Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) (10 page)

‘Yes, I want to
pay her fine.’ He said adamant.

Mugo looked at
him for a moment, thinking. ‘Ok follow me,’ he said walking out of
the office. He knocked on a door adjacent to where the girl was
sitting and went in. Brian could hear him conversing with someone
inside in Kiswahili. He called out for Brian to join him. Inside
the office was the cop with the swagger stick. Mugo introduced him
as Inspector Fimbo.

He gave Brian a
calculating look. ‘You again? Now you want to pay this whore’s
fine. What do you want to do with her ehh,’ making a lewd movement
with his fingers. ‘You don’t fear aids?’

‘I would just
like to pay her fine,’ Brian kept his voice even.

‘She musti
plead guilty. She has to go to court, to be charged.’

‘I see,’ said
Brian. He hadn’t thought of this.

There was a
moment of silence as the two cops waited for Brian to say something
else. ‘Ok
mzungu
, I can help you. You can give me the money,
Fimbo held out his hand.’

‘If I pay her
fine, you will release her?’

‘She will be
released.’ Mugo agreed. The two cops watched the Englishman take
out his wallet, count out five notes, and hand over the money.

‘What’s this?’
Fimbo asked, tossing the money on the desk.

‘The detective
said it was five thousand.’ Brian explained.

‘You want to
bribe an officer of the law, this is a very bad crime,’ he said
slapping the money aggressively with his stick.

Brian’s mouth
opened. ‘But..’

‘Ok go, enjoy,’
Fimbo laughed heartily and scooped up the money. Brian stood there
not sure what to do next. ‘You want a receipt for your
malaya
? Take your Somali whore and get out before I change
my mind.’ He waved his baton menacingly at him.

Brian hastily
left the office followed by Mugo. ‘Excuse me,’ he began, addressing
the woman on the floor.

Mugo
interrupted him. ‘No talking to the prisoners,’ he pointed towards
the exit. ‘Tomorrow, nine o’clock Mr Nicholls don’t be late.’ Mugo
spoke harshly to the girl in Kiswahili. She quickly got to her feet
and without a backward glance walked to the reception counter.
Brian hurried out after her but she was already striding across the
car park. He made his way to the car relieved and furious at the
same time; at least the girl was free - was she aware that he had
just paid her fine? He got in beside Evans.

‘Not good
news,’ he angrily explained what Mugo had said as Evans listened.
‘This whole thing is ridiculous! And I have to come back here
tomorrow.’

‘Sorry Sir
these cops, they only want money.’

‘Money, huh,’
Brian snorted, ‘I just gave them five thousand to release a girl
they were bullying.’ He pointed at a figure walking down the road
ahead of them. ‘Can you follow - I would like to talk to her.’
Evans reluctantly drove up alongside the girl, uncomfortable with
this new twist. It had started with the trainers and now his boss
was paying off policemen and picking up tarts in broad daylight.
Whatever next!

‘Excuse me,’
Brian called out, ‘are you alright?’ The girl stopped and squinted
at him with her swollen eye. ‘I paid your fine,’ he explained.

She brightened.
‘Yesy I’m ok.’

Evans looked
nervously around him wishing he was someplace else. ‘Can we give
you a lift somewhere?’ Brian offered, reaching behind him and
opening the passenger door. My name is Brian,’ he said as she
eagerly climbed in.

‘Lucy,’ she
leaned forward displaying her breasts. Evans already aghast was now
seriously unhappy.

‘Can we drop
you in town?’ Brian asked as the car set off.

‘Yesis that be
good.’ Lucy said.

‘Those police
are horrible,’ he sympathised, ‘that sort of thing would never
happen in England. I hope your eye is not painful?’

She leaned
forward and audibly breathed in Brian’s ear. ‘I fucky you for free,
you nice man.’

Brian was
stunned. ‘No, my dear, that won’t be necessary.’

Evans driving,
shot a backward glance at the girl and then spoke sharply to her in
Kiswahili. She leaned back in the seat and snarled a retort. Evans
bristled behind the wheel and pulled over abruptly. ‘Sir,’ he
appealed to Brian, ‘we drop her here, she not good woman,
malaya
a prostitute.’

Brian sighed.
‘Evans, I was only trying to be helpful. If you could have seen
what those cops did. It was atrocious.’ Lucy sat in the back not
moving, glaring at the back of Evans’s head.

‘Yes sir.’
Evans turned to the girl. ‘Toka! Out, get out of my car.’

She started to
sob. ‘No moneys,’ she wailed, not moving.

Evan Brian
could see this was an act, but felt responsible, guilty even, for
being a witness to the police abuse. He took out a five hundred
shilling note from his pocket. She quickly snatched it and gave
Evans a contemptuous look, as she opened the door.

‘Anytime,’ she
pouted saucily at Brian, ‘for you nice man, for free,’ and strode
off down the road, hips swinging in tight jeans.

‘Sorry about
that,’ Brian apologised.

‘No problem,’
Evans relieved to get rid of her.

‘And where
shall I drop you Sir, the apartment?’

‘No, the bank
of course, we have work to do.’

‘But the
police, Sir, said you are not to work.’

‘You can’t be
serious!’ Brian exclaimed.

‘Sir, if they
find you working in the bank, we can be fined heavily. I could lose
my job,’ Evans said in earnest.

Brian shook his
head. ‘This whole thing is farcical. Ok, take me to the apartment.’
Evans drove to the hotel.

‘Thank you for
your help.’ Brian said. ‘Listen I will call Mr. Njenga and explain
the situation. It’s not your fault, and I will let you know what he
advises.’

*

Lucy hailed a
passing tuk-tuk and went home to a downtown area of Malindi where
she rented a single room in a decrepit block of flats. Her room was
on the fourth floor, the landlord occupied the whole of the ground
floor, she hoped he was out - he wasn’t. He was sitting shirtless
on a broken chair outside the front door.

‘You owe me
rent,’ he demanded as Lucy walked up. Scratching his ample stomach
and spotting her swollen eye, he laughed. ‘Been out boxing have
you?’ Mimicking an opponent with his fists, ‘I hope you won some
cash?’

Lucy handed
over two hundred shillings from the money Brian had given her. ‘I
will get the rest of it to you tomorrow. The police took all my
money.’

‘Excuses huh,
how did you get the eye?’

Lucy shrugged.
‘The hands-up.’

‘You probably
deserved it. Who would pay to ride your skinny arse?’ He grabbed at
her bottom with one hand. Lucy moved away out of range. The man
laughed. ‘Ok, this time, but I’m warning you, the room will be
locked and your stuff left on the doorstep next time,’ he jerked
his thumb at the entrance dismissing her.

Lucy’s room
contained a single bed, a strip of cracked linoleum on a concrete
floor and a rickety wardrobe. A single bulb lit the tiny cell and a
small high window offered token ventilation. Pictures torn out of
fashion magazines made up a collage on one wall; her aspirations
pasted up.

She sat on the
bed and examined her face with a small hand mirror. Shit, fuckers.
She swore at her reflection and angrily tossed the mirror onto the
bed. She stripped off her clothes, put on her flip-flops and with a
towel and bar of soap, headed for the communal bathroom. A
windowless L-shaped alcove, with just a standpipe and a small
bucket to sluice with.

Later she sat
on the bed, combing her hair out, tugging at the knots, while
puffing on a joint. Examining her eye in the mirror, her fingers
explored the swelling tenderly. Damn. It meant she would have to go
down to the truck stop bars for a few days just until the eye
healed, provided she didn’t end up with a matching shiner from
those rough johns or a competing tart. Perhaps she could find that
kind
mzungu
. He would do just fine she mused as the ganja
took effect, easing her reality. The police would know who he was
but would want money.

The other man
in the car, the fat one she had seen before in a night-club, he was
the local bank manager. It might be worth talking to the security
guards at the bank, they might lead her to the kind
mzungu
.
With that thought, she lay back on the bed still wrapped in her
towel and got some much-needed sleep.

*

Brian tried to
relax on his sun bed beside the pool. He couldn’t get into his
novel, and felt awkward trying to behave like the other tourists.
He wasn’t on holiday and they were. Bloody police he was thinking,
he had so much work to do and was itching to get on with it. An
idea came to him. Evans could bring documents from the bank. He
made a decision, picking up his towel and book, and headed back to
the apartment. He called Evans on his mobile.

‘Hello Evans,
listen, there’s nothing to stop you coming here, to the hotel. Yes,
we could work from here. The police can’t object to that. We can
have a meeting, and go through the fundamentals of your loan
strategy. What do you think? Can you work this afternoon? You can -
good shall we say two thirty?’

After the call
Evans sat at his desk and considered this morning’s events. These
mzungu
s always think they have all the answers. He rang
Azizza for advice, emphasizing the fact that Brian was not allowed
to work and incredulous over the incident with the girl from the
station.

‘Ok,’ said
Azizza. ‘Never mind, now, getting back to your meeting, this is
what you say to Nicholls, are you listening?’

‘But the
meeting is illegal, I could go to jail.’

Azizza almost
laughed. ‘Now, Evans calm down, do you want me to help you or
not?’

‘Yes ok, yes go
ahead,’ Evans said reluctantly.

Azizza outlined
the plan of action. Patel listened in on the speaker nodding his
approval as she talked him through the simple plan. ‘If you don’t
know the answer, just stall or change the subject, or say you have
to refer to a file back at the office. Ok? Don’t worry, let things
unfold. You will be fine Evans, so don’t be nervous.’

‘Ok thanks.’ He
said and rang off.

Patel was
intrigued. ‘Nicholls paid a whore’s fine?’

Azizza nodded.
‘He is obviously a misguided nice guy.’

‘Nice he maybe,
but not very sensible,’ Patel snorted. ‘A sensible man would have
paid the cops to leave him alone, not forked out for the
prostitute.’

‘Why are you
interested in the girl?’

‘The devil is
in the detail,’ Patel said mysteriously. ‘let’s see if she crops up
again, Malindi is a small town. Now my dear,’ returning to what
they were doing before the call, ‘I have been thinking I need to
fly up to Nairobi soon.’

Azizza nodded,
watching him closely. Patel had the tricky job of getting Brian’s
passport returned to his apartment in Nairobi. She had argued that
Brian could always apply for a new passport, so why take the
risk?

He had agreed
but said the risk was minimal and the last thing they needed was
the British government investigating Nicholls over the loss of his
passport, especially in Malindi where a European passport was
highly prized by Somalis attempting to gain access to Europe.

The two of them
had agreed on registering the NGO as a Danish one. It was difficult
to find Danish translators, so business issues in third world
countries were conducted in English, making it easier to fill out
the application forms.

‘So, if I catch
the two pm flight, it gives me time this evening to discuss
everything with my contacts and I can file the applications
tomorrow, getting back here by the afternoon.’ Patel reasoned.

Azizza looked
at him - yes fly up, in time to catch the bank and a flight to
London this evening - she rapped her fingernails on the table, an
unconscious tapping.

Patel noticed.
‘I’ll be back my dear before you know I have gone.’ He knew she
would not be so stupid as to try and steal the money, even if she
was thinking it. ‘Now, let’s go over the details of the
application, a small mistake could cause us real problems.’

*

When Lucy woke,
it was mid afternoon and she was ravenous. She dressed in a pair of
tight jeans and high heels. Her perky breasts provocatively held up
a patterned sleeveless top. She hid the swollen eye from any direct
gaze with an oversized red beret and checked her face in the
mirror, glossing her lips. ‘Perfect,’ she muttered. Selecting a
small handbag, she shut the door behind her and descended the
stairs.

There was a
small café on the corner of her building, where she ate and planned
her next move. Finishing her meal, Lucy stepped out of the door a
toothpick in her mouth, ready for action. A matatu dropped her in
town and she walked down the street beside the NNB bank. Spotting
the security guard Lucy exaggerated her walk to the corner of the
car park where she stopped and fished out a cigarette from her bag,
she put this to her lips and turned and faced the guard. ‘Hey
sojah,’ she called out in kiswahili, ‘got a light?’

The guard
strolled in her direction. ‘I have a light for you if you have a
cigarette for me,’ he answered. She held up another cigarette and
smiled. He pointed his truncheon down the road, as though chasing
her away. ‘Go to that corner, by the tree,’ he instructed, ‘I will
come there.’

‘Ok, thanks,’
Lucy set off to wait for him. The guard first walked in the other
direction, doing a once over around the car park and returning,
hidden from view he joined her. He took the cigarette and lent back
on the tree, lighting his first before lighting hers.

They puffed in
silence weighing each other up. He looked her up and down with
undisguised relish. ‘Rough night sista?’ He pointed his cigarette
at her eye.