Moses Isegawa - Snakepit

VICTORIA HAD SEVERED her bonds with General Bazooka and no longer reported to him, partly because there was nothing to report, partly because she knew that if he was serious he had to have other spies shadowing Bat. She was too wrapped up in the world of pregnancy, motherhood, the future, to take much notice of what Bat or anybody else did officially. She loved the feeling of freedom she had. She woke up in the morning with the day to herself and engaged in fantasies. This was the best time of her life. By answering her prayers, God seemed to have forgiven her. By the time the baby arrived, she felt rejuvenated, purged, in sync with the living.

The birth of his daughter thrilled Bat in ways he had not expected. He had wanted a boy, but the sight of his daughter lying there, bunching her fat fingers, ignited something in him. A girl would definitely mean more work for Victoria, role-modeling and all. He was surprised to be confronted with this embodiment of innocence. She looked so helpless, so much at the mercy of forces around her. Here she was, an oasis of purity in a desert of madness, a demarcation of what had gone wrong and what could have been. He then felt sad. How was he going to protect her interests? He felt exposed: his character, his limitations. He felt inadequate in relation to the rampant gun-wielding madmen. He was now participant in the eternal rite of passing on the torch. But here he was, devoid of knowledge and wisdom to impart. He had fallen from his lofty sense of independence and superior aloofness. He was now like the very countrymen he had tried to flee, dependent on uncontrollable forces, making stupid mistakes, hurting others out of the weakness of failing to say no to superiors, to temptation, to the possibility of upward mobility, to the susurrations from deep inside the snakepit. Did I return partly to seek common ground, however indirect, with the people, the country? he asked himself. He felt the tender emotions most parents felt, but what would he do with them? He held the baby in his arms and smelled its scalp. It struggled against him, then gradually calmed down; his blessing, his curse. In its searching eyes was something calming, the ability to charm and soothe him. It was his antidepressant.

Whenever Victoria saw Bat holding the baby, her love for him multiplied, surged and kicked in her breast. He seemed so unaware of what he had done for her, the drought he had ended, the suffering he had eased. At such moments she wanted to put herself at his mercy, come clean, confess the sordid past, explain everything. But it was too great a risk to take. She might disgust him. He might never want to see her again. The weight of her secrets compromised her joy at such a time and injected doubt in the proceedings.

She felt blessed because Bat’s parents rejoiced when they saw the baby. His father was especially supportive. His mother, however, wanted to meet somebody from her family. Bat’s brother showed little enthusiasm. She did not know why she was afraid of him. Was he too silent? He looked like a man sitting on a barrel of secrets. In his silence, he seemed to know everything about everybody, including her, and in his superior knowledge everybody bored him. At the baby’s baptismal ceremony he gave the baby a pair of white shoes and then handed Victoria a red Bible. She was shaken: What did he mean? Was it a warning? State Research Bureau identity cards were red; was he telling her that he knew her secret? She remarked to Bat that his brother was mysterious.

“He loves cars too much,” Bat replied.

“But you also do.”

“He is obsessed with them. I am not, but I can sympathize. Machines are docile as long as you treat them nicely.”

“Is that the reason why he is unreachable?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Bat said, turning to look at Victoria for a moment. “But then again, look at the state this country is in. What has a young person got to hold on to, to obsess about? Family? When people get killed and soldiers can force a father to fornicate with his daughter for all to watch? Religion? When God is passive and astrology is the only growing faith? Education? When educated people are the enemy? I can understand what he is going through.”

“Yes,” Victoria said noncommittally.

“Did you like his fireworks?”

“How did he get a licence?”

“Possibly through the good offices of a friendly general. Soldiers love spectacles and the boy is a genius.”

“He is good,” Victoria said worriedly. Her guess was that he was a member of the Public Safety Unit. She had looked for his file at Bureau headquarters, in vain. It could of course mean a few things: Maybe he was known by other names. Maybe his file had been misplaced in the sewers of the Bureau’s inventory. She hoped that he wasn’t with the Public Safety Unit, the arch-enemy of the Bureau, which would make killing him easier if he blew her cover. She hoped he wouldn’t do anything foolish, as she had no wish to impede her rehabilitation.

In due course, Victoria got word that Bat was in love with another woman. She asked two colleagues in the Bureau to get her a picture of this person. A search of Babit’s parents’ house was made: sofas were cut open, carpets ripped from floors, bedding shredded, coffee sacks emptied. Babit’s modest photo collection was found and taken. The damage would have been worse, but Victoria had instructed the men not to take anything else or to harm anyone. To make sure that they followed her orders, she had paid them up front. It had cost her, but she had felt that it was the right thing to do for someone seeking salvation, for someone pursuing a dream.

The pictures, when they arrived, disappointed. Babit did not measure up to her, looks-wise. She was younger but lacked the height, the poise. It was a mystery to her how a dynamic, rich man like Bat could feel attracted to that stolid person in the pictures. How can this person take my man away from me? she cried aloud. How can she dare to? A plethora of nasty ideas flooded her mind: she wanted to hurt Bat; she wanted to hurt the woman; she wanted to hurt herself. She became afraid that her recovery had not been all that thorough. The old ways beckoned, tempting her with their effectiveness.

She went to the nursery and picked up the child; it was sleeping, oblivious to the storm. She felt a maternal love wash over her. But the child’s helplessness only made her fiercer. She had sworn never to fall back into the snakepit after the birth of her child, but now she was not so sure. She felt disappointed with herself, and with the world. She seemed to be pushed back into the same life she wanted to flee. Bat had said that he was not in love. Does that deny me the right to be deeply in love with him? Had I not loved the General despite his being married and continuing to pick up other girls? Maybe I had only been in love with the General’s power of life and death. Bat does not have that power and so I am the one with the finger on the trigger. I can very easily destroy him, and this woman and both their families.

When Bat returned home at eleven o’clock that evening, her anger exploded. “Where have you been?” she asked even before greeting him. Her body was rigid, her hands bunched into fists held at her sides.

“Work,” he said looking at her, surprised that she had the nerve to shout like that.

“Where did you go after work?”

“None of your business. If I need somebody to track me, I will move in with the Bureau and the Public Safety Unit.” He wondered why he was bothering to explain himself. Was this not his house?

Maybe you did move in with those organizations, Victoria said under her breath before saying, “It is my business. I am your wife. I have your baby. I am in love with you.”

“I don’t remember ever getting married. If I did, maybe I should seek a divorce. Anyway, in this country divorce is unnecessary. One can simply ask the wife to leave. I love my daughter, but I am not about to take orders from her mother.”