THE COUP

THE COUP

A coup is like a tornado , it courses through people's lives sweeping them off their feet and ravaging their very lives. Laws become eerily silent there follows a great diminution of love . Life becomes futile, dreams are negated and hopelessness takes precedent. What difference does a coup really make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless whether it=s wrought for the sake of democracy or freedom or pure greed.

It was precisely three o=clock in the morning. There was a rat-a-tat of gunfire from outside. Michael Mulee- twelve and robust- roused from a deep slumber with a jolt. He had a presentiment that a robbery was taking place. He awaited, breathless, for the screams to come, nothing. He wondered if they were the raucous sounds of bibulous men leaving the illegal watering dens .Sometimes in the wee hours of the morning the owners of these dens kicked out errant patrons using rusted guns to scare them off.. The blandishments in these dens, often cheap, young horny dames there for their delectation, made men negate to go home to their wives. Some bitter disagreements and near fatal fights had occurred due to the culpable disregard of the patrons= wedding vows. The drinkers ,who often took copious amounts of changaa ( an illegal brew containing deleterious chemicals) simply couldn't eschew the passions of these ladies. Their clandestine amours would sometimes bring out the fury of a scorned wife who would rain chaos upon the den.(in the early years it had been nice to go out half naked to watch the drama unfold , but, after years of the same, it cloyed)

Michael thrust a quick elbow at his ten-year-old brother who lay beside him. It connected with a soft thud.

"Tete, did you hear that?"he whispered.

Tete groaned. He was either awakening from the throes of deep slumber or sore from the sharp pain on his side.

"What", he asked sleepily.

There was another rapport accompanied by yells from the little gravel road that passed behind their house.

"That", Michael continued.

"Shush", tete interrupted, his voice almost muted.


He was suddenly very alert. They held their breath and cowered under the flimsy, tattered bed covers, wrestling with each other for the larger portion. The inches thick foam mattress, worn down by years of constant use, made the very act of turning over unbearable, and the bed bugs that had found havens within the pin-sized holes and the mattress folds made it even worse. Michael slept on the left side and his brother on the right, always. It was funny how Michael=s side was worn out several inches more than Tete=s side due to the fact that he was a couple pounds heavier. Tete, though younger ,was one mean brother ,despite Michael=s aches, he could only trade places in exchange for the breakfast loaf and that was conditional too, it had to be buttered both sides! Considering the privation they were living in that was almost never. Tonight though, he appeared to be frantic to switch sides, for he faced the door.

There were yells again accompanied by a skirmish followed by a sound of what Michael assumed were gun butts connecting with bone.

"Jinga, lala chini",a stern voice commanded someone to hit the ground.

There was a stiff cry. Something heavy slammed against the back of the thin kitchen wall. A few audible slaps followed, then the stern voice gave quick orders in a rather odd language.

Thieves.

Dandora, a sprawling mostly miserable, deprived concrete slums on the east side of Nairobi, the capital of Kenya-a little unassuming country in East Africa- was known for its daring, often ruthless, robberies and murders . Day after day screams pierced the night. It was a custom in those days to count screams block by block as the thieves plundered houses, drawing closer and closer to their home.

Tete squirmed, attempting unsuccessfully to tear away the covers from Michael=s back. Outside, the sounds and the screams grew ever so loud. After what seemed like a lifetime they hushed and the rat-a-tat grew faint. They were mighty shaken. They lay there for the longest time, sweating in the humid heat.

"Michael, I gotta use the bathroom", tete finally broke the silence, his voice shaking.

Michael cursed silently, it was no time to become clamorous.

"Hold it".

The lavatory was an outhouse roughly a hundred yards from their >bedroom= ( actually it was kitchen-cum-bedroom, they turned the ashen floor into sleeping space by laying down the inch-thick foam mattress). To reach it in the dark, one had to take an escort, armed with a lantern ,since there was no electricity, and a machete for protection(which, if one was not careful, could be used against him). Depending on the escort's guts he would either stand guard outside in the ever eerie darkness or join the other in the stench-ridden confines of the lavatory. Neither option was prestigious. Michael preferred the latter.

Tete decided he would hold it.


At about quarter to four there was a rapt knock at the door , he froze. Suddenly there was a cacophony of noises and skirmishes as people got aroused followed by stern orders to lie down and give out whatever valuables they owned. There was a huge pounding ordering them to open the door or "I will kick it in and you will be sorry if I get dirt on my clean boots". They cringed and curled ever so deep in the sheets. Moments later the door was kicked in and the little sheet they had used as a shield yanked away exposing their half-naked bodies.

The soldier, a twenty something years old, rugged-looking, corky kid who had kicked in the door(apparently his boots were still clean since he didn=t set upon them) yanked them up roughly and stuck them against the wall. He trained his rifle at their heads ,asking for the what, where and when of their family. Michael in a stutter explained with all the dread in the world that their mother, a home maker and sister had gone upcountry, to kangundo, for their grandfather=s funeral and their dad, an engineer with the ministry of water, was working in Chuka, a town several hundred miles away.


He was a kamba too, their tribe, he said ,but he hailed from Machakos. Michael didn=t know much about Machakos but it was just as well. The soldier suddenly became pleasant and made them sit.

He quickly disclosed to them that there was a coup, that a cabal inside the Kenya Air force had taken over the country and that they would be seeing changes pretty fast in the next couple of days. The Air force chief had put his cachet to overthrow the government even though the other armed forces had no idea about the plans.

"It's good for us Air force guys to be in control, the army guys are a bunch of sissies", he said proudly.

He was on his way to Eastleigh barracks but a fortuitous encounter with a neighbor friend who told him there was quick money to be made in Dandora made him divert. He was flat broke, he said, the government payed them a measly salary. He couldn=t even afford to school his sons. He had a daughter who had a degenerative disease and her muscles had suffered total atrophy for lack of rehabilitation. He couldn=t afford her hospital care. Corruption, broken promises and bad governance had effectuated the coup.

They had taken over, he said , from a government facing political debacle, now things would look up. He was glad too, because the messianic leader was going to be a kamba.

"Ukambani will be green again ", he proclaimed. For a long time he gave them the panegyrics of the man to be.

"He will bare the onerous cares of the state with dignity=, he said, "for he is a kamba and kambas never fail=.


He was in a quandary about taking Michael=s wristwatch, the coveted watch he had been given by the school board as a reward for topping his class. They engaged in idle badinage before he jokingly wrestled it from him and offered a traditional Masai wrist bead in exchange.

"That will look good on you, now girls will take interest in you", he said.

Michael wondered if atavistic fashion would lure Mercy, the girl he was smitten with, who sat two rows behind him in class. He offered them bread and soda. They ate fast, stuffing the bread to a point of near chocking, pretty soon they were replete. He was a skilled raconteur, he stayed in with them trying to assuage their fears until a supercilious officer matched in and gave his peremptory commands. He ordered them outside. The air was frigid, a diaphanous mist blanketed the area and there was a steady drizzle. They were shaking like two kittens caught in a blizzard. They ran about in a welter until the officer sternly ordered them to get in line with the others.

There was no claptrap, they had to act differential or face severe scourging. The penurious denizens of plot no. 21 were lined up each in the bare essentials they had been found asleep in. They tried to stand straight with aplomb but in vain. They were all a craven bunch, they felt deracinated as they stood in the frigid temperature. They didn=t shake so much for the frigid temperatures though, but for the gnawing fear of the unknown. Michael took great umbrage in the fact that , young as he was , they still let him stand outside in the cold without any covers on his body.

It was the first time he saw a woman naked-his pastor's wife, who lived next door. She had a perky little body. It took him by surprise. He didn=t think Christians slept naked, at least her extreme adherence to the votaries of christianity had him thinking so.

She is bound for hell

She stood there, stolid, not seeking to conceal herself but engrossed in deep prayer. For a while she was the cynosure of his eyes. The bible had enough caveats against lusting after another man's wife but, even at his tender age, and despite the frigid temperatures and the raucous situation, he still managed a mild erection.

They rummaged through the houses, going through drawers and cabinets, every little crevice that held anything light and valuable. All the while they stood outside shivering. It was tough, Michael had asthma and the cold air was tough on his lungs, his little brother had peed on himself and there was this overwhelming stench of rot but no one seemed to care. The conditions quickly enervated them and breakdowns quickly started spreading. No colloquy was allowed so one had to tend to whatever business they had to tend to right there without complaints..

At about four-thirty the senior officers left ,then a new bunch of young, rowdy acolytes arrived. Their flashing eyes and angry shouts bespoke a bellicose attitude. They were decked with purloined jewelry and watches and brandished AK-47s menacingly. They reeked of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke and the houses they had been in and the women they had been with. They had spent half the night partying and listening to the spurious lyrics of their adroit commanders who, with ingenious casuistry, had convinced them to take up arms.

They were a sybarite, ribald bunch. They walked the flanks, with baleful eyes, poking fun at them. Michael and the others just stood there silently taking their vituperative insults. They winnowed the ladies, separating the mature and beautiful from the ugly, the thin and the young. There was a tacit agreement not to lay hands on any young girls. They took four of the women- pastor's wife included(she didn't resist, her bovine temperament seemed weird )- to a room despite the husbands and the rest of the women=s desperate pleadings. Despite all the chaos, the girls left behind emoted their good fortune but for only a moment since they didn't know what the night had in store for them.

They were in there for the longest time, desecrating the empty room that was Michael=s playground.. Anyone who dared to step in was bitterly scourged. The recalcitrant pastor, who time and again stepped forward trying to preach to them and proselytize them to his religion had to be tied against a pole to quell him. Michael didn=t observe much else except that every time one of the soldiers left the room they had a huge grin plastered on their face and they either had the zipper or belt buckle undone.

Michael stood there, shivering, his innocent eyes searching the eyes of the older, penurious neighbors, coaxing them to act as they watched their life=s savings being whisked away. After hours of ransacking, and plundering, just before first light, they threw them back into their houses. They beleaguered them with vile words and ordered them to stay put and listen to their little portable stereo which intermittently played plangent music. The rest of the time, apart from static, it was dead silent. Several hours later the kamba soldier, who had just come from the little room, stopped by and handed them tea, sugar and a packet of milk as he struggled to fasten the buckle of his belt.

What a nice guy, Michael thought. He warned them to stay indoors and sauntered out, a smile on his young face.

They stayed put in that room, occasionally relieving themselves in a little bucket by the corner, listening to the chaos outside. They listened to the guttural screams of women and the deep moans of men and the whimpers of little children. They listened in fear to the rat-a-tat=s of the AK-47's and the occasional ear-shattering blast of a bazooka; they listened to the sounds of heavy boots trampling outside and the sounds of jeeps as they slowly and menacingly crawled past. Each time, they held their breath, hoping none would stop for another visit.

They listened to the eerie silence of fear from the rooms adjacent to theirs- from the pastor=s room, from the lady clerk two doors down, from the anathema harlot to the right- and wondered what the vicissitudes of life would bring. Their free and easy lifestyle, untrammeled by chaos , had suddenly been changed by avarice, now they would wake up to the detritus of war among them a severe dearth of food.

Michael wondered, above all else, if the pastor=s wife would cosset his diffident self as she always did in the confines of her bedroom when his parents left him under her aegis or the episode in the little room had forever traumatized her.