The Fall of Saints by Wanjiku wa Ngugi

Author:Wanjiku wa Ngugi
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Atria Books

14

I could do nothing about meeting Wangeci until Wainaina had found a contact. So the following morning, I called Zack. He did not answer, so I left a message telling him how we were enjoying South Africa.

Then Dr. Ciru called me from Cape Town. INTERPOL had been to her office. Police in in the States were looking for me, and they believed I was staying with her. Caught between the police interest and her loyalty to me, she opted for the space between truth and a lie: I had not yet arrived. Did she know where I was? they asked. No, she said, interpreting the question narrowly, and then added that she believed I was still on the way.

No sooner did I get off the phone than Sam called. Some detectives had interviewed Rosie about Zack’s and my circle of friends. Rosie told them that I was a good person in a circle of bad people; she had even warned me against them, she said. She talked negatively about a Mark who bragged about his wealth and employed illegals. She could not understand why Joe had tried to kill me. Sam said that after they left, Ben was back with threats. He had found that I was not in Cape Town. It puzzled him that I had disappeared at about the same time as Zack and Melinda and Mark. Please call Ben or at least answer his calls, Sam pleaded with me.

I thought I had left New York behind. There were many issues I didn’t understand—why, for instance, Mark would disappear and where he could be. Perhaps I should activate that hotline to Ben. I promised Sam I would and asked to talk with Rosie and Kobi. Rosie was bubbly about the interview and the fact that she had been able to pour her heart out. She was sure that Mark had gone into hiding to avoid answering questions about illegals. Sam was a great man. She and Sam loved Kobi. Sam’s father blamed himself for not insisting that I carry a gun.

Kobi, the joy of my heart, told me he loved Mom and Dad in every other sentence. He did not sound anxious. He told me proudly that he had learned to pray and would be praying to Jesus to bring Mom and Dad home safely. The “praying to Jesus” Kobi must be the work of Rosie, I thought, or Sam or Sam’s dad. Sam’s dad could talk guns, gold, and God in the same breath.

Talking to Kobi lifted my spirits. His words reminded me that I had not yet visited my mother’s place of rest. During the honeymoon, time had been taken up with seaside, sand, and glossy hotels. On the eve of our departure for Nairobi, we cut short the visit because Zack was needed in New York. My only memorial for my mother as the tears I had shed when I heard the news of her death. But they fell on the grounds of New York, not on her burial ground in Kenya.

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