Betrayal

Only idiots can’t see the darkest point in my story

Chapter 10

Betrayal

By Gwado J. Ador

It’s autumn, the sky is clear and partially cloudy, KLM started to descent gently, then within a few minutes, the heavy 474 treaded on Jomo Kenyatta Airport ‘JKA’ tarmacked runway. It slowed down and stopped not far from the main building. It seems there were some renovations going on at the airport.

A crane with ladder approached and attached to the exit, and then one by one, we started calmly walking out of the plane. As I stepped down, immediately I felt nourished by lovely warm weather tickling my face as if it was saying welcome to Nairobi.

The view surrounding the airport during the time of my arrival was breathtaking, it’s an extended beautiful savannah covered with short yellow grass, and sporadic umbrella-shaped trees cast by golden rays of the rising sun at the horizon.

We got onto the bus which was meant to shuttle the passengers from the plane to the main building and vice versa. I regretted having not been in a light dress so that I could enjoy the lovely weather I had missed at home.

‘Karibu’, it says when I entered the main reception area; it was so busy with passengers coming in and going out. Some were in light safari short outfits and others were on a casual dress. I can’t mistakenly say they weren’t tourists visiting Nairobi adorned with lovely coloured beads, the pride of Africa
Passing through a lined up sections of free duty shops which were exhibiting Kenyan beautiful handcrafts and value organic products such as coffee and tea… smartly warped and in beautiful packages with letters saying from Kilimanjaro heights.

Because Kenya relies heavily on tourism in its economy, most of the airport officials were by and large beautiful young women and men who were moving feverishly making every effort to give customers the best experience they could offer.
I continued the following footprint on the floor and then into a corridor tracing arrow sign on beautiful painted light blue walls littered with shining and glittering ads. Finally, I reached the visas and passports section.

As I was proceeding towards the counter, then two people, one man and a woman dressed in uniform and a batch with names on their left chest showing they were from health authorities said, ‘Habari’!

‘Show us your yellow card please?’ the woman asked
I pulled out the yellow booklet from the pocket of my jacket, which I was hanging on my shoulder and showed it to her, then she smiled nodding that it’s ok.

Then she said, ‘Je unaougea Kiswahili? I don’t get you, Ma’am, I answered. Then she said, ‘Pole’, I mean do you speak Kiswahili? I said I wish I could speak it, but I promise when I come back, I will surely talk to you in Kiswahili! She laughed and said good luck.

Then the man asked, ‘are you by any chance a Sudanese if I may ask because you are so tall and dark in complexion’.
I said ‘very interesting, of course, I am a Sudanese’; he smiled and said ‘Asante Sana, you are welcome home brother’!

I went straight to the table where everybody was busy filling some forms; I plucked a form and a nearby lying pen on the table. I started putting down my details and contact in Kenya as indicated clearly in a letter handed to me by Mr R. Edwin at Pax Christi, then lined up to buy an entry visa to Kenya.

In a queue, I stood and when my turn came, I stepped forward and the migration officer said your passport, please?

I stretched my hand giving him my passport and all the papers I filled earlier. He looked at my Dutch passport, opened it, and looked at me, then flipped all through the pages carefully. Please, $50, I gave $100 note, then, returned the change, he attached a visa sticker on my passport, stamped it and gave it back saying thank you… and called next?

I walked passing through the counters, and into the bags claiming area just right at the back of the immigration section. Then, there in front of me, I saw a band rotating with baggage’s which weren’t yet claimed, I saw my three carton packs and a suitcase moving round and round, picked all, and put them on a trolley, and push out.

There were so many people waiting outside right at the exit, there was roar with some yelling loudly, while others were holding placards with names written in bold letters. Many among them seemed they were mere taxi drivers looking for customers desiring to go to the city centre.

I saw my name on a paper being held by a chap, who looks medium in height, slender and seamy bald, with a broad smile on his face; he was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. I held up my hand waving at him; he hurled towards me extending his arm for a handshake, I hold his hand and warmly greeted him. He grabbed the trolley saying, ‘welcome to Nairobi brother’. I said, ‘thank you’, then I followed him.

While we were walking to exit the building, he told me his name was Patrick Mage, he is the driver working for ‘Sudan Development Trust, SDT’ and that he came with the administrator whose name was Mr Lenet, he is also a Kenyan fellow.

Patrick pointed towards a middle-aged man with well-combed thick shaved black hair, beard and a moustache standing not far from the exit. He was holding an envelope close to his chess. He rushed towards us and extended his hand saying, ‘Karibu Sana’, ‘I am lenet, I am the administration at SDT, Mr Dan Iffe, the director asked me to come and collect you. You are welcome to Nairobi Sir’. He told me.

However, Mage told me while he was pushing the trolley, ‘you look very tired, obviously, from a long flight, I believe.’
I said, ‘you are right brother, but I am so happy to be in Africa. In Nairobi always, I am at home’. I assured him!
‘ I am longing to enjoy African music and dance and eat ‘Nyamachoma’, which is the grilled spicy delicious meat served often with Sukumo Wiki, and ‘Ugali’ mashed cassava, maize, or millet flour cooked in chunks and eaten with meat or fish stew.

‘I just want to eat a whole thigh of goat ‘Nyamachoma’ and wash it down with a cool Tusker beer… oh, lovely’. I told Mage and Lenet. I have already felt in love with Nairobi because of its weather and sample life of Kenyan people.

I could remember I had visited Nairobi before and had memorable experience there, but my worry was the activities of Kenyan thugs, ‘I am certain that I am now in the right hands, because, trust me if you fall into the hands of these criminals, then you’re done with’, I said to both of them.

We walked towards a four-wheel-drive white land cruiser parked just across the road within a walking distance; put all my belonging into the car, then opened the behind door, got onto the vehicle, Mr Lenet took the front seat and Mage drove away towards Nairobi city Centre.

Patrick said ‘we might be confronted by traffic jams, if we aren’t lucky enough at this time of the day because so many cars are rushing towards the town. Normally, it should have taken us only 30 minutes’ drive or even less than that to the office.’

‘I will try my best to get there as early as we could using other short cuts’, he said. Patrick seemed to be a very skilful driver and streetwise in Nairobi. He’s confident as he was chatting and laughing behind the steering wheel.

While I was gazing through the window, I was stunned by the view of organized states buildings and compounds surrounded by shady big trees and plants. It was busy on the road, but not as bad as we might have expected. Patrick was sewing his way towards the town.

I saw people walking along the road, some were rushing while sweating, and others were idly strolling hoping to win something if their luck could smile at them at least for that day. I saw women in ‘Kitenge’ with their babies tied fast at their back while selling bananas, mangoes, sugar canes…etc.

They were lining up along the main road in front of a market place while bargaining in the midst of smouldering smokes emitting the delicious scent of grilling Naymachoma, and fish, and chicken…oh.

My mouse watered, I was almost telling them to stop the car, but I said to myself be patient, not now, but later. Anyway, I was told that it’s Kenyatta Market, one of the famous local market places known for the best Nyamachoma ever in the city.

We bypassed ‘matatus’ or minibuses carrying passengers to the main city centre. I heard somebody on ‘Bodaboda’ motorbike yelling and swearing in high volume. I said to myself welcome to Africa!

It was all mosaic life in Nairobi one of the rising African economies. Despite the fact that I was so tired, but honestly speaking, it was a joy of my lifetime, at least I am back again to Africa.

After 45 minutes’ drive, then already we were in Lavington residential area one of the affluent states in Nairobi. Straight, then left we entered a seemingly well-fenced compound.

Inside that compound was a big bungalow surround by two makeshift structures which seem to be the newspaper’s editorial’s sections. Over there I saw some staff standing to look at our direction, and then we pulled over. Lenet jumped out saying here we have arrived our destination.

Shortly, as I was stepping down, there appeared a short white man with an extended stomach and short curly grey hair. He was wearing jeans and a white shirt with rolled-up sleep. In his interpersonal communication, he was very eloquent.

While staring at me with a broad smile, he said, ‘you must be Gwado’, I answered, ‘yes sir. Then I stretched my arm for a handshake, he said you are welcome to Nairobi. …Oh, you must be very tired, I know how difficult to sit through all the way from Europe to Africa. He commented.

‘My name is Dan Iffe, they call me here ‘Masungu’ or white man’, he said. ‘But, I am a South Sudanese and married from Wau. My wife whom you will meet later called ‘Nuna’.’ Dan Iffe was speaking as if he was in a hurry with short breathes; he was so excited and looks to be a very easy going, and open-minded gentleman.

In fact, he is an Irish of origin, he has been living in Nairobi for quite long, he knows a lot about the region especially, South Sudanese politics. He has a wide connection with most of SPLM commanders. He told me that he is a friend of many powerful SPLM/A commanders. And said, ‘I travel frequently to South Sudan’, I loved it!

Dan Iffe is the founder and the owner of the ‘Sudan Development Trust’ which runs ‘Sudan Mirror Newspaper’ a by-weekly paper published in Nairobi and posted regularity to South Sudan. He introduced a gentleman standing just next to him as John Gachie, the Editor-in-chief of the Sudan Mirror. He is a Kenyan with wide knowledge about Sudan politics and its implications in the region. He is outspoken and has so many friends among South Sudanese journalists.

Then some staff started to come one by one, they introduced themselves as Fr. Celestine from Wau, Moses Labasong from Kajo Kaje, Wol Manchok from Abyei and Ms Martha, a Kenyan working in the account section.

Dan Iffe told them about me saying, ‘this is Gwado from Holland; he will be here with us to manage Radio Voice of Hope’. Now, we will have ‘Sudan Mirror and Radio Voice Hope’ under the Sudan Development Trust. ‘Fantastic eh…’ he said to himself while staring down admiringly with his hands in his pockets.

He called for Lenet and asked him, whether he has secured accommodation as he instructed. Lenet told him yes, ‘we have already secured a house at Lavington State. We have signed a contract with the landlord and now it’s ready for our guess to move in immediately because it’s a furnished house.’

Then he said, is it not a good idea that we let Fr. Celestine and Muses Labasong join him later if the house has 3 bedrooms? Lenet said yes this is a good idea since the two of them were looking for accommodation, I think they can join him there to keep company. I was happy to hear that there would be two other people coming to share me the house; I said to myself this is good for my security in Nairobi.

Dan Iffe said, excellent, ‘now the issue of accommodation has been fixed. He instructed ‘Patrick to take me to the house, he said, we will meet tomorrow morning at 09:30 AM, Patrick will bring you around so that we discuss further the arrangement and your operations within the Sudan Development Trust.

I smiled and said to Mr Dan, thank you as I was trying to suppress yawning. I was so tired and I need to retire because of fatigue. Then got into the car and off to Lavington State. Later, Fr. Celestine and Moses joined me and occupied the other two rooms; I knew about that only in the morning while I was coming down to take shower.

At 08:55 the following day, I heard a vehicle pulling over outside the house; I knew that Patrick was already there. I went out and told him to wait a little bit meanwhile I am preparing myself. After I have freshened and dressed up, then I went and got onto the car, then Fr. Celestine and Moses Labasong joined me and we drove to the office which was just six minutes’ by car from our new accommodation.

At his office, Dan iffe told me everything about the arrangement he has had struck with Pax Christi management team in the Netherlands. He said, Radio Voice of Hope’s budget would be remitted into SDT account every month and then he would pay me my dues, and the money for contributors and operational cost of the radio.

He said Radio Voice of Hope would be renamed as Radio Nile! I said, fare enough, since you have already agreed with the project leader at Pax Christi in the Netherlands, I don’t have a say in that, only just to follow the instruction.

However, space for the studio was created at SDT, and I started to make 30 minutes program following the same mode of production and sent the complete program to the Netherlands for broadcast every Saturday morning. I managed to attract volunteers even from Nuba Mountains and some were on pay role.

As South Sudan was gearing towards the final phase of the peace agreement, many foreigners started to storm in from abroad with some hoping to strike deals of a lifetime. Donors were roaming about in Nairobi looking for viable projects to sponsor. Media and communication among others got the lion share in the midst of confusion. Money was flying around!

Some Kenyan colleagues were wondering, why money wasn’t coming their way yet. Though they were employed as senior officials at SDT, they believe Sudanese were getting preferential treatment. Something must be done to destroy this program!

However, the administrative crisis popped up when Ms Martha who is working in the accounting department complained about the money issue that SDT owed her. She wasn’t happy and threatened to wreck SDT if she wasn’t paid her dues in full.

Dan Iffe called for an urgent meeting with Lenet the administrator, Moses Lobasong, the accountant and Ms Martha who was the assistant accountant to discuss the matter and arrest the situation before it could explode. By the time when the four of them were due to meet, Ms Martha wasn’t on her desk, she didn’t report to the office that day.
Word went around that she went to the immigration office to tip them about SDT and that it’s Director, Mr Dan Iffe who’s a Masungu employing foreigners in his compound without a work permit.

A situation, which was threatening, if it’s found that some of us have been truly engaged without a work permit and had visa expired, then it’s a real shit...

To be continued next week…

Upcoming

‘When two men quarrel, do not allow them to share the same seat on a canoe’

Dedicated to the honest and fearless in South Sudan

Please, follow chapter 11 only on Media Projection Ltd