharge, Salamander set about exerting his revenge. He asked a friend to take him to town where he bought a big stuffed leopard supposedly for Nana, his five year old daughter, who was then prohibited from playing with it as it wasnt a toy. Next he went on the internet caf and
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EASTLANDS STORIES. downloaded a leopards snarl but when it wasnt scary enough he downloaded a lions roar. Satisfied he waited patiently for D-Day, Friday when he knew Baba Junior from downstairs indulged without fail. At about an hour to midnight Salamander made his move. With the stuffed leopard tucked under his right arm and a radio in his left he tip toed downstairs. He placed the stuffed leopard in a corner right next to Baba Juniors door with the radio adjacent to it. He then made sure the radio was on and working properly before covering it. Then he removed the fluorescent tubes from the security lights on the veranda and stairs plunging the whole floor into near total darkness. The moonless night was more than welcome; the gods must have been on Salamanders side. Lastly he pointed his mulika mwizi (phones torch) at the stuffed leopard. The big cat menacingly stared back at him. He was proud of his creation. With a wide grin on his face he crept back upstairs and waited patiently in his living room keeping a keen ear out for any noises. Thirty minutes later he heard the sound he had been waiting for; Baba Juniors rickety jalopy being packed. He gave him two minutes to lock up his car, open the gate and climb up to his apartment right below his. When he heard him walking on his veranda he once again tip toed from his apartment and made his way to the stairs where he climbed down just three steps so he had a direct line of sight to Baba Junior and also to the radio. He held the radios remote tightly in his hand, ready. Any moment now, he said to himself. As expected, Baba Junior took out his phone to use its minuscule backlight to select the key to the door. Immediately Salamander pressed play. It would be two seconds before the roars started, he braced himself. It started with a low growl. Salamander saw the frame of Baba Junior freeze. He struggled to hold back a chuckle as he pressed the increase volume button. By the time Baba
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Junior gathered enough courage to face his phone in the direction the sound was emanating the growl had turned into a full roar. The sight of the dark long narrow pupils set against the luminous green iris staring back at him, the scowled cheeks with raised whiskers and the exposed shiny razor sharp canines must have sent him catatonic for he froze once again. Salamanders hushed chuckle died. He had expected Baba Junior to run for his dear life. Was he onto him? Had he seen that it was a stuffed animal and not the real deal? Had he made out that leopards dont roar? He cursed himself for making such a school boy error. His scheme had failed. A dejected Salamander got up from his crouched hiding position ready to slither back to his apartment. He was agonizing over whether to claim his radio back and admit to the failed childish prank or to forget it and maintain his dignity when he heard a loud thud. Climbing back down the stairs he looked around but couldnt see Baba Juniors frame. He heard a shuffling noise from somewhere below. On looking he saw a figure rolling on the floor, then came the screams undoubtedly of pain. Baba Junior had jumped down two storeys! Salamander panicked. This was more than he had bargained for. He was in real trouble now. But then it

dawned on him, no one knew what he was up to. If he got rid of the evidence. He didnt need to finish his train of thought. Salamander quickly gathered the stuffed leopard and the radio. He got into his apartment and threw them under the bed before getting into bed himself. For once he thanked his gods for his wifes snoring. Ten minutes later Baba Junior was on his way to hospital; the amateur diagnosis, a broken foot. The whole neighbourhood including Salamander and his wife gathered outside the gate wielding all sorts of weapons; from frying pans and rolling pins to rungus (clubs) and machetes. They discussed the events that had just transpired. Baba Junior had jumped down two floors to escape
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EASTLANDS STORIES. from a marauding leopard and all he had to show for it was a broken foot. A heroic escape from the jaws of death considering a renowned athlete had just died after jumping down just one floor while escaping from his wifes rage. Salamander joked that a woman scorned was more dangerous than a leopard to which he got a harsh look from Mama Junior. A search party was quickly organized to locate and kill the leopard. By morning there was no trace of the leopard but the story had spread far and wide. Children and several teachers didnt go to school citing fear of attack. Civil servants too excused themselves citing similar fears. The markets though operated as usual while patrons streamed into bars early; their collective reasoning being that if they were to be attacked by a leopard, they would rather face it while high on liquid courage. However at about eight pm, without warning, a young patron shot out of The Hague Pub screaming Chui! Chui! Chui! (Leopard! Leopard! Leopard!) Other patrons followed him out all screaming leaving a confused barman behind. An hour later not a soul was seen walking about in the open. The following day the young man who had run out of The Hague screaming swore in front of television cameras that he had seen the leopard staring at him through the pubs bathroom window while he was taking a leak. Several people corroborated his story saying they had also spotted the cat that evening. That the young patron who had started the commotion was known to use every trick to get out of paying his bar tabs was lost on everybody. The Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS) was called in. They said old or wounded predators were known to live in human settlements because of easy pickings. Sightings increased tenfold. KWS set up several traps but after a week of no results they said the animal had probably moved on. Still the residents took no chances. The faint hearted drunks, the majority, stayed home with
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EASTLANDS STORIES. their families while the few brave, more of die-hard drunks, locked themselves inside the bars till sun-up. Children along with their mothers were in the house by sundown while the few residents who couldnt get home before dusk hired the services of brave Maasais to walk them from the bus stop. If for whatever reason one had to go out at night they were encouraged to move in groups of four. Net result, neighbours became friendlier, husbands and wives forced by circumstances to be in a confined space started talking to one another instead of at each other, parents controlled the house once again and not the Ringis (house helps), children finished their home works, the nights were quiet and there were fewer cases of employers complaining about employees with hangovers. Vehicle accidents, drunks passed out on the roads, rapes, muggings and break-ins became rare. All in all almost everyone maintained their dignity, families worked and productivity improved. As for Salamander, he knew better than to say anything lest he gets sued for Baba Juniors injuries and the possible backlash from all those he had inconvenienced. He would take this secret to the grave though he wished he could tell his wife for he too became a victim of his own success. Mama Junior who had previously looked the other way concerning his drinking was now adamant that she was too young to be a widow. Salamander felt like a caged animal. For three months, while fear of the imaginary leopard persisted, sanity prevailed and things worked in this crook of Eastlands. Rents and utility bills were paid on time, there was regular supply of water, the streets were swept and garbage collected, blackouts never lasted more than an hour, fights were few and far between, children attained good grades and suicides were unheard of. But then memory being what it is, short, the bliss faded. Leo, as the imaginary
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EASTLANDS STORIES. leopard had come to be referred to - the misnomer not withstanding - was soon forgotten. Patrons trickled back to their watering holes. Children stayed out late. Mothers came home even later. Ringis resumed their position as heads of house and Salamander went back to being Salamander. The nights as before were often punctuated with a female scream here, screeching wheels and the bang bang sound of an accident there, a drunks tuneless singing, people arguing, a dog chasing a cat, and doors being slammed - definite indicator of a domestic quarrel. Rents were once again delayed, garbage went uncollected, blackouts persisted whole weeks and grades slipped. The madness had returned. Truly a leopard cant change her spots.

8
C LOSED MINDS AND OPEN CASKETS

rian could hear his mother, two sisters and aunties crying but couldnt see them for he had recently gone blind after taking illicit brew laced with methanol. He was one of the few lucky ones; his brother Johnny had fared much worse and succumbed.

They were now burying him. He tried to shed a tear so he would also be seen to be mourning his brother but couldnt; his tear ducts were gone as well. An uncle advised him against drinking as

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EASTLANDS STORIES. he led him to lay the family wreath on Johnnys grave. Brian promised never again would his lips come close to a drink, any drink.

After the burial and despite his earlier promise, Brian joined his friends as they went to see Johnny off with one one. A week later it was he who was being laid to rest only this time no one even pretended to cry. The pastor didnt even bother to show up, instead he sent his novice assistant who stuttered through the boring service. Another closed mind had led to an unnecessary open casket.

***********************************

ver since he quit school at the tender age of fourteen, Mugo had known only one job, extortion at bus stops under the pretext of stage management. At thirty six, he had risen through the ranks so to speak and was now the boss though it was more

because all the colleagues he had started out with had since quit the young mans game and settled for real jobs and businesses. Against his former colleagues advice that time was fast running out for him in the extortion business Mugo persisted. They beseeched him that the new breed coming into the business was more ambitious and ruthless but the allure of easy fast money was too much.

As The Boss all Mugo did was sit in the tiny tin office at the bus stage collecting money from his runners who had in turn extorted it from Matatus (public transport vans) as route

management levy. Occasionally a clueless new matatu owner would walk into his office to buy
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EASTLANDS STORIES. into the right to ply his route. Mugo loved how intimidated they looked for with a simple yes or no he held sway over the entrepreneurs future. He had never said no but he would go into a long speech about the need to maintain an optimum number of matatus on the route so as to get everyone to where they are going but at high enough prices so that the investors could recoup their investment in time. He would praise his route as the best managed with guaranteed healthy bottom lines and disciplined work force. He would even offer to mediate with the traffic police, whom he said he knew intimately, whenever the need arose. The buy in rate was usually between forty and eighty thousand depending on his financial needs and duration of payment. New conductors and drivers too had to part with a reasonable entry payment of five thousand for drivers and three thousand for conductors in order to operate in the route. All this went to his pocket and his alone.

It didnt come as a surprise therefore when the lower cadres of his organization started grumbling. Why should we do all the work and have nothing to show for our efforts? Why should we take all the risk and get only crumbs while he sits in the office enjoying nyama choma (roast meat) and fraternizes with beautiful women all day? They also wanted the silver and gold teeth, latest mtumba (second hand) clothes and a little extra to buy miraa (khat) and take their ghetto consorts to reggae clubs. They no longer cared much for his stories of the past and how the route was won nor the number of skulls he had split open over the years with his rungu (club). They cared about the here and the now; dressing up and having a few notes in their pockets so they could attract the hottest girls in the estates.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. And so remittances to him started shrinking. He called a meeting of all his runners and with his rungu in hand unleashed a torrent of threats. The following day he didnt receive a single cent nor could he find any of his runners. On inquiring around he was told one of his chief lieutenants had opened another office and declared himself route manager. Having been Mugos main enforcer over the last couple of years he was well known for his ruthlessness and the matatu operators were more afraid of him than the now docile Mugo. Mugo made his way to the new office rungu in hand.

How dare that son-of a bitch! I taught him everything he knows! He is about to learn one more lesson, you dont cross the boss! He must have thought to himself while frothing at the mouth as he headed to the new office. It is unfortunate no one told him you dont bring a rungu to a gun fight for all he managed were two steps inside the office. The mortuary attendants did a good job patching him up so he could have an open casket funeral. His former colleagues joked that at thirty six he had died of old.

The matatu business is simply a young mans game. Too bad Mugo chose not to listen to this piece of sound advice. They said.

***********************************

nce again not all victims succumb due to their own closed minds. Society too can sometimes shut its mind and lead to open caskets. Take the case of Ambrose for example; he lost his mother to tuberculosis just after joining high school. On
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EASTLANDS STORIES. finding out that tuberculosis is a very curable disease, Ambrose had decided he wanted to be a doctor so he could help others. There was only one glitch, his mother had been his and his three siblings sole guardian and bread winner; who was going to provide for them now? Lucky for him a teacher at his school, Mrs. Muema, knew of his plight and decided to do something. She hustled for a bursary for him and made sure his siblings were placed in good childrens homes.

No child should have to raise another child. She told Ambrose while encouraging him to only concentrate on his studies. That he did and when his final high school results came out he was among the top students in the country. He had qualified to study medicine and with his impressive grades, he was sure he could get a bursary or a scholarship. Knowing it is the early bird that catches the worm, Ambrose started applying for bursaries early. He applied to his constituencys CDF, the university, the Higher education loans board and several organizations that he read online supported needy but gifted students. No replies came. Despite not having money to pay matatu fares, he was not willing to give up. Ambrose decided to pay the offices of all the organizations he had written to a personal visit. Perhaps they would then better understand his plight.

Arriving at the offices dusty and sweaty having walked all the way, the secretaries would take one look at him and dismiss him. Their bosses were either in day long meetings or out of town. His letters would hit the shredder as soon as he left the office the dramatic ones even spraying air freshener after him. Still he didnt give up, he went back to the offices again and again until the secretaries instructed the security not to allow him into the buildings.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. A month to the date he was due to join medical school, Ambrose received a letter from the university asking him to confirm registration by paying the fees else his position would be given away. He once again walked to the university and had a rare one on one with the universitys registrar. He explained his predicament and the understanding registrar promised he would do everything in his powers to help him. He was told to report on the admission day. Ambrose had never known such joy in his life. Finally his dreams were about to come true.

On the admission day, Ambrose carried his few belongings to the university. He patiently followed the long queue and when it was his turn at the front he was asked for the receipt.

What receipt? He asked innocently.

Your fees receipt, the attendant replied while busy typing on the computer. I had explained to the registrar my predicament and he told me to just come today everything would be sorted out. Do you have a note from him stating that the university is sponsoring you? No. He just told me that by the time I was coming for registration everything would have been sorted out. Is that so? Well I have not received any communication from him. Have you seen him today? No. Okay, just step aside from the queue and let me serve the others as we wait for my supervisor so I can confirm your story.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. Ambrose stepped aside and looked on patiently as one after another of his excited soon to be colleagues were registered hence taking one more step towards achieving their career goals.

Thirty minutes later Ambrose was still standing there waiting to be addressed. He thought the clerk had forgotten about him so he leaned forward and asked politely. Has your supervisor come? the clerk continued typing with no regard to Ambroses question. Ambrose, assuming the clerk hadnt heard him repeated the question a bit louder. Excuse me, you told me to wait for your supervisor, has he come yet?

She rolled her eyes as she picked a phone, to Ambrose, I heard you the first time, She dialed a number and waited a couple of seconds. Conrad, its Milly. There is a student here who claims you told him to show up today and you would have his scholarship situation sorted out. .His name? The clerk indicated for Ambrose to give her his papers which he did. Reading out his name An Ambrose Odongo, school of medicine..You have never heard of him? Okay. The clerk placed down the phone and looked at Ambrose but he already knew what was coming next. His stomach started churning. He says he has never heard of you, can you please stop wasting my time. She said as she stretched out her hand to receive the documents of the student next in line. Ambrose felt his heart sink but he was not about to give up.

Dragging his belongings along, Ambrose went to the registrars office. This time he would hear none of the secretarys excuses. He pitched tent at the reception and waited for him to come out of whatever meeting he was in. Twenty minutes later, the registrar came out of his office
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EASTLANDS STORIES. accompanied by a girl in a short skirt and revealing blouse. He was about to pass by him when Ambrose shot up. Excuse me sir, my name is Ambrose Odongo, I was here about a month ago about bursary to study medicine. You told me to come today and everything would have been sorted out. He put on the most charming smile he could master. The Registrar gave him a look over and as he was leaving,

Give me five minutes Ill be right back. He started to escort the young lady out when once again Ambrose interrupted.

The people at the admission want a note from you, I have drafted one all you need to do is sign it. He extended a hand with a piece of paper to him. With finality in his voice the registrar replied without taking the paper. Young man that is not how it works. Now sit down and Ill be back soon, okay. He didnt wait for a reply as he went after his lady friend who had walked on ahead. Ambrose looked around then sat down slowly. He noticed the look on the secretary but couldnt figure out whether it was one of pity or disgust nor did he care. He made a mental note to remove that mole on her upper lip once he was a doctor; maybe it would cure her of her self-consciousness.

He sat there waiting for over an hour and a half but finally he heard his very unique laughter in the corridor. The registrar came into the office and headed straight for the secretary to take his messages. He noticed the now standing Ambrose just as he was about to go to his office. As he

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EASTLANDS STORIES. picked the key to his office from his bunch, Young man you were saying you want bursary to study medicine? Yes sir. Came Ambroses immediate reply accompanied with a smile. And who told you we offer them here? Ambrose nearly fell over backwards from the blow. Stammering, You you told me you would so so so sort it all out! When did I say that? As he looked at the secretary, the office of the registrar only handles registration of students, the units they are undertaking and grades they score, not bursaries. The secretary shook her head in agreement. Have you tried the Higher Education Loans Board and your CDF? Taken aback by this development Ambrose took a minute to reply and even then he was barely audible. What was that? The registrar asked when he couldnt hear what Ambrose had said. I said I have tried them all. The Higher Education Loans Board would not process my application because I dont have any of my parents Identification cards. And why not? They are both dead. Ohh, and your Constituency Development Fund? They said all the money had been allocated to projects. I tried as hard as I could sir, Well then there is nothing I can do. Ambrose was exasperated but he tried to calm himself. Why then did you promise you would look into my situation? Now now young man I cant recall promising anything. Maybe I said I would see what I can do but I never made any promises. You have to understand that the university is strapped for cash.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. Looking around the finely furnished office Ambrose found that hard to believe. He took a deep breath. Can I be allowed to register today then I will go look for money? You have to pay your fees in order to be admitted to the university. Sorry but there is no two ways about it. The registrar said once again looking at his secretary who nodded in agreement. Can I then defer for a year? He asked clutching at a last straw. You can only defer if you have completed a whole year of studies. Right now you can take this year to look for money then apply afresh next year but I must warn you grades improve year by year and yours, impressive as they may be, may not be enough to get you into the few positions available in medical school next year. With this he opened his office and went in. Ambrose couldnt believe his ears. He looked at the secretary who had picked up the phone, undoubtedly calling security. He picked up his belongings and with a heavy heart trudged home.

His suicide note was as succinct as his life had been. What man is a man who, not out of his own volition, cannot make this world better?

His funeral attracted thousands as most wanted to have a glance at the man who embodied their deepest collective frustrations at being abandoned by the system. In death, Ambrose had become a hero for the oppressed and down trodden. As with such occasions, the area Member of Parliament showed up but this time he had a tough audience. They jeered and booed him from the get go. To save face, he announced he would be sponsoring ten needy constituents out of his own pocket. The mourners demanded he support twenty. He had to oblige. Ambroses death had

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EASTLANDS STORIES. after all not been in vain. Still, once again societys closed mind had led to an unnecessary open casket.

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

9
T
HE RENAISSANCE MAN
ooking at the lovely spread they had put out for him, Father John was both impressed and perturbed. He couldnt understand how the parishioners could afford such a lavish banquet in the midst of all the grinding poverty he had seen on his way

to his new parish posting. He was overwhelmed by the competing yet delicious aromas of wali wa dafu, chapati, kuku and ribs choma, pilau, meat stew, deep fried fish, kachumbari, viazi vya karai, mokimo and sour porridge. He noted from the emaciated salivating stares that some in the crowd probably hadnt had a decent meal in a while. But like all good guests he had kept his reservations to himself and enjoyed the food, speeches as well as the song and dance. His predecessor, Father Kiarie was hailed as a saint, a man of the people and savior of souls by speaker after speaker. Father John knew from the get go that he had very big boots to fill indeed. After a weeks honeymoon period which he used to observe his new environment and the customs therein Father John had come up with a list of changes that needed to be made urgently. He assembled the parish council, the top decision making organ in the church, and put forth to them his suggestions. Top of his wish list was an end to late night visits by women parishioners

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EASTLANDS STORIES. purporting to bring him food. After all he had a chef of his own and he too was a mere mortal susceptible to temptations. When Jesus said if your right eye causes you to sin, take it out and throw it away! It is much better to lose a part of your body than to have your whole body thrown in hell, he was speaking figuratively. Father John said to the council in defense of his decision to bar female visitors to his house after nine oclock. The council nodded in agreement. He told them that since there was an acute shortage of teachers in the school, he and his two assisting fathers would also take to class as teachers. Needless to say the other priests werent particularly thrilled by the extra responsibilities but who were they going to complain to? When asked who would handle the weekday afternoon counseling sessions usually handled by the priests he informed them he was introducing group therapy on Wednesday evenings. The concept of group therapy was new to the council. Father, isnt counseling a private matter? Onyino the head of the Parish Council had asked. First of all this is the slums with walls only as thick as paper, everybody knows everybody elses business. Secondly the biggest advantage of group therapy is that with diverse challenges being discussed in the same setting, attendants not only get their current issues addressed but also learn how to deal with other issues they may have perceived minor or that may crop up in future thus saving time. He had replied. Not overly convinced, they gave him the benefit of doubt. Father John also suggested adult classes on weekends where attendants would be taught basic book keeping, financial planning and conflict resolution among other life skills thus putting them

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EASTLANDS STORIES. in a position to better their lives. The council only agreed to this after reassurances that it would cost the parish nothing. Next he informed the council of his plan to scrap the free food program for the able bodied and in its place establish a food for work program that would see those seeking food do some work in and around the church first. He also talked of establishing a youth centre where idle young men and women could interact with their age mates and participate in constructive activities like charity work, drama, music or body building. The Parish Council had left the meeting a skeptic lot. He fancies himself a breath of fresh air, a thinker, a renaissance man. He is about to find out this is Eastlands! One of the Parish Members was heard telling his friends. A few weeks after the Parish Council meeting the churchs precinct and its surrounding started taking a new look. Thanks to the work for food program the church building was spotting a new coat of paint, the brogan villaea was well trimmed and the previously littered compound was without a single piece of strewn plastic paper bag. Word of mouth spread the gospel of adult classes like wildfire. Before long the class had to be split into two and again a third class was introduced soon after. No one had ever thought such thirst for knowledge existed in this neck of the woods. Majority of those who attended group therapy soon found out theirs were like drops in an ocean; people had real problems. They started appreciating their lives more and complaining less. The youth put up a sterling variety show, the first one ever in the parish. Upon popular request the shows were commuted to a monthly event.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Not all reforms came easily though. Taking one of his evening walks, Father John had encountered about a dozen young boys and girls, his students, selling groundnuts. Upon inquiring from them he learnt that they were doing so at the behest of their parents. No wonder assignments were never done. He had rebuked those parents for exploiting their children and for good measure immediately started evening preps for students who needed a serene environment to study. The parents were furious and pulled their children from the school stating that they needed the money the kids earned. Father John remained adamant that it is not the responsibility of a child to provide for the parent rather it should be the other way round. He reported the matter to the chief who warned the parents that keeping their children from school was illegal and could land them in jail. They had no choice but to take them back but before their kids could be readmitted Father John insisted the parents sign contracts to the effect that they would release their kids for evening preps. He had won a famous victory for the kids. At first Father Johns preaching hadnt sat well with the parishioners for he had talked of poverty as a sin that Christ loathed and giving glory to God through action and not mere words is what Christianity is all about. Is it not written that word without deed is dead? He asked severally. Doesnt the scripture say when you pray do not use a lot of meaningless words. Your Father in heaven already knows what you need before you ask him. He continued, In Gods eyes, better the man who toils all day under the sun but doesnt sing the Lords praises than the man who spends whole days in prayer and fast. Disapproving murmurs followed. His predecessor Father Kiarie, perhaps reading the mood, had based his message around the beatitudes specifically blessed being the poor for they shall inherit the kingdom of God. He had also emphasized how hard it was for the
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EASTLANDS STORIES. rich man to enter heaven. The parishioners had therefore embraced their poverty as a virtue and him as their messenger. Father John though wasnt here for a popularity contest; he was here to deliver as many souls to the kingdom of heaven as possible and knew from his psychology classes in the seminary that as long as survival was his parishioners main priority, God would always play second fiddle. Therefore the only way to save his parishioners was to empower them economically. Some parishioners could not stomach the scorn and quit the church; others came, heard his sermons but took no action. The fruits of those who heeded his words though after a while could be seen in their personal transformation and the churchs as well. Those who had left seeing their brethrens improving fortunes started streaming back. Those who had doubted him started singing his praises. As the church filled up so too did the collections grow. The formally jittery Parish Council was pleased. They were heard telling everyone how much faith they had had in this man of God and the great things that lay ahead for the parish. When Father John suggested putting up a polytechnic to empower the youth in an empty lot the Parish Council was eager to jump on the project. They talked of Harambees but Father John, unwilling to request a community that nearly had nothing themselves to give out more, said he would find a solution. The parish Council gave him Carte blanche. He recalled the sumptuous feast they had put out for him on his first day. Asking around, he was told a Mama Odongo had catered that particular party. Asking where he could find her he was told she sold fish in the market. What a tragedy, he had thought to himself.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. Father John sought her out and after a brief chat an agreement was reached. She and her friends would provide their catering skills to a trust he was founding, Young Polytechnic Trust, in exchange for reasonable compensation. Mama Odongo and her friends would own the business once the poly was up and running. In the meantime all the profits would go to the trust. Because Mama Odongo was practically a brand name they decided to name the catering business Mama Odongo and Friends Caterers. Three weeks later, Mama Odongo and Friends Caterers, located inside the church compound, opened its doors. Mama Odongo knows about food, ask Odongo was the motto printed on the advertising banner with the image of a fat Odongo to boot. Anywhere else this would have been a marketing faux pas but in a place where scarcity is the norm, overindulgence is coveted. Mama Odongos, as it came to be popularly known, was a resounding success. Despite their best efforts, customers had to be turned away because they had run out of food. The customers often made sure they came very early the following day. They came from far and wide to sample the much hyped Mama Odongo delicacies. They would go and spread the gospel themselves. Parking boys had to be hired to coordinate parking for the numerous cars. Some of the owners wanted their cars washed while they ate so more young men were brought in. Some patrons, never having been in a ghetto before asked for guided tours for which they paid handsomely. Mama Odongos assistants never stayed long. Hoping they had learnt a trick or two about cooking from Mama Odongo they were regularly poached to cook for families of the well-off patrons. Mama Odongo was constantly training new assistants, not that she minded. In fact her advice to the young men and women was to run and never look back. A coin collection jar was

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EASTLANDS STORIES. placed at the entrance/exit for an orphanage two hundred meters down the street. It was emptied on an hourly basis and the orphans, for the first time, ate three square meals daily. Not everybody was happy though, one of the most powerful members of the Parish Council had for a long time ran his 4 restaurants in the estate without much competition. Six months after Mama Odongos opened its doors he was tired of listening to people praise her food. It wasnt that the market wasnt big enough for both of them; it was that he hadnt been consulted. Why had Father John gone for this upstart when he had all along known that he operated 4 restaurants. Shouldnt his experience have counted for something? It should have been him running this. He quite fancied Stanleys as the restaurants name. It was a more modern and had a better ring to it than the old school Mama Odongos. Heck a five star hotel in the citys Central Business District bore a similar name, he thought. For supplanting him he resented Mama Odongos success and was determined to bring her and her priest down. The first cog in the wheel of his Father John must go plot was to isolate him in the Parish Council. At the next meeting, he had one of his cronies complain about the uncomfortable decibels from the restaurant that interfered with the lunch time Mass and prayers. I apologize for bringing this up but several of the parishioners have been complaining about the noise from the restaurant that interferes with the lunch time mass. Njau a member of the council stated. I was actually about to suggest that since only a handful of people actually attend the lunch time mass, maybe we should move it to the school hall where there will be less interference.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. So you want to move service from a house of God to a hall because of the restaurant? Why should a core function of the church give way to a non-core function? Stanley had shot back. Father John had immediately grasped what was going on; this was jealousy rearing its ugly head for he knew of Stanleys restaurants and his resentment towards Mama Odongo. The truth was he was never going to win this argument based on facts so he beseeched them. God is wherever two or three are gathered in his name. Besides gentlemen we have come so far. We are already halfway there. Just six more months and we will have our youth polytechnic. Please lets not give up on this. Stanley hadnt expected him to fold so easily. Are you saying that six months from now you are going to shut down Mama Odongos? Stanley had asked as another plot hatched in his head. Mama Odongo can of course keep the name but she would have to find another venue for it, replied Father John. But isnt the business profitable? Stanley inquired knowing the answer. He had access to the account books and envied the figures therein. This one outlet was making more than his four combined! Very profitable but as you put it, we are not in the business of making profits or catering. Once it has served its purpose it will be shut down. Father John knowing this was not the end of this particular conversation had answered. Later that night he would say a solemn prayer. Lord protect me from my so called friends, my enemies I can handle. Stanley scarcely heard another word for the rest of the meeting. His plan was slowly taking shape in his head. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Get rid of this enlightened fool and
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EASTLANDS STORIES. make a killing in the process. If he could get rid of Mama Odongos he could establish his 5th restaurant in the area and poach one of Mama Odongos assistants perhaps even Mama Odongo herself? The money he would make swirled in his head. Before the next meeting, he lay all the groundwork obsessing over every detail. He brought into the scheme his trusted lieutenants in the Council. It was agreed that for maximum impact, the chair of the Council Onyino would introduce the proposal to the council. Father John wouldnt know what hit him. At the next meeting a fortnight later Onyino laid forth his proposal. After clearing his throat he stated, Gentlemen I have some great news. I met Kigen a couple of months ago, you remember him. Most of the council members shook their heads yes. Anyway, he is a big contractor now. He inquired what was going on in our parish upon which I told him about our renaissance man here and the polytechnic project. He expressed interest and after several weeks of talks he came up with a proposal which I think we should all take into consideration. And what does he propose? Father John asked curious. Handing out booklets to the council members Onyino continued, As you can see from the proposal booklet, he is willing to put up a three story building out of his own pocket of which he will operate the two lower floors for eight years then he will transfer ownership to the parish once he has recovered his costs. In the meantime the polytechnic will operate from the third floor rent free. All members of the council except Father John shook their heads seemingly in agreement.

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EASTLANDS STORIES. A build, operate then transfer model, it sounded plausible; a brilliant and inspired idea even. But Father John smelled a rat. Looking at the proposal document Father John tasted the waters, I must say it looks like it could work. How long have you been talking to this Mr. Kigen Chairman? He was trying to draw out the real architect of the plot for he wasnt really convinced this was his idea. Ahhh several weeks now Father. Father John didnt miss the momentary glance Onyino gave Stanley and the satisfactory smile once the answer was given. He suspected Stanley was behind this. Better tread carefully with this one. He is very slippery, he told himself. And how well do you know the developer? Is he a member of this parish? He asked Onyino. There it was again, a glance at Stanley. This time it lingered a little longer. He was now sure who the puppet master was. Actually he was a parishioner here a while back but moved. We actually served with him on this council for some time. And what businesses is he planning to set up on the two floors? I didnt ask him that Being a church and also having a school you know we cannot have some businesses within our premises Stanley tired of the question and answer session that wasnt going anywhere cut in. I am sure the developer would know not to set up a bar or brothel on the premises. The chair ran the
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EASTLANDS STORIES. proposal by me earlier and quite frankly I think it will save the church both time and money not to mention we will own the entire building 8 years from now. I am sure you can all understand my curiosity as to what business he wants to run within the church compound. Actually he wants to build right next to the road so he wont be within but at the edge of the church compound. Onyino said. There it was a blatant attempt at land grabbing. Shame on you Stanley, Father John thought. Out loud he whistled then looking straight at Stanley to let him know he was onto him, That is a prime piece of real estate. Worth a fortune I think. Stanley remained expressionless. But that is where the football pitch is. He continued. So? Stanley was beginning to get impatient. He was waiting for Father John to out-rightly reject the proposal after which he would call for a vote both to approve the proposal and to censure him for being anti-progress. This shadow boxing was wasting his time. That is where the school children play, came Father Johns reply. Where would they go if we took that away from them? A visibly agitated Stanley was losing his cool, Father I am beginning to think you are not really committed to having a polytechnic. I am but it is not as simple. What is hard about getting on a silver platter that which you have worked so hard for? Is this not a gift from God?
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Now he was invoking the Lords name in his evil scheme. Father John bit his lip, it was all he could do to maintain his cool. I will have to look at all the details first and then consult with the Bishop, he replied trying to bid his time. We will find another place for the kids to play. You know as well as I do every other playing field has been grabbed. I will not allow this one to be grabbed too. Who said anything about grabbing? I think I speak for most members of the Council when I say we think this is a progressive move that will benefit our parishioners and the general community. Father John had looked around the room to see over half the Council members nodding their heads in agreement. This would be a tough crowd to beat. Even so denying kids their right to play is no way to start this venture. I will not allow it I think you will find Father that the decision is not yours alone, quite true as Father John found out from his research. The Parish Council had the final say in development matters and as long as they hid behind the developer, he couldnt prove conflict of interest. Petitions to the bishop too proved null and void as per the policy of non-interference he was referred back to the Council. His hands were tied. He agonized over what to do and prayed for divine intervention for a whole week; none was forthcoming. But then on the eve of the vote, one of his assistant priests had come running and barged into his room while he was on his knees praying. They are in office..illegally, he had said stopping in the middle of the sentence to catch his breath a victorious smile on his face. After calming down he had explained. The council members are elected to two year terms. Pouring through the records the last elections for the
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EASTLANDS STORIES. parish council were held seven years ago! The whole council is unconstitutional Father John had held the young priests shoulder and said to him. Blessed are you my son for today the Lord has worked a miracle through you. The Bishop agreed with the finding and called for Council elections in two months time. It was the break they needed. With the stakes so high the campaigns were personal. The parishioners too were split down the middle. Half wanted a place for their kids to play and develop their muscles as well as learn social skills while the other half thinking of job opportunities insisted kids shouldnt get in the way of development. They would know which side won at the Parish council meeting to vote for the proposed development. Unfortunately however, the deadlock would not end as the votes for and against were split even. The church constitution said that in case of a split vote, the Bishop would cast the deciding ballot. He went with his man but noting how divided the parishioners were, he decided to give them a fresh start with a new priest for a house divided against itself shall not long stand. For his troubles Father John was transferred to a parish in far off Wajir where it was thought he couldnt cause much ripples. In his last words to his parishioners he impressed upon them to stay the course for the path to success never did run smooth. Eight years later having been appointed Bishop, John would on his own volition return to Eastlands to celebrate holy mass at his former parish. He would be gutted by what he saw. The oasis of pristine buildings, green lawns and trimmed shrubs in an ocean of squalor was gone. In its place was a littered compound, dilapidated buildings with broken windows, peeling paint and hanging rafters strewn with cobwebs and birds nests. The manicured lawns and bushes were no more while walls were covered with grass and moss. A collapsed abandoned building stood
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EASTLANDS STORIES. where he had left the football pitch. Apparently the nave priest who had come after him had been duped into accepting Stanleys proposal but midway through construction the developer had decided five storeys would return better yields than three. The building had collapsed taking with it five innocent lives. The developer had fled never to be heard from again. Most of the programs Father John had initiated were dead with no new ones introduced. Simply put the community was worse off than it had been 8 years ago. What is wrong with this wretched people? He asked himself. How could he begin to tell them the success he had had in far away and desolate Wajir. The once God forsaken lands were now green from irrigation. Food sufficiency had been achieved in his third year and the first university graduates had returned home to triumphant reception in his fifth year. Womens groups now exported goat and camel hides, baskets and homemade sanitary pads. Young men replaced spears and guns with the all mighty pen and book. Warring clans now lived side by side enjoying the fruits of prosperity brought about by peace. The stone that the builders of Eastlands had rejected had turned out to be the most important in Wajir. Never had they imagined that the actions of one man, a renaissance man, could so transform a society but Father John insisted it was all them; he only came up with the ideas. In his sermon, Bishop John chose to give the people what they wanted. After all did Jesus himself not instruct his disciples, Whenever you go into a town and are made welcome, eat what is set before you, heal the sick in that town, and say to the people the kingdom of God has come near you. But whenever you go into a town and are not welcomed, go out into the streets and say, even the dust from your town that sticks to your feet we wipe off against you. For I can assure you come judgment day God will show more mercy to Sodom than to that town.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. And so he told the people what they wanted to hear. Happy are the poor; the Kingdom of God belongs to them! Happy are those who mourn; God will comfort them! Happy are those who are humble; they will receive what God has promised! Happy are those whose greatest goal is to do what God desires; God will satisfy them fully! Happy are those who are persecuted; the Kingdom of heaven belongs to them! Happy are you when people insult and persecute you and tell all kinds of lies against you because you are my followers. Be happy and glad, for a great reward is kept for you in heaven. This is how the prophets who lived before you were persecuted. The congregation cheered wildly for him after his sermon. You are truly a world class preacher, he was congratulated. Remaining nonchalant Bishop John shrugged knowing there is not much any man can do to save these souls. Come judgment day they will be judged like the servant who, instead of investing his talents like his colleagues, he buried them in the ground. For the scripture says, to every person who has something, more will be given, but the person who has nothing, even the little he has will be taken away from him. As for the useless servant, throw him outside in the darkness; there he will cry and grind his teeth. Bishop John skipped the reception citing his now busy schedule. In truth he went to meet Mama Odongo and her group at her restaurant to discuss the next phase of their operation, franchising. He had kept tabs with her throughout and new she was doing well but seeing her alight from her brand new Toyota Shark had warmed the cockles of his heart. Bishop John was relieved that at
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EASTLANDS STORIES. least one seed had fallen on fertile ground and was now bearing fruit. He felt sorry for the others who clung to poverty like a baby to its mothers breast but what could only one man do, even a renaissance man?

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

E POLOGUE: This is not the end.

nowledge of self and your environment is the greatest gift you could ever give yourself, so said the great Socrates. Clearly he didnt live in Eastlands. To those of us who hail from this concrete jungle, this so called greatest of gifts is actually a

poisoned chalice for to be aware of personal weakness and limitations can only lead to selfloathing. Even worse is the understanding of societys self-inflicted mortal wounds that can gift one ulcers and sleepless nights not to mention getting one in trouble with the authorities. Indeed the road to an early grave is paved with good intentions. From Case of The Ringi to Closed Minds and Open Caskets, The Renaissance Man to Legends of Eastlands, Eastlands Stories is a collection of tales inspired by actual events that will give any reader direct insight into the maze of intellectual and moral poverty that the Eastlands society is trapped in. Whether to limit Eastlands to its geographical position or to extend it to society in general is a question every reader will have to answer himself/herself. I pray you think on this long after you have finished reading these e-stories! While this EBOOK and the e-STORIES it contains has been availed to you for free a lot of thought and work went into producing it. Still this is not the end as the producers of this EBOOK intend to transform what was supposed to be the 10th story in this edition (The Salvation Of Johnny Mapesa) into a film to further spread the message. Therefore if you have read EASTLANDS STORIES and enjoyed the content and would like to see one of these stories as a movie please make your charitable contribution via MPESA to the no. 0720551548.
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EASTLANDS STORIES. Live long and prosper.

G LOSSARY
B Baba Junior, a common term in East Africa used to refer to the head of a household. Boom, upkeep monies given to Kenyan university students by the government in the 60s, 70s and 80s.

Kachumbari, vegetable salad usually made of tomatoes, onions, parsley and chillies. Kiosk, small shop that sells fast moving consumer goods. Kuku choma, roast chicken. L

C Chama, a popular system of saving whereby individuals collect their money into a pool and each individual gets the pool in a merry go round format after a specific period of time usually a week or a month. City Council Askaris, guards hired by the City Council to enforce city by-laws. They are renowned for their greed and brutality. H Hammurabis Code, the earliest known written code of laws written in Babylonia in 1700 BC on the instructions of King Hammurabi. It guaranteed equality and justice for all. Harambee, collecting money from wellwishers for purpose of actualizing community projects such as schools, churches and dams as well as to offset hospital bills.

Lascivious, to be lascivious is to show strong often abnormal sexual desires. Lecherous, a lecherous man shows sexual desires that are unpleasant or annoying. Local, a pub near ones place of residence that a patron frequents, Lojo slang for lodging or boarding house where illicit affairs take place.

M Magna Carta, a charter signed by King John of England in 1215 making all free men from the King to noble men and commoners equal under the law. Mama Junior, a common term used to refer to the mother of your kids. Mama Pimas, women who sell changaa (illicit brew). The name is derived from their ability to measure quantities with their
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EASTLANDS STORIES. naked eyes rather than using any measuring equipment. Matatu, minibuses used as a means of public transport. Mchele, street name for a drug, usually slipped into a drink, causing immediate intoxication and loss of memory. Mheshimiwa, a titled reserved for respected members of society especially members of parliament. Honourable. Mokimo, mashed potatoes mixed with beans and maize. MUNGIKI, an outlawed sect renowned for their extortion and crude violence. N Napoleonic Code, French laws as improved during Napoleons reign. It set forth the principle of equality of all citizens before the law. Nyahunyo, whip cut from rubber tyres. O OCS, Officer Commanding Station. The senior most officer at a police station. Occurrence Book (OB), a big book at a police station where all incidents and accidents are reported. P Parallel degree, self-sponsored course in university whereby students dont receive any government assistance. Pilau, spicy rice very popular in East Africa. R Ringi, house help or maid. Ribs choma, roast goat ribs. S Short time, quick sex, mostly with a prostitute, that is devoid of foreplay. U Ugali, a meal very common in East Africa made by mixing boiling water and maize meal.

V Viazi vya karai, spicy deep fried potatoes. VCT (Voluntary Counseling and Testing) Centre, places where HIV/AIDS testing and counseling are offered for free. W Waringitaji, (singular mringitaji), a person who obtains money or other things from others via false pretenses. Conman. Wali wa dafu, rice prepared with coconut milk.

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

YOUNG eSTORIES 2012.

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EASTLANDS STORIES.

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