Moses Isegawa - Snakepit

“You don’t understand. You performed a miracle. This child is a big miracle. You don’t understand, but one day you will,” she had insisted. He had then marched out of the flat.

In the meantime, she had decided to reconcile with her mother and family. She had spent a month looking for them in the villages but had not found them. Every time she found a promising lead, it crumbled. Had they changed names? Had they been swallowed by the endless cattle-rearing plains? Had they fled to Tanzania and joined the guerrillas? Her mother too! Had they died of malaria? The one aunt she had managed to locate refused to cooperate. Sworn to secrecy. Infuriated, Victoria had threatened to kill her, and the woman had said: “You see? That is the reason why everybody deserted you. You wanted to kill them. Your man sent soldiers to them. If they had not bribed them, they would be dead now.” She had left with a heavy heart.

Now General Bazooka stood in front of her, medals glinting in the yellow light, swagger stick held stiffly in his left hand, gently tapping his right palm.

“I am very glad to see you, General.”

“You don’t look too happy.”

“I am extremely happy,” she said, kneeling down to greet him in the traditional way. A wench paying homage to her prince.

“Stand up, Vicki. I want to see your eyes.”

“Yes, General,” she replied, hardly able to stand straight.

“Did you hear what happened to my wife?”

“It was a very sad, cowardly act,” she said, echoing the national radio word for word.

“Are you the newsreader? Whatever happened to your brain?”

“I am very sorry to hear what happened to her.”

“As if you didn’t hate her.”

“I don’t, General.”

“Whatever happened to your sense of duty? I gave you an assignment, and instead of doing your job you fell in love with the goat-fucker. What does that say about you, eh?”

“It just happened, General.”

“Did that man know that I had fucked you?”

“No, General.”

“Stop calling me General as if I were a general store,” he screamed. “Why did you betray me, Vicki? Was it a bleeding southerner conspiracy?”

“I couldn’t get him to talk. He was too sophisticated for me.”

“You could fuck him to death but couldn’t make him open his mouth! Had he no family? Nobody of use? Where is your bloody brain? Is there nothing in that pumpkin on your bleeding neck?”

“You ordered me to focus on him. You said nothing about his family.”

“I have just been told that there was a man who used to make fireworks shows. Where did he go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know what all these negations mean? That we are paying people for nothing, that the Bureau is a smokescreen, a pile of shit. If the Bureau can’t find this man, why are we paying you? Why don’t we stage a firing squad and shoot you all in front of the public?” He was yelling and advancing towards her as if to ram the stick down her open mouth. “My wife lies in hospital blinded, burned, arm torn off, and nobody knows who did it. Dissidents are running free in the city, known to some of you, and you are helping them bring the government down.”

Victoria kept quiet and stood very still, praying, hoping.

“Do you love that child?”

“Very much.”

“Do you know whose child it is? It is mine. Next time I am going to rename it and introduce it to its true family.”

“Yes, General.”

“Start doing your duty, for the child’s sake. Do you hear me? I am keeping an eye on you. Unless you pay your dues, you won’t have any peace of mind. Not for one second. You know me well. I have spoken,” he said, echoing the old kings. Dead kings. He suddenly asked himself why he was wasting precious time when he knew who the real enemy was. He would have peace of mind only when Reptile was dead. Without saying another word he turned around, collided with a bodyguard and left.

Victoria remained where she had been, near the thin sofa, the radio, the pot of artificial flowers. She had saved Bat’s life once again. She had a crushing conviction that he was rightfully hers, and she, his saviour. She had to act quickly to make him hers, hers alone. There was only one person standing between him and her, and that was Babit. She had to go. From now on there would be no more phone calls, no more threats, no more words of advice. She had to go. The General’s problems didn’t interest her in the least. She had hers and it was called Babit. She had to go.

IN THE MEANTIME, cars continued exploding in different towns. People did not know what to do about it. There was a general fear of cars, and of shops and of crowded places. Bat wondered what was going on. He had waited in vain to hear the pirate radio broadcasting. His sister had never heard of it. The Kalandas and the Professor thought he was pulling their leg. They called it Lake Radio, meaning that it was a fiction, like the failed lake Amin had tried to make.

“How many people did the pirates move in order to start their broadcasts?” the Professor ridiculed.

Bat kept quiet about his brother and the money he had supplied. Too sensitive a secret. He gave Babit the task of tracking the radio day and night. She scanned the waves, turning the dial round and round, watching the pointer slide past numbers back and forth, amidst explosions of claptrap and the occasional clear sound.

“Why all this interest in pirates?”

“Aren’t you eager to hear when the country will be liberated, and what kind of people are going to do it?”

“Do you know what I think? This radio station doesn’t exist and you are just teasing me.”

“Yes, indeed, but keep at it. I am tired of working for these idiots.”

“What do you think about these car bombings? I sometimes think that you should stop using that car.”

“My XJ10? You are joking. I keep it in the ministry garage. To get at it the bomber would have to shoot the guards first.”

“It is evident that he is bombing cars and shops belonging to security agents. But suppose he mistakes your car for the two belonging to the generals?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to me, dear.”

“Why doesn’t the group claim responsibility?”

“They want to keep Amin and his men on their toes.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I am a very educated man, remember?” he said, chuckling.

“Yes, Professor.”

She was glad that things were going well. So often after marriage things cooled down and became boringly routine. She had had her fears, which had proved to be unfounded. She was glad that he had talked to Victoria and, as a result, there were no more threats. Twice a week he drove home for lunch. She enjoyed those days the most. They compensated for his absences and late homecoming. They were like two extra Sundays, days marked by anticipation and intense pleasure. She never fretted about money any more. It seemed he would never run out of work. All the ministries wanted him. They no longer interviewed him; they just hired him. One day the Englishman was bound to come. And maybe they would fly back with him, and sleep in the Grand Empire and eat all those strange foods.

Bat had hinted at visiting America. Babit noticed that he read more and more biographies of American sportsmen, film stars, politicians. . She believed it was his form of gossip, a search for other people’s secrets. . It would be nice to go there. Maybe by then they would have children. If not, maybe they would go to a specialist and get her checked. By then she would have completed her teaching course. For now though, on with the search for the elusive radio pirates.

There were days so fine, so suffused with bright light falling from high-domed skies, the beauty of delicate clouds, the perfume of gentle winds, the gloss of exuberant vegetation, the sheer delight of living in a bubble of peace amidst an inferno, that Bat felt totally in tune with life. He was not a religious man, but once a month he accompanied his wife to church. She chose the best suit for him, the darkest shoes, the best tie. For herself she picked the finest midi- or maxi-gown, matching accessories and a subtle, expensive perfume. They would emerge from the house and stand on the steps surveying the flower bushes, red and purple bougainvilleas; the towering thousand-year-old trees, majestic, their branches spread high above; the lake, a broken marble surface linking them to neighbouring countries in a fraternity of water; and the XJ10, the crown jewel, shining, ready to go. They would descend the steps and drive away.