Alternative lamu

ALTERNATIVE LAMU

A communication breakdown between me and a police officer gave me an opportunity and the privilege to be an honored guest in some of our government’s housing facilities. It was a truly unforgettable experience; not advisable for people with a weak constitution for sure. I would recommend it for people with a weight problem though.

It started; like all stories with a twist, in a bar around two years ago. I used to run the coolest bar in town, it had floor to ceiling sliding glass windows overlooking the Lamu pier and all through the channel, the light during the day was and still is fantastic. The music which in my opinion can make or break a bar was tops, I fancy myself as a top ranking selector and on that I have to say I was a bit of a dictator as I never took requests my argument being if you are not a dj or a top ranking selector like me well, leave the music selecting to the pros, I mean if you want to hear what is being played everywhere go to the miraa shops,listen to your annoying neighbor’s radio or go to the local wedding party where dj will play the same tracks as all the formula djs are playing and very likely in the same order, anyway like I said I was a musical dictator but the majority of the people learnt to appreciate my quirky musical taste, well they didn’t have a choice anyway.

The bar had and still has a varied clientele, and during the high tourist season it was like a relaxed United Nations meeting place. Most of the western nations were usually fairly well represented and all the languages and accents from the ugly to the sexy could be heard every night. The foreigners were a mixed bag and if you paid attention; you spot the traveler/backpacker types, the package seasonal tourists staying at the high end hotels, the expats on r and r from wherever they are based in the region and the ones who came back to Lamu every year, some of whom owned houses on the island.

The locals were also a mixed bunch, there were the dhow operators looking for business for tomorrow and then there was the dreadlocked Casanovas in searching for a foreign girlfriend or two; that was always entertaining and at times embarrassing to watch. The rest were senior civil servants, teachers, lawyers and accountants winding down after a days work and looking disapprovingly at some of the cruder ways the Casanovas used to try and pick up girls. Last but definitely not least were some local girls who had enough moral flexibility and some sort of business acumen that allowed them to be able to find kind gentlemen who could stand them drinks all night, I did not dwell on what happened when they walked out with their gentleman of choice; they were always a cheerful group.

The night that resulted in my visit to government facilities is not very clear but I had to remember it next day as I had to go to the police station to clear up some of the local girl’s names. They had been arrested and were being detained as murder suspects.

On that night things were running well at the bar, we had a good crowd as usual and I was on top of things, always being a very agreeable host (except on the music subject!), checking the tables, ashtrays, change, empty glasses, no junkies in the bar, music, stock and knowing as second nature what is going on in the entire bar, that way I knew when a fight is about to breakout for example, also who had money to burn and encourage them to spend a lot of it in the establishment etcetera et cetera, anyway on that night I remember this two gentlemen come in and as usual I put on my welcoming spiel and from their accent I noticed they were Italian, I don’t remember if I suggested a table for them or if they found one for themselves but they got a good table with a view of the jetty and the tv screen and they settled in happily after the waiter sorted out their order. Soon they were joined by one of the local girls and then two more, don’t recall who initiated contact but the arrangement seemed to suit everyone, at least judging by the occasional female squeals of laughter. I think there might have been a third Italian man at some point but I am not sure. They stayed for two drinks I think and then they left on their own. I pretty much forgot about them until the next day when I heard on the sea front that one of them was found dead on a beach bed outside a very fancy hotel on the island opposite Lamu island. On tropical islands; rumor mills work proportionately opposite island time and Lamu is probably where island time was invented so you can imagine how fast the story and all its variations and interpretations spread!

I first had it on the seafront from the speed boat operators who are the island’s equivalent to matatu touts and drivers in Nairobi, they have their ear to the ground and they seem to know things before they happen. After hearing the basic details I payed no more attention to the story until later when a member of the tourist police came to the bar at opening time to ask perfunctory questions to know whether the dead Italian had passed by the bar. We, that is me and the waiter who was on duty that day answered as best as we could and thought no more of it.

There must have been a lot of pressure from somewhere for the police to be at least be seen doing something about the dead Italian as the tourist police then came back later that evening with more detailed questions this time and again we answered again as best as we could. They asked about the girls they had been sitting with. It turned out they had the first name of the girls and the next morning they rounded them up for “questioning” which is police speak for arrest and hold without any charges.

I went to find out what was going on since the girls were some of my most regular clients and two of them used to do casual odd jobs for us filling in when we were short of cleaners or waitresses. Police stations and all the activities that go on in and out of them are not my favorite forms of entertainment to say the least, the desperation of the arrested people and the people who come to visit them combined with the careless and casual attitudes of the police when handling life potentially altering situations makes one feel really helpless as the big majority of the people in those situations are poor people caught at the wrong place at the wrong time and have no money for bail, lawyers or the bribe that brings instant justice. Anyway I went to the main desk to inquire what happened to the girls and was informed that they are suspects in a murder case and so will have to take it up with the Criminal investigation department (C.I.D.), I went down to the C.I.D office and of course the man was not in so I had to wait and I don’t know whether I have mentioned it, patience is not one of my virtues at least not when I know that the man is supposed to be in the office especially at that particular time, jeez, when was the last murder in Lamu!?, but wait I had to until I remembered that I had his number, I made the call and funny enough he responded quickly and told me to give him a few minutes, I later figured out why the quick response but that’s a story for another day. He led me to his office and pretended to be busy shifting papers and generally making sure that I realized that he is a very busy and important man and I better not be wasting his time. I looked around his office at the various worn out posters some of them about how the police department is a humble servant to the people and had to stop myself sniggering loudly and then I saw a crime charge with what looked like a properly done graph of crime statistics for the year before. The graph looked like a normal graph that you see representing trends or trading seasons but one thing amused the hell out of me, the spikes on the graph for all the crimes committed were normal as far as my limited knowledge of crime statistics in Lamu district was concerned, bicycle thefts, burglary, arson, assault, substance abuse, (very high all year round, cattle rustling!, trafficking drugs, all looked, again to my untrained eye, to be usual, what kept me amused and entertained for a long time was the line for corruption ,it was one continuous, beautiful line in a rough sea of deep unpredictable waves with only a tiny smooth bump in the middle. It was a piece of art and I wish I had a camera with me, just seeing that made my day, not because there was not much corruption in all of Lamu district for a whole year, but because I had to try very hard to stop myself laughing, even when he started talking to me about the “murder suspects” it was really had to take him seriously. I kept looking at the chart and once or twice I had to stop myself from asking him for details of what went on to, make the bump on the graph. He looked like the kind of person who takes himself very seriously even making up charts.

After he finished rearranging his papers he cleared his throat and asked why I was interested in the case. I told him I wanted to make it clear that the Italians left alone after having one or two drinks and that; they left alone without any girls and that the girls were left drinking on their own. It was a simple clear message but after a while I realized he was determined to have them locked up just to say to his superiors that the investigation is on course and he was leaving no stone unturned to uncover the truth. The girls were let out of the police cells after three days for lack of evidence that would link them to the death.

Days, months, passed and I more or less put the incident out of my mind until around two years later when I got a call from somebody I knew at the police station to inform me that I am being summoned to appear in court for an inquest. Apparently it was done so that they can close the file or something like that. On that particular date though; I had promised my son that I would go to visit him at south coast where he lives with his mother and those are promises that you don’t break if you can help it; so I explained to the man that I would not be available on that particular date but I would be available on the next one. He seemed understanding enough and I duly signed on the back of the court summons document as directed and I thought that was it, no problem right? Well apparently not. Around two weeks later, I got called to for the inquest, I called the people I knew and nobody seemed to be sure of the actual time of the inquest and hanging around a court house in Lamu instead of being at work seemed, well a bit pointless to me. I mean I don’t normally want to sit in a hot stuffy room listening to cases about palm wine vendors, chicken thieves, petty robberies and the usual crap that goes on at magistrate’s courts, I went to work after I tried a few times to with no luck to call the person who had sent me the summons.

A couple of weeks later things started to get out of hand. The person who always presented the summons to me, called to tell me that if I didn’t show up in court I would be arrested! I told him no problem, I will turn up. It turned out that there was a PROBLEM. Once more on the date I turned up in court, it was hot and stuffy, as usual, and the same mostly dirt poor people with more or less the same depressing poverty related crimes, luckily I had brought a book to read and as the judge droned on and on in the name of justice I managed not to fall asleep or die of boredom, I seriously do not know how court employees, the police and the prison guards go through that five days a week! The judge however was at his element. The government’s chosen arbitrator, dispenser of justice and decider of people’s immediate future and fate, he had a heavy responsibility sitting on his young shoulders, with a stern look here, a doubting look here, a frown of disapproval here and a quick note here, he dispensed justice and sentences accordingly.

I was called last and when the prosecutor told him who I was and why I was there, either from a misunderstanding or from something else, he decided that I should be held in contempt of court! Apparently I had ignored court summons which is a heinous crime the same magnitude as mass murder, treason and such, at least that’s the impression I got. Never mind that I had come to give evidence in an inquest that did not actually involve persecuting or implicate anyone. He demanded that I be arrested until I have somebody come and post bail and a surety for me or else I go spend the night at the police cells. I called one of my workmates to come and post bail for me but things again took a turn for worse.

Instead of him coming, he sent someone else and that didn’t work out so well.

Court closed and I got handcuffed and led to the police station along with my now fellow felons. I tried to explain to the police officers that I was not going to escape, some of them new me personally but they were on DUTY so no can do. Hmm,, made me wonder what really goes on in their brains once they have been given orders so I wore the silver bracelets to the cop station. Since the court had been closed for the day, I had to spend the night at the police station. Now I know police cells are not supposed to be like posh hotels or even cheap ones, but still, I am certain that sleeping on rough dirty concrete is a violation of at least one human right in the constitution of most countries that have democratically elected governments and last time I checked, Kenya was among them. Obviously couldn’t sleep, adding an extra touch to the experience, was the police mosquitoes, normally mosquitoes stay away from me except those ones, so I assumed they were especially trained to remind you who is boss. My cellmates were a cow thief, a palm wine vendor; a guy caught smoking marijuana, a murder suspect who didn’t seem that scary and some drunken gentlemen passed out on the concrete who stunk of stale palm wine. We talked a lot and I realized that not a single one of them had gone past standard four in their education. Once more I made an assumption about education and persecution but hey, for now I leave that to the sociologists to figure out. My sister and workmates came to see me but there was nothing they could do to get me out that night and to be honest it was not that much of a big deal, it was entertaining in a weird way actually. I guess I wanted to test myself.

Next day court was on the mainland and once more, the silver bracelets were put on our wrists; with unnecessary flourish I thought, and we were paraded down to the pier to get the boat Mokowe on the mainland. On the seafront, the police network and coordination was at its best, we only had to wait an hour or so and after a great heroic effort from them, the boat and her coxswain were located waiting a few metres away where they had been all the time after countless desperate phone calls. The coxswain had also to show who is boss and he gave a few unnecessary orders to us to sit down even after we had done so, I had a bit of a rant at him poor guy, but damn. On the mainland, yet another display of superb smoothly running operation was played out, we waited another hour for the police car and just when the police officers were about to get ready to start making safaricom even richer, the car arrived and we were of on our bumpy way to Hindi where the mighty sword of justice was once more going to be hewing away valiantly at the mighty, thick and dark forest of crime, a hard and daunting task but luckily for the populace, there was a select lot of fine ladies and gentlemen in our fair and fine country that had keen and strong enough minds to handle the mighty sword diligently and wisely.

On this particular day however, I was not going to be able to participate personally or even get a glimpse of this great spectacle, since the courts have more onerous and challenging tasks to deal with other than bail and such minor issues, I was taken to remand prison until the court could find the time to deal with my bail issue.

I was duly handed over from the police department to the prisons department. One policeman tried to give me some lip, but I just realized there nothing he can do to me once I am inside the prison gates so I gave him an honest and graphic opinion of what he can do to himself, what was he going to do, send me to prison? Hell, I was already there. That felt good for a moment until the prison system took over. It is a process that is inhuman and cold. The prison officers cannot let you go even if they know for sure you have done no wrong, they are doing there job and absolutely nothing, other than a piece of paper can make them release you, so you start feeling up questionnaires about next of kin, religion, tribe, place of birth, residence, age, the whole works and slowly but surely you become theirs. After being processed, it turned out I had arrived just in time for lunch and I think a little description is warranted, the presentation was interesting to say the least, ugali is not my favorite meal, this particular piece looked like a dirty white rock and had the consistency of dry coral, the greenish looking watery substance that came with it had an unidentifiable leaf in it but I thought, what the hell, dig in. No. Couldn’t hack it, the ugali tasted like it looked, the green leafy thing tasted interesting, almost like if you ate enough of it you could get high have to get the recipe someday who knows, it might be the next new thing in mind altering drugs. Needless to say I didn’t have more than a mouthful but there were guys who wanted it so, I suppose if that is all you have then taste doesn’t matter too much.

Hindi Prison is a mid level security prison, that means hardcore criminals and political prisoners are not held here. The prisoners there are mostly not even criminals as such. A lot of them are victims of ignorance of the law and legalese, lack of basic legal representation, in one case for not paying a debt of five hundred shillings! Three months in prison he got if I remember correctly.

I knew at least a third of the people there and to be honest, it was a bit reassuring, Lamu is; still a small town and as I have done all sorts of jobs during my twenty odd years here, I know a lot of people. The people I recognized were either street hustlers who tried to make their living with various levels of illegal means from peddling marijuana and sometimes brown sugar, or people caught smoking the former and just plain petty criminals and in true Lamu style they welcomed me and actually offered some pretty good looking weed. I thanked them for their kind offer but I had to decline as, I didn’t want to complicate my already complicated day even more. One really interesting thing I noted was that; the junkies, palm wine addicts and alcoholics I knew looked very healthy and clear eyed while in prison and I talked to one or two of them and asked them what’s up with that? It was actually easy to figure out once I got my head around it, no alcohol no drugs, simple regular meals, sleep early and being out in the sun most of the time is the best thing that could have happened to them. So anybody who wants to run a rehab center should visit prison and see how it is done, no stress no sweet talk just stop! Of course most of them go right back to the drugs when they get out of prison but while they are there they themselves realize that they are healthier so I don’t think it should be difficult to convince them to stay that way when they are out of prison .All in all I would seriously recommend everybody to visit prison at least one day in their life, as a prisoner, who knows what might learn, either about yourself or about different people’s life experiences and about dispensation of justice in our country.

Early in the afternoon, a friend of a friend paid my bond or rather guaranteed my bond and I was out of Hindi prison, can’t say I miss it, but I still wonder about the people who are still there in Hindi and in all the prisons across the country, especially those in remand prison who have not yet been found guilty of the crimes that they have been accused of; but since they do not have the means to pay for the bail and they cannot afford to pay for a lawyer they are in legal limbo locked up in conditions that are worse than if they were actually serving a jail term. The conditions in remand prison are worse physically and psychologically, in remand prison, the food rations are half the amount you get if you are serving a sentence, there is no exercise time and yet you are in prison locked up until your case is heard and determined and there is no time limit as to how long you can be held, also if you get sentenced to jail, the time you have already spent in remand prison does not count at all, so you find people pleading guilty to crimes they did not commit once they figure out that the time it might take to prove themselves innocent is the same time or at times even less than the time they do in jail which is one level up lifestyle wise. Again in prison both in remand and regular jail, career criminals, eg, bank robbers, carjackers, traffickers and others talk about their exploits and amounts of money involved and this is normally enough to get say, somebody accused of selling vegetables in the street without a license or some other breach of the great and many laws of our country, to start prioritizing, he or she might start feeling a bit shortchanged in that particular circumstance, hmm, he or she might start thinking, I am here for trying to eke out an honest living for myself and I am in the same legal plight as a people who are by any definition neither law abiding nor honest, and they earn much more than I do, well I want in on whatever it is they are on, what’s the worst they can do to me, put me in prison? Ha! 0r something along those lines. So I think in some cases, our laws and their interpretation and enforcement creates career criminals rather than vise versa.