Echoes From a Distant Land (46 page)

Sam stood, silent, before the fuming Erskine, angry at himself for handling the testy general so clumsily. He'd lost his chance to influence him and, as a result — if the rumours were true — hundreds of innocent people in the Lari area were at dire risk. He could only hope that he'd been misinformed, for there was now nothing anyone could do to prevent a massacre.

 

Jelani left a union meeting early to see Beth before she left Nairobi that morning. He'd lately been troubled that he hadn't yet told her of his association with the Mau Mau. He'd promised himself he'd do so before their wedding, but there was now a complication. Recent events, including his fear that Chege Muthuri had been murdered by the Mau Mau, meant telling her was harder than ever
— but he knew that time was running out. Today he would have to start the explanation and, if the initial discussion went as well as he'd hoped, he'd tell her of his involvement and his doubts, and hope she'd understand.

‘The bus is late,' Beth said, after greeting him with a kiss. ‘Maybe you should just leave me here. You're meeting your family in an hour.'

‘No, I need some time to talk to you.'

‘Of course. Oh, I do wish I could be there when they arrive, but I have to see Deacon James about the arrangements for the wedding.'

‘It's all right,' he said. ‘My … mother will understand.'

‘Now, let's sit and talk,' she said, leading him to the bus shelter, where they sat as she waited for him to begin.

The silence lengthened until it became pronounced.

‘I'm going to miss you,' he said at last.

‘Oh, that's sweet. But you're coming to speak to Deacon James tomorrow, remember? Today's the twenty-sixth. We get married in exactly a month.'

‘Yes.'

‘And Chief Luka.'

‘Chief Luka?'

‘Yes. Didn't I tell you? He wants to talk to you.'

‘Probably to lecture me.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Everybody's heard his speeches. Babbling on the radio about loyalty and the evils of the Mau Mau.'

‘Well, they
are
evil, aren't they?'

‘No! I mean … there's a lot of talk about attacks on innocent people. But how innocent are they? Some white farmers beat their workers. They use them like slaves. And they treat the women very badly. Well … so I've heard.'

‘What do you hear?' she asked.

‘The Movement, that is, the Freedom Struggle Association, is trying to win our land back. Kikuyu land.'

‘Freedom Struggle Association?' she said. ‘They're the
Mau Mau
,
and they're attacking innocent people. Even Chief Luka. Deacon James says he's had death threats from them. We have to keep the King's African Rifles in Lari to protect him, and us.'

‘Those Lari people have been fighting for years. You can't blame the Mau Mau for that.'

‘Are you defending murderers?'

He stopped short. All his carefully constructed arguments seemed to have leaked out of his head; and the doubts that had lately arisen came flooding back. Were the Mau Mau simply murderous thugs? There was no proof they'd killed Chege, but how could anything be proven in such a case?

‘Can't you see we have to do something to get our land back?' he answered lamely. ‘What if we want to farm our own land when we're married? My family have lost all their land — land we've had for as long as anyone can remember. And your family are the same. Until we Africans have our independence it can't change. We will never get justice until we chase the British away.'

Beth frowned, trying to choose the words. ‘We may not have justice, but it's … it's just how things are these days. Isn't it?'

She searched his eyes, hoping, he suspected, that he had the answers. But he didn't. What once had been an article of faith — that the Mau Mau were on the side of justice — was now hopelessly compromised.

A blast from the arriving Lari bus cleared people from the kerbside.

‘There's my bus,' Beth said. ‘I don't know what's come over you, Jelani. Yes, of course we need somewhere to live. And if you want some land when we're married, I'm sure Chief Luka will look after us.'

She stood and headed towards her bus.

‘I don't want Chief Luka to look after us,' he said, following her. ‘I want what is ours. We must be able to stand on our own feet.'

She turned back to him from the step.

‘Your right to have your initiation. Justice. Freedom Struggle,' she said with a sigh. ‘You've always fought for one cause or another, haven't you?'

He watched her move down the aisle to find a seat at the window.

She rubbed the grime from the glass and looked down at him, smiling.

I love you
, she mouthed.

Dana stepped from the taxi and ran her eyes over the Norfolk Hotel. Everything had changed. The big gum trees that towered over the oblong turret were gone, and a macadam surface and cobblestone gutters had replaced the dusty, unmade street. A rather grand gabled edifice now ran from the stone arch above the entry steps to the edge of Government Road.

A doorman appeared, giving Dana and Emerald a snappy salute.

‘
Karibuni
,' he said, greeting them, then helped the cab driver unload their suitcases from the trunk.

In the foyer they were met by a distinguished-looking man with wavy grey hair, safari jacket and a paisley cravat.

‘Good afternoon, and welcome to the Norfolk,' he said. ‘I'm Brian Durrows, the hotel manager.'

Dana did the introductions and Durrows invited them to the veranda bar for a cold drink while their baggage was delivered to their rooms.

‘Thank you, Mr Durrows,' Dana said, as they took a table fronting the street. ‘It's nice to see that some things don't change. The Norfolk's service has always been excellent.'

‘You've been here before, Mrs Middlebridge?'

‘I have. Many years ago. Emerald and I are here for a wedding.'

‘Marvellous. Would I know the happy couple?'

Dana smiled. ‘I don't think so. They're … from out of town, but I'm not sure exactly where.'

‘Oh, I do hope they're safe. I've heard there's a lot of Mau Mau activity in the regions — especially up around Lari. In fact, we have quite a few families from Kikuyuland staying with us because of the security problems. You're the only overseas visitors we've had in months. Terrible for business.'

‘There's quite a bit of talk about it in the English press too,' she said. ‘But I assume it's all newspaper talk.'

‘Not at all. The government's taking it very seriously. General Erskine's called in two battalions of fusiliers. He has ten thousand troops in all. And a squadron of Lincoln bombers.'

‘Surely not!'

‘Indeed, madam. Families are being murdered in their beds by servants who have been with them for decades. Nannies strangling the babies in their care. I tell you, there's not a settler who'll employ a Kikuyu these days. People are demanding that every Kikuyu in Nairobi be rounded up and put in detention. Murderous beggars! I'd like to see them whipped and gaoled — the lot of them.'

Dana could see Emerald bristle, but she was quicker to respond.

‘Mr Durrows —' she began, fixing him with an icy stare.

‘
Jelani!
' Emerald cried as her brother approached from the street. She rushed to him and they embraced. Dana joined them and all three hugged. Jelani was bewildered by all the attention, but smiled in spite of his embarrassment.

Dana turned back to the hotel manager, who stood, open-mouthed.

‘Oh, Mr Durrows,' she said with a smile. ‘May I introduce you to my son? This is Jelani Karura.'

 

In the Lord Delamere Room that night, Dana noticed their table received a number of curious glances. If Jelani — wearing the same navy-blue suit and clean white shirt as he'd worn in New York when they met — noticed the looks, he didn't show it, but listened attentively as Emerald chatted.

‘It's an Arts degree I started during the year, but I've taken electives in photography and journalism,' she said. ‘In fact, you could say I'm here on assignment. My tutor gave me time off provided I submit a folio of material collected while I'm here in Kenya. So it's up to you.'

‘Me? What do you mean?' he asked.

‘It's your job to show me around.'

‘Nairobi is a very boring city,' he countered.

‘No, not the city, silly. The animals. The people. The landscape.'

‘Oh.'

‘Don't bully your poor brother,' Dana said. ‘He's probably busy making arrangements for his wedding day.'

‘Are you?' she asked.

‘I'm supposed to go to Lari tomorrow to see Deacon James.'

‘Lari?' Dana said. ‘The hotel manager mentioned Lari as a trouble spot.'

‘Everywhere is a hot spot to some people. There are plenty of soldiers and Home Guards around the place. There's nothing to worry about.'

‘I knew it!' Emerald said. ‘That old stuffed shirt is talking through his hat. Jelani, I'm coming with you. It's a great chance to start my folio.'

Jelani looked at Dana, pleading for help with his eyes.

Dana shrugged. She knew it was impossible to beat Emerald once she had her mind set on something.

 

During dinner at the Norfolk, Jelani struggled to overcome his unease about Lari. He'd also heard stories about a gathering of the Mau Mau and had tried to get word to Dedan Kimathi through his network of contacts in the hope that Kimathi would dispel the rumours, but he'd heard nothing. He decided to follow it up in the morning when he went to Lari to meet Deacon James.

After dinner, Dana and Jelani had coffee on the veranda, but Emerald excused herself to retrieve the gifts she'd brought Jelani from London. Dana took the opportunity to ask the question Jelani knew she'd been yearning to ask all evening, but wanted to do so in private.

‘Have you found your father?' she asked.

‘I have seen him,' he said.

‘And what did he think of you? Was he happy to find you after all this time?'

‘He doesn't know me. I mean, he doesn't know I'm his son.'

‘But you've seen him.'

‘I knew him even before I knew he was my father.'

‘Oh … I see. Then … why didn't you tell him about yourself?'

How could he answer? In the beginning he couldn't tell him because he disliked him. Now he couldn't tell him because he didn't want his father to think badly of him because of his membership of the Mau Mau.

‘I'm … not sure how.'

‘But you must. It's wrong to let him go on not knowing he has a beautiful son in the world. Jelani, you simply must tell him.'

Jelani was annoyed by Dana's attitude. She'd been in the country for less than a day and assumed she knew everything about his life.

‘If it is so wrong, why did you not tell him yourself?' Immediately he'd said it, he regretted it.

Dana's face fell and she dropped her eyes. ‘I didn't tell him, because I was afraid,' she said. She raised her eyes to him and reached across the table to take his hand in hers. ‘I was weak and afraid, Jelani. And now I'm ashamed of what I did, not only to your father, but to you. I felt I had to choose between two paths; and I abandoned you. Can you ever forgive me? You deserved as much as I've been able to give Emerald. And I'm so, so sorry.'

Tears rolled down her cheeks and Jelani felt bad for what he'd said. He wanted to reach out to her. His hand travelled halfway across the table, but fell short of touching her shoulder. The dining room was too public for such things. Instead, he placed his hand on hers.

‘Dana … Mother … I don't feel I've been abandoned. And I had a good childhood with my … my parents.'

She looked at him and smiled gratefully.

‘You want me to tell my father,' he continued. ‘And one day I will, but I know he will also have questions — questions that only you can answer. So, maybe
you
should be the one to tell him.'

She stared at him, patted his hand and nodded. ‘You're right,' she said.

 

Beth arrived late into Lari and went to the missionaries' small communal hut for supper. She found Deacon James and Chief Luka seated at a table taking tea. She joined them, hoping to discuss plans for her wedding day, but they were deep in conversation about recent events in Lari and the surrounding countryside.

They greeted her, then resumed their discussion.

‘Do you remember the incident in the village down by the Morani stream?' Deacon James said, looking sideways at Beth. ‘The young man who had his … his private parts removed?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, I spoke to his wife today.'

‘Terrible, terrible,' the chief muttered, shaking his head.

Beth had heard the story as soon as she had returned to Lari. A young farmer was caught by a Mau Mau gang and castrated for refusing to take the oath. His wife found him before he bled to death.

‘I called in all the people from his village,' the chief said. ‘I thought they'd be safer here. But that was before the Home Guard left.'

‘The Home Guard have gone?' Beth asked.

‘Today. General Erskine said they're needed elsewhere.'

‘But what about the Mau Mau?'

The elderly chief shrugged. ‘We will have to rely on our own people to defend Lari.'

‘Is that possible?'

He patted her hand and smiled. ‘In my day it was the Maasai. Oh, you should have seen them. Oh-oh-oh … But I will call the men together in the morning and make some arrangements. All will be well.'

Beth felt uneasy. The talk was that dozens of thugs had come from the forest in recent days.

‘Oh, I'm too weary,' Chief Luka said. ‘And my wives are waiting for me to join them to eat.'

Deacon James rose too.

Beth said she'd like to confirm the plans for the wedding day with him, but he said it was late and they could discuss it in the morning when Jelani arrived. He bid her good night.

Beth sipped her tea alone, thinking of the conversation she'd had with Jelani at the bus station. She admired his ability to see the better side of people and situations. But if he were to leave the security of the city and hear stories such as that of the young man in the nearby village, or see the fear in the eyes of the people in the bush, he might have different views of the Mau Mau.

She walked through the warm night towards her hut. There was hardly a stir; and the sound of the breeze that nightly rose from the hot floor of the Rift Valley to ruffle the highest branches of the podocarpus trees was absent too.

Even the dogs were at peace.

An old woman, shrouding her head in a colourful
kanga
, scurried among the huts. She was the only person Beth had seen since leaving the mission. People were fearful and remained indoors at night.

The distant shrill whistle of a night bird carried pure and clear in the still air. It found an answering call from across the forested hills above Lari.

At the door of her hut she paused. The Rift Valley breeze stirred into life. She was pleased. It would freshen the air and cool the night.

Above her, the tree canopy remained unchanged, yet the whisper, which was at a distance, was quite pronounced.

She pulled the door closed behind her and, in bed, succumbed to the effects of the tiring bus trip from Nairobi to the upland forests.

 

On the evening of the twenty-sixth of March 1953 — the same day that Erskine removed his company of the King's African Rifles from Lari — a skittish breeze sent a flurry of dust devils along the quiet streets of Naivasha towards the police barracks. The town was home to a permanent contingent of the Kenyan Police Force and sundry members of the military. As well as the barracks, the police had several substantial administrative buildings surrounded by a patchy barbed-wire fence.

A sentry sat in the guard tower overlooking the compound, his rifle propped against one of the tower's posts and his head resting
uncomfortably against another. It was approaching nine o'clock, two hours into his shift, and he was already bored and sleepy. None of the police took the watch seriously. They all knew the Mau Mau had kept to the fringes of the forest, never daring to poke their heads out to risk confronting the Kenyan Police. And Naivasha would be almost the last place they would dare attack.

A clattering sound interrupted his musing, followed by a dog's furious barking. He yawned and, rising from his chair, peered into the shadows at the edge of the flood-lit perimeter. He couldn't quite see the dog, but knew it could not be more than twenty paces into the darkness, beyond his vision. It was making a terrible din and he was about to yell at it to shut up, when it suddenly stopped.

He raised his hand to shield his gaze from the light in the tower above him, which had intruded into his peripheral vision. At that moment there was a savage blow to the side of his neck. It knocked his head sideways into the guardhouse post.

He cursed, but the words came bubbling from his throat. When his hand came from the place where he'd felt the blow, it was black with blood. He tried to scream in horror, but again the sound was drowned before it could pass his lips. Now the shadows under the lights were alive with movement. He took a step towards his weapon, but his legs turned into rubber and he couldn't raise his arm to reach the rifle. He fell to the floor.

Shouts, screams of pain and shots shattered the night.

 

Eighty Mau Mau soldiers, many wearing the new badge proclaiming the battle cry
Blood and Fire
, drove boldly from the Naivasha police station armoury with rifles, sub-machine guns, and a truckload of ammunition. With them were one hundred and seventy-three Mau Mau prisoners they'd released from the detention centre.

They escaped up the Nairobi road in stolen vehicles and high spirits, long before the four platoons of Lancashire Fusiliers billeted elsewhere in the town could reach the police station. Their destination, less than thirty miles away on the escarpment
overlooking the Great Rift Valley, was the village of Lari, where they would meet the three thousand Mau Mau fighters who surrounded it.

 

Beth awoke from a deep sleep: something very strange was happening.

The night breeze was a roar — a howling rage.

She pulled on her shift and pushed open her door. There were flickering lights in the branches. People were everywhere — running and screaming.

Three men appeared from the darkness.

They were Kikuyu, but screamed terrible insults at her.
Traitor
.
Whore
.