Boss Takes All (35 page)

At the Rubai house, there was a strong sense of deja-vu. Sally had scoured the newspapers and followed this up with hours of Bible reading and prayers for the lost souls. She mused on the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah, for a few hours had no thoughts of new baby Julius and wondered if she might do some good by visiting her almost daughter-in-law and trying to offer comfort.

All these were solitary activities. Family discussion on the subject only took place in the evenings, just as they had done the last time disaster struck Naivasha and, that time, Londiani in particular. Sally, Abel and Reuben sat around the plasma. Sally, with her regular bouts of weeping and outbursts about the unfairness of life, soon began to bore her husband and son. Reuben stayed out of a sense of duty and made hardly any comment on the vivid scenes unfolding in front of them.

Abel was his usual two-faced self. His expression was solemn, but his words were few. Underneath the neutral exterior his mind was in overdrive. He had known about the destruction from a phone call from his regular boys on their way back to Nairobi. He had soon rationalised the possible problem for him with the crazy Turkana. There was nothing to link them with him and, as a bonus, he had saved a few shillings. The ten dead would not be asking for their pay and the other five were safe in a Nairobi lockup and likely to meet up with their brothers in the not too distant future.

As for the fifteen locals killed in what must have been quite a fight, he had no sympathy. If they had kept their noses out of his business, they could all be sitting that evening watching the television and seeing the fireworks display just down the road. And there was yet a bonus for him here, too. The smart-arsed songstress would be sitting in a corner somewhere, sobbing her heart out with shame and guilt, blaming herself for the death and destruction of the night. But now there would be no more sentimental drivel about putting up a hospital for the poor, unfortunate people of her beloved mess of her hometown. It was ‘A win-win situation,' as he had predicted to Sally. He was as indestructible as ever, back in full control.

* * *

It had been a grim night at Naivasha. Home Grown, the nearest flower farm to the hospital site, had sent in two lines of mobile floodlights. At once the relief workers could move around more confidently, less fearful about where they planted their feet. The line of dead was watched over by priests and nuns who murmured their prayers and hymns over each corpse in turn. One by one the Naivasha dead were taken home by their families, still in a state of shock and unable to grasp the numbing reality of their own changed lives.

Ivor, Dai and Tom held their vigil over Iolo. They took turns to hold him in their arms. The spontaneous prayers in Welsh were the passionate outpourings of men hanging on in a whirlwind that had suddenly blasted into their quiet lives. Over and over there were pictures of home in their minds. They visualised the moment when Iolo's family would hear the news. If they were thinking that bringing that news would be their awful duty, they were wrong. Sonya Mboya who knew members of their church in Llanelli had already passed on the news to the almost doctor's family. At that moment on a rainy night far to the north-west, their home chapel was filled with a congregation that was stunned and helpless. They prayed, sang hymns and waited. It was a small relief to them to be told that Iolo would be back in Wales by the middle of the next day. The KLM jet carrying the nightly cargo of flowers and vegetables to the Amsterdam market would divert briefly to Cardiff to drop off the four friends. Eddie and Rollo would travel with them.

* * *

‘Thomas, I must go back. I should have stayed to help. At least then I should have been actually doing something instead of …'

‘Rebecca, I'm ready to go now. But by coming home you helped. There were, are, so many practical things to see to over there.'

‘So I would be no use for these practical things?'

‘Better than anybody. You would have worked till you dropped. But I think that having you there right in the middle of a shattered dream would have broken a few hearts. I went back an hour ago to check.'

‘And you didn't take me! Thomas, how could you?'

‘There are big crowds all ‘round the compound, making that low murmuring noise, that cry of deep grief. It is such a beautiful sound and I always cry when I hear it. Inside things are calmer. There are doctors and sisters from Kijabe, Nakuru, even Nairobi. I've never seen so many policemen in one place. Sweetheart, they are just like you. They are desperate to help in any way they can. And, they are angry!'

‘I am not angry, Thomas. You know that.'

‘I know it. That's because you haven't got an angry bone in you body, just like your father and mother.'

‘Should I go, then, Thomas?'

‘Get your clothes on.'

Dawn was close when they arrived at the gate. There was a pink glow on the rim of the Aberdares. But it was the after smell of burning that caught at her throat as it drifted through the car's open window and brought her close to vomiting.

Tom eased his way towards the locked gate. The sergeant on duty flashed his torch to check on the passengers. He turned sharply away and shouted, ‘Open up! It's her!'

In moments they were standing in the compound again. Rebecca stood rigid and looked around. The news of her return spread quickly through the crowds on the fence. And there was a reaction. A heavily pregnant young woman began the wailing cry of grief.

‘Rebecca, our special girl, do not forget your dream!'

Others took up the call with their own expression of sorrow. The confusion of sounds melted into a single outpouring, three words repeated over and over in an unhurried rhythm, the simple expression of ancient passion.

‘Uhuru-Sasa-Rebecca!'

Over and over in unison, the first two words heavy and emphatic and the last breathed out on a whisper. The repetition became hypnotic and softened the sharp edges of pain.

Against this soothing background, Rebecca moved first to the place where she had found Iolo. An American doctor and two sisters from Kijabe Hospital were preparing his body to be taken by ambulance to their mortuary. The doctor shook his head sadly.

‘We must keep him cold. The hospital here can't take him. Their people have been marvellous. Strange isn't it? Someone told me that this bomb site was the beginnings of a brand new place for the town.'

A red-eyed Ivor Jones looked up from his kneeling position at his friend's side and motioned towards Rebecca.

‘Sir, this is the lady …'

The doctor swivelled ‘round to face Rebecca.

‘I'm so sorry. Rebecca Kamau …'

‘McCall. This is my husband, Thomas. No need for any sorry. We are so grateful that you are here to help our dear friends.'

‘I have only seen photos of you on my discs of your music. I'm returning home next week. You'll always be the voice of Africa to me.'

‘Thank you. Please, Thomas needs to talk to you. Important things about our Iolo.'

While Tom led the doctor to the empty space behind the open door of the ambulance, Rebecca grasped the hands of the other friends. By now the Home Grown lights had been switched off and in the glimmering of the new dawn, she pulled them into a tight circle. ‘Why did he come?'

A weary shake of the head from the three of them. They had been over this ground so many times, since they found Iolo unconscious and cut up in amongst the jagged slabs of broken concrete.

‘Bled to death.' David had an ironic smile on his lips as he spoke. ‘Funny thing, he was the only person around who could have saved him. That make sense, Ivor?'

‘Nothing makes sense! We should have been on our way back to Gilgil. We were having a great time talking to a couple of truck drivers from the coast. Great blokes. Muslim boys.'

‘Iolo got up on his feet. We thought he was going to make a speech. “Got to take a leak or we'll have to stop the car on the way home.” We never saw him again. Alive I mean.' More tears slid from Ivor's reddened eyes.

‘What's going to happen? Do you know anything, Rebecca? If we were home …'

‘But you are home.'

‘Before all this, Iolo was talking to the drivers about going back to med school. “One more year. The hospital will be open by then. I'm coming back to help a few Naivasha babies into the world.” Gospel truth!'

‘How did you four people come into our lives? Why does it have to be like this? Tom is talking to the doctor. His father has a plan. You know that a plane goes out to Europe every night, with a cargo from the farms?'

‘You mean we could be on one?'

‘Tonight, Iolo as well. I hope you don't hate our country.'

‘Rebecca, we're not going. The four of us have been talking about it, the four of us!'

‘I don't understand. Not the four of you talking, but … why stay?'

‘There's a hospital to be built.'

Tom and the doctor had rejoined them and had heard David's last words. Rebecca turned to her husband in mild panic.

‘Thomas, please explain. Friends, look around you. Destruction, death. What kind of a hospital can grow out of such soil? We have enemies. You know that. Thomas …?'

‘I was in year three, I think. We had a teacher from South Africa. One of the boys said that when he grew up, he was going to be an astronaut or something. Miss Strauss allowed the jeering to continue for a few moments. Then she said, “Children, never trample on someone else's dreams. They are the most precious possession they have.” This hospital …'

‘No, Thomas, you are my most precious possession. Remember those days when I was the laundry girl at Londiani. It was easy then. When you have no money, you have more peace.'

‘Rebecca, your father is the wisest man I know. Open your heart to him.'

‘So my husband is unwilling …'

‘Your husband loves you so much that he wants what you want and only that!'

‘David, Phillip, Ivor, so sorry. I do not want to put you off …'

‘Marriage? No chance!'

‘Rebecca, you smiled!'

‘Thomas, you are …'

‘No I am not. I love to see you smile. And so do those ladies by the police car. They want to speak to you. I'll stay here. Sam's got more work to do. Perhaps I can help.'

‘They are women from our church.'

* * *

‘Rebecca, when are we going to start building the new hospital?'

She struggled to find a reply to a question that had startled her. She had expected the women to be angry with her. They sensed a reason for her hesitation. Their spokeswoman, Doris, well-known around the town for her work with the poor and the destitute, moved closer so that she could make strong eye contact.

‘Girl, there is going to be a new hospital?'

Doris narrowed her eyes and challenged her young friend with her steely expression. She did not wait for a reply before continuing.

‘Child, you know that this town loves you and rejoices to see that you have been blessed in your life in so many ways. The children, the women and the men I see every day do not have such blessings. Hope, that is a gift from the Lord and He has asked you to be His agent of hope here. So, we ask again. When are we going to start to build the new hospital?'

An already distressed Rebecca was now struggling not to break down in front of these women who had been part of her life since her earliest days.

‘But there has been so much innocent blood shed here tonight.'

‘You are not the cause of this. Wicked forces are always at work to destroy the good. The daughter of Stephen Kamau knows this. And shouldn't we honour the lives lost here tonight? Not to begin again will bring shame on all of us.'

‘Perhaps I am not strong enough. Perhaps God has chosen the wrong person.'

‘God does not make such mistakes. But I think you are right to say that you are not strong enough - yet!'

‘So?'

‘Yet, Rebecca, yet! Even at this moment God is making you stronger. Things that hurt us can teach us, if we allow it to happen. You have shown love. You have brought hope. Now, you must show faith. You are not alone.'

Felicity, Doris's twin sister, saw what was needed to ease the tension of the moment. As she threw her arms into the air and let her whole body sway slowly, she called out the command.

‘Ladies, time to make a prayer circle around our beloved sister here!'

For a few moments everyone close by stopped what they were doing to watch ten respectable women from the town gather close around their younger sister. No words were said at first, but the constant rhythmic movement began at once. There was hand clapping, simple stepping from foot to foot and sinuous swaying from the hips. At last came the words.

Soon all activity around the whole site stopped except in those places where the wounded and the dead were being cared for. Those who were regular in their churchgoing and their prayers were first to move in close. They wanted to be a part of this huge change of mood that had descended on that place. Felicity, with her eyes closed and her face glowing in the early morning sunlight began.

‘Holy Spirit, we know that you are with us in this place of pain. Be in our mouths as we pray, be in our hearts as we look for our words. Bring your tongues of fire to purify every word that proceeds from these mouths.'

Lips were unsealed and emotions began to build, but there was no wildness. Impromptu prayers, long and short, sang out effortlessly. Inside the circle Rebecca removed the scarf from her head and shook her long hair free. Matching the movement of her sisters, with eyes closed, she turned and lifted her head to face the sun. She was aware of the words but her consciousness was elsewhere. A comfortable lethargy enveloped her and images began to appear in front of her. They stayed only long enough for her to recognise them before each melted away, giving place to the next picture. She was being led through her own life story. The little girl who played on the lakeside became at last the woman who stood on the steps of the veranda of Londiani.