Twisted Times: Son of Man (Twisted Times Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

I sat in the office doing nothing but thinking. It seemed as though I lived in a world of thoughts. I had been in that goddamn office for a year now after a year of being the manager.

Despite the fact that the job had helped me go up in the pecking order of social classes and implanted me in the class of bourgeoisies, it had been a headache to me, and a mistake.

My problems started barely a year in the company. I was approached by a businessman who introduced himself as Samson Ndolo; a businessman based in Nairobi. How could I fail to have known him? He was the sensational Assistant PS in the Ministry of Gender and Culture and the secretary of the Catholic Justice and Reconciliation Commissioners. He specialized in electrical products and had joined Total Nutrition and Living Products (TNLP) network business group once it was introduced to him by his business associate Monica Kuria, my boss, the Managing Director UniStar, Kenya.

TNLP is one of the largest network marketing companies in the world, a manufacturing company with products such as health care, detergents, skin care, and herbal products. It uses the principles of network marketing where if you join, you invite other people to join, and they also invite other people to join and it goes on like that, like a carousel, and ultimately a web. You earn according to the size of your network and the bigger your network the more you earn. However, there are conditions. When you join TNLP, you must use their products and also sell them to get profits. The more you sell the more you earn. The products are quite expensive and this has seen many a people reluctant to buy them.

Samson had talked of TNLP products nonsense and how they helped one become not only healthy but also wealthy. He claimed to have a deal that would make me the most coveted guy by companies not only in East and Central Africa, but in the whole of Africa. The deal, according to him, was simple. I push the proposal up to the MD to have some TNLP products incorporated with some of our products during production, especially the skin care products. Since people are reluctant to use the TNLP products because they are expensive, they are good for health, weight loss and skin care, the products would ultimately get to the consumers but with UniStar brand.

When I thought of it, in this way, we would provide ready market for the TNLP products distributors at the same time compromising the quality of our products. Only a year before it was in the news that TNLP was a scam, a kind of a cabal for money racketeering where one earned hundreds of thousands by doing nothing. When I asked him why he did not go straight to his friend the MD he said that my signature was needed so as not to raise suspicion.

“But that is cheating our consumers,” I said. “I don’t like the idea. One day it will come back to me,” I had said.

“This isn’t black market or racketeering,” he said with all innocence plastered on his craggy face.

Of course. You’re a man of God, and I should take your word for the truth.

I turned him down fearing that maybe it could be hazardous to our consumers once they realized, or maybe the bureau of standards would have grounds to sue the company. It would be the scam of the century and I did not think I would be around to extricate myself from the quagmire. He came three more times and my answer was still no. I talked with the MD and she played dumb or so I thought. She swore she didn’t even know him and thus I was not to do something that might jeopardize UniStar. That gave me more reason to turn the guy down even after offering two million shillings as bribe.

Barely four months later I was transferred (read demoted) to the Sales and Marketing Department. It was then that the man from the production department came. The deal was accepted and they were doing what Samson had told me. What the production guy wanted was me to do all the best in marketing those products from TNLP now bearing the UniStar brand.

“How could I do that? You know the ethics of...”

“Fuck ethics, Ken. All we want to do is make money. This guy is paying well.”

“What about our consumers out there? It could be...”

“Don’t worry about that. Everything is well taken care of.”

That was the beginning of everything. The man who took my position as the manager was not even putting effort to hide it. Unendorsed cheques ended up accepted and paid by the banks, ghost companies paid for products they did not procure and the same money ended up in offshore banks accounts, or in other words the company’s accounts were conduits for monies to unknown accounts in the international market. Turnover, though on an upward scale, was dismal. They used computer software to modify and fake performance index that no auditor could spot.

The new manager and his ilk had camaraderie with people whom I came to know later were behind everything that was going wrong in the country; economically that is. They controlled everything through the Capital Markets Authority, the Nairobi Stock Exchange, the Central Bank, and the private sector.

Since I had vowed not to be corrupted by anything in this world after my stint in crime, I strappingly disapproved these actions though I defended to death their right to do it.

I had been a robber before and I did not want to continue with that life I had left a million miles away. It was one promise I made not only to myself but also to God that day Susan took me to confess to the priest after she was sure I was penitent. Everyone to whom I complained to told me to do myself some good with the opportunity at hand because it would never happen again in life, and that’s when I knew why everything was so sturdy extreme and out of hand.

I became a threat and I had to be removed. I figured that I was the one to take the fall for everything, and that’s why I had to resign and brace myself for trial. If I won the case, I would have the last laugh. But if everything backfired, I would rot in jail where I belonged.

I glowered at the spiral bound papers on my desk and took in a deep breath. What I was expected to do was just to sign and I was through with UniStar. Susan’s voice reverberated deep inside me,
“...please, don’t make hasty decisions.”

It was not a decision I was trying to make now. I had made it a long time ago. I was to do it anyways.

It was in the news that evening. My resignation news was headline in all TV stations. A statement from UniStar headquarters in France had mandated the managerial board to straighten things up immediately because the operations of any subsidiary of the company affected the operations of the whole.

We were watching the
CTV’s
nine o’clock prime news at the Mombasa’s Hotel Sapphire. I was with Susan, the first person I ran to when all hell started to break loose. Now she was mired with me in the mess. She had promised to.

2008;

“How can you be so certain, Samson?” she asked quietly.

Samson stared at her with covert admiration of her primitive pessimism. She was wearing an exquisitely cut skirt suit that showed off her menopausal small bosom and matronly hips. The setting Nairobi sun gave the milieu they were in a skittish neutral glow. He fiddled with his wineglass which seemed to enumerate his point. He had never been uncertain in his life.

“Come on Mona, you don’t mean now you doubt. We’ve undergone too much together for you to be uncertain. Have I ever let you down? Trust me. I’m good at tying up loose ends.”

“Please, don’t do that.”

“Not what you think.”

“If he happens to have an accident it would be too coincidental. We’ll have the public pointing fingers at us. There’re some things that can’t happen so soon.”

“I understand your concern, but just trust me. Up to now the defence has not been able to convince the court that he’s not guilty of those crimes.”

Monica sighed. For one month now she had hoped that this would end. Though she remained calm and composed in the face of the most onerous and rigorous turn of events, she couldn’t help having this strange feeling that something was not on the right track somewhere.

“Secondly,” Samson sipped his Martini before continuing. “His records. He’s one of the most wanted criminals in the country, a desperado with a string of violent crimes to his discredit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever heard of Mavis gang?”

“No.”

“Arrrrgh! Are you the only one who doesn’t know? Anyway, I’ll tell you.”

Monica listened as Samson narrated everything he knew about this Mr. Maina. Samson had done all he could to dig everything up about him. The man had no ground for his defence.

“And if that’s so, he’s just a suspect. Nothing incriminating was found,” she said once he was finished. “One is innocent till proven guilty.”

“On the contrary, Mona. He’s guilty until proven innocent. I have first-hand info about this guy. Believe me; my sources are impeccable. Still his past life would count against him so long as once he was a hard incorrigible criminal. Thirdly, Mona, the defence has not done anything to convince, beyond reasonable doubt, that he did not commit the crimes.”

“You seem so sure about this Sam, but I’ve got this feeling that we’re losing it. Haven’t you asked yourself why the defence hasn’t introduced any witnesses up to this moment? I fear this is a setup.”

“By whom? Who can conspire against us? Nobody knows about us; plus none of us can jeopardize G8.”

“He knows, Sam. He’s the only one off the hook who knows. He can set us up. He’s clever than you think. And for your information, he’s a degree in criminology and private investigation from the Penn Foster University and now he’s doing his masters.”

Now, that got to his hub. For the first time Samson felt fear, loss, and uncertainty.

For over two months I used to go to court to answer to fraud charges. I was out on a five-million-shilling bond and a surety of the same amount. I did not know why the case was being treated with such haste. But nothing lasts forever.

Judgement Day.

The court was packed to capacity. For the umpteenth time I was in the dock waiting for the court’s judgement about my case where I was accused of fraudulently attempting to defraud the Barclays Bank of Kenya of over ten billion shillings through the corporate account of UniStar Kenya Ltd, where I had been working for the past three years.

Once everybody, including the judge, was seated, an expectant hush fell over the courtroom. Reporters from all the media houses leaned forward with their notebooks poised. They were waiting for the judgement of which they already knew what it would be.

The judge was concentrating on his notes, morgue silence looming over the whole courtroom. This heightened the tension for both the defence and prosecution. The prosecution already knew what it would be; and we the defence had our own version of the outcome of the case.

At last the judge launched the delivery of his summation and judgement. Occasionally, the courtroom was filled with murmurs that grew to low voices and the judge did not hesitate to rap his gavel sharply to restore order. When he was done, he said, “Before passing the sentence, I will listen to any submission in mitigation the defence may wish to submit to the court.”

My lawyer rose to his feet immediately with speed that startled everybody. “Yes, your honour. I would like to call in a witness to give evidence in mitigation...”

“Come on, counsel. You do not want to introduce a witness at this stage,” the judge said.

My lawyer rambled law jargon and technicalities that can make the defence produce a witness at that stage until the judge gave him the 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“Thank you your honour. I call Ms Evelyn Chepkemboi from the Kenya Anti-Corruption Commission.”

There was stunned silence in the entire courtroom
you
could hear a pin drop. A buzz of surprise and anticipation could not be missed sweeping through the entire courtroom. The forest of press stood up not to miss anything at this moment, cameramen scrambling to get the best shot of each and every minute that passed.

Once Evelyn Chepkemboi was at the witness stand, a thick green folder tightly tucked under her right armpit, my lawyer stood to start his examination.

Evelyn detailed each of her evidence with staccato clarity and ingenuity, heavily accentuated and emphasizing her points with rare prominence.  Half an hour later when the examination was over, the pent-up emotion of the courtroom exploded in ghoulish relish and it was almost five minutes when order restored and the courtroom was quiet.

“Thank you, Geoffrey. The court recesses and reconvenes at two o’clock this afternoon,” the High Court judge said. “To my chambers now, you two,” he called the two learned friends.

The two attorneys at law almost went for each other’s throats as they made their way to the judge’s chambers.

At exactly two o’clock in the afternoon, the court reconvened and ruling was passed.

“The court finds the accused, Mr. Kennedy Maina,
not
guilty of the charges filed against him and has been acquitted.” As though he wanted that to sink in, he waited for an eternity of a minute before continuing. “In all my eighteen years of service to this country on the bench I’ve never witnessed such a noble and well-orchestrated performance.

“May I point out that this court is of opinion that Mr. Kennedy Maina here is an epitome of the incorruptible minds that this country should have. Let’s not be so fast to judge persons from their past. Things change, people change with time. Time is the best healer. Who are we to judge others if we’ve failed the test of time? What have we done? What have we done?”

When he was done the courtroom was vacated with the cacophony of disgruntled voices of the losers’ astonishment and disgrace and the winners’ merry and pats of congrats on the shoulder.

The forest of press scampered to talk to each of the parties – losers and winners – at the same time.

I had no comment for the press.