When the charming author of this blog published it she may not have realised that she was opening a tiny window into her own reading preferences and by extension the preferences of the esteemed readers of her popular site too.

I think it is a fascinating revelation to see or hear what people whom one may consider as their peers are reading. It is also rewarding when they give you an insight into a particular book or writer.

I have just started reading Paradise by Abdulrazak Gurnah. With every turn of the page I want to curse the author and rip up the book into 1000 pieces. I laugh out loud, feel grossly offended, feel deep sadness and depression and then feel uplifted with each turn of the page.

Please read this book and tell me how you feel.

Ayere’s younger brothers ( they were all my cousins, ofcourse sons of my mother’s brother) were the last in the family to join the Armed forces. They went for training together before they were eventually stationed at Gilgil. The older of the brothers was a real firebrand. He drank and fought like only soldiers in peacetime can and he loved to chase the skirts.

The younger brother was more of the quiet type; he liked to talk things through he was the one people came to when they wanted advice. His career was moving steadily in the right direction and it was agreed that he was destined for great things. In his spare time he wrote poetry and read classic authors. He did not socialise much with the others but he was well liked.

In one of those incredible moments the older soldier man came to a decision. He figured that he had played the field for several years now and that it was time to settle down and raise a family. It came as no surprise to Ayere and the family when their brother married Saaida, the daughter of a local tycoon.

Saaida was beautiful, bright and charming and Ayere’s brother was well and truly under her spell. Her father had made his money in the destructive industry of deforestation. It is told that in his heyday Mr Matumbo’s lorries ferrying charcoal out of Musitu forest near Naivasha would stretch like a military convoy as far as the eye could see. He was personally responsible for the disappearance of this forest, which was a major catchment area feeding fresh water to the lake.

The happy couple soon moved into married quarters and begun wedded bliss. The new husband found his feet and became a serious and responsible character. He got on well in his job and was promoted several times by military superiors. It is when things are going well like this that you hear a knock on the door and open it to find some kind of nasty inconvenience.

Some time back a certain Master Sergeant Samuel Doe had overthrown the civilian government in Liberia. When his turn came the rebels came for him and shot him in the street “kama mbwa”, as our own benign dictator Mr Daniel liked to remind us. In due course the UN wheels slowly swung into motion ordering a peace keeping force to be sent to the Liberian killing fields to disarm the rebels and restore order.

Ayere’s older brother was amongst the initial 250 troops that were sent in advance. On arrival they immediately got to work and their unit received praise from many quarters for their even handed professionalism. A story reached us of how a group of villagers kidnapped by the rebel militia had been rescued by “blue helmets” who braved minefields and heavy machine gunfire in the thick rain forest to get the villagers to safety. Ayere’s brother was in command of that operation.

Back in Nairobi things were not too great for Saaida. Whilst she knew that being married to a soldier meant long periods apart, the news from Liberia was distressing. Rumours were coming in that our boys were ill equipped and did not have the capacity to defend themselves against the rebel forces. There was also news of unpaid allowances and poor moral. Saaida went to visit her young brother in law now based at Lanet. He reassured her and told her that the rumours were without foundation. He was able to calm her down and by the time she left she was actually in good spirits. Two days later she received a letter from her husband which laid her fears to rest.

In a short time whenever Saaida was feeling blue she would go to Lanet. Initially she told her young brother-in-law that she was visiting friends in Nakuru and had thought to check on him on the way and he, ever the gentleman was always happy to see her. She told a close friend, ” Eddo is just a friend, he listens to me and I feel comfortable talking to him…” Her friend had been questioning the wisdom of these weekend trips to Lanet. “these things had a habit of ending in tears”, she observed. “well just remember that you are married to Patrick….. and Eddo is his brother”

The visits continued. It was strange that whenever she could not see Eddo she was like a broken person suffering pains of withdrawal from a powerful drug. It happened once that she “dropped in” at Lanet and he was away. She was informed that he had been sent to Kahawa on official business. For Saaida, blinded by tears the drive back to Nairobi was a struggle.

One evening during the rains in april Saaida called in to see Eddo. They went out for a meal and came back quite late. Back at the house they relaxed over coffee before Eddo suggested that what with the late hour and the bad weather and roads perhaps she should stay the night.There was a spare room which would be quite adequate. It was agreed, the room prepared and they bade each other goodnight Much later Saaida gathered her guts, left her bed and went into Eddo’s room. She slid under the covers beside him. Eddo leapt out of the bed as one stung by a scorpion.

“Saaida! What is the meaning of this? why are you doing this.” She poured out her feelings and told him that he was the one for her. Eddo said it was impossible.It was not going to happen. She was the wife of his brother and that was how it was going to be. With that, he grabbed his clothes and left the room. Moments later She heard the front door bang shut.

Saaida had to move fast. Like her dad Matumbo she was an expert at damage limitation She dressed and went out. Dawn was just breaking as she pulled her car into the gates of the military police station.

“I wish to report an assault by one of your soldiers” she told the sleepy desk sergeant.

Weeks later, Eddo was put before a court martial and despite his strong denials of any wrong doing he was booted out of the army. Despite his good character and glowing references from his superiors a promising career ended in a dishonourable discharge.

Meanwhile in Lobo west of Monrovia, a UN Landrover carrying peace keepers was returning from a mission in the forest when a mine exploded beneath it. The vehicle was lifted several metres into the air. All the occupants were killed in ensuing fireball that engulfed their vehicle. Patrick who commanded the mission would never get to hear of the scandal at Lanet.

“ I hope you are ok with Mutura,” he said. “Being on my own here I only cook for one. Many evenings I eat out – but don’t tell my wife that otherwise she will insist on coming down from the farm to look after me,” He said, laughing.

He re-lit his pipe and said, “So – where had we got to……yes we had a typed note suggesting that the lady had been driven to take her own life by her husband. Someone desperately wanted us to think that this was the case.”

I listened intently chewing on the delicious mutura.

My friend was saying how Hallibut Nyalima had proved to be a dodgy character so early in the investigation. When the police in Abuja had gone up to his hotel room to deliver their sombre news he had been found in the arms of a Dr Esther Hadithi – also from the Government Science office. The Naija cop’s words were, “her attire suggested that she was going to be with our broda for breakfast.”

Back in Nairobi the investigating team wanted to interview Ms Mpensi at the earliest opportunity. She might, after all, be able to shed light on how Mrs Nyalima had come to be poisoned. Mpensi was cooperative from the start. It came as a shock to her that her colleague was dead. She was adamant that Steffi would never have commited suicide – and certainly not over a womanising loser like Hallibut. According to Mpensi she had been summoned to the Managing Director’s office just before two-thirty on that day and he had told her that Nyalima was poorly. The boss asked Mpensi to take her straight home to bed. There was nothing suspicious and It looked as though Nyalima had been taking some dictation when she was taken ill. The odd thing though, was there were two tea cups on the desk. They must have worked through lunch, Mpensi had thought.

Other workers in the firm were interviewed and it was a similar story. Steffi was a well-liked colleague who was good at her job. It was widely known that her husband, a senior government scientist liked to chase the skirts and he had put his wife wife through hell. They did wonder why she put up with him.

The police now interviewed Mr Kali, the company’s Managing Director. He was a stubborn man with a brusque manner. He gave the impression that all this was a waste of time. He suggested that Steffi’s demise was yet another worry to add to his stressful life. He would now have to engage a new PA. Further investigations revealed that several months earlier, Kali had accused the entire office staff of stealing company property. A memory stick with confidential company information had gone missing and the whole place had been turned upside down as they tried to find it.

With this new information the police had gone back to the Nyalima house. There, hidden behind the panels in the bathroom, they discovered Steffi Nyalima’s laptop. Why had she taken such measures to conceal it? Forensic officers were able to unearth some signifcant information. It was apparent that Nyalima had discovered that their company was involved in serious drug smuggling. There were emails detailing purchases and shipments of “white powder” from a company based in Karachi, Pakistan. Other emails revealing huge payemnts in US dollars to Swiss bank accounts and authorised by Kali came to light. There was a list of recipients of copies of these emails, names of well-known personalities.

“Woolie, I guess it is fair to say that my team were jubilant.” Said the retired cop, as he re-lit his pipe once again.

“Our investigation was going well and things were coming together. I went to see the MD the following day taking with me a young detective called Charlie Uwezo. Mr Kali was as arrogant as ever saying that we would regret this intrusion on his privacy, him a law-abiding citizen whose tax-shilingis paid our wages, and all that kind of scorn.”

“We put it to him that he had murdered Steffi Nyalima because she had stumbled upon his drug-importation network and needed to be silenced. We told him of our discovery of the emails. He did not deny it. Instead he asked us to wait whilst he called his lawyer. He spoke on the phone for several minutes and then with a smile, he told us that his lawyer would be with us shortly. He had the cheek to ask us if we would have some tea while we waited.”

The former detective poured us another drink and continued with his story. He told me how whilst they sat in the office Charlie had been fiddling with his mobile phone and now an amazing thing happened. The unmistakable sound of a phone ringing somewhere in the room. Kali was visibly shaken. The sound seemed to be coming from a drawer in his desk. Charlie told his boss that he had dialled Steffi’s mobile number. It was her phone ringing inside the MD’s desk!

Kali denied any knowledge of how the phone had ended up in his desk. For us it was simple: From Ms Mapensi’s statement, Nyalima’s phone was by her bed when she had left her. She remembered telling her to call her if she needed anything. An sms had been sent to Agnes from this same phone. How is it that it was now in Kali’s possession? Surely it was Kali who had entered the bedroom, perhaps through the large window, administered the poison to the drugged victim and then taken the phone with him, to send that SOS text message to Agnes later.

My friend the former detective was full of excitement when he took all this evidence to his boss in Vigil House. It was not often that a murder case in the City was wrapped up so quickly. His joy was short-lived however. He found his boss in a most foul mood. He was asked to explain who had given him the authority to go about harassing innocent and upright gentlemen like Mr Kali. He did not want to hear about the “evidence” which the gentleman’s laywer had already told him was entirely circumstantial.

“Woolie, you can imagine my dismay when he told me to drop the entire case. We could not proceed with it. When I asked why he said it was orders from above. I pressed him more, Woolie, this is a guy that I had known and looked up to for many years. He was our house prefect in high school. I thought he was a decent and upright cop so I wanted to know why. He told me something that cut me down like stima. He said to me that he was due for retirement in about 14 months or so – he had two sons in university and he had planned to spend his retirement tending his tea bushes in a small holding that he had acquired. If the guys upstairs said to him drop a case he dropped it. He wanted to be alive, to enjoy his retirement with his family.

My pal explained to me how devasted he was. He had to stand down his team and explain to them why it had ended in this way. As the team collected their stuff and went out Charlie Uwezo came up to my friend and gave him a slip of paper. “Call this number – he is ok, boss and he is expecting your call.”

“I called the number, Woolie, not quite sure what to expect. The phone was answered after two rings. The man who answered asked me to meet him at the coffee house located in the ground floor of Electricity House in twenty minutes. That was just two minutes away. I waited ten minutes and walked into the cafe. I ordered a cold Picana passion and waited. As the twenty minutes expired a chap came to my table and asked if the seat opposite was taken. I said no and he sat down. He picked up a menu which he begun to study intently. He was talking quietly and very quickly. He said I was not to ask him his name or occupation. All I needed to know was that he was on my side: Kali would not get away.

He told me that there was a red Nissan Primera parked outside. I was to finish my soda, pay and walk to the car and take the driver’s seat. The keys were in the ignition. I was to drive round the corner and stop by Kenya Cinema. He would walk and join me there.

“As we drove into the evening traffic my companion now decided to explain himself a little. He was from a secret military intelligence outfit called S2. Officially this unit did not exist. It was so secret that even senior people in the police were not aware of it. I studied his face when he was not looking. Where had I seen him before – or perhaps he reminded me of someone, I was not sure.

“He explained that they had been monitoring the activities of Kali’s company after receiving substantial information from one of his agents: Steffi Nyalima. She had sent them communications that suggested that Kali’s outfit would very shortly be taking delivery of 2,400kg of pure cocaine from Pakistan for onward transmission to Europe.

“The S2 agent told me that it was actually quite fortuitous that the corrupt system had shut down our murder case. Kali would now be bullish and confident knowing that his friends in high places were watching his back. The deal would go ahead. S2 were preparing a trap for him. They would catch him and his team red-handed as they moved their drugs to their warehouse which S2 had already established was in a side street off Lusaka road, Inda.

“Five weeks later on a friday the trap was set. The container bearing Kali’s cargo arrived at the inland cargo terminal by Embakasi. As arranged it was transported under police escort to the industrial area just after midnight where Kali and his henchmen were waiting to take delivery. They hurriedly opened the container and proceeded to offload 800 bags each of 3kg of their deadly cargo into the warehouse. Just as the last of the bags were being loaded onto the pallet a bright light was switched on and they were all asked to lie down. They were caught totally unawares and did not even bother to resist or try to flee.”

“S2 had got their men. They were taken to court on the monday. S2 had the import documents obtained from Steffi’s emails. There was also video-surveillance evidence taken over several months. From the Pakistani authorities they had obtained immigration documents detailing visits by Kali and others to Karachi on several occasions. Then there were the hard drugs seized in the raid – an open and shut case, or so you would think.”

“Woolie, you know yourself that I am not one for melodrama.That monday will go down in history as the day justice suffered one of its heaviest blows from the vultures of corruption. The wise old Judge sat at his bench on that day and told a hushed court-room that Kali and his men were the innocent victims of a police vendetta. The arresting officers were accused of wrongful arrest, intimidation and torture. The prosecution had alleged, the Judge said, that there were 800 bags of cocaine which they had documented. Why is it that when the defence visited the secure storage they found only 796 bags. This was typical of police incompetence. And on and on he went.

As you know S2 could not take part in the prosecutions without revealing their existence. It was left to us to carry the can. The judge recommended that I be disciplined and demoted for poor handling of the case and a waste of tax-payers money. The wise judge ordered that Kali and his men be released immediately.”

“As he stood at the stairs of the law-courts answering reporters’ questions Kali said he was grateful that he lived in a free and democratic country where a person was presumed innocent until proven guilty, yada yada – my friend I almost puked. He told reporters that he was now free to concentrate on building his business once again. He was also free now to travel to England to attend his daughters graduation.” He came up to me right then Woolie and said – you detective inspector, you are, you are…….. bloody bure kabisa.. hahahaha…”

“I went home that day and told my wife that I would be handing in my resignation the following morning.”

“If you do that, she said, then that low-life Kali and his type are the winners – also who knows if what your chief said to you was true. If you resign you are considered a liability – an adui. They know how they could make your demise look like an accident.”

“Ofcourse she was right. I was healthy and of sound mind but the people I was dealing with could act with impunity. I suddenly fell into one of those moods and found myself spending hours in dodgy pubs drinking warm beer until the small hours. I chatted up barmaids who told me to get lost and that I was old enough to be their pa and I sunk deeper into depression and self doubt. At first I stopped shaving and then the showers went too and I started smelling. I was losing it big time. One very dull Sunday I was sitting at my wife’s dressing table with my service revolver in my mouth. I was just about to pull the trigger when she walked in, Woolie.”

“Put that down, there is somebody to see you, in the sitting room” she said it, just like that. No drama, no panic. She now treated me like the baby that I had become. I went out to see who it was but they was gone. There was a hand-written note on the coffee table. K leaving on tuesday night for graduation. Expect some news thursday.

“You probably don’t know this, Woolie, but S2 operatives and operations are known to very few people in this country. All of them would deny that such an outfit even exists. For this reason they are able to infiltrate all sections of society digging for information relating to the well-being of the nation. My S2 contact gave me a copy of his unedited report that was sent to him by an agent in London.”

It said: Mr Kali and his friend arrived at London’s Heathrow airport aboard KQ 106 shortly after 0630 on Wednesday morning. There was hardly any delay at passport control and they proceeded to the baggage reclaim area chatting amiably. They waited close to the carousel as the bags came chugging along. Kali spotted his dark brown leather suitcase and pulled it off. His female companion’s bag was bright pink. Kali grabbed that too and they made their way to the exit.

They had just gone through the green “nothing to declare” channel when a customs official called them back. The officer was joined by a colleague and they proceeded to check the two suitcases. A television crew had joined in by this time. The pink suitcase was declared clear and the lady was escorted to a waiting area. The brown leather suitcase had many pockets and the officers carried out a meticulous search. Mr Kali was his bouyant self joking with the TV crew when at that very moment the customs chap pulled out first, one and then three other polythene bags containing a white powder. A total of 4 3kg bags of cocaine. Kali denied all knowledge of the cocaine.

“Basically S2 set Kali up using his own drugs. It was a simple matter to hold back a few bags when they arrested them just incase corrupt police had other tricks in mind. It was also easy to switch Kali’s suitcase with an identical one with fewer of his clothes and to insert the four bags of powder. A quick phone call to our agent in London ensured that the customs were aware of Kali even before he had left Kenya airspace. Must we always rely on foreign courts to hand out justice?

“ Anyway, to cut a long story short, Mr Kali was subsequently charged with importing cocaine into the country and was jailed for nine years. Our local papers did not give much prominence to the story. Selective self-censorship.

“I was back at work the following week and things were gradually getting back to normal. I was sitting at my desk doing the crossword when a fresh text message checked in. Coffee house downstairs 20 mins

” So I sauntered into the coffee house just before the 20 minutes expired. This time I had smile in my heart, Woolie and you know that feeling that I was on the verge of something big.

The S2 man……Ofcourse….I knew who he reminded me of .., it was Charlie…..Charlie Uwezo had taken some leave and I had not seen him for over a week.. S2 man looked so much like him…..and he was now asking me whether I’d be interested in working for them.

“I just said sawa, I would be delighted, Mr Uwezo, when can I start?”

“Woolie, I don’t know why it is, but more murders are committed in this city on a leap year. It is as if February 29th is a day to fulfill all our evil desires and you know, the statistics actually back it up.”

Earlier this evening we were seated at the verandah of this unassuming house in South B enjoying a quiet drink in the cool city air. My companion was my old friend the retired Detective Inspector from Homicide Division, Kenya Police. As we took in the evening sounds of city folk making their way home for the evening the retired cop relit his pipe and cleared his throat.

“Well, Woolie, It seemed that February 29th 2008 was going to be an exception – at least in our sector of the city. As my shift came to an end there had been no reports of deaths, accidental or otherwise, and we were looking forward to breaking this “curse of February 29”. Then, just before midnight, I got a call from a colleague at the station.”

I took another small sip of the malt whiskey and stretched out on the cane chair. The retired detective went on to narrate the events of that fateful night in 2008. According to reports, a woman had been brought in semi-concious to the Emergency Department of City Hospital.

By all indications this was a case of attempted suicide. The poor lady had been found in her bed by her house help, writhing and moaning in agony. Lying on the floor, beside her bed was a half-empty bottle of scotch and an empty medicine bottle that would have contained 48 anti-malaria tablets.

The personnel in the emergency room rallied to save the woman but despite their efforts Mrs Steffi Nyalima was pronounced dead at 11:54 pm. A day later pathology results showed that she had died of poisoning. But there was a problem; She had not ingested a single malaria tablet. According to the pathologist, tests revealed that the victim had been given a lethal cocktail of sleeping pills, morphine and other dangerous drugs and these could only have been administered whilst she was heavily sedated. Police quickly established that her husband Mr Hallibut Nyalima, a government scientist, was away on a training course in Abuja, Nigeria. Arrangements were made to notify him of these dreadful events.

The home help – a youg lady called Alice was interviewed . She revealed that Mrs Nyalima had come home in the afternoon at four-thirty or thereabouts in the company of her work colleague, a Ms Jackie Mpensi. Ms Mpensi explained to Alice that her employer was suffering from fever and needed complete bed rest. She had helped Alice to get Mrs Nyalima into bed. Mpensi took her leave soon after but only after she had asked Alice to check on her employer every 2 hours or so. Alice had checked on Nyalima twice and had found her fast asleep on each occasion.

Alice recalled how she had been in her own room preparing to go to bed just after 10:30pm when she got an sms on her phone. It was from her boss, Mrs Nyalima. She showed the police the message which read “ Please Alice come quickly to my room. I have done something terrible…I need your help. PLEASE COME NOW..” This was when she had found Nyalima rolling about the bed in pain. She had raised the alarm and their next door neighbour had rushed them to the City Hospital.

Police officers now went back to the home and carried out a search of the dead woman’s room. They were puzzled by the fact that there was no sign of Nyalima’s mobile phone. Also, what to make of the empty bottle of anti malaria medicine? There was not a single tablet in the room. Then tucked between two pillows on the husband’s side of the bed they found a typed memo on plain A4 paper. It read:

“ Dear Hallibut you are now free. So Sorry it had to come to this.”

The retired detective looked at his watch and then at our empty glasses. “ I’ll just get us another drink”, he said.

…………To Be Continued……..?

A drink for the games

The new team was unveiled at a glittering ceremony held at their plush offices on Haile Selassie Avenue, Nairobi. Invited guests included athletes, media personalities, entertainment celebrities and members of the general public who were treated to live entertainment by several local artists. A complimentary buffet lunch was laid out for the guests of the new “king of pop”.

Swanky city offices

The new team members are

Philip Wanzakwa, Sarah Pilawi, Gerald Tawuta, David Wanen, Prisca Natowa, Jane Sawita, Geoff Bawasa, Naomi Wanena, William Sawiti and Maryanne Amikwu.

The chief wished his new team every success.

Woolie has now been informed that due to an error in the ciphering room all of the surnames of the new team were crunched up by the machines before being wired to media houses and it was only after they had been published that the error came to light.

There are idiots in our society who believe that it is no big deal to mock, humiliate, abuse and even bully and mete out physical violence to people with disabilities. Do you know such idiots? Woolie does and he finds it very shameful to be acquainted with them.

When local man Edward Doyle befriended a young vulnerable man in the village of Littlemore near Oxford It seemed to most people to be a kindly and charitable thing. The young man was Sean Miles, 37 who had serious learning difficulties and lived alone in local authority sheltered accommodation. His life was not easy as he struggled to cope with things that most people took for granted.

Several months down the line and things were not as good as they had seemed. It was becoming clear that Doyle was taking advantage of Miles. He took control of his finances and it was reported that he was often violent towards him. The bullying continued but there was nothing that Miles could do to end the relationship. Doyle and his friends took over Miles’ house making it their home. It turned out that many of them were regular drug users and they used Miles’ money to feed their habit. They mocked Miles and his disability and he was subjected to intolerable insults.

One day a friend of Doyle’s falsely accused Miles of sexually assaulting her son. Doyle and his friends subjected Miles to a brutal attack. They rained kicks and blows on the defenceless man. They took a golf club and beat him some more breaking his ribs. One of them stepped up and cut his head in several places with a knife. As Miles pleaded with them to stop – they broke his arm.

Later that day – perhaps fearful that they had gone too far Doyle and two friends took Miles down to the River Thames where they drowned him. His body was discovered nine days later……….

The causes of domestic violence are many and varied but they all have devastating and long lasting effects to all those concerned. I was quite stunned to read that the cause of this particular incident was one partner’s desire for higher education

Stay Well.

This December we have, ofcourse, the on-going doctors’ strike that has crippled medical services in the public hospitals. It goes without saying that the GOK will have to meet with the doctors’ leaders to thrash out their difficulties because the current situation is just not sustainable. According to a newspaper report Eighty-five percent of doctors joining the civil service as interns will have resinged from the service within three years of their appointments. The main reason cited for this state of affairs was poor pay which doctors felt did not take into account their qualifications and workloads.

As the strikes continued to bite we were given an idea of how our country decides it’s spending priorities. It was reported that Parliament had decided to acquire seats for MPs at a cost of Ksh200,000 each. These were to be made by the prisons department. It is difficult to work out which stories are true and which are mere speculation.

It was with real pleasure that I came across a story which I knew was neither made up nor the wild fruits of speculation. Mainstream media does many stories on bloggers these days and I was pleasantly surprised to read of some of my favourites in a DN feature.

On the friday just passed I went up with and Mrs Woolie to see her parents. It was an interesting visit and we had a wonderful time catching up and telling stories of times past. During the conversation a story came up of how I had once gone shopping and upon returning to the car I had placed my mobile phone on the roof in order to unlock the car-door. Once all the stuff had been stowed away I had jumped into said car and driven off. It was only half an hour after getting back home that I noticed my phone was missing. I used another phone to call my number. It rang for a few moments before someone answered it. A friendly passer-by had heard the phone ringing in the middle of the road. It was was in several parts but still it was ringing. He told me where he was and I went down to meet him. The phone was totally wrecked having been run over by several cars on this busy road.

Mrs Woolies Pa laughed and said that this story reminded him of how way back in 1970 he had received a call from one of his cousins who was then a student at Makerere University. She would be sitting her final exams on such and such a day and would he mind terribly coming up to Kampala in his car to give her a ride back home? To this he had readily agreed, ofcorse and on the appointed day he and his brother arrived at the college halls. On the way up there the car had punctured one of the wheels and they had stopped at a garage nearby where some real friendly operatives had seen to the repair. This meant that they arrived a little later than plannned. The girl assured her cousin that they were not late – infact the students were in party mood and she had arranged somewhere for her cousin to spend the night so that they could leave for the journey home nice and fresh the on next day.

Now Pa was a military man. He drove up to Makindye the main army barracks in the city and on introducing himself was ushered in. The officers in the mess welcomed them warmly and took care of their every need – it is something visiting officers were always accorded anywhere that they went. They went ahead to arrange overnight accomodation. As the music played and the drinks flowed it was certainly a party atmosphere. Suddenly and without warning the commander of the base stormed into the mess his face like thunder. He ordered everyone out on parade at 11:30 in the night! He recognised the Kenyan officer and called him to one side. He explained that the deputy commander one Idi Amin had gone AWOL with another officer’s wife. The officer had discovered the deception and was at this moment hunting the maverick Amin. It was safe to say that there was going to be trouble that night. He asked the visitor where he was staying Pa said he had booked a room in a downtown hotel.

The commandant ordered for 2 crates of beer to be placed in the boot in Pa’s car and they bade each other farewell. Pa drove back to the same garage where he found the same guys were still there selling petrol. He brought out a crate of beer and as the drank explained his situation. The manager said – spend the night in your car right here. You will be safe here. They moved the car into the show-room where new cars for sale were displayed and he slept soundly with no interruption.

Next morning Pa drove to the college where the young cousin was waiting with all her luggage. They loaded up the car and set off for home. On the way they stopped to have a small picnic. The girl took out her radio placing it on the roof of the car so that they listened to pop music as they tucked into their packed lunch. With the picnic over they cleared away the things and got back into the car for the long drive home. The small radio was never seen again.

We are living in times of heightened tensions and security concerns. We must never forget the enormous debt of gratitude that we all owe to the brave men and women of the Kenya Army who are putting their lives on the line to defend the freedoms that we all cherish in this country. Let us remember them and their families especially at this time and let us pray for a quick and successful conclusion to Operation Linda Nchi

I would finally take this moment to wish you all a Happy Jamhuri and best wishes for Christmas and the new year!!

It was only a few weeks ago when our young Woolies suggested that as a treat they would take us down to the cinema.

Almost immediately Mrs Woolie and myself thought – “why not?” – It is always nice to do things together -you know family – like but there never seems to be the right time. Also it is quite a while since we’ve been to the cinema what with one thing and another – and everyone working dodgy hours.

There was a new film by Steven Spielberg with the title the Adventures of Tintin. I grew up reading these comics so it was definitely going to be a treat

There followed nearly 10 days of protracted and tough negotiation. Leaders were asked to step down amidst threats of resignations and promises of fresh elections and a new coalition family. At one point it seemed the whole thing was on the brink of collapse. Just when we thought it was all lost there came a breakthrough. We were all able to organise our diaries and there was one evening when all of us would be available to go to the cinema. The day is finally here and we are going to see the 5 o’clock show tonight.

So unless something totally unforeseen happens…… to say I am excited is an understatement. The last time I went to the movies there were ashtrays on the back of the seat infront of you.

I don’t remember the film that I watched that night but I still have the ticket. Have a great weekend………