THE COUP

THE COUP

By: John Thuko

A Long time ago……

It all started at precisely three o'clock in the morning. There was a rat-a-tat of gunfire from outside. Michael Mulee (twelve and robust, with a docile disposition) roused from a deep slumber with a jolt. He had a presentiment that a robbery was taking place. He waited breathlessly for the screams to come, nothing. He wondered if they were the raucous sounds of bibulous men leaving the illegal watering dens. Sometimes in the wee hours of the morning the owners of these dens kicked out errant patrons using rusted guns to scare them off.

The blandishments in these dens-often cheap and young dames there for the men's delectation (though the girls insisted that they never expected nor solicit any sexual favors from the men—they insisted they were merely there for fun) made them negate to go home to their wives. The men would plunge into excess and then the women would descend upon them, with tender hands and soft lips they would coerce the men to chuck away their week’s earnings. Bitter disagreements and near fatal fights had occurred due to the culpable disregard of the patrons' wedding vows. The drinkers, who often took copious amounts of changaa (an illegal brew containing deleterious chemicals) simply couldn't eschew the passions of these ladies. Their clandestine amours would sometimes bring out the fury of a scorned wife and, in a huge rage, she would rain chaos upon the den. Once a scorned wife had stormed one of these dens and gunned down two ladies who she had found straddling her half stupefied husband. The general temperament and behavior had changed; the dens had undergone a radical change. On the day succeeding the attack, they had kicked out the ladies and banned them, for three days! What caused everyone surprise is that they had returned in droves, perhaps more than they were before. It was as though they had gone out on a recruitment mission for they were officially “off”. Then the blandishment had continued. Their world had merely taken a brief pause. The only thing that had changed was that now the twilight ladies knew the sounds of a scorned wife and they would flee in extreme terror at their approach. They had so much of their old heart left that this did not deter them any, it was a mere nuisance. They would sneak back a minute after the wife left, giggling amongst themselves and sneaking furtive glances at the men left behind to see who was on the verge of collapse, like a lion on prowl ,always ready to pounce.

Michael thrust a quick but firm elbow at his ten-year-old brother who lay beside him. It connected with a soft thud.

"Tete, did you hear that?” he whispered.

Tete groaned. He was either awakening from the throes of deep slumber or sore from the sharp pain on his side.

"Hear what”, he said sleepily.

There was another rapport, now louder and closer, accompanied by yells from the little gravel road that passed behind their house. In their consequence, these events terrified and scared them into uncompromising positions.

"That”, Michael continued.

"Hush", tete interrupted, his voice almost muted.

He was suddenly very alert; Michael could hear his breathing get louder as if he was gasping for air. The little kid shivered so severely that Michael could feel the shakes through the blanket. Feelings of fear and foreboding coursed him. They held their breath and cowered under the flimsy, tattered bed covers wrestling with each other for the larger portion. In the midst of all this chaos Tete sought to unburden his soul to God. He muttered incoherently, his voice muffled by the blanket. The inches thick foam mattress, worn down by years of constant use, made the very act of turning over unbearable. The bed bugs that had found havens within the pin-sized holes and the mattress folds made it even worse. Michael slept on the left side, his brother on the right, always. It was funny how Michael's side was worn out several inches more than Tete's side due to the fact that he was a couple pounds heavier. Tete, though younger, was mean and sagacious to an astonishing degree. Despite Michael's aches, he could only trade places in exchange for the breakfast loaf, and that was conditional, it had to be buttered both sides! Considering the privation they were living in Michael didn’t even seek to indulge in thoughts of the possibility of that ever happening. Tonight though it appeared that Tete’s immediate purpose was to switch sides, for he faced the door.

There were yells again, accompanied by a skirmish, then a sound of what Michael assumed were gun butts connecting with bone.

"Jinga, lala chini", a stern voice commanded someone to hit the ground.

There was a stiff cry. Something heavy slammed against the back of the thin kitchen wall. A few audible slaps followed, and then a stern voice gave quick orders in a rather odd language.

Thieves.

Dandora, a sprawling, mostly miserable, deprived, concrete slums on the east side of Nairobi-the capital of Kenya-was known for its daring, often ruthless robberies and murders. These events were mostly commonplace and were merely mentioned in the illegal watering holes. Day after day screams pierced the night. It was a custom in those days to count screams block by block as the thieves plundered houses, drawing closer and closer to Michael's home.

Tete squirmed, attempting unsuccessfully to tear away the covers from Michael's back. Outside the sounds and the screams grew ever so loud. After what seemed like a lifetime they hushed and the rat-a-tat grew faint. They were mighty shaken; they lay there for the longest time, sweating in the humid heat.

"Michael, I got to use the bathroom", tete finally broke the silence, his voice shaking.

Michael cursed silently. It was no time to become clamorous. Tete always wanted to use the restroom in the worst of circumstances. This peculiarity of character always left Michael in pure fury. Usually he suffered himself to use intemperate words but today he wasn’t in the mood.

"Hold it”, he said furiously.

The lavatory was an outhouse, a hundred yards from their "bedroom"(actually it was kitchen-cum-bedroom. They turned the kitchen ashen floor into sleeping space by laying down the inch-thick foam mattress).To reach it in the dark one had to take an escort, armed with a lantern (since there was no electricity) and a machete for protection (which, if one was not careful, could be used against him).Depending on the escort's guts, he would either stand guard outside, in the ever eerie darkness, or join the other in the stench-ridden confines of the lavatory. Neither option was prestigious. Michael preferred the latter.

Tete decided he would hold it.

At about quarter to four there was a rapt knock at the door, Michael froze. Suddenly there was a cacophony of noises and skirmishes, as people got aroused, followed by stern orders to lie down and give out whatever valuables they owned. There was a huge pounding ordering them to open the door or "I will kick it in and you will be sorry if I get dirt on my clean boots". They were in absolute dread they cringed and curled ever so deep in the sheets. Moments later the door was kicked in and the little sheet they had used as a shield yanked away exposing their half-naked bodies.

The soldier-a twenty something years old, rugged looking corky kid-who had kicked in the door (apparently his boots were still clean since he didn't set upon them) yanked them up roughly and stuck them against the wall. He trained his 47 at their heads, asking for the what and where of their family. Michael, in a stutter, explained with all the dread in the world that their mother, a home maker, and sister had gone upcountry, to kangundo, for their grandfather's funeral, and that their dad, an engineer with the ministry of water, was working in Chuka, a town several hundred miles away.

He was a kamba too, their tribe, he said, but he hailed from Machakos. Michael didn't know much about Machakos but it was just as well. The soldier suddenly became pleasant and made them sit.

He quickly disclosed to them that there was a coup. A cabal inside the Kenya Air force had taken over the country and that they would be seeing changes pretty fast. The Air force chief had put his cachet to overthrow the government even though the other armed forces had no idea about the plans.

"It's good for us Air force guys to be in control, the army guys are a bunch of sissies", he said proudly.

He was on his way to Eastleigh barracks but a fortuitous encounter with a neighbor friend who told him there was quick money to be made in Dandora made him divert. He was flat broke, he said, the government payed them a measly salary. He couldn't even afford to school his sons. He had a daughter who had a degenerative disease and her muscles had suffered total atrophy for lack of rehabilitation. He couldn't afford her hospital care. Corruption, broken promises and bad governance had effectuated the coup.

They had taken over, he said, from a government facing political debacle. Things would now look up, he said proudly. He was glad because the messianic leader was going to be a kamba.

"Ukambani will be green again”, he proclaimed. For a long time he gave them the panegyrics of the man to be.

"He will bare the onerous cares of the state with dignity” he said,” for he is a kamba, and kambas never fail".

He was in a quandary about taking Michael's wristwatch. It was the coveted watch he had been given by the school board as a reward for topping his class. They engaged in idle badinage before he jokingly wrestled it from him and offered a traditional Masai wrist bead in exchange. Michael, who had had the frequent occasion to test the fidelity of friendship and the low and contemptible smell of pure greed, knew better. He studied the wrist bead for a while then shrugged, it must be genuine friendship, and this looks pretty sentimental to him.

"That will look good on you, now girls will take interest in you”, he said.

Michael wondered if atavistic fashion would lure Mercy, the girl he was smitten with, who sat two rows behind him in class. He offered them bread and soda. They ate fast, stuffing the bread to a point of near chocking. Soon they were replete.

He was a skilled raconteur; he stayed in with them trying to assuage their fears until a supercilious officer matched in and gave his peremptory commands. He ordered them outside. The air was frigid, a diaphanous mist blanketed the area and there was a steady drizzle. They were shaking like two kittens caught in a blizzard. They ran about in a welter until the officer sternly ordered them to get in line with the others.

There was no claptrap. They had to act differential or face severe scourging. The penurious denizens of plot no.21 were lined up, each in the bare essentials they had been found asleep in. They tried to stand straight with aplomb but in vain. They were all a craven bunch; they felt deracinated as they stood in the frigid temperature. They didn't shake so much for the frigid temperatures but for the gnawing fear of the unknown. Michael took great umbrage in the fact that, young as he was, they still let him stand outside in the cold without any covers on his body.

It was the first time he saw a woman naked, his pastor's wife, who lived next door. She had a perky little body. He didn't think Christians slept naked (it took him by surprise) at least her extreme adherence to the votaries of Christianity had him thinking so.

She is bound for hell

She stood there stolid, not seeking to conceal herself, but engrossed in deep prayer. For a while she was the cynosure of his eyes. The bible had enough caveats against lusting after another man's wife but even at his tender age and despite the frigid temperatures and the raucous situation, he still managed a mild erection.

The soldiers rummaged through the houses, going through drawers and cabinets, every little crevice that held anything light and valuable. All the while the denizens of plot 21 stood outside shivering. It was tough, Michael had asthma and the cold air was tough on his lungs. His little brother had peed on himself and there was this overwhelming stench of rot, but no one seemed to care. The conditions quickly enervated them and breakdowns quickly started spreading. No colloquy was allowed, so one had to tend to whatever business they had to tend to right there without complaints.

At about four-thirty the senior officers left, and then a new bunch of young and rowdy acolytes arrived. They seemed tinctured with lunacy and their flashing eyes and angry shouts bespoke a bellicose attitude. They were decked with purloined jewelry and watches and brandished AK-47s menacingly. They reeked of fumes of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke and the houses they had been in and the women they had been with. They had spent half the night partying and listening to the spurious lyrics of their adroit commanders who, with ingenious casuistry, had convinced them to take up arms. Michael experienced a sudden, overwhelming sentiment of terror

They were a sybarite ribald bunch; they walked the flanks, with baleful eyes and the fury of a demon, poking fun at them. Michael and the others just stood there, silently taking their vituperative insults. The soldiers winnowed the ladies. They separated the mature and beautiful ladies from the ugly, the thin and the young; they made no scruple of their intentions by touching all of them in the most disagreeable way. They took the ladies to a little room in the far end of the plot.

They were in there for the longest time, desecrating the empty room that was Michael's playground. Anyone who dared to step in was bitterly scourged. The recalcitrant pastor, who time and again, stepped forward trying to preach to them and proselytize them to his religion, had to be tied with brute force and fiendish malevolence against a pole to quell him (although he had, with great measure, resisted the actions of the soldiers, spilling forth vile words never supposed to come out of a holy man). Michael didn't observe much else except that every time one of the soldiers left the room they had a huge grin plastered on their face from the gratification thus derived and they either had the zipper or belt buckle undone. He fancied whatever happened in there was good, or fun, like the games they played.

Michael stood there shivering, his innocent eyes searching the eyes of the older penurious neighbors, coaxing them to act, as they watched their life's savings being whisked away. The destruction and desecration complete, after hours of ransacking and plundering, just before first light, the soldiers threw them back into their houses. They beleaguered them with vile words, and ordered them to stay put and listen to their little portable stereo which intermittently played plangent music. The rest of the time, apart from static, it was dead silent. Several hours later, the kamba soldier, who had just come from the little room, stopped by and handed them tea, sugar and a packet of milk, as he struggled to fasten the buckle of his belt. Michael observed a partiality in him for young desperate kids than he had ever seen in anyone else. It almost made him admire him, but there was no space for that after all there was his father, his real hero.

What a nice guy, Michael thought, unselfish and humble.

He warned them to stay indoors and sauntered out, a smile plastered on his face.

They stayed put in that room, occasionally relieving themselves in a little bucket by the corner, listening to the chaos outside. They listened to the guttural screams of women and the deep moans of men and the whimpers of little children. They listened in fear to the rat-a-tats of the AK-47's and the occasional ear-shattering blast of a bazooka. They listened to the sounds of heavy boots trampling outside and the sounds of jeeps as they slowly and menacingly crawled past. Each time they held their breath, hoping none would stop for another visit.

They listened to the eerie silence of fear from the rooms adjacent to theirs- from the pastor's room, from the lady clerk two doors down, from the anathema harlot to the right-and wondered what the vicissitudes of life would bring. Their free and easy lifestyle, untrammeled by chaos, had suddenly been changed by avarice. Now they would wake up to the detritus of war among them a severe dearth of food.

Michael lay there, listening to the sounds and wondered why men do the things they do, why they are rude, why they kill and maim and rape, why they commit the vile they commit. He wondered if that is who he would become: an uncaring, rude, violent law breaker. He shivered and tossed and turned, trying to chase away the thoughts. They might go away for the time being but he knew that come tomorrow and the next day and the day after that the events of that night would make a deep impression on his fancy.

Perhaps somebody should find them and kill them, strangle them, make them pay for their crimes, Michael thought. For a moment the remnant of good in him succumbed, his mind swirled with dark thoughts until he succumbed to sleep.

Years later…….

Michael sat on a ledge outside his house on the outskirts of Nairobi, he stared up at the blue sky, contemplating. Yes, all this years and that night still occupy my fancy. He wondered where everybody who had been touched by that fateful night was: the kamba soldier and his comrades who had desecrated his play room, the pastor, his wife and the rest of the denizens of plot 21; he wondered what their fate was. But then everybody had gone their own separate way.

He knew of only one though, the harlot lady who had lived next to them. He had met her five years later in a local AIDS clinic
where he was planting flowers. She was there for perhaps her last visitation, hers was full-blown. He never saw her again.

He sat back, might the soldiers have……. He shook his head to shake away the thought, it was folly to think of such a thing, no.. too many people involved.

But deep in his heart he knew that one day he might meet a very frail soldier who might recognize him.

Maybe it was their punishment.