The White Masai (33 page)

Lketinga has no objections anymore and on the contrary will make the effort to be back in time to see her before she leaves. But we’re not there yet. First we have to find someone to help out in the shop. I suggest Priscilla, but he is immediately against that idea; he doesn’t trust her at all. I’m horrified and point out everything she’s done for us. But he won’t agree and instead brings a Masai boy back one evening. He’s from the Masai-Mara and has been to school, as a result of which he’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I don’t mind, though, as he seems honest and I agree that William will be our new assistant.

At last I can sort out replacement stocks of T-shirts and carvings and leave the pair of them to run the shop. The child minder comes with me bringing Napirai. It’s hard work, going from one dealer to the next, looking at their goods and bargaining. I’m back around midday to find Lketinga at the bar of the Chinese restaurant drinking expensive beer, leaving William alone in the shop. I ask how many people have been in. Not many and they’ve sold only a Masai trinket. There are lots of tourists walking up and down the main street, and I ask somewhat tetchily if Lketinga’s been handing out our flysheets. William shakes his head and says he’s been drinking beer in the bar all the time and took the float from the cash till. That makes me angry, and when he strolls into the shop I can smell the beer on his breath. Of course we have a row, which ends up with him taking the car and disappearing. I’m feeling let down again: now we have a child minder and an employee, and my husband’s drinking the profits.

William and I set out the new stock. As soon as we see white people he runs out onto the street and hands them a flysheet. Almost everyone he approaches comes into the shop and by five-thirty, when Lketinga comes back, the shop’s full and we’re talking up our wares to all sorts of customers. Of course people are asking about my husband so I introduce him, but he just stares through the tourists and instead demands to know what we’ve sold and for how much. His behaviour is worse than rude.

A Swiss man buys some trinkets and a carved mask for his two daughters – good business – but before he leaves he asks if he can take a
picture of me and my husband and Napirai. Of course I agree because he’s just spent a lot of money but my husband says he’ll only agree to be photographed if he gets paid. The pleasant Swiss man is annoyed, and I’m embarrassed. He takes two photographs and actually gives Lketinga ten shillings. When he’s out of hearing I try to impress on Lketinga just why you don’t ask customers to pay to take photographs. He doesn’t understand and accuses me of getting in his way whenever he tries to earn money. All the Masais demand money when they have their photograph taken, he says, why shouldn’t he and his eyes twinkle nastily. I tell him again wearily that the others don’t have a shop like we do.

As new customers turn up I try to pull myself together and be pleasant, but my husband glowers at them suspiciously and if one of them so much as touches something he insists that they’ve bought it. William, cleverly and smoothly, tries to steer the customers away from Lketinga to save something of the situation.

Within ten days of our opening we’ve earned the month’s rent. I’m proud of myself and of William. Most tourists come back the next day with other people from their hotel and word about the shop gets around, not least because our prices are cheaper than the hotel boutiques. I have to go in to Mombasa every three or four days to get more stock.

Because lots of people ask for gold jewellery I see if I can find a suitable glass cabinet to display it. It’s not that easy, but eventually I find a workshop that’ll make it to order. A week later it’s ready for collection. I take all our woollen blankets along and park right outside the workshop. Four men carry the heavy glass cabinet out to the car, but in the ten minutes that I’d left it – locked! – the woollen blankets have been stolen. The lock on the driver’s side has been broken. The shop owner gives me old sacks and cartons so I can at least provide some protection, but I’m annoyed to have lost my Swiss blankets. Lketinga will be cross too to have lost his red blanket, and I’m in a bad mood as I drive back south.

There’s just William in the shop, but he comes up to me proudly to say he’s sold goods worth eight hundred shillings. I tell him how pleased I am. There’s no way we can unload the cabinet on our own so he goes down to the beach to find friends to help and comes back after half an hour with three Masai who take the cabinet out carefully and set it upright. I give them all a soft drink and ten shillings each as thanks. Then
I start displaying the fashion jewellery in the cabinet while they sit outside drinking their sodas with the child minder and Napirai.

As ever my husband turns up when all the work’s been done. With him is the child minder’s husband. He calls his young wife over angrily, and I see the other Masai slope away. Somewhat taken aback, I ask William what the matter is, and he says the husband doesn’t like his wife sitting with other men. If he finds it happening again he’ll stop her working here. I’d like to get involved but know better and have to just content myself that Lketinga doesn’t start up again. I’m appalled at the husband’s attitude and feel sorry for the child minder who’s gone to sit further away with her head down.

Thank God some customers turn up and William rushes off to deal with them. When I hear from their speech that they’re Swiss I go to talk to them. They’re from Biel! I’m curious to hear the latest from my hometown and we get chatting. Then one of them invites me over for a beer in the Chinese restaurant. I ask Lketinga if he minds, and he says generously: ‘Why not, Corinne, no problem if you know these people.’ Of course I don’t know the couple at all, although they are about my age and may know some of my old friends.

We spend an hour in the restaurant bar before we say goodbye, but when I get back the same old interrogation starts up. Where do I know these people from? Why did I laugh such a lot with the man? Is he a friend of Marco or maybe an old boyfriend of mine? Questions and more questions and all the time it’s: ‘Corinne, you can tell me. I know, no problem, now this man has another lady. Please tell me, before you come to Kenya, maybe you sleep with him?’ I can’t listen to it anymore and put my hands over my ears while the tears stream down my cheeks. I could scream with rage.

At last it’s closing time, and we go home. Naturally William heard everything and tells Priscilla. At any rate she comes over to us and asks if we’ve got problems. I can’t keep it in and tell her what happened. She tries to bring Lketinga to his senses, and I take Napirai to bed. In two weeks my sister will be here, and if I’m lucky my husband’ll be gone. Our quarrels keep getting more frequent, and all his promises and good intentions after my brother’s visit have come to nothing.

I get up at seven o’clock every morning in order to be in the shop by nine. Travelling salesmen now turn up almost every day offering carvings
or gold jewellery, which makes it much easier to renew our stock. I can only use them when Lketinga isn’t in the shop, however, because he behaves so appallingly. The salesmen speak to me first, and my husband finds that insupportable. He throws them out and says they should come back when they find out who the shop belongs to: it does, after all, say Sidai’s Masai Shop above the door.

William, on the other hand, is a real help. He slips out after the salesmen and tells them to come back in the afternoon when my husband is in Ukunda. A whole week goes by like this until eventually Lketinga heads off home saying he’ll be back in three weeks’ time so he can meet Sabine in the last week of her holiday.

Every day William and I drive to the shop together. Usually the child minder is already there or we meet her on the way. Even in the mornings now we get several tourists turning up: often Italians, Americans, English or Germans. I enjoy being able to talk to everybody so easily. William goes out onto the street to tout for trade without having to be asked, and he gets better and better at it. There are days when, amongst other things, we sell up to three gold chains with the Kenyan coat of arms. A dealer comes to see us twice a week so I can even place orders for customers.

We close regularly at lunchtime for an hour and a half and go to see Sophia. Now I can eat spaghetti and salad at her house with no problems. Her restaurant has just opened, although she still isn’t allowed to work there herself. I pay for William’s meal of course because it would cost half his monthly wages. The first time he realizes that he says he won’t come anymore, but without him I couldn’t take Napirai along, and as he works so hard I’m happy to treat him. The child minder goes home to eat.

In the meantime I’ve been taking so much money that I have to take it to the bank at lunchtime. We have no more problems with the car either. Once a week I go shopping in Mombasa, and anything else I need we get from itinerant food sellers. I feel like a proper businesswoman again. For the first time everything to do with the shop is working well.

In the second week of August Sabine arrives to stay at the Africa Sea Lodge. On the day of her arrival I go to the hotel with Priscilla and Napirai, leaving William in the shop. It’s great to see her again. This is the first time she’s been on holiday to another continent. Unfortunately I don’t have much time to spare, as I have to get back to the shop. In any case she wants to spend the day sunbathing so we agree to meet in the
hotel bar in the evening. I bring her straight back to our village, and she’s amazed too at our living conditions, although she says she likes it.

There are a few warriors at home nearby, and they ask who the girl is. Before long they’re all in love with my sister. She seems fascinated by them too, but I warn her off with some sound advice and start to tell her how badly things are going with Lketinga. She can’t believe it and is sorry that he’s not here.

She’s keen to get back to the hotel for dinner, and I take her in the car. A few warriors take the opportunity of a lift. I leave them all in front of the hotel and agree to meet Sabine again the next evening in the bar. As I drive off she’s still talking to the warriors. I go over to Priscilla’s to eat when Lketinga isn’t there and we take turns at cooking.

To my surprise Sabine turns up in the shop the next afternoon with Edy, whom she’s met in the Bush Baby Disco. She’s only just eighteen and wants to enjoy the nightlife. I’m not happy to see them together, even though I like Edy.

They spend most of the time hanging around the pool while I work in the shop and seldom see my sister. She spends a lot of time with Edy. Now and then we meet up in our village for
chai
. Obviously she’d like me to come with her to the disco, but I tell her I can’t because of Napirai, and then there’d be problems when Lketinga gets back. My sister doesn’t understand because I was always such an independent person. But she doesn’t know my husband.

E
ight days later he’s back. William and I are in the shop, it’s boiling hot and there are few customers. Even so we can be happy with our turnover, which for the moment is something Sophia can only dream of. I’m sitting on the step in the doorway with Napirai, still guzzling away at my breast, despite her thirteen months, when suddenly a tall man appears from behind the Indian shop and comes towards us.

It takes me a couple of seconds to recognize Lketinga. I wait for my usual feeling of happiness to see him, but instead I’m still in shock. The way he looks throws me: he’s cut his long red hair short and got rid of some of the decorations he usually wears on his head. I can accept that, but his clothes look ridiculous: he’s wearing an old-fashioned shirt and dark red jeans that are far too tight and too short. His feet are in cheap plastic sandals and instead of his normal languid stroll he’s walking stiffly. ‘Corinne, why you not tell me hello? You are not happy I’m here?’ Only then do I realize the way I must have stared at him. I grab hold of Napirai to compose myself and point out her papa to her. He takes her in his arms happily, but she seems uncertain too because she immediately wants to get down and come back to me.

He comes into the shop and starts examining everything, wanting to know who I’ve got the new Masai belts from. ‘From Priscilla,’ I tell him. He puts them all on one side and says he’ll give them back to her because he doesn’t want to pay her for anything. I start to get angry and for a moment even get stomach cramps. ‘Corinne, where is your sister?’ ‘I don’t know. Maybe in the hotel,’ I answer curtly. He demands the car keys so he can go and visit her, although he doesn’t even know what she looks like.

An hour later he’s back. Of course he hasn’t found her. Instead he’s been to Ukunda to buy
miraa
. He sits down in front of the shop and starts chewing. Before long there are leaves and gnawed stems all over the place. I suggest he takes his weed somewhere else, which he takes to mean I want rid of him. He starts interrogating William.

He doesn’t tell me much about James and things at home. He just waited for the circumcision and left the celebrations early. Cautiously I ask him where his kangas are and why he’s cut his hair. His kangas, he says, are in his bag and his hair ornaments too. He’s not a warrior anymore so he doesn’t need them.

I put it to him that most of the Masai in Mombasa still wear their traditional clothing, jewellery and long hair and that it might be better for our shop. From that he deduces that I like all the others better. In reality I just wish he’d get rid of his jeans and shirt for the kangas that suit him much better, but for the moment at least I let it be.

When we get home Sabine is sitting with Edy and the other warriors from next door in front of the hut. I introduce my husband to her, and he greets her warmly. Sabine gives me a surprised look: obviously puzzled at the way he’s got up. For his part, Lketinga still hasn’t asked himself why Sabine’s sitting here.

Half an hour later she wants to go back to the hotel for dinner. It’s a rare chance for me to exchange a few words with her in private so I suggest to Lketinga that I drive her back to the hotel quickly while he looks after Napirai. He says it’s out of the question: he wants to drive her. My sister gives me a startled look and lets me know in broad Swiss German dialect that there’s no way she’s getting into the car if he’s driving. She doesn’t know him and he doesn’t look as if he’s capable of driving a car. I don’t know what to do and tell her so. She turns to Lketinga and says: ‘Thank you but it’s better I walk with Edy to the hotel.’ I hold my breath for a moment to see what will happen. Lketinga laughs and says: ‘Why you go with him? You are sister from Corinne. So you are like my sister.’

When she still won’t have him drive, he tries to arrange to meet her later in the Bush Baby Disco, saying he can’t let her go there on her own. Sabine, who’s starting to get cross, says: ‘No problem, I go with Edy and you stay with Corinne or come together with her.’ I can see from his face that he’s starting to get the picture. Sabine takes the opportunity to
disappear with Edy. I make myself busy with Napirai. For ages he says absolutely nothing and just sits chewing
miraa
. Then he demands to know what I’ve done every evening. I tell him I’ve been with Priscilla who only lives a hundred feet away. And who did I spend the night with? he then demands to know. I know what he’s getting at and respond sharply: ‘Just Napirai!’ He laughs and keeps on chewing.

I go to bed hoping that he’ll stay out there all night for I feel not the slightest desire to have him touch me. Only now do I realize how my feelings for this man have changed completely. After two and a half weeks without any complications, living with him under this pressure is almost unbearable.

A little later he comes to bed too, but I pretend to be asleep and lie against the wall with Napirai. He speaks to me, but I don’t reply. When he tries to make love to me, which after a long separation like this would otherwise be normal, I’m almost sick with fear. I can’t and won’t. My disappointment in his behaviour is just too much. I push him away and say, ‘Maybe tomorrow.’ ‘Corinne, you are my wife, now I have not seen you for such a long time. I want love from you! Maybe you got enough love from other men!’ ‘No, I have not got love, I don’t want love,’ I shout at him angrily.

Of course everybody else can hear us arguing, but I can’t control myself. We end up physically tussling, which wakes Napirai who starts crying. Lketinga climbs out of bed furiously puts on his kangas and ornaments and stalks off. Napirai is inconsolable. All of a sudden Priscilla appears and takes Napirai. I’m too exhausted to even start talking about our problems. All I can tell her is that Lketinga is completely crazy. She tells me calmly that all men are like that but we shouldn’t shout at each other or we’ll have problems with the landlord. Then she disappears.

When I go into the shop the next day with William I still don’t know where my husband spent the night. I’m in a depressed mood, and neither William nor the child minder says much. We’re glad to see tourists come in, if only to lift the atmosphere, but I leave the sales talk to William.

Lketinga doesn’t turn up until nearly midday, and then he makes William’s life a misery. He no longer goes out onto the street to hand out flysheets but sends William instead, and at lunchtime he refuses to take him with us even though we’re going to Ukunda. I’m not allowed to go to Sophia’s anymore because he doesn’t see what we’ve got to talk about.

For the past few days there doesn’t seem to be enough money in the till. I can’t be certain about it because I no longer go to the bank every day. From time to time my husband takes money out, and I use cash from the till to buy from itinerant merchants. But I have a feeling there’s something wrong. I daren’t mention it to my husband, however.

My sister’s holiday is coming to an end, and I’ve hardly seen her. On her last night we go to the disco with her and Edy. It’s what she wants to do; she says she wants to get me out with other people. We leave Napirai with Priscilla. Lketinga and I sit at a table while Sabine and Edy dance together wildly. It’s the first time in ages that I’ve had alcohol. My thoughts drift back to the time I came here with Marco and nearly fainted when Lketinga walked in the door. How much has happened since then! I try to keep back the tears, I don’t want to spoil Sabine’s last day and nor do I want a row with my husband. He too was happier back then than he is now.

My sister comes back to the table and notices immediately that there’s something wrong with me. I rush off to the toilet. I’m rinsing my face with cold water when I notice her standing next to me. She takes me in her arms and we simply stand there. Then she gives me a cigarette and tells me to keep it for later, it’ll do me good – there’s marijuana in it – and if I need more I should tell Edy.

We go back to the table, and Lketinga asks Sabine to dance. While they’re on the floor Edy asks me if I’m having problems with Lketinga. ‘Sometimes,’ I reply briefly. Edy wants to dance too, but I say no. A little later Lketinga and I leave because it’s the first time I’ve left Napirai with Priscilla and I’m a bit worried about her. I say my goodbyes to Sabine and wish her a safe journey home.

We trudge back to the village in the dark. I can hear my little girl crying long before we get there, but Priscilla assures me she’s just woken up and is looking for her familiar breast milk. I take her into our room, leaving Lketinga to talk to Priscilla. When Napirai’s asleep again I go back out and sit down in the muggy night air to light up my joint. I suck the smoke greedily into my lungs, and I’ve just finished and stubbed out the butt when Lketinga comes over. I hope he doesn’t notice the smell.

I feel a bit better and give him a smile. My head’s spinning a bit so I go to lie down. Lketinga notices there’s something up with me but I tell him it’s the alcohol, which I’m no longer used to. Tonight I have no
problem fulfilling my conjugal duties, and even Lketinga is surprised how keen I am.

During the night I wake up with a weak bladder and creep out to do my business behind the hut because it’s too far to go to the makeshift toilet and my head’s still groggy. When I climb back into our big bed, my husband asks me in the dark where I’ve been. Shocked by this I tell him, and he takes the torch and demands I show him the spot on the ground. I’m still high enough to find it all funny, but Lketinga takes even my good humour to mean I’ve had an assignation. I can’t take him seriously and show him the wet patch on the ground. Then we both go back to sleep in silence.

The next morning my head’s throbbing, and all my misery comes flooding back. After breakfast we set off for the shop, but for the first time can’t find William. When we get there, however, he’s already waiting for us. It’s none of my business so I don’t ask him where he was. He’s more nervous and restrained than normal. There’s not much business today, but when the shop closes I notice that there’s money missing from my bag. What on earth am I to do? I watch William and my husband – when he’s there – more closely after that but I don’t notice anything untoward and I don’t believe the child minder would be capable of such a thing.

When I come back after washing Priscilla has come round and is sitting talking to Lketinga. She says William’s been spending a lot of money in Ukunda every night. We should keep an eye out, she says, as she can’t imagine where he’s got so much money from. I’m uneasy at the idea I’m being robbed, but I say nothing and decide I’ll have a quiet word with William myself. My husband would simply sack him and then I’d have nobody to help with the work, and up until now I’ve been very pleased with him.

The next day once again he comes to work directly from Ukunda. Lketinga tackles him direct, but he denies everything and when the first tourists come in William goes about his work as normal. My husband drives off to Ukunda, where I imagine he’s intending to find out what William’s been up to.

When I’m on my own with William I tell him straight up that I know he’s been stealing money from me every day. I promise to say nothing to Lketinga if he promises he’ll work properly and there’ll be no more of it. I won’t even sack him. The high season starts in two months and I’ll even
give him an increase. He refuses to look at me and says nothing. I’m certain that he’s sorry and that he only stole from us to get revenge for the way my husband’s treated him. When we were on our own there was never a shilling missing.

Lketinga comes back, having found out that William spent the night in a disco. Once again he tackles him head-on, but this time I get involved and tell him I gave him an advance yesterday. Eventually things calm down but the atmosphere remains tense.

After such a hard day I could do with another joint to calm me down and wonder where I might find Edy. I can’t think of anything right now but tomorrow I’ll go to the Africa Sea Lodge to have my hair braided. That’ll take three hours and there’s a good chance of bumping into Edy in the bar.

I set off for the hotel after lunch. Both hairdressers are busy, and I have to wait half an hour before they can start the painful business. My hair is braided together with strands of wool and little coloured glass beads on the end of each strand. I want lots of fine strands, and the process takes over three hours and by five-thirty they’re not quite finished.