Our company used to have clients in the form of NGOs. The
NGOs we dealt with were so diverse and dealt with issues ranging from poverty
eradication to human rights violation interventions. Most arms of the United
Nations were our faithful clients. These organizations had many interesting
employees who would share a lot about what they did and we used to be very
enlightened on the activities of NGOs in general. Some of these organizations
used to call for cabs occasionally but some would call every day. One such
organization used to assist people who had been tortured in the hands of the
police. Although they only had a handful of employees, they had many of these
torture victims at any one time and they used to hire cabs for them.
There is an estate in Nairobi known as Shauri Moyo. I am reliably informed that it is one of the oldest in our beautiful city and was put up by the colonialists, alongside other similar estates to house laborers employed by the railway company. Shauri Moyo comprises of blocks of buildings each of which has eight rooms whose doors lead off a dark corridor in the middle of the building. Each room is big enough to house a family but without attention to any comfort. There is a communal toilet and bathroom at the end of the corridor and all the occupants of the eight rooms have to share them. The houses have wooden windows ostensibly to remove the need of curtains and to cut cost. Despite the modesty afforded by these humble houses, many famous Kenyans were brought up here.
In one block in the heart of Shauri Moyo, there lived a slim but fussy man and his obese wife. I would never have known them had it not been for good old unpredictable fate. It happened that the couple was not very good with their neighbors. This led to frequent quarrels during which no word was out of bounds in the mouth of my small friend. One day, one of the neighbors had had enough and called in the police. When the police came and tried to arrest the man, the wife refused. She held on to the legs of her husband and told them they would have to drag her along as well. This they did but only for a few feet out of the door before she proved to be too heavy. The police had by now lost their patience and they decided to deal with her conclusively. They picked her up and raised her in the air with outstretched arms. They then let go and she came crashing down. She landed heavily on her hips and could not walk anymore.
This happened at a time when the police were reputed to inflict a lot of unjustified torture on innocent civilians. The torture victims’ organization took up the case of the big woman to see to it that she got justice and the required health care. That was the time I got to know the couple because my colleague and I were assigned to be taking them on their visits to doctors and lawyers. This was an extremely strenuous assignment and I never used to look forward to the days I would be with the couple. The problem was that she could not walk since the police incident. To make matters worse, she did not have a wheel chair and so her husband and I would have to carry her everywhere. This included getting her out of the cramped house into the car, then from the car into elevators and doctors offices, and then back again. Sometimes we used to borrow a plastic chair with arms so that we could lift her more easily since she was rather big and well-rounded and not easy to hold.
Apparently, the sad incident had not helped to change the attitude of the grumpy man. He continued to make enemies everywhere he went until the organization could not handle him anymore. He was becoming a danger to other torture victims who were also beneficiaries and was portraying the organization in bad light to its donors. The organization had no choice but to drop the case and stop assisting the crippled lady. However, nobody informed my company about the turn of events and so nobody was prepared for the decision the small man took.
One morning I reported to work and the manager called me on the radio. He asked me to go and pick my usual clients from Shauri Moyo. I did not particularly like dealing with the client but I didn’t mind the commission the work usually entailed. It normally used to be full-day hire and the organization used to pay on account so the passengers only had to sign a voucher. What I didn't know was that now the clients were paying in cash (which they had done upfront) and were not going to see a “normal” doctor.
I drove to Shauri Moyo and proceeded to help my friend load his wife into the car. Once we were settled in the car, I asked them where we were going. The man answered asked me to drive towards Thika, which is a town about 40 kilometers North of Nairobi. I didn't think much of it so I just drove to Thika. When we reached Thika town, I asked him which building we were going to. He told me that the doctor was not within the town. All this time I had been thinking we were going to see some kind of a specialist. I started wondering seriously about where we were supposed to be going. I knew the best doctors were in Nairobi so I couldn’t understand what we were going. I was losing my patience and told the man to just tell me where exactly we were going instead of giving me piecemeal directions. He then opened up and told me that this was a privately paid trip and the organization was not involved (That made sense now!). He instructed me to drive to another town known as Matuu which is 80 kilometers from Thika along the Thika – Garisa road.
We went well past Matuu and then turned off from the main road into a dust road. We arrived at a small village shopping center. By now we had been driving for almost three hours and we stopped for soda and for the man to ask for directions. We were on the right track, we were told (Where to, I could only guess!). We left the center and followed the newly given direction to go deeper into the bush. After about twenty minutes, we drove into a traditional homestead which had four grass-thatched huts. One was square shaped and was in the center and it was surrounded by round ones which were smaller. The compound was marked at the periphery with a thorn hedge and there were a few sheep and goats lying in the shades of the few acacia trees growing in the compound.
There was another car in the compound and I parked next to it. We got the lady out of the car and proceeded to take her into the square hut at the directions of a small old man who was dressed in a faded long coat and appeared to either have shorts or nothing on underneath (I was never able to find out). He had a stoop and was unexpectedly soft-spoken. My clients were Kikuyu and so he was speaking to us in Kikuyu. The previous group had been Merus and he had been conversing to them in the language. I was shocked to learn that this was the doctor we had come all the way to see. It dawned on me when I entered the hut. We placed the woman on an animal skin and when I looked around; I saw all kinds of paraphernalia. There were drums the size of large barrels placed against the wall. There was also what appeared to be the “altar” where there were small pieces of bones and strange animal teeth. A small framed mirror with a painted cross was placed on the floor against the wall.
Once the patient was settled, the “doctor” proceeded to “read the story”. This entailed telling her where she came from and what was ailing her. I found this interesting because you didn't tell the doctor anything. Instead, he told you all about yourself. He told her that there was a neighbor who was “ruining” her. After the “story” we had to wait until the following day since treatment cannot be performed on the same day. This was completely unexpected. I had not planned to spend the night and this was going to be rather inconvenient. I however assumed that the office was aware of this.
I could not
communicate with the office since it was out of range to use the radio call and
in those days I did not have a mobile phone. Even if I did, I doubt if there
would have been any network considering the remoteness of the area. After the
session, my clients and I left the compound to go to the center and sort out
where we were going to sleep and also to get something to eat. The center was
small and desolate. There were no lodgings or guest houses. The only accommodation
we could find was a small room without a single piece of furniture. It would
have to do as there was no other option.
By now it was late afternoon and we needed to eat. The man went and bought some roast mutton. The lady refused to eat since she was Muslim and it could not be confirmed if the animal had been slaughtered by a Muslim. It took a lot of coercion by the husband for her to accept to eat and even then she did so grumblingly. When it was time to sleep, the lady had to sleep on the hard floor which thankfully was not cold since the area was extremely hot. The husband and I had the relative comfort of the car seats but he had to go check on the wife severally throughout the night. He provided washroom services for her by the use of a small plastic pail which he had to empty regularly.
Morning could not have reached sooner and I dragged my dirty sticky self (there was no bathroom and no water to bath with) to drive my clients back to the doctor’s for “treatment”. When we arrived at the doctor’s compound, we found the other patients already there. The doctor was very organized and people were “treated” on a strictly first come first served basis. I got the opportunity to witness the Meru guy and his family getting treated. He was there with his wife and two daughters who had been falling sick “too regularly”. He was asked to bring a brand new razor blade and two bottles of tusker beer. When he did, he was made to sit on a traditional stool and some small incisions were made on his toes just behind the nails. This drew some blood and some mixture was rubbed in. Next he was given the tusker and told to sip and then spray it into the air. He had to repeat this severally and all this time the doctor was chanting some undecipherable words. After this the family was declared delivered (whatever that meant).
It was now our turn to be treated. We carried the big woman into the hut and placed her on the animal skin. We were then told to bring two twenty shilling coins to be used in the treatment. Unfortunately, none of us had the coins. It was up to me to drive to the center and get change while they waited. I drove off and somewhere along the way, the radio crackled to life. A few meters on, it died again. This was interesting and I decided to back up and see whether it had been just static interference. When I went back, I was surprised to hear clear conversation from our company. I hear that in rare instances, VHF radios do transmit over longer distances than the usual 40 kilometer radius. This was one of those instances. Now that I had the chance, I decided to update the office. When the director was informed I was on the radio, he rushed to the radio room and in no uncertain terms, ordered me to drive back to Nairobi immediately. Apparently, the clients had only paid to be dropped in Thika and nothing more. Drive back is what I did against the compassion I felt for the sick woman. I never even went back to inform them that I was leaving.
Back in Nairobi, my colleagues could not get enough of my story and for a short time; I was a celebrity of sorts. I however never stopped worrying about what had become of my clients. It was the only time I had had to abandon my clients. A few months later, I got to meet the man and he was not amused to see me. He told me that they got stranded there for a whole week and it was only through the assistance of a patient who had driven there seeking treatment that they were able to get back to Nairobi. I was very sorry about it but there was nothing I could do. He further told me that the witch doctor had offered to vanquish me. He would have invoked my image on his mirror with the cross and cut on it to draw blood. This would then have meant instant death wherever I was; most likely through a tragic accident as I was speeding back to Nairobi. My client had pleaded with the witch doctor to spare me because after all I was only an employee.
About a year later, I heard that the lady had passed on due to her sickness.
