Charcoal-skin, the old man had been thinking very hard since seeing the open display of affection the white woman had displayed towards her Maasai man. Although he was disgusted at behavior in public that was best left to the dark bed-room according to him, his mind was engrossed in something else.
No, he was definitely not thinking of how un-African this open display of affection was, although it was true that according to him, a true African man and woman never showed their emotions in public, nor displayed openly what they did in privacy. It was taboo, very much against the customs of the tribe.
He was not even worrying about the impact the odd couple’s stay in the village would have on the children growing up in the area. Many were bound to be attracted to “the business,” as his young companion had referred to it, of pretending to be Maasai at Coastal tourist hotels so as to attract White women carrying dollars.
This entire great harm that was bound to befall the community was actually furthest from his mind as he contemplated on the one thing he was really interested in.
It was true that old man Makenzie’s (that was charcoal skin’s name) weakness was women. He was already married to three, including an 18 year old, and would not have minded a fourth wife. This white woman would have been perfect. In his life he had always desired a white woman.
He was well aware that she would not bear the current sleeping arrangements he had at his home, where he summoned the wife of the night, depending on his mood. He knew that white women were too proud and would never succumb to that kind of humiliating treatment.
But that was not what was really on Makenzie’s mind. The desires of his flesh and his fantasies could wait. He had a much more urgent issue at hand.
His mind went back to the conversation he had just had with his young companion. He through it again in his mind;
“I even know one Mkamba man. We went to school together. He does that business.” He remembered the young man telling him.
“Business?”
“Yes. The white women usually pay the Maasai warriors of course.”
“For what?”
“Why are you asking me a question whose answer you already know.”
“I honestly don’t know the answer. Please tell me.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“I honestly have no idea why a white woman would want to pay a Maasai man. To have his photograph taken?”
He remembered how the younger man had laughed so loudly that had he continued for another half a minute or so, he would have woken up the tribal ancestors from their graves.
“What is so funny?”
“They pay for sex.”
“Really? How much?”
“A lot of money. They pay in dollars, so it is a lot of money here.”
“Only for sex?”
“Yes, and in the case of our Maasai friend, the inconvenience of staying with an old white woman for the rest of your life.”
The conversation was still so vivid on Makenzie’s mind now as he went over it again and again, in the same way that people replay a scene from a movie that they liked, over and over.
What Makenzie needed very badly right now was money.
Yes he really needed some money. In all his 65 years of existence Makenzie had never been as desperate for cash as he was at the moment.
There was no way out. He would have to find a way of getting cash from that white woman. He knew she was American and Americans always carried dollars around with them. With a little luck he might just be able to steal $1,000 or more from her. He needed around that amount to solve all his most urgent problems. $1,000 or even $2,000 would really be something he fantasized.
Makenzie’s cash problems had started when the rains had failed a few months earlier. He had sunk all his money into planting corn (or maize, as they call it locally) being well aware that Corn prices were climbing and were bound to climb even higher by the time he harvested his crop. He had even borrowed against his pittance of an army pension and bought expansive fertilizer and paid workers to work his farms. He had been right about the prices. If only the rains had come, he would now be counting his profits from the 200 bags of maize that he was sure he would have harvested. He would have made a cool $2,500.
He had tried everything he knew how, to at least get something from the dry land. He and his 19 children had irrigated as much of the maize as they could with water from the streams. But it had not been enough and the 10 or so bags of corn that they had finally harvested were just enough to keep his big family from starvation.
But if truth be told, starvation was the least of his problems. They had survived failed rains before and they were going to survive this one. Actually his money problem was a little more complicated and a little more urgent than that.
Old man Makenzie remembered his error of judgement now with deep regret. He had not only borrowed money against his pension, he had also borrowed unsecured funds, or rather he had secured the loan with his life. He had borrowed from a well know loan-shark in the nearby Machakos town. The man was well known for reasons that Makenzie did not want to dwell on. In short none of his bad debts debtors ever lived to tell the story.
Only the previous day, the man had sent a message. It was short and to the point. The message said that he wanted his money with interest (totaling about $500) paid in the next 5 days. The message ended there. There were no threats of consequences o any suggestions as to what would happen if the deadline was not met. They were not necessary, everybody knew what happened to people who did not pay the man on time. Usually some nasty accident would befall them.
To Makenzie his only hope now was this new stranger in the Iveti hills. He would have to find a way to rob her. No hard feelings but it was either that or he would be dead in a few days. He was definitely not ready to die yet. He was sure that she had the money stacked somewhere in the hut where they lived with her Maasai warrior husband. His biggest problem was how to get the Maasai warrior out of the way. He was confident that without him, he was well able to take care of the situation, he would even kill the woman if necessary, nobody would ever suspect him.
He made his plans carefully, knowing full well that this robbery or theft would have to take place in the next two days. Time was not on his side.
CONTINUED
===============Words of Wisdom
How cautious can a business be and still end up on the receiving end of vioxx lawsuits? All of life is a risk so better to take calculated ones all the time.
All work and no play makes jack a dull boy. Take in a movie like Neil Young: Heart of Gold to relax.
Take a little time off even if it is from stock option trading.
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