CHAPTER TEN - Nairobi Cocktail, The Sleaze

Years ago.

It was Kerubo’s idea to go to a combative assignment. She felt physically and mentally ready, and the assignment was personal. For two years, she had been taken through rigorous martial arts training, she had become a verified sharpshooter and she could smell trouble from a mile, just what Onyango insisted were the basics every field person needed. For the two years, her assignments had been soft, lacking in danger as she multi-tasked as a student, undercover operative and a martial arts students.

She had penetrated secret criminal groups at the university, often through unscrupulous means like losing her virginity to Daktari, so named for his ability to get any illegal drug in the world. Daktari was a medical student, a fact that was borderline amusing for Kerubo. The first time she had had sex with Daktari in an expensive five star hotel, she had done it to gain his trust. She had gained his trust and he had become her official first boyfriend, the only stable boyfriend for years. For two months, she helped him distribute (and partake) his drugs. She only admitted to herself how much she enjoyed his company, how much weed had become her drug of choice. When the bust finally happened in Kerubo’s presence, when Daktari was charged in court and Kerubo released for lack of evidence, she had moved on to the next assignment, like she had never met Daktari. “Your success in the field hugely lies in your ability not to be emotionally attached.” Onyango had warned her. She had been emotionally attached to Daktrari, but she had detached herself just as fast.

Kerubo had a government minister arrested for recruiting university students as drug mules. The authorities had been getting concerned that five students from the university had been arrested in Hong Kong, were now serving life sentence. To her chagrin, the minister was later released under mysterious circumstances, but there were no more students ending up in foreign jails. She never saw the minister again, the same way she never saw Daktari and many others again.  

It was during her last semester at the university when she volunteered for her most dangerous assignment. For a month, female university students had fallen victims of rape at the same spot, the male students escaped with beatings after being robbed. It would have made sense for the students to stop using that route but it happened to be the shortest walking distance to town and when they got drunk, the students seemed to lose all common sense. It would have made more sense for the university to beef up security in that particular area, but the administration, Kerubo thought bitterly, was either stupid, or one of them was the rapist and they were protecting him.

What broke the camel’s back was when her roommate was raped. Kerubo did not have friends, but Angela, her roommate from day one, was the closest person she had as a friend, the only person she had allowed to accompany her to visit Mrs Kamau a couple of times. Angela was a beautiful, bubbly girl, full of life with a motto to have all the fun in life while she was still young. The few times Kerubo had gone out during her university days, Angela had dragged her to the fun joints. 

One night, at two AM as Kerubo was deep asleep, she had heard scratching on the door, followed by whining and soft banging. For a moment, she thought there was an injured dog that had somehow landed outside her door. She looked at Angela’s bunk bed, it was empty. As the whining and the scratching continued, Kerubo wore a pair of sweatpants on top of her sleeping shorts, put a whistle on the reaady in her mouth and looked for something that could be used as a weapon and wishing that she was allowed to carry a gun to college.

“Who is it?” she finally asked, holding Angela’s hockey stick on the ready.

More scratching and whining.

Then she decided whatever it was had to be harmless and if not, she could handle them. She took a deep breath and yanked the door open. She gasped. On the floor was a half-naked woman. She was not immediately recognisable as Angela, not for the first ten seconds before Kerubo went on her knees.

Kerubo did not ask questions. She could see all the answers on Angela’s body and face. She dragged her roommate in and hugged her, allowing Angela to finally convert her whining to weeping. Then she called Onyango. He was the only person she knew could pick his phone at any time of the day and night, the only person who could offer the kind of emergency help she needed for her friend.

“Hey. I need your help…” Twenty minutes later, Onyango had sent a car to the university. Kerubo, leaner than Angela but way stronger, had hauled her roommate on her shoulder. Twenty minutes later, they were at the hospital.

The following Monday, Kerubo matched into Onyango’s office wearing a determined look. After updating on her friend, she took a deep breath, glaring at her boss from across the huge desk. She could not see his face clearly, it was a bright day with the sun shining behind him, but she glared anyway.

“I want to catch those idiots.” She declared.

Onyango took his time to answer. He tapped on his laptop but Kerubo was sure there was nothing on the screen, that he was just buying time. “How do you intend to do that?”

“I want to be the honey-trap.”

“That’s a dangerous gig…”

“I know, but I want to do it.”

He shook his head. “I am not so sure…I always advice my people not to take on jobs that touch on them on a personal level. The emotions are bound to cloud their judgment. Not forgetting you are still a rookie…”

She threw her hands up in frustration. “Come on!” Her voice was louder than she would have wanted it to be, but she did not care to control it. She squinted at him, trying to read his face. She still could not. “It’s personal for me with every criminal. This is no different…”

“Perhaps, but I think this is a dangerous one for a rookie like you…”

“So why the heck have you spent so much time having me prepared for combat then? Why, if I cannot fight a couple of losers?” She was throwing her hands repeatedly in exasperation. She was sweating as well, and it had nothing to do with the heat outside.

“First, you don’t know if they were two. Your friend could not be sure. She said two, or three, or four. Second, I have faith in your combat skills, but this type of thing I am always very cautious about, even with veterans. Rapists are dangerous people and there is no way of knowing what type of weapon they may be carrying…but, I could get two of my best girls to do it…”

“I said I want to do it!” She was shouting again.

Onyango sighed deeply, taking time to answer as he sat back on his squeaky seat, stretching his long arms. She still could not see his face clearly. “Alright, and by God I hope I do not get to regret this.” He rubbed his forehead vigorously.

“I can handle it…” She had resulted to pleading in lower tones. There were tears burning her eyes.

“Okay…” Onyango said, leaning on his desk and allowing Kerubo to finally see his face properly. For a moment, the frustration she saw made her feel bad for pressuring him, it made her doubt her ability to handle the trap, then she shook herself and took a deep breath. “Okay, I will call Cecelia. She is what I call a human arsenal. She scares even me and not many things scare me.” He laughed. Kerubo smiled to humour him. “Cecelia has been around long enough. She has danced with all the pigs and if there is anyone I can trust with a rookie, it is her…”

“Thank you.”

A couple of days later, she met Cecelia. She did look like an arsenal. When Kerubo walked into Onyango’s office, Cecelia had her back on her, muscles pouring out of her sleeveless top. With a shaved head, it was no wonder Kerubo thought it was a man. Then she turned. Cecelia, if she was not an arsenal, could be called beautiful. Her features, under any other circumstances, were symmetrical, but there was that little thing she did with her jaw that seemed to be a warning to anyone to keep their distance. She moved her jaw, this way and that way, like she was warning her aggressors that she would chew them and spit them.  

“Ah, Kerubo, just about time…” Onyango said. “Meet Cecelia. She will be your partner for a few days…”

Cecelia stood up and faced Kerubo, attempting to smile but instead ended up looking like she was wincing. If Kerubo had not been trained in the same thing Cecelia had been trained on, she would have missed the fact that Cecelia had already gauged her, top to bottom. It must have taken her less than a second. Kerubo had done the same and noticed Cecelia was perhaps five inches shorter than her, that her muscles were not as manly as she had originally thought, and that Cecelia stood with her legs astride, like she was getting ready to kick something. Kerubo subconsciously mirrored her.

“Nice to meet you.” Cecelia’s voice was as strong as her grip. Kerubo tried not to wince.

“Nice to meet you too.” And she was. The aura around Cecelia explained why Onyango had faith in her.

The two of them had walked for a week, unarmed, at night, along the black spot. They did not talk much, perhaps because they were keeping all their senses on the ready, or perhaps because Cecelia did not seem like the kind of person who engaged in small talk. It was getting boring, and Kerubo was starting to think that whoever the rapists were knew that the two women were not the regular university girls.

When the attack happened, Kerubo had just sneezed, and she would forever blame that sneeze for the fact that it took both of them by surprise. Cecelia, Kerubo was sure, blamed the sneeze as well. She did not know what was going on in Cecelia’s head, but Kerubo thought it was the most surreal thing, that there was a man behind her, digging into her ribs with one hand and holding a knife against her neck with the other. It was dark and she still remembered wondering how the men had attacked so perfectly, how they had got the girls’ neck on the spot. “Perhaps I have night blindness…”

In the melee, she worked out there were three men. At least two of them were armed with knives and they held them against the girls’ necks. The third man was the spokesman, threatening with dire consequences if either of the girls dared to scream, or resist. “If you scream, you will die. Just do as we say and it will be alright.” He kept growling. Kerubo remembered Angela’s whining, imagined how scared her friend, and the other defenceless women, must have been. Angela had been alone after having had a spat with her date. She had been raped by three men repeatedly, the same three men within her reach.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her fear and anger, knowing the only way to get the job done was by being rational.

Earlier in the week, a few other times within the last six days, they had gone over their plan but their plan, going by the current circumstances caused by her sneezing, had been nullified. “You always know when they are coming. You feel them…” Cecelia had said. “The hair at the back of your neck always stands on end, and you can smell your own sour sweat, theirs too.” And so the plan had been, when they were sure the rapists were about to hit, they would split for confusion, fight them the best way they can, make noise as they did it. The noise would then alert their minders who were only fifty meters behind them.

Now, with a knife resting on her throat, there would be no screaming. This was their fight, and they would hope the minders would have realised something was off.

Within seconds, the two women were pushed inside a bush and kicked to the ground. Kerubo’s jeans were being roughly pulled off and they came off with her sports shoes, she imagined them doing the same with Cecelia. So much for a human arsenal, Kerubo thought as she prepared to surrender to her fate, feeling angry and bitter and inadequate and even apologetic to Angela, still lying in hospital healing both her mental and physical wounds.

Her jeans were off, she could hear the rapists fumbling with their buckles. There was a booted foot on her chest. There was heavy breathing, one she thought was coming from the rapists, and then she realised they were all breathing heavily – the victims and the aggressors were equally scared. Fear and anticipation. From the ground, she turned her head towards Cecelia, she could not see anything. She looked back up and decided to count the stars.

“Please…” Cecelia was speaking. Begging. “Please…do not hurt me. Let me just remove my clothes. I will do it willingly…” The arsenal sounded terrified. A wave of disappointment swept through Kerubo. Then she realised what was happening. Cecelia was doing reverse psychology. She needed them to lower their guard. It worked. The man preparing to rape her whispered. “toa haraka na ukae vizuri basi…”

Kerubo took the cue.

“Me too, please. I will do it…don’t hurt me!”

Things escalated fast, too fast, from that point. Kerubo heard a grunt and decided Cecelia’s kick had landed on the man’s groin. She made her move, made harder because there were two men against her, and they would, within seconds, realise they had been tricked. She had less than a second to act. She did and launched herself up, kicking blindly. She got one of them. One of them got her with his knife, right into her thigh. Her bare feet were being attacked by all sorts of stuff found on the ground. She felt it, but she refused to allow the pain to come immediately. There would be enough time for pain, once they were out of the mess.

For less than a minute, it was a loud and messy battle of two half naked women against unbuckled trousered men with knives. The girls kicked and punched and screamed. The men owned confusion and stabbed. By the time the minders arrived, both girls had ten stab wounds between them, their feet had suffered most. They turned up to be all superficial except Kerubo’s original thigh stab that needed stitches, but one that had not touched a bone.

Kerubo limped for a month but there were no regrets. Cecelia the arsenal congratulated her for a job well done. “Good job. Carry your first scar with pride. Scars are the only budges we get for this shit job…” Cecelia had laughed as she told Kerubo that. She had a nice smile.

The experience, as satisfying as it had been, had scared her enough to not volunteer for such an assignment again. Besides, Onyango believed she did better with wooing men rather than fighting them. She did that for a while until the same Onyango called her to the office and told her, “You are too noticeable. Your height is working against you. I need to get you off the field, or the criminals will soon find out what you are.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“A lot. I am getting you a job on Kirinyaga Road…”

“Doing what?”

“Well, officially, to work as a shop manager. Unofficially, to babysit a certain criminal…”

“I am listening…”

“This will all sound weird to you. I must warn you that it may make you lose faith in our justice system, but we live in an imperfect world, not Utopia…”

“Now you have my attention…”

“Have you eaten?” He was asking this between yawns.

“No.”

“Lunch? This conversation would sound better over a big plate of nyama choma and ugali. I know a good place on Thika Road.”

“Do they sell beers?” Kerubo smiled as she led the way out of the office.

They did.

“I am dying of curiosity here… what do you mean babysitting a criminal?” She asked as soon as they made their order.

“Right. So, his name is Boss. A man I am actually secretly jealous of, not because I would like to be a criminal like him, but because he seems to have a grip on his network so perfectly.  He has managed to survive as a crime boss, right in the face of the authorities, but that is easy to explain. It is because many cops, big and small, so to say, are under his payroll…”

“Right…like, they protect him?”

“More or less…actually, more, not less. He is untouchable. He has the city locked. Not even other criminals can conduct criminal activities without his permission. He decides who is in charge of what crime in the city and if he not satisfied with how they do it, he has the power to replace them. I don’t know how he does that. They will not put him on the list of the most wanted – whenever his name is brought up, some anonymous person gives orders not for it to put up.”

“Surely there must be someone higher up who would not fear having him arrested…”

“You would think so, right? But he survives. What is worse, there are orders for him to be protected…”

“What does that even mean?” She demanded as she poured a beer in her glass.

“It means, he is to be protected from other criminals who may want to harm him, overthrow him.”

“That’s ridiculous. Is there nothing you can do?”

“Me? You give me too much credit.” Onyango answered with a sarcastic laugh. “I only do what I am asked to do. I am not the law enforcement, I only take orders from them. I have thought of shooting him, more recently when my friend was car jacked and I knew it was his boys…”

“Did they hurt him?”

Onyango shook his head slowly. “That’s the funny thing. He never, ever shoots anyone. It is a strange thing to say, but since he took over as the head of city crime, the shootings have stopped. I am convinced he instructs his boys not to shoot people…”

“I am so proud of him…” Kerubo said with an eye roll.

“Aren’t we all…you know, there will always be criminals. Now, if all the criminals could take what they want to take from us and not harm us, we may even welcome them…”

“That’s a sick thought…”

He shook his head. “Correction. A pragmatic thought. So anyway, he lives on Kirinyaga Road…”

“You even know where he lives?”

“Yep, but strangely nobody seems to know his origin. The rumour is, he was a street kid…”

“Wow. Success story…”

“You are full of sarcasm this fine day…” Onyango laughed. “But yeah, he is a success story. How he rose to the top is a story for another day, when we know the story that is…”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Baby sit him…”

“I do not understand…”

“You will be working with another undercover operative. Your job will be to collect information, not so much about him, but about any strange activities on Kirinyaga Road. He is kind of the only criminal allowed there…”

Kerubo laughed. “Do you even realise how ridiculous all this sounds?”

“I know, right? But welcome to the South of Utopia.” The food was delivered. They were quiet as the waiter washed their hands and cut the meat into little pieces. The silence continued for a few more minutes as they ate, and thought.

“It’s ridiculous.” Kerubo said again. “Like a story you would read in a crime novel. But it sounds very interesting…”

“It actually is…”

“So…” She said as she chewed. “Am I allowed to, you know, get to know him?”

He shrugged. ”Like, get him to sleep with you?” In Onyango’s firm, sex was means to an end, never a taboo subject. People had sex, with each other, with other people, when they wanted. Kerubo nodded. “That is tricky. First, I do not want him to really take notice of you but also, he is not known to have any women around him. He drinks alone…with his bodyguards a few tables away. Nobody has ever seen him with a woman…”

“Is he gay?”

Onyango shrugged. “Possible, but unless he sleeps with his bodyguards…he has never been seen with another man either. He is a complete loner amongst strangers.”

“Sounds like a challenge to me…”

Onyango laughed. “If anybody could get him to have sex, it would be you…you could try, but you cannot let him know you are his babysitter…”

Kerubo chewed thoughtfully. It sounded sick, and criminal. She was supposed to be catching criminals, not protecting them. But she could not resist knowing somebody who sounded like a total enigma. She could not help wondering if she could get him to be seen with a woman for the first time.

***

Years later. Kirinyaga Road.

“You are late…” He grumbled. He did not look up. He continued studying his feet, the same feet he was tapping on the ground.

“How do you know? You do not even have a watch…” Kerubo countered as she slammed herself carelessly beside him.  

He looked up briefly at the sun, squinting at it. “I no longer need a watch. The sun is just as good…”

“Whatever…” She crossed her long legs and arms, placing the lunchbox on the bench between her and Samuel. They sat in silence, a face-off silence. 

 “I miss chapati. Did you make chapati?” Chizi asked with a yawn, finally sitting up and turning to Kerubo. “And I am coming down with a cold and I need a warm bed…”

“Gosh, you are in a nice mood today.” Kerubo said with an eye roll as she handed him wet wipes to clean his hands. The script was familiar. They went through it every two or three weeks. She tried to understand him because, as Chizi often told her, ‘living on the streets can turn anyone into a right bitch.’

“I really feel unwell this time round.” He insisted as he rubbed his nose noisily, wiping it with the wet wipe he had just used to wipe his hands. He missed Kerubo’s sneer.

“So were the other thousand times – the problem with crying wolf is I may not believe you when you are really sick. If you are serious though, I could get cetirizine for you…”

“What, you are a doctor now?” He snapped as he picked the lunchbox.

“Oh wow. You really are sick. That kind of snapping has to come from a sick person. Look, what do you want, except chapati?”

Their eyes met, locked for seconds before he winked. “You know what I want.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Mscheeew! But if it is sex you want, you should just say you want sex, unless you are looking for pity sex, and that kind of sex is boring…”

“Okay. I want sex. And chapati.”

“See! That wasn’t painful at all.” She smiled, wishing she could rub his thigh but knowing there may be prying eyes, eyes that may find it strange that a woman like her would be tenderly rubbing the thigh of a dirty mad man. “If you behave, you may just get both, assuming I am not going to see the Kamaus this weekend.”

She sat back against the shed, discreetly watching him eat the pork ribs she had prepared. She loved how he chewed. Slowly, deliberately. Thoroughly. Sometimes when she was eating, she would try to emulate his chewing style, but she lacked the patience to chew her food slowly, fifty times, before swallowing.

 “There is some change with our guy…” Chizi said without looking away from his food.

Kerubo sat up straight, too fast, then remembered where she was and composed herself. “What change?”

“A woman…”

For a second, Kerubo felt all her systems shut down. She willed herself to recover quickly before Chizi noticed. “A woman…”

He turned and looked at her curiously. “Yes, a woman…oh dear, you still have hang-ups for that guy?” He asked, covering his mouth with his dirty attire so he could giggle. “Incredible…considering you did not even get to shag him.”

“I do not have hang-ups. Why would I have hang-ups? It’s not like there was anything between us…”

“There was not, but that is because you couldn’t get him…”

“I don’t want to talk about this. What have you seen?”

“I want to talk about THIS. What is it about the guy that gets your goat so bad?”

Kerubo sat up, folding her hands stubbornly. She was good at keeping calm, but she had been working with Samuel for too long to pull the same on him. He knew her too well, and that annoyed her. “He just kills me with curiosity. What is he? What does he eat? Who are his friends? Is he straight or gay?”

Samuel chuckled in between chewing. “I can answer one of those questions for you. I think he is straight, otherwise what else would he be doing with that woman in his house? I have seen them leaving together, in his car, and they certainly are more than friends.”

“Who is she?”

“That’s what we need to find out. She may be our key to finding out stuff about him. Every great man falls because of a woman he loves…”

“Shut up. You don’t know if he loves her.”

He looked at her and lifted one brow. “Don’t I? He looks pretty smitten in my opinion…”

“Mh…”

 They were silent for a while, both lost in thought. Samuel’s thought line was simple, he was thinking about how tasty the food was, how much he wanted to eat a hot, fresh chapati straight from the cooker. He thought about what he wanted to do to Kerubo, how he wanted to worship her heavenly body. Kerubo thought about the woman, what she was likely to look like, what it is the woman had that Boss had not seen in Kerubo.

She thought about the time Boss rejected her advances.

***

It was months into her Kirinyaga Road assignment when her curiosity to know more about Boss threatened to explode. She begged to be let to get close to Boss.

As usual, Boss was on Moi Avenue, in one of the tens of pubs along the streets. He, as usual, sat alone. Kerubo, wearing a pair of skin tight jeans and a tight sleeveless top, watched him from a distance. She was watching the body guards too, careful not to let them see her watching him too much. She knew they were over protective and as much as she had faith in her fighting skills, she knew it would be Herculean task to take on two burly men, men who could probably fight as well as she could. Besides, fighting was not what had brought her.

Besides, it was not often she wore makeup. Tonight, she had made a lot of effort and it would be a shame to mess it up in a fight.  

She watched him as he sipped on his beer slowly. She watched him as he spent too much time on the phone, scrolling and answering and making calls. For someone with no known friends, he spent a lot of time on the phone. How she wished she could get the phone.

Then she walked to his table. It had been the only one with a free seat, one everyone else seemed to be afraid of taking because he had a foot on it.

“Hi.” She put on her best smile, looking down at him. She fluttered because at close range, he was an unnervingly good looking man. His eyes was strange, she could even see that through the bad light, hypnotising her, putting her under his spell. He had to be a wizard.

He did not lift his head fully when he answered her, more like letting his eyes go up and down her body in appreciation. “Hi. May I help you?”

“I was wondering if I could sit with you…”

“Why?” He asked, finally looking up.

“Because I need to sit somewhere and all the other seats are taken…oh,” she added quickly. “I am not trying to pick you up, I am not a prostitute, I promise…”

He laughed. “I didn’t think you were…go ahead, have a seat.”

She sat down quickly, smiling appreciatively. “Thank you. I have been standing for so long and it is hard to enjoy a beer while standing.”

Boss grunted and went back to scrolling the phone. She studied him for a while, wondering if and when he would make a move for her. Usually, it took a few minutes for the men she was trying to trap to talk to her. It took a few more minutes for them to start thinking they owned her. Not this one.

She looked around and beckoned the waiter, ordering for a beer. That seemed to pique his interest. He looked at her and smiled.

“You don’t look like the sort to drink a beer…” he remarked, finger still on the phone.

She smirked. “Do they have a look?”

He nodded. “They do. And you do not have the look…you look sort of…delicate?”

If she was not trying to get him to like her, she would have taken offense. Instead, she smirked and laughed. “Well, I am not…”

“And what is a beautiful woman like you, one who is not a prostitute, doing here? Alone, in the middle of a hungry men-jungle?”

“I wanted to come for a drink…so I did.”

“Why alone? Don’t you have friends?”

She shook herself, trying not to look sorry. “Nope. I don’t like baggage.”

He laughed. “That makes the two of us.”

“You don’t have friends?”

He shrugged. “Not really…”

For a moment, she had thought he was about to confess to something, and that would have shocked, if not alarmed her. But he did not. He shrugged again. “So, how many of those can you down?” He asked, pointing at her beer.

“Why, you want to compete?”

“Maybe…”

“Don’t. I can drink you under the table and still walk in a straight line…”

They both laughed. “Somehow I believe that. You have only sipped twice and your beer is halfway…”

She shrugged. “We all have issues…mine is drinking too fast.” She saw the look on his face. “Don’t worry, I am not an alcoholic. I can go for months without a drink…okay, not months, more like days…”

They laughed again. “I like you. It’s not often you meet women willing to show you their nasty side…”

She laughed. “That’s because those women are out looking for potential husbands…”

“…As opposed to?”

“Looking for someone to have sex with…”

Their eyes locked. She saw him pull back a little. “I thought you said you are not a prostitute…”

“Because I am not. I do it for free…”

“Ouch.” He laughed. “How nice. I don’t know what’s worse…too bad I am married. You look like the sort of girl I would have fun with…”

She laughed, but to hide her disappointment, and wonder why he was lying to her. If he was married, his wife must be a recluse. Never leaves the house. “Too bad…perhaps one day you will want to go out of town… I do out of town trips too, and I can even cater for my transport.” She winked at him.

He laughed again.” Are you what they call an independent woman?”

“You could say that, but I am sure there are independent women who do not go picking men in pubs.” He laughed. She loved the way he laughed.

For hours, they sat and got drunk and laughed some more.  He was still constantly on his phone, sometimes he left the table to speak on the phone. They had drunk on his tab because he had said he still believed men should pick the tab.

They had been last in the pub. They had staggered to the car. He had given her a lift in his car, she had hoped he would drive to his house, but instead he had instructed his driver to take her home.

He did not ask for her number. That was the last time they saw each other face to face but too often, she thought about him. Too often, she felt butterflies in her tummy. She wanted him, not because she was in love with him, she did not believe she was capable of that kind of love, but because she looked at him as unfinished business.

***

Samuel interrupted her trip down memory lane.

“The girl…I…well, I kinda know her.”

“How?”

“I met her once in a club…”

“She is a prostitute.” It was a statement.

Chizi and Kerubo were regular sex partners, but there were no rules. No expectations. They had sex with each other when they were both available and if not, they did it with other people.  

It was common knowledge that Chizi loved prostitutes because they were easy to dispose and he did not have to explain to them why he disappeared for three weeks to somewhere. Kerubo was being truthful when she told Boss about picking up random men; they were easy to dispose too and they asked no questions about her work and company she kept. Sex, for both of them, was a means to release tension, or a means to get information about people suspected of being involved with illegal activities.

Chizi nodded. “Yes she is.”

“You have been with her?”

He nodded thoughtfully as he tried to retrieve a piece of meat stuck in his teeth. “When I first saw her with Boss, I didn’t recognise her because she looks very different at night, but she is an absolutely beautiful woman, kind of hard to forget. Kind of reminds me of you…”

“If you are trying to make me feel better, I am not jealous…” She snapped.

“No. Really she does. There is a certain allure about her that is so you…the night I was with her, I thought of you all the time.

“That’s disgusting…” she declared with a frown.

“Well, shoot me for telling the truth.”

“So Boss is dating a prostitute?” She remembered when she had told him she was not a prostitute. Perhaps she should have told him she was.

“Or seeing her regularly although quite honestly, they look closer than that…that would be interesting. We all know Boss doesn’t date…”

“There is always a first…” Kerubo said with a low voice.

 “It still bothers you that you did not trap him, doesn’t it?” He finally said.

She turned to him slowly and studied him. There was irony in the situation. According to Chizi, Kerubo and the girl Boss was seeing had similarities. Whether they were imagined by Chizi or not was beside the point, but Kerubo remembered how she had found Boss similar to Chizi, but not the street Chizi; the one who could scrub up. Perhaps it was the height, they were both tall. Perhaps it was the skin colour, they were both chocolate brown. Perhaps it was the muscles, or perhaps it was the look in their eyes. The kind of look that people who had seen death and caused death ended up having. Kerubo believed something happened to the souls of killers, something that could be seen through the eyes because eyes are the windows to the soul.

“It doesn’t bother me.” She spat. “So, what did you mean that we could use her to get to know him?”

***

Back to the streets. Years ago.

Mato was unwell, and it worried everyone, especially Boss. Every morning when Boss looked at him as he handed him breakfast of tea and mandazi, he seemed to be a kilogram lighter than the day before. He was too weak to make his plastic collection rounds, preferring to stay behind at the shack. As a result, Boss reduced his absence from the shack as he fussed over his best friend. He fed Mato, sat with him, rubbed his back as he coughed and spit out bloody phlegm.

“You know, I have never really told you my story…” Mato was struggling to breathe. Boss looked at him, trying to hide his panic but failing miserably.  “Why I am so protective about the kids here…” Boss had long decided it was because Mato had a caring heart. He nodded in encouragement. “I was born on these streets. Everyone I know who is related by blood is dead – I have been taking care of myself since I was ten years old. Like you, like so many of the boys here, I was raped by those big boys, repeatedly, for years...” Mato paused and winced. Boss wondered if it was from the memory or from the pain.

Boss gasped. “Sorry…”

Mato tried to laugh but instead coughed. “Look who is saying sorry.” He said when he caught his breath. “They raped me, until the day I got my dagger and stabbed two of them fatally. They left me alone after that but I made it my mission to protect the younger ones here as much as possible. But my biggest mission has been to hunt and kill every last one of that raping gang. All they care about is rape. I don’t get it.”

Boss nodded, reflecting Mato’s sadness. He knew Mato always carried a Maasai dagger under his clothes. Once in a while he would disappear at night, then return with a bloody knife. ‘He is blood thirsty. Once in a while he needs to kill someone…’ One of the boys had once whispered to Boss as they watched Mato clean his dagger with soil.

“There is no reason to rape anyone.” Mato continued after catching his breath.  “There is a lot of free sex on these streets…as you know.” Boss nodded, thinking of the orgies he never participated in. “I have killed several but they grow in numbers all the time, like we do. You may have to kill the rest for me.”

Boss sat up and gasped, unsure what shocked him most – being asked to murder or listening to Mato talking like he wouldn’t be there tomorrow. “What?”

“Do not pretend that you do not know I am dying…”

“You are not. You just have a bad cough…”

Mato laughed and coughed. “It’s a cough alright, but it is not just a cough. Look at me…I am wasting away…” He spread out his hands to display skin and bones. Boss looked at him, but he did not need to look at him to know.

“You are not dying…” Boss muttered under his breath, more for his own benefit.

“You are stupid. I am dying. Very soon. The beautiful doctor checked me last time and I have the big one…”

Boss gasped, unwilling to fathom what the big one was. “I have the HIV. She gave me anti-retroviral drugs but I am not interested in taking them. I am tired and I have accepted that death is around the corner. It is my death so you have to accept it too. And stop crying, you are not a baby…” Mato snapped, surprising Boss with the strength of his voice. He wiped his tears and took a deep breath. “Anyway, you are the natural leader here. You will take over from me. Take care of these kids, and kill those rapist bastards. That is the only favour I want from you.”

“You want me to kill people?” Boss was genuinely shocked at how casually Mato was asking him to commit murder.

“Don’t sound so surprised. It’s not like you wouldn’t want to kill them. They are not people. They are beasts. People do not do what they do…and anyway, it shouldn’t be hard for you…” Mato said that as he gave Boss a side eye.

“What do you mean?” He asked, but he was looking away from Mato.

“Don’t pretend with me. I know that look in your eye…you are a killer. I can bet you have killed before. You see, when you have taken a life, something happens to your eyes. They are different – I don’t know if calling it a blank look is proper, but there is just something that happens. I see that look every time I look at you.”

They were both quiet for a while, both lost in their own thoughts about death.

“I didn’t mean to, but he deserved to die…” Boss eventually whispered.

“I am sure he did. I am not one to judge you, and besides, you are a great man. If you were not here on the streets, I am sure you would be making a positive contribution to the society.” Mato winced again. |I have taken several lives myself, but all of them deserving. I am just sad that I am dying before those beasts…” Then he laughed, his chest sounding like a bubbling river. “Funny, that we kill people, then we all eventually die. Death is such a humbling event.”

Boss swallowed hard.

“Take my dagger…take my dagger and use it wisely. Never use it on innocent people otherwise I will turn in my grave. Use it on those deserving…anyway, I am so tired, I need to rest…”

Boss made Mato comfortable, then took a slow walk to see Monde.  

***

When Mato succumbed, it was a cocktail of confusing emotions for Boss. The sadness, the darkness and confusion that followed the death was so heavy, at some point Boss wondered what the point of life was. Why it was necessary to stay alive while eventually death was the destination. Death stopped being unattractive, so much so, he even envied Mato for dying. He wondered if it would be better to throw himself in front of a matatu, or a train, or die in the murky waters of Nairobi River.

The dark thoughts did not last long. Mato, he decided, had done his time. He had fought his fight and his wounds had been mentally terrible and physically ugly. He had caught pneumonia and TB according to the beautiful lady doctor who had stopped by to see him. The doctor had left them with antibiotics and more anti-retroviral drugs, but Mato had refused to swallow any of them. His physical wounds were smelly and they attracted flies when they started rotting. He was as skinny as a wire, his once fully head of thick hair was bald because his hair had all fallen off, leaving unsightly patches. Then there were his eyes – sunken and yellow, like a wild animal. They did not look like a killer’s eyes anymore, they looked dead.

During Mato’s last days, the grim mood among the street siblings seemed to have taken away their sexual urges; the orgies had stopped. The fights had stopped. They would all sit around a tyre fire, all staring at the fire, tense, like a group of people afraid of breathing, afraid of offending their sick leader by breathing while he could hardly breathe himself. One hot December night, Mato’s body seemed to slum even though he was lying on a piece of cloth on the ground.   

They all jumped, taking a step back. Only Boss dared to get near Mato, shaking him and calling his name. The smaller boys and the girls started crying, Boss ignored them as he ordered the bigger boys to make a stretcher out of wood planks. They placed him on the stretcher and started a long walk. A group of street children walked from Kirinyaga Road, through the Central Business District on Kenyatta Avenue, through Uhuru Park, past Community in Upper Hill to Kenyatta National Hospital.

The security guards tried to stop them from accessing the hospital, their numbers and determination saw them push their way into the hospital ground, to the casualty department, led by Boss. Boss intention was to demand for their friend to be attended to immediately, and he would use the dagger if he had to but the minute he looked at all the sick people waiting to see the doctors, he thought of God’s waiting room. Surely it had to look something like that? There seemed to be a competition on who would die before the other. The nurses and the doctors were constantly on the move, looking harassed but determined.

Two hours at the hospital and Boss made a difficult decision to leave Mato at the casualty reception. By this time, he had accepted Mato was dead. He looked at him, lying on a bare, cold floor, a floor as cold as his body had become, and muttered an apology. He signalled the others to follow him outside.

“He is dead…” He announced when they all gathered around him outside the casualty department. A few of them started crying. “There is nothing more we can do for him. We leave him here, the government will bury him.”

Boss had walked towards the gate first and fast, but only because he did not want anyone to see him crying. The others reluctantly followed him. They had no qualms about wailing as they walked out of the gate, all the way as they retraced their steps back to Kirinyaga Road. That night, Boss sniffed glue, but it was the first and last time he did.

That same night marked the beginning of his reign as The Boss.

***

Five years on the streets, the dynamics of his street life changed constantly but remained the same. The years did not pass quickly, neither did they pass slowly. They just did. Days turned into nights and nights turned into days. Some of them had grim weather, others full of sunshine, sometimes the stars could be seen above the city lights. He liked to watch them. Some of his street siblings died from lynching, others, like Mato, from diseases and drugs, others disappeared, but with each death, there were new additions.

There were fights, sometimes vicious and bloody. Boss never got into another fight since the time he knocked out someone. None of his street siblings ever had the guts to challenge him ever again. With each addition, Boss’ reputation preceded him, new kids were warned beforehand. It helped he was the strongest, and the tallest, and because he was the only one who did not do drugs, he was the healthiest. His main role was to separate fights when they went on for too long and even for that, all he needed was to bark orders and order would be restored.  

With Mato gone, there was only one constant in his life; Monde, the disabled man who had helped feed him after he was robbed.

Whenever the street life got mundane, whenever being a parent to a bunch of authority hating street children got to him, he went to sit with Monde to watch the city go by. Through Monde, he learned to correctly label people by how they walked, dressed and behaved.

“That one is a pickpocket. See how shifty he is and how he does not look ahead. He looks at handbags …”

“Do you see that man wearing a suit and asking different people for directions? Don’t be deceived – he is drugging people.” Boss had peered closely at that one, trying to work out if he was the one who had drugged him.

“That one is a city council official…corrupt fellows…or hungry.”

“You see that one over there? That man leaning on that wall? That’s an undercover cop.”

“Do you smoke ganja?” Monde had asked the question so casually, Boss had asked him to repeat it.

“Of course not.” Boss had answered, picking a sweet from Monde’s table and throwing it in his mouth. “Have you seen what drugs do to the street kids?”

Monde had laughed. “You can still do drugs and not turn into an idiot…”

“That’s a lie. Why are you asking me that anyway?”

Monde had leaned closer to Boss who was sitting beside his wheelchair on the floor, and whispered. “Because I have some here…high grade from Ethiopia.”

Boss gasped, turning to study Monde closer for signs of drugs. “You do drugs? In your condition?”

“:What condition?” Monde had asked defensively. “My legs may not be functional, but my brain is…”

“Whatever. So you do drugs?”

“No way. I do not want to turn into an idiot…” They laughed. Monde leaned again. “I sell ganja…”

“What? To whom?”

“Hah!” He had sneered, sitting back up. “Clearly you do not know that half the people walking the streets are on some sort of drug or another.” He had pointed at passing crowds. Boss had followed his hand as it pointed, looking closely at people’s faces.  “If you think it is possible to make proper cash by selling sweets and cheap, illegally packed untreated water, then you are prove that you do not need drugs to be an idiot. Hii Nairobi lazima ujanjaruke.”

“Now I know. I wondered how you can afford expensive clothes by selling sweets…”

“You could help me sell…”

“What? Drugs?”

“No. Shoes…idiot! You look like a clever guy on the outside but I am beginning to think inside is full of stupid…Listen to me.” Boss found himself leaning towards Monde. “You could make some good money. I know my customers but I cannot take the drugs to them, obviously…” He looked at his legs. “I had a guy who used to do that for me but two days ago, he was lynched…”

“For selling drugs?”

“Of course not. Drug dealers are too posh to be lynched. The stupid fool used to double up as a thief. His forty days were over…”

“Oh…”

“But life goes on. People need their fix. I got another guy, but he is stealing from me. I need someone I can rely on…”

“…And you thought of me…how sweet.” Boss chewed on his lip thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on a man he was sure was an undercover agent. “What if I am arrested?”

“Never. If you stick to the rules, you will be fine…”

“What if the cop over there…” he pointed with his mouth. “What if he arrested me?”

“The only reason he would arrest you is if I refused to give him his cut…”

“He knows you sell drugs?”

“Dude, it’s the only way I stay alive. Take it from me, if you are going to choose to do illegal stuff, you need the law on your side…”

Boss had laughed. “How does that even make sense to you?”

“It’s true. We have crooked cops, and they are the ones you need to keep happy. Now, before I give all the secrets of the trade, do you want to do it or not?”

“How much is in it for me?”

“Enough to get you off the streets. Enough to buy you soap and wash that stinky body of yours…”

“I don’t stink…”

“You do too. Very badly. In fact, if you say yes to this, you may have to leave the streets, perhaps stay with me for some time until you can sort yourself…”

“Give me two days to think about it…I have the kids to think about. They depend on me…”

Since the death of Mato, Boss had appreciated more than ever the importance of being the head of a street family. He felt like somebody who had been thrust into fatherhood without warning. Thrust into fathering unruly teenagers, but he had quickly worked out that ruling by fear was easier than ruling by reason. He was still learning how to maximise that. If he left the streets, it meant he would not be able to monitor what was going on.

He could just leave the streets, something he had often thought of doing. But not yet. There was some allure to being on the streets. There was the freedom of having no societal pressure to be anything but a street bum. If and when he left the streets, he did not want to live at the bottom of the society. He needed to be somebody – feel like somebody. He subconsciously touched the money stuffed in his trousers.

When Mato had died, he had called a family meeting and laid down some rules. “No fighting amongst yourselves. If I catch you fighting, I will hurt you. If you have a problem with somebody, come to me, I will sort it (they still fought but they were no longer bloody fights). No more orgies. If you cannot find a private place to have sex, don’t have it. If I catch you having sex in front of everybody, I will hurt your private parts. If you make money, you will tell me how much you make. If you lie, I will know, then I will hurt you. You will give me ten percent of that money for food and clothes for everybody. Also, we shall be cooking and eating together, period. Now, if anyone has a problem with the rules, this is your time to leave …” For a minute, none of them had moved. Then two boys finally walked out. “Anyone else?” They had shaken their heads. “Good. I have big plans for all of you, but only if you follow the rules – otherwise, I will hurt you.”

***