• Escorting a girl to her father evokes suspicion on Sgt Makini's role in her pregnancy
I, Sgt Makini, of Jiji Ndogo Police Post, declare this to be my last Will and Testament. I am writing this because I could die any minute from now. Let me explain.
I am in a cowshed, hiding from a fat man with a gun. It stinks like hell in here. If the ammonia doesn’t kill me, the fat man surely will.
“Come out, you stinking coward!” he shouts. Cocks the AK-47. “Aren't you supposed to be a big, powerful policeman?”
“Please put away the gun,” I plead. “Then we can talk.”
“Talk? Now you wanna talk? Don’t you think it’s too late for that?”
“It’s never too late to talk, sir.”
“Chief, to you.”
“Okay, chief. I think we have some sort of misunderstanding here. All I did was escort your daughter home.”
He shoots into the air. Sounds like a damn cannon.
“Don’t mention her!” he bellows.
“How shall we talk if I don’t, chief?”
“Look fella, I know you’re new around here, but we don’t steal other people’s daughters.”
“You find that funny?” the man roars.
I also find it funny that he’s toting a rifle while dressed in boxer shorts only. Fat, round tummy hanging over it. But if I say that, I’m sure he'll shoot me.
“You said you don’t steal other people’s daughters,” I say. “That’s funny.”
“Why don’t you come say that to my face, huh? You think stealing my daughter for a whole year is funny?”
“What? I just met your daughter. Today. At the police post.”
“Yeah? And how come she is six months pregnant?”
“I don’t know.”
He cocks the gun again.
“You don’t know how women become pregnant?”
“No, chief. I mean your daughter. She was already pregnant when I met her.”
“What? You mean to tell me there was another fella? It’s two of you?”
I stand up. Hands in the air. The man aims the rifle at me.
“Chief,” I say. Almost about to soil myself. “Your daughter came to the post and asked me to escort her here. I don’t know where she came from, or how she got pregnant. That’s the truth.”
“Millicent!” he howls.
The pregnant girl comes out of the house. Scared out of her wits.
“Tell the man what you told me,” her father instructs.
“I met a boy,” Millicent says, “and we're in love.”
“And he knocked you up, right?”
“Uhm… Yes, chief.”
“You call your father chief?” my mouth says. It gets me in trouble all the time.
“Shut up, boy! Or I'll teach you how.” Back to Millicent. “How many cows has this boy brought me, Millicent?”
“That’s what I came to talk to you about, chief. He’ll bring them.”
“When? After you have a litter of babies running around?” He turns to me. “Is that how you do things where you come from, policeman? Shoot first, ask questions later?”
“No, chief, but…”
“So, you just decided to disrespect me?”
“Millicent, I really don’t wanna die here for nothing. Tell your father who your lover is.”
“Chief,” Millicent says softly. “If I tell you who he is, what will you do?”
“What do you think I'll do? I'll shoot his brains off!”
Millicent flinches. Slowly points at me.
“Then, it’s him,” she says.
At first, I’m mad. How can she lie so easily? Then I see chief point the gun at me. Cock it. I’m cornered.
“Chief, wait!” I say. “I have cows, goats, camels, cats, dogs… anything you want. But if you shoot me, you don’t get any now, do you?”