Still Sings the Nightbird

Jaah and I

199 J Jaah and I hree elderly men had come to see Ariani early that morning. They had spoken in hushed tones and then left. Many people she knew had been killed violently. That was the news they brought her. She did not break into screams. Ariani was acting the mature woman people had always said a woman had to be. Composed. Mature here had its own meaning. Inside she was in shreds. She left the student hand written Kenyalini paper, Jaah on the table for Kabi. Kabi saw the illustrations in Jaah. Jaah was produced by University students as a pullout in The Hammer, the University newspaper. Now that the students were free, three of them found their way to Kenyanlini. Rough Jaah copies were produced in the slums daily. Chuma Seng’enge Chuma whose name meant iron barbed wire-iron, led them. No one would be able to stop the fire of words, she often repeated. After the boys’ departure, Ariani came in to see Kabi who was still engrossed in her reading. The sweet grandma had lost the map of serenity which was always stamped on her face. She was shocked and withdrawn. Kabi consoled her. “Ariani, let’s go over to Kenyalini Village,” She said. Ariani did not talk. She shook her head in appreciation. Kabi understood her silent expression of sorrow. Was not every pain in Kabi’s own heart for better or for worse? She finished reading the newspaper. Different headlines, same story. “Thousands rendered homeless” “City Commission ‘clean up’” “Crime soars”. “Children killed in swoop”. “Women raped”. For Kabi, indeed, no answers could come to mind. Only questions. She remembered how the Muoroto eviction led to a long debate. A pastor said that several people had been killed in the brutal police action. Police denied it. It was a politically convenient stand to T 200 take over dead bodies. Just to say that they were not dead was good enough politics. The dead could not speak. Those Muoroto victims who survived were soon homeless and forgotten. The half hour visit that Kabi and Ariani made to Kenyalini Village on that Wednesday morning found the bulldozer on its second day of work. The villagers were numb with shock. It was a new vista from what they had seen before. They spoke little. It was as if a big heavy cement wall like the one that surrounded the poor of the village to keep them hedged from the rich had fallen and crushed the poor dwellers that were seen as a threat. Fathers stood around helplessly with their hammers. They walked around. They could in some cases, separate ‘mabati’ (iron sheets) and take them away. These were the lucky ones. The national outcry stopped the police beatings. Villagers were allowed to get the nails, and iron sheets off. The newspaper reported the destruction had led to the loss of thousands of shillings – in a poor city of the world, among its poorest people. Kabi felt all their pain in her. She had known poverty, deprivation of affection and loneliness, all sorrows personal and social. Children squirmed behind piles of ‘mabati’. They peeped at the bulldozers and the askaris, hiding behind their mothers’ skirts. Some missed falling into the uncovered latrine pits only by luck and the hands and feet of hawk eyed mothers concerned about their young like mother hens. Some children hid in the river banks for nights as they could not find their parents. Teenagers greeted one another in protest “Sasa!? Who the devil do you think lives in the head of that man who drives that bulldozer?” “I don’t get it!” Answered another. “We shall not agree that our land is raped like this, how can we stand and watch?” “Leave him!” said an elderly man spitting to his left side. 201 “No. We the young men are going to do something shocking! We rock and shock not rock and roll!” The boy answered the old man. A girl joined in the conversation. She wore a torn woolen cap with the colors of Reggae. “He is fulfilling his masters orders, doing his job. Jaaah and I. Jaah and I will indeed deal with him, we shall get up and get our land!” She said. Ariani went on conversing with her friends. The center of action was the bulldozer. Most people just looked on helplessly, waiting. It was at that...