Around Nairobi in One Night
I'm copying this here because I don't ever want it to disappear. I am not the author -- who I believe is Charles Chanchori on Facebook. What a great story. I hope to see the movie one day.
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*Around
Nairobi in One Night*
February
7, 2017. 22:49h. Hurlingham, Nairobi.
I
have just dropped a young lady off at "The Hood" when the
request comes through. An unwanted request because I wanted to go
home after dropping this client off.
Before
I go too far, let me dispense with the introductions. My name is
Daniel and I am an Uber driver. I come from Githurai 45. I wanted to
go home at around 23:00h because my wife doesn't like it when I go
home past midnight.
As
soon as the request comes through on my phone, it is followed up by
the next client's call which I answer reluctantly. And the client's
name is Charles.
Me:
Hello
Him:
Hello Daniel. I was hoping you could pick me up at the Department of
Defence Headquarters ASAP.
Me:
Where to?
Him:
I don't know yet. I was thinking Utawala. Maybe Machakos?
Me:
Um, Charles, I was actually heading home to Githurai so maybe you
could do me a favor and cancel your ride then request another one?
Please? Just say the driver asked you to cancel.
Him:
Home, huh? And where is home?
I
guess it is at this juncture that I start recognizing the confidence
in his voice. A certain kind of sharpness and metallic substance that
is used to throwing orders around.
In
my line of work, I meet many people. Students, lawyers, doctors,
business folks, and they all talk the same. Though some lawyers can
be a bit arrogant. And students can be irritating especially when
they travel in groups and are collectively drunk as sailors.
And
there are soldiers. These don't make requests. They order you around
if they speak. Mostly they just ride in silence. Especially those who
have seen combat.
Me:
Githurai is my home.
Him:
Which one Daniel?
Me:
Githurai 45.
Him:
OK. Then that has just become my new destination. Pick me up right
away.
It
takes me less than five minutes to drive from The Hood to the
Department of Defence (DoD) gate where I find him waiting for me.
As
he walks towards me, I notice that he looks different from his voice.
Whereas his voice is authoritative and intimidating, his frame is a
bit small. He must be about five seven and weighs around sixty five
kilograms. Considering he looks thirty, he is of a small build.
He
is in a trench coat with the collar turned up, khaki trousers and
brown boots like those won by the United States Marines for those who
watch movies.
He
walks, or rather's marches stiffly towards my car, leans against the
codriver's side and peers in through the open window.
Him:
You're Daniel, yeah?
Me:
Yes. You must be Charles?
Him:
Last I checked (He opens the door and climbs in swiftly). Let's go.
Of
course I have questions because obviously, the man in my car has no
clear destination. He just wants to go wherever.
I
have carried thousands of passengers in my car, but I have never
carried one without a destination. Is he running away from something?
Is he a criminal?
Me:
So where in Githurai do you want to go?
Him:
I don't know. Any sites you might recommend to me? I have never
really been to Githurai before. I just see it from the comfort of a
car as I drive by.
Me:
No. Not really. It is just an overcrowded little place with cheap
housing.
Him:
Daniel?
Me:
Huh.
Him:
I was just joking. (He smiles. His smile seems sad. Lonely. Painful
even)
Me:
Oh. They must have just invented a sense of humor where you come
from.
Him:
(Laughing) Where I come from, they only have bullets, guns, bombs,
khat and prostitutes. Humor is something they are yet to discover.
Me:
Look at that. You just might be the Issac Newton of humor where you
come from.
Him:
Who's Issac Newton?
Me:
(Lost) Oh. (I cast a glance at him to see if he is kidding. His stone
face tells me he is not) He's the guy who discovered gravity.
Him:
Daniel
Me:
Huh?
Him:
I was just kidding.
Me:
(Smiling) Really? Coz your face told me you were bloody serious.
Him:
Where I come from, we have perfected the art of a poker face.
Me:
Yeah? Where do you come from?
Him:
So Newton discovered gravity, huh? What does discovery mean to you
exactly?
Me:
Excuse me?
Him:
Gravity. Surely it existed before Newton noticed that apples don't
fly around in the air when they are thrown up but they come hurtling
down to the ground. All he did was give that a name. Is that what
discovery means? Giving a name to something that already exists?
Me:
(Wondering where this conversation is headed) I am sure it's more
complicated than that.
Him:
Like this other dirt bag who apparently discovered Mt. Kenya. Weren't
there people who were living around that area when he "discovered"
it? Or was it invisible to them? If memory serves, the Kikuyu people
used to face it when they prayed because they believed that their god
lives up there. Then comes a white guy who sees it and says;
drumroll; "There lies a huge mountain that the natives don't
give a shit about. But because I'm the first white guy to see it, I
have discovered it and I have named it Mount Kenya!! Yay! Now my name
will be in history books forever! I'm awesome!!!"
Me:
(Chuckling) Are you always this radical?
Him:
Radical? No. What does discovery mean to you?
Me:
Finding something that hasn't been found by anyone else before?
Him:
I would say that is kind of right. Then I must ask, have you
discovered youeself?
Me:
Discovered myself?
Him:
Do you know who you are?
Me:
(Laughing uncomfortably) I guess I'm just a normal guy.
By
now I am driving globe cinema roundabout and then up to Ngara where I
speed down Murang'a Road towards Thika Superhighway which starts at
Pangani. It is going on 23:00h and there is no traffic around this
hour.
Matter
of fact, driving around Nairobi at 23:00h can be quite therapeutic.
Him:
Just a normal guy, huh? With a normal job and a normal relationship
and normal friends and normal beliefs, right?
Me:
You question me like there's something wrong with normalcy.
Him:
I have nothing against normalcy. It is what our ancestors fought and
died for all those years ago. It is what soldiers are dying in
Somalia for. For the right of Kenyans to lead their normal, boring
lives. Because that's what peace involves, you know? Peace is normal.
Peace is boring. You wake up from your boring bed in the morning and
say "good morning" to your uninteresting wife and she
smiles and says good morning to her uninteresting husband. Maybe you
have a quickie before it is time to jump of out bed and grab a
shower. Which is quite normal. Or she is on her period and you're
horny so you masturbate in the shower. Which again is normal. Then
you have to make sure your normal kids are ready for normally
uninteresting school and then they are off. And you have to come to
your uber driving job which forgive me for saying, is pretty boring.
If I had to drive around Nairobi for a living, I'd probably turn into
a serial killer and follow my passengers home and kill them in their
beds just to sweeten my life up. I mean, who'd ever suspect a taxi
driver, right? At night, you drive back home to your wife and you're
both too tired to have an interesting shag so you just grab another
shower and collapse in bed like a log. Before you know it, you're
sixty with one foot in the grave. And that's OK because you have
lived an entire lifetime. But the thing about peace is that people
forget to live, you know? I mean, when was the last time you smelled
a rose and realized it doesn't smell good? When was the last time you
went to watch a performance at the Kenya National Theatre? Leave
that. When was the last time you spanked your wife's ass? When was
the last time that the both of you played around like children? When
was the last time you chased her around that cheap apartment of
yours? Peace will do that to you. You will get comfortable with life,
focus too much on earning a living, then completely forget to live.
What's the essence of living then, huh?
Me:
So what would you rather we do? Go to war with Uganda over Migingo
Island?
Him:
No. But forget the rules every now and then. Have fun. Live a little.
Because you know what, there are people dying for you to live.
Everyday. Because when your life is in danger, that's when you start
appreciating it. When you discover you have cancer or other terminal
illness, you start living each day like it means something.
Me:
That's deep.
We
are at Survey now along Thika Road and we're right in the middle
lane. Which is why I'm shocked when he says,
Him:
Stop the car. I want to take a shit. Do you have toilet paper?
Me:
We're right in the middle of the highway.
Him:
Just stop the fucking car Daniel!
Maybe
it's the way he says it that gets me to pull over at the side of the
highway. I don't have toilet paper but I have some wet wipes which he
grabs, gets out of the car, walks to the back, pulls down his pants
and squats. Right there in the middle of the biggest highway in the
country.
He
takes one long dump without any hurry or care in the world. I have my
'hazards' on but two minutes into his unhygienic business, I decide
it might be a great idea to place the triangle on the road for
safety. But the moment I step off the car, I'm hit by such a stench
that I fall back inside.
It
takes him a whooping five minutes to conclude his business and get
back inside the car. And I make a conscious decision not to have a
conversation about it. But at this juncture, I start wondering
whether he is crazy.
Me:
Are you a soldier?
Him:
Why?
Me:
Just asking.
Him:
You didn't 'just' ask. You must have asked for a reason. What reason
was it?
Me:
Forget it.
I
am growing increasingly uncomfortable with him being inside my car so
I press the fuel pedal to the floor because I want to get to Githurai
as quickly as possible and be rid of this Charles character.
Him:
Why are you driving so fast?
Me:
There's no traffic. Besides, I'm getting sleepy so I need to get home
quickly and sleep.
Him:
Why did you ask if I'm a soldier?
Me:
(Snapping) I said forget it!
Him:
OK! But just so for your information, I think any man who drives an
automatic car is a coward.
Me:
(After witnessing him conducting his "human dignity"
business in public, on the highway, I have lost my respect for him.
So I have no intention of engaging him in a conversation) OK.
Him:
And you sir, have a shitty car.
Me:
(I am driving at 140km/h now and we're just approaching Roysambu) OK.
Him:
Have you ever cheated on your wife Daniel?
Me:
I doubt that that's any of your business.
Him:
Aww. Are you sulking now because I did something you deem
inappropriate?
I
turn on the radio and normally I listen to Inooro FM because it is MY
radio inside MY car. Currently playing is Sammy Muraya's "Dictator"
Him:
(Pumping up the volume then yelling above the song) I love this song!
It makes me feel sad!
I'm
surprised that he has an opinion about a Kikuyu song. I didn't think
he knows it. Then it hits me. He's just jerking me around. So I
reduce the volume and press the brakes pedal because we're
approaching another set of bumps.
Him:
(Singing along) Dictator wayuni, watuire uthaka waku silaha
unyarirage arume... (Dictator Wayuni, you weaponized your beauty and
used it against men)
Looks
like he understands the song after all.
21:08h.
Githurai 45.
I
pull over at the Cooperative Bank and ask him again where in Githurai
he needs to be dropped off.
Him:
(Seriously) I have changed my mind. I have decided I want to go to
Donholm via Kangundo Road. That means you will travel to Ruiru and
use the Eastern Bypass.
Me:
(I am beginning to get my first rush of fear. This looks like
trouble) Look, just pay me then request for another ride, OK?
Him:
You didn't hear me. (That metallic taste in his voice again) I need
to get to Donholm. Now!
Me:
(Putting my foot down) No.
Him:
(Chuckles and runs his palm down his face. His smile no longer seems
sad. Or lonely. Or painful. Now he looks like he's having fun.
Finally) Daniel?
Me:
(Hoping he'll say, "I was just kidding") What!
Him:
I am going to deep my hand inside my trench coat. Then when I pull it
out, I will be holding a 1911 Colt .45 semi automatic side-arm. I
will cork it, then I will slowly lift it to your head (points at my
temple) right here and I will not even count to three. I will just
shoot you dead. (He looks right into my eyes so severely I am
downright scared now. And he seems so calm like he has done this a
million times.) Do you want me to kill you right now Daniel? Because
trust you me, I will kill you. Then I will drive myself to Donholm
with your headless body bleeding in the seat I'm occupying right now.
Because that's what a Colt .45 will do to you. It. Will. Behead you.
I
don't even pause to ask myself if he really does have a gun. I start
the car immediately and drive fast towards Ruiru because the last
thing I want is for him to ask me to take him home to where my wife
and children are. So I drive him out of Githurai as fast as possible.
Him:
So, why did you ask whether I'm a soldier?
Me:
I um... I um... I just saw your boots.
Him:
Come on Daniel. I thought we're friends. Friends don't bullshit each
other. If you answer me honestly, I'll answer your question honestly.
Me:
Well, if you must know, I asked if you're a soldier because I wanted
to know what I'd be dealing with if you posed a threat to my life.
Guess now I know..
Him:
Why do you think I'd pose a danger to your life?
Me:
Because you had no destination. I thought you were a criminal. A
fugitive.
Him:
And what would my being a soldier have anything to do with my being a
criminal?
Me:
I would have asked if you'd seen any combat. Then maybe I could
conclude that you're probably suffering from Post Traumatic Stress
Disorder.
Him:
I'm Captain Charles Gachora. And yes I have seen combat in Somalia.
Do I have PTSD? I have no idea. Maybe. Maybe not. Ask me that
question that you really want to ask
Me:
What question?
Him:
Don't an idiot. Ask!
Me:
Will you kill me?
Him:
No. I'm done killing civilians. But am I done killing? I don't know
Daniel. Am I?
I
cast him a defiant look and maybe that's what prompts him to dip his
hand inside his jacket and pull out a pistol. And this is the point
where I realize that I am very scared.
Him:
Just in case you're wondering, yes I have a gun. You're driving too
fast. Slow down.
I
am driving at 110km/h. I slow down. I have just left Kahawa Sukari
and now I'm driving up the Kenyatta University hill and driving at
100km/h, I should be in Ruiru in a minute or two.
My
feet and hands are trembling and I'm feeling cold all of a sudden.
Him:
You didn't answer my question.
Me:
Which one?
Him:
Have you ever cheated on your wife?
Me:
Nope.
Him:
Do you love her?
Me:
Yes.
Him:
When was the last time you had sex with her?
Me:
What? Why?
Him:
(Frustrated) OK Daniel, here are the rules. If you don't answer my
questions, or of you answer with an attitude or if I realize you're
lying to me, I won't even warn you. I'll just shoot you in the head,
throw your body out of the moving car and drive on like you never
existed. And do you know how they'll report your death on the morning
news? (Imitates a newscaster) "The decapitated body of an
unidentified male was found dumped along Thika Superhighway last
night. The body which is unrecognizable because of being ran over by
motorists, was taken to Kenyatta University Funeral Home. The police
suspect that he was trying to cross the busy highway when he was
struck down by a speeding vehicle. The areas OCPD Mr. Reginald Omwamo
has requested pedestrians to be extra careful while the road. We'll
take a short break and return with the sports news shortly."
Me:
It's been a few months.
Him:
How old are you?
Me:
I will be forty in an hour.
Him:
Aww! Daniel!! Happy Birthday!
Me:
(Mirthless) Thank you. You're far too kind.
Him:
(Smiling) Look at you! Even with a distinct threat against your life
you still have a sense of sarcasm. Good for you.
Me:
Please. I have kids. I have two young kids who rely on me.
Him:
Oh, really? (Meekly) I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that a man of
your age had kids. Oh my bad. Please turn the car around and drive
home to your kids. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience Daniel. (Grabs
his chest) I have broken my own heart. How dare I carjack a father?!
I must be a terrible terrible person.
I
realized he was being sarcastic five minutes ago so I keep driving.
I'm now speeding down towards Outer Ring Road along which Donholm
lies.
Him:
How long have you been married?
Me:
Twelve years.
Him:
And in all that time, you have never had sex with a woman who wasn't
your wife?
Me:
No.
Him:
Well, well, well. You're one of the good ones, aren't you? Are you
happily married?
Me:
I.. I... (At once I ask myself, "what does happily married mean?
As opposed to what? Sadly married?") I like to think I am.
Him:
Yes or no, Daniel? Yes or no?
Me:
Yes.
Him:
Have you ever been tempted to lie with another woman as you would
with your wife?
Me:
Yes.
Him:
Tell me about them. These other women.
Me:
There was only one. Her name was Sharon. We went to the same church.
Him:
Did you ever attempt to act on your temptation?
Me:
No.
Him:
You're lying to me.
Me:
I swear on my life I am...
Bang!
The gun goes off and in my terror, I swerve the car to and fro all
over the road and fight really hard to regain control of it. Charles
is screaming at the top of his voice;
Him:
By all means, fuck up the car! Crash it! Crash the car! See if I
care! Go on! Drive us both off the road! Kill us Daniel!! Kill us
both!!
But
I manage to focus on regaining control of the vehicle and as soon as
I bring it to a screeching halt at the side of Kangundo Road, I turn
to him screaming as loudly;
Me:
What do you want from me Charles??!! What the hell do you want from
me??! Do you want the fucking car? You can have it! You want to kill
me? Put the gun on my head and do it already!
Him:
Do you want that? DO YOU Ll WANT ME TO KILL YOU?
Me:
Yes! Do it! Do it!
Him:
Fine!
He
points the gun to my head without any hesitation whatsoever and I am
sure he will kill me without any second thoughts or regret. This is a
man with nothing to loss. With no conscience at all and no regard for
human life. So I scream;
Me:
Wait!! Please wait!
Him:
(Pressing the gun against my head so hard that my head is being
pushed against the window on the driver's side) For what Daniel? For
what? Do you want to pray? To what God? To the one of the Jews? Or
the Christian one? Or Allah? Or Buddha? Or do you want to turn to
Kirinyaga mountain and say "Thaai Thathaiya Ngai Thaai" to
the God of your ancestors?
Me:
(I'm confused. And scared. I'm thinking of my children and my wife.)
Please don't.
Him:
(He's still pressing the gun against my head really hard) Huh?
Me:
Please don't kill me.
Him:
I can't hear you begging Daniel! Beg Daniel, beg!
Me:
Please don't kill me. Please. For my kids. Please don't take my kids'
daddy away from them. (I don't know the point at which tears roll
down my face)
Him:
Have you ever cheated on your wife?
Me:
No!
Him:
You're lying! (He must be pushing the gun against my temple with all
his might now because the hot muzzle starts cutting into my skin.)
NO!
Him:
YOU'RE LYING DANIEL!! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE ALIVE!! No soldier
should be in Somalia dying for you!!
Me:
(I figure he's about to shoot so I yell) She is the one who cheated
on me, OK? She cheated on me. (The pressure of his gun against my
head relaxes) She cheated on me, OK? (Then the weight of my words hit
me) OH my God. She cheated on me.
Charles
gets the gun off my head in silence, puts it back inside his trench
coat and pats me on the shoulder like we're buddies and asks me to
get out of the car. He doesn't order. He requests nicely like he
genuinely cares about me and I find myself appreciating the gesture.
Maybe I'm developing a case of the Stockholm Syndrome.
I
get outside the car and he sits behind the wheel as I walk around and
sit beside him.
He
starts the engine and drives slowly and in silence towards Donholm.
February
8th, 2017. 00:15h. Donholm, Nairobi.
Charles
has stopped the car outside Steers because he has a craving for
Pizza.
Him:
Let me grab a pizza in there. I hope it's as good as I left it when I
left for Somalia. But if they put pineapples in my pizza, I'll kill
them all. Wait in the car, OK? And if you try anything weird, I'll
kill you then kill myself. That way I can spend eternity in hell
terrorizing you.
I
want to say "I'll go to heaven" but I'm in no mood to make
jokes. Not that me going to heaven is funny but because I don't want
him to think I'm joking by saying that.
So
he disappears into Steers with my phone and the car keys and after
having locked me inside my own car like I'm a family pet.
To
make sure that my wife doesn't call me endlessly, Charles made sure
we talked (through a "supervised call") and he made me
explain to her that I had just landed a client who needed to be taken
around Nairobi in one night and who would tip generously at the end
of it all.
He
comes back carrying an extra large pizza, a two liter bottle of soda
and plastic cups. He puts them all at the back seat, sits behind the
wheel and drives slowly at 60km/h along Jogoo Road towards Nairobi
Central Business District.
As
we approach Buru Buru, he changes the channel to Classic 105 and the
song playing is Lonestar's "Let's Be Us Again"
Kirinyaga
Road, Downtown Nairobi. 00:46h
Charles
stops the car at Shell Petrol Station along Kirinyaga Road facing
Globe Cinema Roundabout and turns to me.
Him:
I am hungry. We have an extra large pizza. You could join me if you
aren't in a sulky mood.
He
grabs the pizza and the soda, gets out of the car, places them on the
bonnet, leans against the car and starts enjoying his meal.
I
join him silently and I don't know what to feel about this whole
night. Part of me wants to make a run for it, but he's the man with
the gun. He could just shoot me in the back.
Me:
When we started dating, my wife and I, she had an affair with this
choirboy which I came to know about. When I confronted her about it,
she broke down and apologized profusely begging me not to leave. A
few days later, she made me listen to that song, "Let's Be Us
Again." I can still hear her voice in my head singing, "Tell
me what I have to do tonight, coz I'd do anything to make this right.
Let's be us again..."
Him:
And you forgave her and went ahead and married her. I dare even say
that you married her because she cheated.
Me:
Yeah. Two months after we got back together, I bought a nice ring for
her and popped the question. She said yes amidst a stream of tears on
her face and that sweet voice. "Yes baby. Yes. I'll be honored
to be your wife." I guess I didn't want to lose her, you know?
She was the only thing that meant anything to me. My whole lifeline.
Without her I felt like I was nothing. Do you know what I was
thinking about as I went down on one knee to propose?
Him:
Not really, but I can imagine.
Me:
Yeah. I was thinking about her and the choirboy having sex behind the
church. I was thinking about her facing the wall with her skirt up
her waist, her panties around her ankles and him...
Him:
Yeah yeah Danny. I get the picture.
As
we enjoy our pizza and soda, a couple of street kids start hovering
around, then their number grow to four, then six. So I start getting
nervous.
Kirinyaga
Road is lonely this time of the night. And when robbers commit their
robberies, this is where they come to divide their loot. When cheap
hookers get cheap clients who won't pay for a room, it is not strange
to see them having coitus under a lamppost along Kirinyaga Road. And
here I stand with a complete stranger, enjoying dinner.
Me:
Maybe we should drive up to Kimathi Street or something. It doesn't
feel so safe down here.
Him:
Are you nervous? Are you afraid that a bunch of street children will
eat our pizza?
Me:
(Annoyed because he has this way of belittling everything and I find
this irritating) No. I'm nervous that some armed gangsters might
steal my car and shoot me for good measure.
Him:
I am armed too.
Me:
Great! It will be just you and six gangsters shooting it out. And you
will be victorious, obviously because you're a big bad soldier who
has been involved in a big bad shoot-out in Somalia, right?
Him:
(Chewing his pizza nonchalantly) No. I will emerge victorious because
I'm the big bad soldier with the big bad hand grenades. (He fishes
two hand grenades from the insides of his trench coat and places them
carefully on the bonnet) Do you feel safer now Danny?
Me:
No. Not particularly. (Voice lost in various degrees of terror) Who
are you?
Him:
(Waving off the subject like it doesn't matter) Thing about sex with
many people Daniel is, it starts to lose value after a while. You
meet a woman in the morning, you have a conversation during which
some chemistry is realized, you have lunch and supper together and
you spend the night together. Next week, same thing happens with
another woman and before you know it, you're sleeping with three
women in one week. And since you have realized that sex comes easy,
you stop valuing it. It becomes something you expect from every woman
on the very first night you meet her and if you meet a good one who
doesn't want to give it up on the first night, you walk away to
another tree where the fruits are lower and more accessible. You even
become too lazy to go on an actual date because your objective is to
get laid and you know you can and will get laid by someone without
even having to buy her a cup of coffee. Soon, you find yourself
thinking you should get laid by any woman with whom you have some
sort of chemistry. Like it's your right. I mean, you're clicking four
or five women in a week. And they are not prostitutes either. No.
They're just women who you meet at work, or during a night out or at
a training in some big hotel. It starts getting to your head. You Are
special. Especially because the reviews you're getting are along the
lines of "You're amazing!" If even three out of the five a
week decide that you're good in bed, it must be true. Then one
morning you wake up feeling empty and sad and you can't call any of
them for a chat because you don't even like them. You evaluate
yourself and your life and come to the conclusion that you really are
nothing. You belong to any one who will open their legs for you.
You're not special. You are cheap because you can be had by any one.
We're you currency, you wouldn't be a thousand shillings note. You'd
be a twenty shillings coin. And there's nothing worse in a man's life
than to wake up realizing you don't value sex any more. When sex is
just another thing you do, like brushing your teeth or taking a shit
or shaking someone's hand in greeting. You find that you have grown
cold, emotionless, inconsiderate. You find that you have turned into
something you thought you'd never be.
Me: Is that who my wife is? Someone who doesn't value sex with me anymore?
Me: Is that who my wife is? Someone who doesn't value sex with me anymore?
Him:
I don't know your wife. You'd have to tell me.
Me:
She has been carrying on an affair for the last three years. She
thinks I don't know about it but I do. I keep waiting for her to show
up with the divorce papers but she never does.
Him:
You're still desperate for her. She's still your entire lifeline.
Me:
Yeah. At first I thought I was sticking around for the sake of the
kids. But truth is, I can't stand being alone.
Him:
But you're already alone. But who am I to act marriage counsellor?
I'm not married. Just do whatever you want. Spend your boring little
life however you want to spend it. It's your life. That's what
freedom means.
By
now, we're full and Charles passes a huge chunk of the pizza to a few
street children hovering around. I notice that he passes the slices
to the youngest of them and warns the older and the bigger ones not
to steal from them.
01:34h
I
am now the one behind the wheel and Charles has instructed me to
drive to Alliance Francaise where he just sits in the car and stares
at the place blankly.
Him:
To me, this place is the soul of Nairobi. When I was younger and
before I enlisted in the army, I used to come here to recite poetry.
One night I met a girl. Wangu was her name. She seemed so exotic, you
know. Her hair was short, she wore no make-up and was always dressed
in something African. Made of Kitenge. Either her trousers, or top,
or headgear... She had to have something African.
First
time I said hello, she smiled and gave me a peck on the cheek. Then
she asked to rehearse with me because she would be performing in a
jiffy. And her poem was about her. About who she was, how she felt
one with the soil of Mukurueini where she came from, how she
respected the elders who had informed her of Wangu wa Makeri. How she
was this true African empress, endowed with all the honor and glory
that came with that. When she recited the poem, she received a
standing ovation that lasted about five minutes. And I knew I loved
her. Especially when later she rushed into my arms, hugged me and
asked how she had done. Like my opinion meant more to her than the
five minute standing ovation. And that Daniel, that was the last time
I cried. She saw in me what nobody else had ever seen.
Me:
What became of you two?
Him:
I ran away from her. She seemed mystical. Like I didn't deserve her.
She was too good for me and if we started dating, one of two things
would happen. (A) I would want to change to be better so as to
deserve her. Or something. I know it doesn't make sense but
relationships change people. (B) She would change and be more like
me. I don't want A to happen and I would have hated for B to happen.
So when the army opportunity presented itself, I couldn't take it
fast enough.
Me:
You just let someone you were in love with and who loved you back go?
Because you didn't want to grow up?
Him:
That was the idea. But she joined the army too. I didn't know that
until we met in Somalia.
Me:
Second chances don't come to us all.
Him:
Let's drive to Lang'ata barracks.
Me:
What's there?
Him:
I'll show you.
And
so off to Lang'ata barracks we go. He asks me not to be in any hurry.
That he wants to see the sights.
And
as I drive down Uhuru Highway, he lowers his window, puts his hand
out and makes waves against the wind. He seems at peace. Like this
whole exercise is therapeutic to him.
I
drive around the roundabout and up Lang'ata Road. Just as we are
going past Nairobi West, he spots a drunk man beating up an equally
drunk woman. She is scantily dressed and appears generally
dishevelled. Consider it is going on 02:00h, it is easy to conclude
she is a prostitute.
Him:
Stop the car. Now!
He
opens the door and jumps out even before the car has stopped
completely. With his Colt in his hand, he runs towards the man and
woman, yanks him away from her, kicks him on the stomach, hurls him
to the ground and starts whipping him with his gun.
There's
a beat down and then there's a gun whipping. I have never seen one
before and I never see one again.
First
a cut appears on the victim's face. Followed by another. Then the
cuts get too bloody. You can't tell how many cuts there are exactly.
Then the victim spits out a tooth followed by another and soon
enough, he is choking on teeth and blood. His eyes are rolling to the
back of his head and it looks like he is on the verge of dying. That
amount of blunt force trauma to the face and head can't be good for
anyone's brain.
Then
Charles stops suddenly and turns to the woman. I'm watching all this
from a far. Humans react differently to violence. Fight or flight.
That's what schools teach. But nobody ever tells you that there's a
third reaction. Freezing. Most people freeze in the face of violence.
Me being one of them.
Charles
takes his trench coat off and covers the woman up with it. She is
trembling. Whether it is because she's terrified or cold, I'll never
know.
He
then hugs her and rubs her back continuously for a few minutes as her
assailant lies on the ground groaning and choking.
After
retrieving his hand grenades and other belongings from his coat, he
hugs the lady again and joins me inside the car.
His
hands have blood all over them. He wipes them clean with my wet wipes
and wipes the gun too. But blood is never easy to clean off. After
dumping the dirty wipes on the road, we drive off towards the
barracks.
02:09h.
Lang'ata Barracks. Nairobi.
We're
seated in the car outside the gate and he points to a place among
some trees above the gate.
Him:
Do you see that structure up there?
Me:
(Leaning toward him to catch a glimpse of what he's pointing at)
Yeah.
Him:
In that structure there is a .50 calibre machine gun with over a
thousand rounds of ammunition accompanying it.
Me:
What's a .50 caliber machine gun?
Him:
Well, when I was a kid we used to call them general purpose machine
guns or GPMG. They are those huge machine guns you see hoisted in the
back of a Humvee in movies.
Me:
What's a Humvee?
Him:
It's a fucking military jeep Daniel! Jesus Christ! You're a good old
pot of ignorance, aren't you?
Me:
Well forgive me for not knowing military jargon. You just picked me
off the streets, remember?
Him:
Well, a .50 calibre machine gun derives its name from its bullets. If
it hits you, it could bloody well cut you in half.
Me:
So why are we seated outside the barracks at half past two in the
morning staring at weapons of mass destruction?
Him:
Wangu and her company were patrolling a village about 100 kilometers
south of Mogadishu when they are stopped by a kid. The kid is about
eight to ten years old and she is cradling an elderly gentleman in
her arms. The man's legs are missing and from what Wangu and her
company can see, his stumps are still fresh. He must have been a
victim of an IED. Improvised Explosive Device. Nasty things those
are. So she instructs a Sergeant to grab two soldiers and get them
off the road. But that doesn't happen because as soon as they
disembark, the man and the little girl go boom.
Me:
They explode?
Him:
Yeah. They just say "Allahu Akbar" and their little bomb
jackets just blow them and a bunch of soldiers to smithrens. Then
bullets start raining on Lieutenant Wangu's convoy like rain and
brimstone. It's a bloody ambush. Of course they return fire but the
terrorists have the advantage of surprise and that of higher ground.
They're just raining bullets and missiles on my men like it's open
party. And my soldiers are on the menu. About 85% of them die on that
dirt road that day. And those that make it back to base don't really
make it, you know? That night I cradle Wangu in my arms one last
time. See, she caught this shrapnel in her throat that just had to
come out. And she bled out as I watched. And she said that joining
the army was the best thing she ever did because then she got to see
me again. That Somalia to her was more beautiful than the most
beautiful festival night or poetry slam at Alliance Francaise because
I was in Somalia not Alliance Francaise. And the moment her eyes lost
their light and I shut her eyelids with my fingers, I knew I was done
with this war. I knew I was done being a soldier. I was done with the
rules of engagement and the Geneva conventions could go fuck
themselves. So I took three soldiers I trusted, put them in a humvee
without the Commanding Officer's orders and we went to that village
in the middle of the night. If they weren't insurgents, they sure
were collaborators. And as we drove around that village, I opened
fire on everyone and everything I saw using one of those .50 calibre
machine guns. I didn't care about children or women or legless old
people. Anything that could wear a suicide vest had to die. And so I
stood behind that fast spitting machine gun and pah pah pah pah pah
pah pah... And the more you shoot, the more you disassociate yourself
from your actions. You just as well might be playing a video game.
The more people you gun down, the higher the score. We launch
missiles in that village and by the time we're leaving, no soul is
left breathing. I go back to base with over two hundred kills to my
name, expecting court martial but that doesn't happen. I'm issued my
orders by the CO and it's business as usual.
Me:
What? What about the news? What did the press say about the massacre?
Him:
I don't know. What did you hear about the massacre?
Me:
Nothing.
Him:
Exactly.
Me:
So what are you going to do now?
Him:
As soon as you drop me off at a yet to be determined point, I will
shoot myself in the head and join Wangu in the afterlife if there's
one.
Me:
That doesn't sound like a good plan.
Him:
Daniel?
Me:
Huh?
Him:
I'm kidding. (He reaches into the backseat where he retrieves an
envelop which he hands to me) At exactly 05:00h, you're going to drop
this off at the Nation Center.
Me:
(Taking the envelop) What is it?
Him:
It is none of your business is what that is. Drive off to Karen. The
Hemingsway Hotel.
03:28h.
Hemingway Hotel. Karen.
Charles
has stashed his gun and his two hand grenades somewhere inside the
backseats and he has done it so well that not even the security check
discovers them.
He
points me to the parking lot where I park and he invites me to a meal
in the restaurant.
This
is one of those hotels where I only drop and pick people but I have
never really been. My job doesn't get me past the parking lot. So
when Charles invites me to the restaurant, I am pleasantly surprised.
We're
not hungry because we devoured huge chunks of pizza along Kirinyaga
Road but Charles informs me that though the food here is great, it
isn't much.
And
at that time of the night, the restaurant doesn't have much in terms
of food. But the kitchen, after some convincing by Charles, manages
to scramble up an omelette, some bacon, pancakes and sausages for us,
which we wait for at the bar.
The
place is exquisite. The cream walls seem like the walls of Paradise
in the morning lighting and the thick carpets, the shiny piano at the
lobby, the thick curtains, the shiny furniture... I have never seen
anything so magnificent in my whole life.
Him:
You know what you need to do? You need to come here during the day
and have a cup of coffee at the balcony facing Ngong Hills. With
someone you love. Then you need to dress down to your boxers and jump
off the balcony and right into the swimming pool right under you.
It's glorious.
Me:
Is that something you've ever done?
Him:
Yeah. Wangu and I did it once. We had come here on a poetry event.
Couldn't really afford it here then. But we had the maximum amount of
fun because we were being sponsored by some Dutchmen.
We
take some overpriced shots of some Scotch whose name escapes me and
Charles asks if I can play the piano. I can't.
Him:
But can you sing?
Me:
I can croak.
Him:
I'll play and you'll croak.
He
sits at the piano with his glass of Scotch and starts playing. The
tune sounds very familiar and I find myself singing more
instinctively than consciously
Me:
Tell me what I have to do tonight,
Cause I'd do anything to make it right,
Let's be us again.
I'm sorry for the way I lost my head,
I don't know why I said the things I said,
Lets be us again.
Cause I'd do anything to make it right,
Let's be us again.
I'm sorry for the way I lost my head,
I don't know why I said the things I said,
Lets be us again.
Charles
joins me in for the chorus and there's a glint in his eyes that I
haven't seen before. I imagine him and Wangu seated at this very
piano singing a different song. A song about Africa. About where they
come from and the essence that connects them. The energy derived from
Mukurwei wa Nyagathanga that brings them together in a bond that no
war, no bullet, no bomb and no distance can separate.
Him
and I: Here I stand, with everything to lose,
All I know is I don't wanna ever see the end.
Baby please, I'm reaching out for you,
Won't you open up your heart and let me come back in,
Let's be us again.
All I know is I don't wanna ever see the end.
Baby please, I'm reaching out for you,
Won't you open up your heart and let me come back in,
Let's be us again.
Him:
Look at me I'm way past pride,
Isn't there some way that we can try,
To be us again.
Even if it takes a while,
I'll wait right here until I see that smile,
That says we're us again.
Isn't there some way that we can try,
To be us again.
Even if it takes a while,
I'll wait right here until I see that smile,
That says we're us again.
As
he sings, he shuts his eyes and I figure he is picturing himself and
Wangu at the balcony of this very hotel sipping coffee and gazing
into the distant Ngong Hills. I figure he's regretting running away
from her and joining the army. I figure he's regretting not deserting
with her and running off to a distant country with her. I figure he
misses her. And for the first time, I feel sorry for him. Him who is
so young yet has lived through such turmoil. I figure he's only
trying to rediscover himself.
Him
and I: Here I stand with everything to lose,
All I know is I don't wanna ever see the end.
Baby please,
I'm reaching out for you,
Won't you open up your heart and let me come back in
Let's be us (Ohhh)
Baby baby, what would I do?
Can't imagine life without you.
All I know is I don't wanna ever see the end.
Baby please,
I'm reaching out for you,
Won't you open up your heart and let me come back in
Let's be us (Ohhh)
Baby baby, what would I do?
Can't imagine life without you.
Him:
Here I stand with everything to lose.
All I know is I don't wanna ever see the end,
Baby please,
I'm reaching out for you
Won't you open up your heart and let me come back in?
Oh here I am I'm, reaching out for you,
Won't you open up your heart and let me come back in?
Lets be us again.
Oh, lets be us again.
All I know is I don't wanna ever see the end,
Baby please,
I'm reaching out for you
Won't you open up your heart and let me come back in?
Oh here I am I'm, reaching out for you,
Won't you open up your heart and let me come back in?
Lets be us again.
Oh, lets be us again.
I
noticed his face shining in the lighting and his eyes shut and I
figured he needed sometime alone. If he realizes that he's crying, he
doesn't do much about it. He just lets them tears flow.
And
as I watch him weep and sing and let his heart go out for the woman
he loved and lost, I realize I have never felt what he feels. I have
never loved my wife with the same intensity that he loves Wangu. It
is no wonder thus that she cheated on me time and again.
Our
meal is brought to us and we enjoy it without a hurry in the world
and in silence. We both figure that we have said all that there is to
be said, done all that there is to be done and even though we only
met a few hours ago, I feel like I have known Charles my whole life.
Like I have been with him through his ups and downs.
At
04:18h, he tells me that I should be getting back to town because I
need to drop off his envelop at the Nation Center at exactly 05:00h.
Him:
Not 04:59h and not 05:01h but 05:00h. Do you understand?
Me:
Yeah. Sure. What's in it?
Him:
My suicide note. (Again, I glance at him to see if he's kidding and
again his stone face informs me that he is not) Is that your poker
face or are you being really seriously serious right now?
Him:
What do you think? (I'm getting nervous but then I relax when he
smiles).
We
drive out of Hemingsway after he's cleared the exorbitant bill and he
instructs me to use Ngong Road which I do. The traffic is still light
and I can manage to drive at 120km/h comfortably.
Me:
So where will I drop you off?
Him:
At the DoD where you picked me up. So you better step on it.
And
I drive down Lang'ata Road like bats out of hell and up Mbagathi Road
right back to Hurlingham where this strange section of the night
commenced.
Him:
How much do I owe you?
That
question surprises me. After his threat on my life, I wasn't
expecting him to pay.
Me:
(After consulting my phone) Eight thousand, five hundred shillings.
He
takes a wand of notes of his pocket and hands it over to me without
even counting it.
Him:
That money, use it to live. Do something you've never done before.
Take a trip. Take tea-kwon-do lessons. Take a dancing class. Do
something that doesn't fall within the parameters of your current
boring life.
Me:
What about you? What are you going to do?
Him:
Me? I'm a soldier. I'll be a soldier till I die.
Me:
Thank you Charles.
Him:
For what?
Me:
For not killing me I guess.
Him:
Thank me by living. Thank all those souls that are lost in war so you
can live in peace by living. Don't die while you're still alive.
Me:
Same case applies to you, right?
Him:
(Smiling) So long Daniel.
He
steps out of the car and I wave him goodbye. He doesn't wave back. I
guess that would be very uncharacteristic of him. I feel like in him
I have just made a friend. We'll probably never see him again in my
life, but I will never forget him. Maybe one day when I'm ninety,
I'll tell my fellow toothless "inmates" at the home for old
people where my children will have stashed me that I had a friend
once. A friend who I met and together we went on a life changing ride
around Nairobi City in one night. His name was Charles. I wonder what
became of him.
At
05:00h, I drop the package off at Nation Center as per instructions
then I drive on home to Githurai.
Githurai
45. 05:16h
I
find my wife fixing breakfast for the kids which they enjoy noisily
and rush out into their waiting school bus.
As
soon as they leave, I drop the bomb on my wife.
Me:
I'm leaving.
Her:
Where to?
Me:
I don't know. I will drive to Eldoret, then to Kitale and maybe cross
the border into Uganda.
Her:
What are you talking about? Why would you do that?
Me:
Because I don't love you and if I stay with you another year I will
do something I'll regret.
Her:
What about the kids, Daniel? You're just going to walk out on them?
Me:
I'll be back. In a day or a week or a month or a year. I don't know.
But I am no value to them right now. I never even see them. I'm
always working. I have busted my ass everyday for the last fifteen
years with no leave days and I think it's time I clocked out for a
bit.
Her:
I am not even surprised.
Me:
I know. And you don't have to hide your affair with Pastor Jerome
anymore. I have known about it for three years now.
Her:
Oh my God.
Me:
It's OK. You can keep the house and all our businesses and our farm
upcountry. You can keep everything. I don't want it. I just need the
car. That's all.
Her:
And you'll come back for them?
Me:
They're my kids. Yes I'll come back for them.
Her:
What do I tell them when they ask?
Me:
That their daddy has gone back to school to learn how to love himself
again so he can love them to the best of his capability.
Her:
I'll just tell them you went on a business trip.
Section
58. Nakuru. 09:00h.
"A
body was this morning found along Valley Road and taken to City
Mortuary. The decapitated body was badly disfigured after being ran
over by speeding motorists along the busy road and the police suspect
that the man was trying to rush across when he was ran over by a
speeding car in a hit and run accident. Area OCPD Mr. Tom Kipruto has
cautioned pedestrians against crossing the road and instead use the
provided footbridge. We'll be back with sports news after the break."
As
I listen to the news and drive to a cheap motel in Nakuru for some
shut eye, I remember asking Charles about the contents of his envelop
and his answer that it was a suicide note. I remember him saying that
a Colt .45 will blow your head clean off your body. In my head I see
him watching me drive off and as soon as I'm swallowed by the corner,
I see him put the gun to his head and pull the trigger.
I
hope he finds her in the afterlife. Hell. I hope for his sake,
there's an afterlife.
When
I'm ninety, I guess I won't have to think of my friend Charles and
wonder what became of him. Him whose suicide note was read on
national TV and shocked listeners all over the country and later the
world. The confessions of a troubled soul belonging to a gallant
soldier whose thirst for revenge drove him into the darkest corners
of human existence.
Captain
Charles Gachora. The man who in one night, changed my whole life. I
hope he found what he was looking for.