Softly Calls the Serengeti (26 page)

Whatever the reason, one thing was clear to her. She liked Mark Riley very much.

‘And now for some late breaking news on the election results, we cross to Samuel Muthami at the Kenyatta International Conference Centre.'

‘Thank you, Desmond. I'm with Mr Nicodemus Ogwan'g, who is chief scrutineer for the Orange Democratic Movement here at the central tallying room at KICC. Mr Ogwan'g, are you able to bring our listeners up to date on the current situation regarding the presidential elections?'

‘I am, indeed. We believe that most of the polling stations across the country have now completed or are near to completing the counting for the presidential ballot. Our people at those centres have kept us informed of the count and we now believe our candidate has an unbeatable lead.'

‘Are you saying, Mr Ogwan'g, that Raila Odinga has won the presidential election?'

‘I am.'

‘But we've heard nothing from the chairman of the electoral commission to that effect. How have you come to that conclusion without hearing the official count?'

‘Our people at all the polling stations have made it clear to us. Mr Raila Odinga will be our next president.'

‘On what basis do you make your claim?'

‘The people have spoken. They have voted overwhelmingly in favour of change. They have chosen Raila Odinga to be their champion for change.'

‘But, Mr Ogwan'g, aren't you—'

‘It therefore gives me great pleasure to announce that the Orange Democratic Movement declares Mr Raila Odinga winner of the presidential election. Thank you. Thank you.'

‘There you have it, Desmond. The Orange Democratic Movement, through its official spokesman, Mr Nicodemus Ogwan'g, has claimed victory for their candidate, Mr Raila Odinga, who is set to become the first Luo president of Kenya.

‘This is Samuel Muthami at SKY FM, reporting to you from KICC in Nairobi…'

The green text on Joshua's mobile phone glowed in the dark.

He jabbed awkwardly at the keys with his thumbs.
My darling mayasa. No credit. Good news odinga wins. Love you too. Will call soon. Josh.

 

Joshua bounced out of bed at the first chime of his mobile phone alarm and went immediately to Maina's bunk and gave him a rude shove.

Maina didn't like being woken so early on his day off, and he hadn't liked being woken very late the previous night to be told he'd lost his bet and it had to be paid at dawn because Charlotte had sent a note advising Joshua they would depart for Nairobi in the morning. Joshua had guessed it was because of the violence sweeping the country. He'd half expected it, as stories of violence, death and destruction thundered from all news outlets.

He paced the gravel as he waited beside the Kenya Allover Tours's safari car. He simply loved the still, cool, liquid air of morning in Nakuru, with the last of the stars winking farewell, and the hush as the night predators gave way to the faintest stirrings from the creatures of the day.

Just as Joshua was thinking about returning to the dormitory to rouse Maina from his bed, the Kikuyu stumbled out, scratching his behind.

‘Harrumph!' he said in reply to Joshua's cheery greeting.

Joshua fidgeted impatiently as Maina stood outside the car to hitch his trousers around his ample girth, tuck in his shirt and rebuckle his belt.

‘So, Luo boy—I hear you're leaving, ah?'

‘I am. My…clients are going back to Nairobi.'

‘And that means no Serengeti for you this time.'

‘No. Not this time. Maybe later.' He couldn't hide his disappointment. ‘I don't know.'

‘You've never seen it, the Serengeti, have you?'

‘No.'

‘Of course not. That Kisumu–Musoma road is terrible.'

Joshua could only smile with him. His bravado had been outrageous and Maina had seen through it from the start.

‘Ah, the Serengeti,' Maina said, leaning against the vehicle, arms folded across his chest. ‘That's the place to go. You think this is nice around here?' He flung an arm to indicate the lake and its surrounds. ‘It's nothing,
bwana
. The Serengeti…that's the place. The smell of it. The sounds…soft. Quiet like a church.' He fell silent as his thoughts carried him away.

Joshua tried to imagine something better than what he'd seen here in Nakuru, and couldn't. He had so many questions he didn't know where to begin, or even if he should try—Maina's ridicule could be ruthless.

‘Are there lions?' he tentatively asked.

‘Lions? So many lions. You can get sick of seeing them hunting, I tell you.' Maina pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and noisily blew his nose. ‘They follow the migration. Wildebeest and zebra and antelope. So many you couldn't believe.' He shook his head for emphasis. ‘
Haki ya mungu
. And so, maybe I'll do the seeing for both of us this time.'

‘You're going to the Serengeti?'

‘Of course. After Kisumu I cross to TZ and into the Serengeti. It's not the best time, but it'll be okay.'

Joshua tried to imagine. Again, he failed.

‘
Sowa sowa
,' Maina said. ‘Let's go.'

Once on the circuit road, Maina began reciting many of the features of the park, as if conducting the usual spiel he gave all his clients. ‘More than four hundred bird species…sixty-two square kilometres…over a million flamingos…the most fabulous bird spectacle in the world…many animal species…'

Then he nodded to the right. ‘We're in the acacia forest now. There…under that mopani tree—a bushbuck.'

Joshua stared into the grey, misty middle distance. ‘Where is it? I can see nothing.'

‘Take off your city eyes! At the edge of the clearing. See it?'

The bushbuck moved. Not in a panic, but by its movement became visible.

‘It's beautiful,' Joshua said.

He could have studied it for an age, but Maina moved on.

‘Olive baboons.'

Joshua gawked. There must have been forty or fifty of them. A large male strutted belligerently along the road not twenty metres away. He stopped to pick daintily a small item from the roadside and tested it by touching it to his lips. He discarded it and moved on.

‘That fellow could fight a leopard,' Maina said.

‘There are leopards here?' Joshua couldn't keep the awe from his voice.

‘Of course.'

‘Can we see one?' he pleaded.

‘Maybe. This is not a zoo, Luo boy. But we might get lucky.'

Joshua was unsure about the reference to luck. He ran his eyes around the open vehicle. Apart from a couple of roll bars that served as support for clients wishing to stand for a better view of the surroundings, there was nothing to fend off a pouncing leopard. Or anything else.

‘Are there lions here?'

‘Plenty.'

It was an offhand reply that did nothing to calm Joshua's nerves. He began to examine every possible place a lion or
leopard could conceal itself. Maina continued to spot the most obscure creatures at the same time as he avoided potholes. Joshua was immensely impressed. For a fat Kikuyu, Maina was undoubtedly savvy.

‘How did you learn such things?' he asked after Maina had rattled off a number of facts about a bird he pointed out called a red-chested cuckoo.

‘I joined Kenya Allover Tours after working for some time as a KWS ranger.' Before Joshua could ask, he added, ‘Kenya Wildlife Service. But the tips are good for a driver. And if you can answer clients' questions and tell a few jokes, then even better. Now I've been doing this driving job for twelve years. Rothschild's giraffe.' There were seven among the acacia trees. ‘These fellows came to the park in 1977. They are not so common as the other species. The giraffe can have two, three or five horns.'

‘How can anybody know so much about one animal?' Joshua said, shaking his head in amazement.

‘I could tell you a lot about any animal you might find in Kenya, my skinny friend. And a lot more about giraffes too, but I know you Luos are a little slow. For example, the giraffe is what we call a browser—he eats the leaves of trees and shrubs. He can even strip the leaves off a thorn tree without sticking himself on the thorns. And the female, she gives birth standing up. So the baby giraffe falls nearly two metres on his birthday.'

He turned to Joshua. ‘Maybe that happened to you, Luo boy, ah?' he laughed. The sound rolled around his generous girth. ‘You think I'm joking? It's true!'

He caught Joshua's expression and laughed again. ‘Look at you! You look like you've swallowed a fly.'

They circumnavigated the lake, stopping at times to study animals in their acts of hunting, feeding or sleeping. Maina was an inexhaustible source of facts.

‘Oh-ho,' he said, drawing the car to a halt. ‘We are very lucky.'

‘What?'

‘Shh…' he hissed. ‘Will you look at that…?'

Joshua followed Maina's gaze, through the acacia forest into a sea of grass. Nothing. He couldn't contain himself.

‘Maina! What is it?'

‘Can't you see it? Probably from the forest pride. A year-old cub. We are very, very lucky.'

He engaged the clutch and edged the safari car off the road into the grass.

‘Where is it?' Joshua pleaded.

‘Straight ahead.'

The car crawled forward, hissing through the thick tussocks.

‘Look for the ears—lion's ears,' Maina whispered, ‘and you'll find her.'

Joshua immediately spotted the young lion, and another.

‘Yes! I see two.'

‘That's it! You have it, city boy,' Maina said, giving Joshua a rush of satisfaction at the unexpected praise.

The lions—almost fully grown, but still with the gangly appearance of teenagers—were stalking an outcrop of the flamingo flock that had gathered into a tight bay among the grass.

‘Ha, ha,' Maina chuckled. ‘They have no chance. But let's watch and see.'

The pair parted, each approaching the flock from almost opposite directions. From their vantage point, he and Maina could see the whole strategy unfolding. At a certain point, both lions halted, as if following an agreed plan. A moment later, the lion on the left raised its head. It was enough to send the flamingos into a paroxysm of panic. They turned and lifted en masse towards the lion concealed in grass on the right-hand side of the inlet. The hidden lion leapt more than two metres from a standing start and snagged a flamingo with its outstretched claw, making a full back-flip as it came to land. The second of the pair galloped through the shallows to reach the prize.

The flamingo had died instantaneously, giving pause to the young lions' enthusiasm. It was a thin, pink string of feathers, insignificant in size beside the capturing lion. After a couple of sniffs and a desultory attempt to pluck feathers, the lions yawned and wandered off.

Maina swung the wheel, returning the safari car to the lakeside road.

‘This fellow is a cousin of the giraffe,' he said when they stopped at the northern end of the lake.

‘A giraffe? It's a hippopotamus, isn't it?'

‘Of course it's a hippo! But it's also an even-toed ungulate.'

‘
Haki ya mungu
,' Joshua sighed. ‘I don't understand.'

‘Order, family, genus. It's been too long since I knew all that. But lucky for me, my clients don't care. If I can just put a name to everything, they're happy. And I get my nice
kitu kidogo
—my tip.'

Maina swung the car onto the lodge's access road. ‘End of the tour,' he said. Joshua knew he'd been acting like a schoolboy, hanging on Maina's every word. He wasn't so naïve that he couldn't see that although the Kikuyu had lost the bet, he was enjoying a victory nonetheless. Demonstrating his knowledge to the Luo city boy would be worth a thousand shillings. Joshua didn't care. If Maina's safari had been nothing more than a hasty spin around the lake, he could have legitimately claimed to have delivered on his wager. But by taking a more leisurely pace and so unselfishly sharing some of his knowledge with Joshua, he had made what might have been merely an interesting experience into a life-changing one.

A car horn bleated from the other side of the car park as they drove in.

‘I have to go,' Joshua said.

‘
Sowa sowa
. Okay.'

‘Maina, when you trained as a game warden…'

‘Yes?'

‘Well, is it easy to find a position? I mean, what schooling do you have to have?'

‘Nothing special. Just the eight-four-four.'

Joshua felt an emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He'd only completed the eight primary school years.

‘But in TZ I hear you only need to read and write English and Kiswahili,' he said.

The horn sounded again; this time, more persistent. Mark's voice followed it.

‘I have to go,' Joshua said again.

He extended his hand and Maina shook it African-style, with the alternate gripping of thumb and palm.

‘
Kwaheri
,' Maina said.

‘
Kwaheri
,' Joshua replied. ‘
Mzuri safari
.'

As he hurried to join Mark and Charlotte in the Land Rover, Joshua struggled with a huge dilemma. From an early age he'd wanted to be a champion footballer, playing in front of thousands. But now a new objective intruded. Now he desperately wanted to become a game warden in the Serengeti National Park.

In the morning hours of Sunday, 30 December, the people of Kibera filled the streets and alleys. Those who had not heard the declaration of victory by the ODM soon did. Luos celebrated throughout Kisumu Ndogo, in their homes, in the markets and at the homes of friends and family.

It was not only the Luos of Kisumu Ndogo who celebrated. Luos all across Kenya knew their time had arrived at last. Over the many decades since independence, they had seen their brightest lights rise only to be struck down by unknown assassins. The deaths of Tom Mboya, Robert Ouko and many others remained a mystery too deep for the police or government to resolve. Conspiracy theories were legion.

And it was not only the Luo people who celebrated. So did the Luhya, the Kalenjin, the Maasai, the Kisii and many of the Kamba. And on the coast it was the Giriama, the Taita and the Wadigo who danced and sang.

Most of the Kikuyu and their cousins, the Meru, were disappointed, but there were many among them who had become disillusioned by their man, and were also ready for change.

Wherever Raila Odinga supporters lived, there was rejoicing. And even greater hope. A new man was about to enter State House and a new order was about to begin. Everyone in Kisumu Ndogo knew that Kenya's first Luo president would change their lives—would change everything—for the better.

The years of frustrating lethargy following the last election, when President Mwai Kibaki had promised the world but had changed nothing, were over. Although a Kikuyu, Kibaki's victory had been universally popular in 2002. His platform was to end the long period of corrupt government that Kenyans had
endured for many years. But his promises had amounted to nothing. Over the five years since his election, the excitement had flagged. For most Kenyans, there had been little change. In Kibera, nothing had changed.

Simon Otieng had seen it all before. The majority of the revellers were youths whom he thought were more interested in a party than in the details of the new president's platform. He scrutinised every young face in the good-natured crowd, trying to find his son.

‘
Habari yako?
' a voice asked from his side.

‘
Mzuri
, Mama Hamza.'

The old woman's brilliant white teeth illuminated her tar-black face. ‘Why are you not running the streets like these boys,
Bwana
Simon? Are you not happy that Raila Odinga has won?'

Simon sighed. ‘I have seen too many leaders come and go to think any one of them will change our lives here. What are your thoughts of these happy days?'

She shook her head. ‘I am thinking the party is starting too early.'

‘What have you heard?'

‘I hear that Kivuitu at KICC has been given some interesting numbers. He is wondering how he can release them without causing trouble. Very big trouble.'

‘That is not possible. Odinga has won by—'

‘There is no winner until the Electoral Commission of Kenya speaks. Kivuitu has yet to open his mouth.'

Simon thought about the consequences should Odinga not be declared winner after all this celebrating.

‘Have you seen my son? Have you seen Joshua?' he asked.

‘One of my women saw him getting into a Land Rover on Thursday.'

‘Thursday? Polling day? Was it the police?'

‘No. It was a
mzungu
. A man and a lady. They went down Ngong Road.'

Simon sighed with relief, but he was puzzled. ‘A
mzungu
?'

‘You have heard nothing of him?' she asked.

‘No,' he said, shaking his head slowly. ‘Nothing.'

‘Then he is gone from Nairobi. And safe.'

‘But…where?' he asked.

‘No matter. You should be pleased he's out of Kibera. If what I've heard is true, it is better for all of us to run away from here. But since we can't, we must stay close to home.'

Simon studied her face. ‘Will it be as bad as 2002?'

‘Look at this,' she said, indicating the youths waving flags and dancing. Their singing was loud and discordant. ‘Do you think these boys will be happy to roll up their flags if their victory is stolen from them?'

 

Although disappointed at missing his chance to visit the Serengeti, Joshua had the consolation of Odinga's election win and the more immediate and exciting prospect of being with Mayasa. She had been in his thoughts since he'd left her at the side of Ngong Road. At night he couldn't get her out of his mind and the days since they'd made love felt like weeks.

What was it about time? When waiting for bad things to happen the time flew by, whereas while waiting for good things to happen it simply dragged. He remembered as a child his mother informing him early one day that his father had managed to hold a job for the whole week and there would be special food on the table that night. They would have chapattis, rice, curried goat, sweet potato and his favourite—lima beans. His mother had even hinted at a treat beyond belief—a bottle of Fanta for him and each of the girls. The day had been interminable.

Still, the time away from Nairobi had worked in his favour by easing his initial alarm about Mayasa's father's condition. Joshua's logical side could accept the illness was not necessarily a risk to Mayasa or himself, but it was hard to forget the horror stories learnt from his street education. He realised he had not
handled her news about her father very well, and he was anxious to have her back in his arms where he could reassure her of his love and support. With his newly won skills as a guide, he would make
mzungu
money, white people's money, and they could leave Kibera together.

He therefore started the journey to Nairobi feeling very positive about the day ahead, but they hadn't travelled far before he became aware of something strange. Even for a Sunday morning, the road was eerily quiet.

He sensed that Mark and Charlotte had also noticed it. Their conversation dwindled until all three drove on in silence.

They passed no vehicles, and on the outer fringe of Nakuru, where the market stalls had been a throng of shoppers and traders the day they'd arrived, there was no one. A few mangy dogs sniffed among the empty stalls, and one old woman scuttled down an alley and out of sight as they approached.

Nobody in the Land Rover appeared willing to give voice to their thoughts.

They passed through town and joined the highway where the railway passed overhead, then continued towards Naivasha.

The roads on the outskirts of Naivasha were as quiet as those of Nakuru, and continued to be so until nearer the centre of the town where they saw a tight knot of people gathered at one of the taverns. There was music and dancing. Joshua recognised some traditional Luo songs.

‘They're Luos,' he told Mark. ‘A party for Raila.'

‘A very big and boozy all-night party by the look of them,' Mark said as he swung the car left into a side street.

‘Do you know where this takes us, Mark?' There was apprehension in Charlotte's tone.

Mark glanced at her. ‘I'm guessing I can take a right somewhere along here and rejoin the highway further across town.'

Her silence suggested she remained unconvinced.

‘We'll be fine,' he added.

Now Joshua picked up on her nervousness. Away from the Luo party on the main street, Naivasha remained deathly still.

Mark took a turn to the right after a few minutes only to find the whole street blocked by a mob of young men.

Charlotte gasped.

It was too late to turn in the narrow street and retreat. Mark stopped the Land Rover at the head of the mob.

‘Charlotte, it's okay. Let's try to stay cool,' he said. ‘What's going on, Joshua?'

Joshua's heart thumped in his chest. The mob was obviously agitated and probably headed towards the Luos' party. They carried clubs and garden tools. Some had pieces of timber with nails hammered right through to produce a very vicious weapon.

‘They are Kikuyus,' Joshua whispered. ‘And looking for trouble.'

The scene reminded him of the worst of his nightmares from 2002, when the thugs had run amuck in Kibera.

‘Well, they'll get none from us,' Mark said. ‘Be calm, everybody. Let me talk to them.'

He wound down his window. ‘Good morning,' he said to the angry faces closest to him.

‘Where you go,
mzungu
?' one asked.

‘We're going home. To Nairobi. Do you mind if we pass through?'

But the leader was not looking at Mark; he and his allies stared with angry eyes at Joshua in the back seat. Others crowded around Charlotte's side of the car. One tried the door. It was locked, but Charlotte let out an involuntary gasp. Others rattled the door handles in anger.

‘We want to speak to him,' the leader said, pointing to Joshua.

‘Why? He's just our guide.'

‘Shut up,
mzungu
. We want him out here, or you go nowhere.'

‘Okay, okay,' Mark said. ‘But let me out so we can talk in private. Just you and I.'

‘Mark,
no
!' Charlotte said in a harsh whisper.

Mark gestured for her to remain calm. ‘It's okay, Charlie. I'm just going to talk to this young man. I know what I'm doing.'

Joshua was quite sure he didn't. The mob was in no mood to talk. The leader smirked and took half a step away to let the foolish
mzungu
out from the relative safety of his car.

Mark opened the door halfway and, grabbing the leader's shirt, pulled his head into the door before slamming it on him.

In the same instant as the man let out an angry howl of pain, Mark gave a blast on the horn and the Land Rover roared forward.

Those nearest the car reeled away, except for one, who was scooped up onto the hood and bounced off the windscreen before falling back onto the road.

They sped off amid a shower of rocks.

 

‘Papa, no. I won't leave you here alone,' Mayasa said.

Her father placed both hands on her shoulders and gave them a gentle pat. ‘Mayasa. You know very well what happened in '02. You will go to your sister's house in Langata.'

‘Then you must come too.'

He shook his head. ‘Enough that one of us will be crowding into that
kadogo sana
house.'

‘Maybe it will not happen like 2002. Maybe things will become quiet. The elections are over.'

‘Yes, the elections are over, and this is when the real trouble began last time. Do you not remember? These Kenyan people are always fighting, Mayasa. Not like us in Tanzania. We don't care about this tribe or that tribe. If a man wins the votes he is president. It is simple. But here,
mungu angu
, that is when the mother of all trouble begins.'

Mayasa stepped away from her father's hands, angry at his stubbornness and unwilling to accept the truth in his argument.
But she knew he was right. The vast majority of Kenyans were irreparably tribal. Even when confronted by imminent disaster as they were now, they refused to see the danger in it. They had identified with tribe long before the concept of
nation
appeared. It had been their way for decades.

She wrung her hands. She had always cared for her father, and now he would be alone in Kibera—the worst place to be when a tribal war was in the air.

 

About fifteen minutes after leaving Naivasha, Mark pulled off the road at a quiet section of the highway. He climbed out of the car and began to inspect the damage. Charlotte and Joshua joined him.

‘That was close,' Mark said, putting words to Charlotte's own thoughts.

‘We were very lucky,' she agreed, wondering what she would have done had she ignored Dr Gilanga's warning and ventured up country alone. ‘How's the damage?'

‘A few small dings,' he said. ‘Nothing to worry about.'

‘Then there's nothing stopping us from going on.'

‘What?' Mark stared at her, then broke into a smile. ‘You're joking, right?'

‘Not at all. I've found another route—I'll show you.'

She dived into the cabin and pulled a road map from the glove box. ‘See? We can take this road west to Narok, then on to Kisii, then—'

‘Charlotte, we're not going into the Rift Valley again.'

‘Why not?' she demanded indignantly. He was being a typical male, taking control. ‘Naivasha is just a hot spot. We'll be safe if we keep away from the big towns.'

‘Excuse me, but when did you become an expert on Kenya?' he said.

‘Don't be so stubborn. Just because you've found a more important project than your book—'

‘This isn't Oxford. We're not going anywhere but back to Nairobi until this blows over.'

‘And how long will that take? We don't have time to sit around. If I don't get some work done in Kisumu, I might as well forget my thesis.'

Mark glared at her, but she didn't care. He was being totally unreasonable. He had completed most of his book's research in the National Archives, and now he was so consumed by his story of the lost children, he didn't care what happened to her work.

Joshua, who had been silent throughout, asked, ‘Why do you want to go to Kisumu?'

Charlotte stared at him, realising she'd never informed him of her reasons for needing a guide. His only expressed interest had been in their side-trip to the Serengeti.

‘Well, it's to interview some Luo people for my thesis—the paper I'm writing to gain my professional qualifications.' She explained briefly that she'd interviewed a number of academics, but she wanted to speak to what she called ordinary Luo people too.

‘Then come to Kisumu Ndogo,' Joshua said. ‘There are many Luo people there. Just like Kisumu, but in the slums.'

Charlotte was stunned. How could she have missed it? Surely she should include in her research a study of how Luo culture could survive in urban communities? Taking the idea further, why not examine translocated Luo communities in the ultimate urban climate—Kibera, the largest slum in Africa? It was brilliant!