Kingdom of the Paper Sun by Christopher Leary

Author:Christopher Leary
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784627812
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd

6

BOOM!

The boom came from a distance but was shocking nonetheless. Without giving the matter a second thought I dived under my desk.

Which is where Mr Mula found me when he came running into my office.

‘Katsin!… Katsin? Katsin, there’s been a big explosion at the milk plant!’

‘Of course, I know. Now, where did that pen go?’

‘Pen, Katsin? The pen is on your desk, sir.’

‘What? Well, fancy that. I was looking in quite the wrong place. Now, I think I should get over there immediately. Find out what’s going on.’

‘I’ll call the Police Office, sir. I’m certain they will investigate promptly. You can receive report here, sir.’

I looked out the back window. The boom had come from the south. There was a column of smoke rising beyond the town. I consulted my wall map. A milk plant looked about right. Most likely the Kaduna Dried Milk Company’s premises. The one that had been responsible for the unholy stench. And now boom. Dried milk was as combustible as coal dust and always presented a very real danger of explosion for a dairy factory. I assumed this was the cause of the boom that had so abruptly awakened my old-soldier’s instinct.

Mr Mula believed that the katsin should at all times remained chained to his desk and communicate with the outside world by letter, telegram or telephone. Mr Mula had begun to remind me of a schoolteacher, always handing out the homework.

I wanted however to get over to the scene of the accident and see the situation first hand. I did not want to wait by the telephone. I played truant and called for my car.

The Katsin of Kaduna’s car was no Rago, more a lamb. A prewar Umaru Rafi. A true child of the Umaru factory, the Rafi was everything the Rago was not: plain, boxy and slow. It had as much flair as a grocer’s wagon. Its one redeeming virtue was its famous ruggedness and reliability. There were many Rafi in the colonies.

*

The press of traffic on the Trebo Road was such that I had to abandon my Rafi and walk the last half tarak on foot. I was none too pleased. Not because I had to walk half a tarak but because the situation was chaotic. Why had the police not taken charge? The road was jammed with vehicles and animals. A crowd milled about. Apparently the whole of Kaduna considered the exploding milk plant as good as a circus and had come out to see the fun.

Up ahead I saw a fire wagon that was stuck in the traffic. A lone policeman was trying to unsnarl the shambles. He was attempting, without success, to get the cooperation of the driver of a large car parked directly in front of the immobile fire wagon.

A huge plume of smoke towered above the stricken factory. There was a pestilential stench in the air. One might have imagined the smell would drive away the onlookers but the spectacle of an industrial accident was irresistible. Nonetheless, many in the crowd held handkerchiefs to their mouths.

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