A Fool's Knot (10 page)

“The man is saying that you are very rich,” repeated Mutuli, scolding himself a little for his mistake. “He is saying that if this is true, then you are able to buy tea for everyone here.”

Janet began to feel a little cornered and looked around at the faces that were generally turned her way. People were obviously waiting for her to say something. “Tell him,” she instructed Mutuli, “that I am not rich.”

Mutuli turned to face the man, who had approached to stand immediately opposite Janet behind Mutuli's chair. His eyes were now fixed on her and, as Mutuli spoke, she felt their gaze begin to pierce her own in a strange, almost sinister way. The man did not blink – not at all. When Munyasya spoke, his answer this time was shouted, but in a surprising way, with his head bent right back, as if addressing the building's roof.

Mutuli turned around. The smiles were all still there, but now they admitted questions. “He is saying that thou…” Mutuli winced at his mistake. “He is saying that you are rich because you have paid for all of this food and you are white and a teacher with a salary.” After a momentary pause he continued quietly, “I am thinking that this man has been taking beer.”

That was obvious, thought Janet. Since the man approached the table, the air seemed to be filled with the stale sweet smell of a urinal. “What does it matter?” she thought, looking around. “Bring tea for everyone,” she said turning to the owner, who was also watching with interest. A dozen or so cups of tea would only cost a few shillings.

Mutuli again turned to face the man and pointed towards the owner of the shop, who had already begun to fulfil the order. He had already lifted the large blue teapot, which usually simmered above his charcoal burner behind the bar, and was already in the process of filling the first glass offered in his direction. When Mutuli translated, it provoked a great roar of laughter and applause from everyone in the room, prompting Janet to believe that would be the end of it. One man stood, reached across the table and offered to shake Janet's hand, but the old inquisitor remained where he was. He did not move away. On the contrary, he moved closer to her, stepping out from behind Mutuli to stand at the side of their table. Again he threw back his head and shouted above the general noise. As he spoke, strands of saliva left his lips and settled unheeded and unwiped in his beard.

Kitheka laughed again. James Maluki got out of his chair and told Janet that he really must go back to the school immediately. He thanked her for the food and threaded his way with obvious haste between the tables towards the door, and noticeably avoiding going anywhere near the old man. Maluki turned to Janet and shook his head. “The man is very drunk, very drunk,” he said.

Janet asked Mutuli what the man had said. “It is very bad, Miss Rowlandson. He is saying that if a white woman can do this, then white men can also buy food for everyone and then there would be no famine.”

Janet could find no immediate answer to this. “It is very true,” she said to Mutuli, “and I will try to make people understand that when I go home.”

The decrepit old man spoke again immediately. Janet realised he could understand English perfectly, but clearly refused to speak it. “He understands everything you say,” said Michael Kitheka, with a broad grin. “He used to be in the army and he speaks English very well. Everyone in the town knows him. He is just a drunk.”

Mutuli again translated. “He is saying that you will forget when you go home. He also says some very strange things. He speaks only in proverbs. I am not able to translate them.”

Janet looked at the man, who had shuffled even closer. He seemed to sense that she was growing nervous and thus had detected a weakness he could exploit. She had hoped that her gesture would have satisfied him and sent him back to his seat, but she now found that each comment or action from her merely ratcheted up his interest and provoked longer and stronger replies. She was still the centre of attention. People clearly expected her to respond.

Before she spoke, the man's expression changed. The superior, if detached, smile vanished from his face and his lips set pursed around his open mouth. With eyes glazed, he stared at Janet like an animal ready to seize his prey. As he moved now uncomfortably close to her chair and bent over her still staring, she felt raw fear for the first time in her life. No one else seemed perturbed by his actions, so she still did not move. Everyone still watched, still smiled, apparently unaware of Janet's growing fear.

The old man's cloudy, bloodshot eyes stared down at her. Compulsively she returned his gaze. He raised his arms so that his hands rested directly over her head. Unnoticed until now was a length of string tied to his left thumb, but this now dangled uncomfortably close to Janet's face. A great shout of laughter filled the room as she tried to avoid it by moving her head to the side. Mutuli now seemed not to know whether to smile or worry, but Kitheka still joined in with the audience and laughed hard.

Breathing a laugh and a grunt, the old man took the end of the string between finger and thumb of his right hand and then stretched it out to its full length, bending lower over Janet at the same time. Then again he threw his head back and shouted whilst his hands tensed, slackened and re-tensed the string, before finally letting it fall with a flick of the hand. It looped, brushing Janet's face as it fell. As the man bent forward, he breathed deliberately directly into her face and she instinctively winced at the smell. Still everyone giggled, but now Janet was extremely frightened. Quickly she rose to her feet and, in the same movement, pushed the old man to one side. Everyone was suddenly silent as she sat down again.

“Mutuli, will you tell this man to go away? If he is asking for money then I will give him some,” she said, trying her best to sound in control.

Kitheka spoke before Mutuli could speak. “Mutuli cannot give this man orders! He is
mwana wa mungu
.”

Mutuli nodded in agreement. Janet did not have the time to ask what this meant before the man returned to stand over her again. Repeatedly he shouted at the sky and bent forward, each time pulling out the string attached to his thumb to its full length before letting it go. Janet again pushed him away, this time with some force. She now looked frightened and the man's expression changed again. Still the glazed eyes stared, but now the malice disappeared and the smile returned. It was as if he now felt he was in total control. Again he advanced towards her with his string and his shouts. No one seemed to take him seriously, she thought, as she looked around for support and finding only what she saw as gentle amusement on people's faces.

This time, the old man reached out and touched her. She tried not to flinch. Again everyone laughed. “
Mwana wa mungu
,” said Kitheka again. Janet tried to stay calm and ignore him as the ritual shouting and string pulling started again. She asked Kitheka, by far the bigger of the two students, to tell the man to go away and leave her alone.

“I cannot,” he said. “He will do whatever he wants.”

“You are afraid of him,” she said, her fear now turning to anger.

“No,” he replied. “Not afraid…”

Hearing this, the old man quickly turned to face Kitheka and leaned across the table towards him. Kitheka and Mutuli immediately sped from their chairs and out of the door, howling with laughter. Janet watched them go, trying to call them back, but no words came. Before she could think, the man took hold of her head and with some force rubbed her face into the folds of his raincoat. Janet screamed. She thought she felt the string around the back of her neck. He was trying to strangle her…

She hit him as hard as she could. He staggered across the floor, collided with a table and fell heavily onto the concrete. Though stunned, Janet turned and watched, but still she could not move. The old man tried to get up, but fell back groaning. Everyone else laughed, including Kitheka and Mutuli, who peered through the open doorway to watch the show. She was too confused to react. Instinctively, she wiped her hair and touched a wet patch. He had spat on her hair. On the point of tears, she snatched up her haversack and ran. As she dashed outside, she caught a glimpse of the old man on the floor, propped on an elbow, watching her and smiling as he cast another incantation to the roof.

She continued to run, but her progress was far from quick and far from straight as she slithered through the mud. Behind her, Mutuli tried to follow, shouting, “The man is very drunk, Miss Rowlandson. Do not be afraid.” Behind him was Kitheka, loping along, still laughing, but Janet did not look back and so neither saw nor heard her friends. She went on her way, her run soon slowing to a safer brisk walk. Kitheka and Mutuli returned to the restaurant to retrieve their boxes. The old man was still on the floor and was still laughing to himself. Everyone else still laughed as they recounted what they had just seen.

It must have been a nightmare, she thought, as she ran the last few yards to the mission. She entered without knocking and called for Father Michael. As she rushed blindly through the door, Michael appeared in front of her from around the kitchen corner and she fell into his arms and cried, her head against his chest.

“You smell like a sewer,” he said. “Did you get wet?”

When Janet answered only with sobs, Michael's voice grew more serious. After trying to console her, he pulled up a chair and sat her on it. A minute later, Michael gently helped her hands from her eyes and offered her a glass.

“Drink this, my love,” he said quietly. “It'll warm you up a bit.”

Janet drank, coughed, drank again and coughed again. The whiskey warmed her and quietened her as Michael crouched before her. His eyes silently asked what was wrong.

Feeling better, Janet explained what had happened in the restaurant. Michael did not try to interrupt as the story flooded from Janet's lips. Not until she had obviously finished did he speak. “This fellah, did he wear an army hat with a peak on it? And did he spit a lot?”

“Yes, that's him,” she answered.

“Oh, don't take any notice of him. That's only old Munyasya. He's a nutter, a real nutter. What he did to you was what he does to every European who visits Migwani. He probably got closer to you than to others though, by the sound of it. He cursed you to change into a snake, that's all. That's why he keeps pulling on that string,” said Michael, sounding flippant.

Janet was suddenly very serious and looked pensive. Then, as Michael's words grew clearer, she began to laugh. “I thought he was trying to strangle me.”

“The old fool was probably so drunk he could hardly even see you. Don't worry. He won't even recognize you. If he sees you again he'll go through the routine again as if it was the first time. He didn't try to touch you up?” asked Michael. “He has been known to try that one with a few of the girls.”

“No,” she answered. “But I don't understand. Why do people just stand around and laugh at him? If everyone dislikes him so much, why don't they just chuck him out of the bar or at least tell him to shut up?”

“They wouldn't do that,” said Michael. “He's a mad man. People will just try to ignore him. They don't put people like him away, you know. They just stay around the home and their families look after them. It's quite humane, really. It means that no one is ever left destitute or homeless, no matter how old or mad they become. No, people here will just let the old fool do as he wishes. If he asked for food in that restaurant, the owner would give him some. He doesn't need to buy anything. But his case is a bit strange, stranger than most, because he has no family. Quite soon after I arrived in Migwani, when he was still
compos mentis
and quite a figure in the community, he had an accident. I was out early one morning, contemplating my vocation, as we priests do, and found him in the marketplace under the tree where he now sleeps. He was drunk and had either fallen or had a stroke. If I hadn't taken him to the hospital in Muthale, he would probably have died. It might have been better for everyone if he had. Anyway, because he has no family, all the town supports him. Wherever he goes, he gets what he wants. All he ever asks for is beer and a bit of food, but he is never refused.”

“But our boys, Mutuli and Kitheka, they ran away…” said Janet, sounding confused. “I asked them to tell him to go away and they just ran.”

“Oh,” interrupted Michel, “they would not want to order him around. They wouldn't do that at all. They will just want to leave him alone to do whatever he wants. They would not want to get in his way.”

Janet thought for a second, trying to remember the name the boys had used to describe the old man. “They gave him a special name, but it wasn't Munyasya. It was more like Mw… Mw…”

“
Mwana wa mungu
?” asked Michael.

“Yes. That was it.
Mwana wa mungu
,” she repeated.

“That's not a name,” said Michael. “That just means a madman. Well…” Michael paused here to consider how he might explain. “It doesn't actually mean madman. Literally it means ‘child of God'. People believe, you see, that these madmen become mad because they can see things that men should not see. They are really living in another world.”

Janet felt very much better and her immediate anxiety had gone. The thought of being cursed to change into a snake ought to worry her, she thought, but Michael's flippant dismissal of the entire incident made it impossible to be afraid. “I wonder,” she said, “if I had been a Kamba and Munyasya had done the same thing to me and delivered a curse, would I be worried.”