Absolute Power and other stories

August Sunday

AUGUST SUNDAY N griii…………….. Ngriiii, the telephone rang at a rather ungodly hour. It was half past two in the morning. Dad woke up and tiptoed to the sitting room unaware that I too had heard the phone and was already on the extension. Hello Sir! Are you ready?” came the question “yes,…………………. Ndiyo. ………………Afande …………. I will ensure that everything goes on as planned by the Seven Ten Movement”. From behind the door, I realized Dad was not in his bluish Pyjamas but in full combat gear armed with a bazooka, a .45 colt and an HK-21 machine gun and was definitely not reporting for duty as he had done for the fourteen years he has been in the Armed forces. Soon Dad was gone. Despite my age (I was eleven), I got an instinct to switch on the TAI radio transistor and tune to the only local station. The music I heard was neither hits like Sandoka and Co-operation (Odongo) of Luanzo Makiadi Franco and his T.P.O.K Jazz nor Miriam Makeba’s Hapo Zamani as we were used to but rather some threatening lyrical and indeed quite unfamiliar melodies. Absolute Power Occasionally, shots could be heard in the background and the orders of a rather illiterate drunk came to the fore. Thirty five minutes later, a very familiar voice addressed the Murino Democratic Republic. “I am Colonel Carlos Ramos, the protector of the sturdy youth and the leader of the Seven Ten revolutionary movement. I wish to inform you that beginning now I am the President of the Republic. All members of the public are instructed to remain indoors until further notice and the regular police are also ordered to surrender their guns to the nearest station.” Jesus Christ of Nazareth! That voice was definitely Dad’s!. Everything that I had seen for the last one month quickly came to my mind. Those long silent meetings! Those journeys, the wry smile at the senior officers, the orders that I should never enter his bedroom lest something explodes. The voice confirmed my fears. But this address did not last. Gun shots rent the air again and another authoritative voice which sounded like that of a man from the Northern Frontier District ordered the famous newscaster to inform the nation that His Majesty’s government is still in control and that members of the Seven Ten Revolutionary movement have been vanquished. Alube’s song “we are moving forward’ was played a thousand times that day. It took thirty-six hours for me to hear of Dad again. The moment I saw him in hand cuffs, with his shackle attached to a massive shot-put and wearing a wretched face, I knew his days were numbered. 20 Malik, a close friend of Dad once came to our house and gave me fare to travel to our rural home. On my way home, I checked on Marquez to find out Dad’s fate. His house had undergone a complete metamorphosis. The Sanyo music system, the Philips television, the Olympus camera and the Nigerian Agbala clothes were definitely not bought with salary. Many months later, I learnt that in the Pandemonium that followed the unrest, he had looted the electronic show room down town. The lead police car and the jungle Land-Rover were now a common sight at our home. Anyone who was closely associated with Ramos was subjected to a rigorous interrogation. Many men went mute after being released from the mobile police station and women who had the misfortune of being interrogated, months later gave birth to babies who did not resemble anyone in the neighbourhood because of their light skin and short, curly hair. Father Kibariki’s visit to our home brought a smile on my face. In ten months, this was the only man I knew that I could associate with Riombo barracks for he was our Parish priest. His looks said it all. He was not an emissary of good news. After a lengthy one sided talk, I learnt dad had gone to the land of No Return. A court martial had sentenced him to death by lethal injection and his remains were lying somewhere unknown. The smuggled letter containing his will and the Oris Swiss watch remain the only mementos of that August Sunday. August Sunday 21 Absolute Power ...