Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya Dr Samuel Kalibala Washington DC June 2024 The guy immediately put the pistol against Dr. Musa’s neck and told him in Kiswahili to put his hands down. He opened the back door and told Dr. Musa to get inside. He then followed, sitting beside Dr. Musa in the backseat. Having completed his day’s work in the office of the Population Council in Nairobi, Dr. Musa drove the Daihatsu Charade, a little car that the office had provided him for personal use until his Toyota Hiace arrived from Geneva, where he had worked for the World Health Organization (WHO) for five and a half years. It was already after 7 pm, and temperatures had cooled in the evening. He drove along a small dark road that joined the bigger Ngong Road, which had more than six disorganized lines of cars all trying to move out of Nairobi on April 29, 1998. He stopped and waited for his chance to join the traffic that was practically at a standstill. Three sharp raps sounded on his window. Without looking, Dr. Musa waved the person off, thinking that it was a vendor wanting to sell him something. Nairobi’s roadways were flooded with vendors at all times of day. They tried to sell their wares to drivers waiting in traffic, everything from small household items to flowers and maize. Vendors knocking on drivers’ windows were simply part of the norm. But this knocking was different. It became more violent and brutal, as if someone were using a metal object against the window glass. When Dr. Musa turned to look at the person, he was staring down the barrel of a pistol. The wielder was pressed close to the car, signaling to Dr. Musa to open the door and get out. Carjackings were not unheard of in Nairobi. Dr. Musa had even been briefed on them by his office administrator when he first arrived in January. He’d been warned not to fight or run or drive away. Rather, he should cooperate and do what the carjackers asked. The most important 1 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala thing was to come out unharmed. According to the office administrator, carjackers usually just wanted money and personal items, like watches and jewelry. Sometimes they even wanted the car. But they generally did not want to harm anyone. As these warnings echoed in his mind, Dr. Musa considered pushing forward into the traffic jam forcefully, honking the horn and making enough noise to get others’ attention. In the end he realized that people would think that he was just playing tricks to get a space on Ngong Road. Indeed, he’d learned this was a common trick played by drivers of commuter vans known as Matatus in Kiswahili, the main language in Nairobi. After weighing his options, Dr. Musa decided to cooperate with the guy with the pistol. He opened the car and stepped out; his hands held up. The guy immediately put the pistol against Dr. Musa’s neck and told him in Kiswahili to put his hands down. He opened the back door and told Dr. Musa to get inside. He then followed, sitting beside Dr. Musa in the backseat. “Put your head down below the seat,” the guy said as he closed the door. Meanwhile, another guy emerged from the bush to sit in the driver’s seat. Soon they were driving along the road. Dr. Musa had grown up in the neighboring Uganda during the days of military rule under General Idi Amin, from 1971 to 1979. He was familiar with soldiers ordering a person at gunpoint to enter a car. He had heard of people being forced into trunks of cars, folding themselves into the fetal position to fit before being locked inside. But he had never had a gun placed on him, and he had never been carjacked. He had never expected to experience this kind of torture in Kenya, a country considered peaceful. Feeling the cold metal on his neck sent a chill down his spine. He also felt a metallic taste on his tongue, as if he was tasting lead from a bullet. During his internship in the emergency department of Mulago Hospital in Kampala in Uganda, Dr. Musa had treated many patients with gunshot wounds. Those patients had been brought in from the war between the rebel movement of Museveni and the soldiers of Obote between 1981 and 1985. So, he was familiar with gunshot wounds. 2 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala He started to imagine what his gunshot wound would be. If the guy pulled the trigger in its current position, the bullet would shatter the nerves responsible for his breathing. He would stop breathing immediately and would have no pain. He preferred that type of gunshot wound to other scenarios. For example, if the bullet were to hit his lower back, maybe he would not die, but he would become sexually impotent, incontinent, and unable to walk. Having decided on his preferred gunshot wound, Dr. Musa started to bargain. He spoke in Kiswahili: “Brothers, let me know what you want, and I will give it to you, but please do not hurt me. Please take the car and leave me alone.” “Mzee, we are just after money to feed our children,” the first guy said. “We are not going to hurt you. Just stay calm and we will not hurt you.” As he spoke, he relaxed the pressure of the gun’s muzzle against Dr. Musa’s neck. Dr. Musa was surprised by the use of the word Mzee, which was a respectful term for someone older. The guy’s reference to feeding his children brought in another human aspect that made Dr. Musa feel that these were guys with a human heart, guys he could do business with and make a deal to give them what they want without harming him. Crouching down between the front and back seats punished Dr. Musa in two ways. First, the position was causing all kinds of painful muscle cramps in different parts of his body that made him badly want to get up and stretch a bit. Second, the gun guy’s shoes smelled really badly. Dr. Musa wondered when was the last time he changed his socks. With these two pains Dr. Musa took time to say a prayer and ask God that, if that was his time, to please give him a painless death and look after his three daughters. The car was moving, but very slowly. It was in the middle of many lines of cars on either side. Dr. Musa wondered how many other cars on Ngong Road had passengers in a carjacking situation like his. He prayed that God protected them too. The guy with the gun was busy emptying Dr. Musa’s pockets. He would find about 8,000 Kenya shillings, equal to just over one hundred thirty US dollars, along with six hundred US dollars, an international credit card, an international debit card, a local bank debit card, and a 3 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala driver’s license. Luckily, enough he was not carrying his passport because he was using a residence card issued by the Kenyan government. “What is this credit card from UBS?” the guy with the gun asked. “It is useless here,” Dr. Musa said. “I used to use it when I was living in a country in Europe.” He did not want to disclose much about himself. “What country?” the guy asked. “Switzerland.” “Swiza-what?” This conversation seemed to annoy the driver, who had been quiet while navigating the traffic. “You, man, stop asking about things you don’t understand. Just throw that card away. All we want is cash!” The guy with the gun shuffled through Dr. Musa’s cards faster. “How about this Chase Bank card? Where is Chase Bank in Nairobi?” “Stupid guy. Have you ever heard of that bank here in Nairobi?” the driver asked. “Just throw that card away!” “He has a Barclay’s Bank card.” “Yes, keep that one.” Dr. Musa started to worry that they were going to take him to an ATM and ask him to withdraw money for them. He had heard of people being carjacked and taken from ATM machine to ATM machine to withdraw money from their accounts. When they asked him for the PIN, he told them. He preferred that they use the PIN to withdraw the money themselves. The guy with the gun removed Dr. Musa’s watch. He was loosely holding the pistol. For a moment, Dr. Musa wondered whether he could do one of those heroic things and get the gun from the guy, but having never been trained in fighting skills, he gave up the idea. He also wondered for a moment whether this was a real pistol and whether it was even loaded with bullets. He had heard of criminals who could use a short metal pipe welded onto a short handle 4 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala to imitate a pistol or an unloaded gun. The little stubborn boy that lived in Dr. Musa’s mind was leading him into these thoughts, suggesting that the guys could be faking, and he could easily outfight them. But the rational mature person, who also lived in his mind, told him to stick to the script and follow the briefing from the office administrator, which was to offer full cooperation and not try to fight. Dr. Musa decided to try bargaining. “Brothers, you have got my watch and the debit card and a lot of shillings and—” The guy pressed the gun muzzle into his neck painfully and spoke harshly. “Keep quiet! Otherwise a bullet will enter your body.” The words brought back the lead metal taste to Dr. Musa’s tongue. The driver asked, “How many shillings have we got from Mzee?” “I haven’t counted yet, but it looks like only about 4,000.” Dr. Musa realized that the guy with the gun was a cheat. Not only did he not want Dr. Musa to disclose the six hundred US dollars, but he had also lied to his colleague by declaring only 4,000 shillings instead of 8,000. Dr. Musa wondered what sort of carjackers these were who had no ethics and lied to each other about the loot like that. He no longer trusted the guy with the gun. He liked the driver, but he too was helpless. With the gun, the guy in the backseat could take command and make the driver keep driving to anywhere he wanted. Dr. Musa did not like this kind of balance of power. He did not like carjackers who were so disorganized. He thought he was dealing with professionals, but these disorganized criminals could use their firepower dangerously when it was not necessary. “Mzee, where do you live?” the driver asked. “In Kileleshwa,” Dr. Musa said. This really scared him. He worried that they wanted to take him and kidnap his family members. When he separated from his wife and left Geneva, his oldest daughter, who was 14 years old and nicknamed Thing-One, had decided to come to Nairobi with him. At that moment, Thing-One was at home with the maid, probably wondering when Dad was coming back home that evening. 5 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala Dr. Musa started to panic. He did not want these guys to drive him up to his home and enter his house with him at gun point. He tried to dissuade them. “Brothers, you don’t have to bother taking me home. Just drop me anywhere. I can walk home on my own. Just take the car and leave me alone,” Dr. Musa pleaded. The driver laughed. “Mzee, I want to tell you that I would not take this little Charade car even if you gave it to me for free. We steal four-wheel drive cars, man. We are going to drop you somewhere where you can find your way home with your car, and we will go our way. So, just keep quiet and everything will end well.” With this statement, the driver seemed to be in charge, and the matter would likely end as he said. For his part, the guy with the gun was quiet. He relaxed the pressure from the gun against Dr. Musa’s neck. To Dr. Musa, it seemed like if he did not talk about the total amount of money that had been taken from him, the guy would not harm him. With this thought, Dr. Musa seemed to fall asleep. “You, Mzee! Wake up! Why are you sleeping?” The guy with the gun tried to rouse him. The driver laughed again. “So, Mzee, you think we are your drivers, giving you a tour of Nairobi at night? Sorry, sir, the tour is over.” “Get out, Mzee,” the guy with the gun said. “And do not put your hands up. Just behave like a normal person who is with friends.” Dr. Musa got out. He was surprised that he had slept through a good part of the carjacking and, when he got out, he casually yawned and stretched as if he was not under the control of armed robbers. He looked around and saw that they had pulled over on the left side of Ngong Road. The traffic had become lighter, but the cars were still bumper to bumper. As he was going through these thoughts, the driver touched him gently on the shoulder and pointed out directions for him. “Mzee, we are still on Ngong Road as you can see. When you join the road, you will drive for a short time, and you will find a road to your right. That should take you to Kileleshwa.” He shook Dr. Musa’s hand and said “Kwaheri, lala salama,” meaning goodbye and sleep well. Then he disappeared into the bush on the side of the car. 6 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala Dr. Musa looked back to see whether the guy with the gun would say goodbye to him too. However, being so unethical, the guy was not cultured enough to shake hands and say goodbye to a person they had just carjacked. He had already disappeared behind the bush. Dr. Musa hoped that the guy had not run away from the driver before sharing whatever part of the loot he could declare. He left that matter to the two guys and got into the car to go find his daughter. Having been calmed by the driver, Dr. Musa now drove calmly. When he arrived home, he looked in the backseat and saw his empty wallet as well as his driving license and residence card. He wondered where his UBS credit card and Chase Bank debit card were. When he entered the house and looked at the house clock, it was 11 pm. His daughter was seated in the sofa watching TV with the maid. “Daddy, where have you been? Why have you come home so late? We called your office, but the security guard said that you left around 7:00 pm.” Dr. Musa held his daughter close to his heart and prayed in tears thanking God for having saved him from the carjacking. After he had said amen, Thing-One spoke again. “What’s a carjacking?” Dr. Musa asked the maid to serve dinner and, once they were all seated and eating, he explained what had just happened to him. The maid’s English was poor, and she appeared confused, so he explained to her in Kiswahili. Once she understood, she fell to her knees and prayed, thanking God for saving Dr. Musa. Thing-One was really shaken. After eating dinner, he took her to bed and told her that the next day after school, he would take her to his office to call her mother. When he finally went to bed around midnight, his thoughts went first to his daughter. Had he done the right thing to offload the whole content of the story to her so suddenly? Should he have given it to her in bits? He wondered whether her school, the International School of Kenya, had someone who could counsel her. His thoughts then went to the two men who carjacked him. He wondered about how the driver had so casually parted with him. He also wondered at the lack of professional ethics on the part of the gun guy. As these thoughts went through his mind, he fell asleep. 7 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala The next day, after taking his daughter to the school bus stop and seeing her safely onto the bus, he went straight to the police station on Ngong Road to report what had happened. He walked to the desk and tried to get the desk officer’s attention. “Sir, I was carjacked last night.” He was expecting everything and everyone to come to a complete standstill and listen to his story. He expected to be interrogated and all his information taken down, and an investigational file with a file number of the case opened. He expected the police to give him his case number and promise that they would do everything possible to get hold of those criminals, keeping him updated along the way. However, he was surprised by the desk officer’s lack of interest, and that of the other officers standing around; they continued in their conversations in the same tone as before, as if Dr. Musa had not said anything important. “Sir, we have so many cases of carjacking. We do not investigate them unless someone has been injured or killed. So, there is nothing we are going to do about your case.” The desk officer spoke with finality. “I need to report this matter to my employers,” Dr. Musa said. “I need proof that I have reported this matter to the police. I need a police report to show.” “Don’t you understand that we do not have time to work on all the cases reported here on carjacking? For us to write you a report, we would need to write down your story and go with you to the crime scene and make drawings of the surroundings. We only do that if someone was killed or injured. Please understand.” After hanging around and seeing that surely nothing was going to be done, Dr. Musa turned to leave. As he was walking down the steps, one of the officers grabbed Dr. Musa’s hand. “Sir, how much was taken from you?” “They took 8,000 Kenya shillings, six hundred US dollars, one watch, plus my Barclay’s bank debit card.” “How much money do you think you had on your Barclay’s bank account?” the officer asked. 8 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala “Maybe 100,000 Kenya shillings.” It was equivalent to just over fifteen hundred US dollars. The officer took down his name and office phone number on the corner of the newspaper he was holding. “If I hear anything, I will call you and let you know.” Dr. Musa could not believe that his carjacking was not going to make it into the police books. His case was not even going to be a statistic! Next, he went to his office. His first responsibility was to call Barclay’s bank and ask them to cancel his debit card immediately. The bank representative was more interested in the details of the carjacking than the police were. “Sir, please give me the estimated time and place when it started and when and where it ended, as well as how much was taken from you. It looks like no money has been withdrawn from your account since last night. I will go ahead and block the ATM use of the account. A new ATM card will be sent to you by mail. It should arrive in about a week.” After giving her the information, Dr. Musa said, “A week seems like a long time. What should I do to get money to use today?” “If you need cash now, you can come to the bank with your checkbook and withdraw money in person from a bank teller.” Dr. Musa decided that the guys must have forgotten the PIN he had given them. Stupid guys! Dr. Musa then walked to the country director’s office to tell him what had happened. “I am very sorry, Dr. Musa. That is terrible! How are you feeling? Did they harm you in anyway?” “No, sir. I was not hurt.” “Well, carjacking is a serious event, and I want you to tell your story fully to the whole staff during today’s general staff meeting. I don’t want you to have to repeat the story, so I will wait to hear the full story in the meeting. In the meantime, if you need some cash, my assistant keeps the office’s petty cash. You can take out a small cash loan.” 9 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala Dr. Musa went to get the cash loan before going to the staff meeting. The staff comprised eight expatriates and twenty-seven Kenyans. They all listened quietly to Dr. Musa’s story. He also told them about his experience when he reported the case to the police. It seemed the carjacking was not newsworthy enough to the staff, but what was most interesting to them was how it ended. The almost unanimous reaction of the staff was to laugh out loud when Dr. Musa said he fell asleep during the carjacking. “How could you sleep through a carjacking? When you are carjacked, you need to stay awake and pay attention during the whole process,” one black expatriate staff member said. All the others, including the country director and Dr. Musa, laughed aloud. “Dr. Musa, I hope you now realize how we Kenyans have very courteous manners. Even when we carjack you, we take time to say ‘Kwaheri, lala salama.’ You see? We are not bad people,” a Kenyan staff member said. The comments were followed by more laughter. “Doctor, we have a tribe here that is said to love money so much that even a dead body would wake up when a currency bill is waved over the coffin,” another Kenyan staff member said. “Well, now you’ve seen for yourself how one guy was cheating the other guy in the middle of robbing you. I think that guy was probably from that tribe.” More laughter. A white expatriate said, “Man, now you have been culturally initiated into the Nairobi culture. Here, carjacking is what confirms that a boy has become a man.” He was subtly referring to the traditional male circumcision practiced by many tribes in Kenya. “But for you, the guys were kind to you. When I was carjacked, they drove me about thirty kilometers out of Nairobi and undressed me, leaving me in only my underwear and socks before driving away in my Land Cruiser. I haven’t seen it since. Luckily, it was daytime, and I could wave a white man down to take me home.” Although he told his story with some humor, the staff did not laugh, probably because he had lost his car permanently. Another white expatriate said, “That little street is a hard one to use to join Ngong Road. There are no lights, making it a high-risk area. We should name it ‘Dr. Musa Street’ to warn others that this is where Dr. Musa was carjacked.” More laughter. 10 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala Getting to the serious stuff, one Kenyan staff member said, “Dr. Musa, you should not have gone to the police to report it.” When Dr. Musa asked why, the staff member said, “It is rumored that the police are involved in the carjackings here. People think that some rogue policemen give the guys the pistols to go and rob and bring back the loot to share with them. In my view, I think that is why the police officer quietly obtained from you the exact amount you had lost so that he makes sure that the guys give him his fair share of the loot.” “If what you are saying is true, then the guy with the gun is in deep trouble because the police officer will disclose to driver the exact amount they got, especially the US dollars. I am sure first guy is going to be taught a lesson he will never forget in the ethics of carjacking!” Everybody laughed at Dr. Musa’s conclusion, and the meeting adjourned. Dr. Musa returned to the country director’s office. The country director said, “I am going to write a report of this matter to our headquarters in New York. But right now, I want you to meet with the administrator and work out what measures can be taken to improve your security in view of this carjacking.” In the administrator’s office, they agreed on several measures. Dr. Musa would use a different route to leave the office each day so that his movement was not predictable. The following week, another car would be back from the mechanic, and it would be given to Dr. Musa to use so that he would not always appear with the Charade. Mobile phones had just started to appear on the market, and the office had bought one for the country director and one for the administrator. “I will also propose that we buy you a mobile phone,” the Administrator said. “I also suggest that you should be in a phone and e-mail network with some fellow staff and some neighbors. These networks can help share information if a staff member goes missing. Finally, you should hire a security guard for your house in addition to the guards at the gate of the five-house unit. We will also install a motion detector and door alarm at your house.” After the administrator’s meeting, Dr. Musa called his daughter’s school and asked to talk to the school counselor. He told her what had happened. 11 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala She said, “Doctor, I am sorry that this happened to you, but I must say that carjacking has happened to quite a few parents in our school. It is a growing problem. In fact, we have set up a program to provide support to students who have been affected. Thank you for calling. I will talk to your daughter’s class teacher so that we can find a time for us to talk to her and assess her counseling needs. After that, I will follow up with her—and with you—as we move along.” Dr. Musa thanked her. That afternoon, Dr. Musa returned home and picked up his daughter after school to bring her back to the office, where he placed an international phone call for her to talk to her mother and her two sisters in Geneva. He asked her to explain what had happened. To give her privacy and time to be comforted by her mother and sisters, he left her in his office and closed the door. He went to the library. After the call, they returned home; along the way, he explained to her some of the new security measures that would be put into place. “Did the school counselor contact you?” he asked. “Yes. We set up a time to talk. She said this carjacking thing was becoming common among families of the school. Also, Daddy, I think I need someone to wait for me at the stop for the school bus and walk me home.” “That’s a good idea. I will get a second maid to be your escort. I will ask at the office if someone has a relative who is unemployed who wants to work as your escort.” When they returned home, Dr. Musa asked one of the security guards to wash the inside of the car thoroughly and take out the carpets to wash them, leaving them to dry overnight. He wanted to get rid of the smell of the criminals’ shoes. Although he had only smelled the shoes of the one man, he was sure that the driver had smelly shoes as well. That evening the security guard knocked at the door. “Mzee, see these cards? I found them behind the backseat.” They were the UBS and Chase cards. Dr. Musa thanked him, saying, “Asante sana.” The maid said her brother could be the additional security guard at home. He was currently unemployed. They bought him a security guard uniform and shoes, together with an 12 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala overcoat and a wooden baton, and he started work immediately. Meanwhile, a staff member’s niece agreed to wait for Thing-One at the bus stop. Since she lived far from Dr. Musa’s home, she moved into one of the rooms at the servants’ quarters while the other room was being occupied by the maid. Dr. Musa also reached out to his next-door neighbors to talk about being in a phone and e-mail network. The neighbors to the right were a young couple in their mid-thirties without kids. Both were working for international organizations like Dr. Musa’s. The neighbor to the left was a businessman who operated a chain of restaurants. He had just gone through a divorce, during which he lost the house to the ex-wife. That was why he was renting this house. Since he was in the restaurant business, he had brought in a man who was a professional chef from one of the restaurants to cook for him and his kids. He had two lovely daughters, aged six and nine, who immediately became friends with Thing-One and were in and out of Dr. Musa’s house all the time. They were surrogate sisters to Thing-One as her own sisters back in Geneva were in a similar age range. Thus, a network was built among these three houses. The young couple were computer savvy and quickly set up an e-mail network to send out all security information they got from their workplaces. Many of the stories were about carjacking, like Dr. Musa’s. However, a new trend of daytime robbery of people walking on sidewalks was emerging. One of the stories involved a guy who worked for an international organization who had been walking back to the office after eating lunch at a nearby restaurant. He’d been approached from behind by two strong young men, who lifted him by the armpits as a group came and took his shoes, emptied his pockets, and took his watch. Then the whole gang ran away. Apart from the regular news sharing, the network later became useful for sharing information with Dr. Musa when he was on duty travel. One week after the alarm system and motion detector had been installed, Dr. Musa travelled to Mombasa, a coastal city in Kenya, for a one-week meeting. He left after training all the people in the house, including Thing-One, her escort, and the maid, on how to use the system and how to punch in the codes. However, while in Mombasa, he received an e-mail from the neighbors saying that the alarm had gone completely out of control. 13 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala This was followed by a call to his mobile phone from Thing-One. “No matter how much we try to enter the code numbers, the alarm does not shut up! We even asked the neighbors to try, but nothing can stop the noise.” Dr. Musa called the alarm company on their emergency number, and they went to the house and disarmed the system for the night. The following week, a fresh installation was made, and new code numbers were provided. However, Thing-One said, “I will never arm this system when you are not at home, Daddy! The noise was so scary that it felt like we had been attacked.” Over the next two months, other parts of the enhanced security system started to disintegrate. First was the maid’s brother who had been hired to be the private security guard at the house. One morning when the escort returned from seeing Thing-One off to the school bus, she asked for a brief meeting with the maid and Dr. Musa. She spoke in Kiswahili. “Mzee, the security guard comes in drunk and sometimes comes with a woman and sleeps with her in the car shade. Is this acceptable?” the escort asked. The maid jumped in immediately. “No, sir, this woman is lying. My brother cannot do such a thing.” “Do you have a witness?” Dr. Musa asked the escort. “Yes. The guards at the gate see him coming with the woman, especially when you are traveling. One time they tried to stop her, but the security guard intervened and wanted to fight the guards at the gate. I can call in one of the guards at the gate to come testify.” Dr. Musa looked at the maid. “What do you say?” The maid started crying. “That brother of mine has defeated me. I had tried and got him this good job, but when he is paid, he just drinks all the time. He has a wife and two kids at home, but he is not sending them money. I don’t want him to ruin my job for me. I will ask him to stop coming to work starting this evening. Sir, since this is about two weeks into the new month, could you kindly give me half his salary. I will give it to him, and he will go away in peace.” 14 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala Dr. Musa gave her the money, and the matter ended there. When he told the office administrator about this matter, it was decided that Dr. Musa would be provided a security guard from the security company that provided security for the office. The new guy started work at Dr. Musa’s house the next day. However, the maid was probably not happy that the escort had reported her brother’s bad behavior to Dr. Musa. One Wednesday morning after the escort had returned from taking ThingOne to the bus stop, the maid asked for a quick meeting. “Sir, this woman brings a man into her room at night. She brings in the cook from next door!” Dr. Musa looked to the escort. “What do you have to say for yourself?” The escort shouted, “That woman is lying! Ever since I told you about her brother’s behavior, she has not been talking to me.” Dr. Musa asked the maid, “Do you have a witness?” “Yes, sir. Last night I called the guards at the gate, who witnessed the man come out of this one’s room. Should I call them to tell us what they saw?” Dr. Musa looked to the escort, who started crying. “Let me leave in peace,” she said. “I don’t want to live here near this woman. She is my enemy.” Dr. Musa paid her the salary and she left. That afternoon, Dr. Musa left work early to pick up Thing-One from the school bus. He told her that the escort had been called to go home because her mother was sick. Dr. Musa had asked the maid to say the same thing to Thing-One if asked. Luckily, the school term was ending that weekend, and Thing-One was leaving for Geneva on Friday night. So, for Thursday and Friday, Dr. Musa was the escort for his daughter to and from the school bus. After Thing-One’s departure, Dr. Musa talked to the new security guard about his role. “You see, when I go out in the evenings, I am at risk out there in the town, and yet you are here guarding an empty house. I want you to escort me whenever I go out in the evening. I think that 15 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala carjackers will avoid attacking a car with two people. What do you think about the arrangement I am proposing?” “Mzee, I would have no problem escorting you in your car, but my supervisor at times comes here on a motorcycle to make a random check as to whether I am here on duty at the house. We would need to give him some money so that he allows me to escort you,” the security guard said. “Yes. We will give him something small. You too, I will give you some small allowance for escorting me.” “You know, sir, I am supposed to report here at work at 6 pm, but if you want me to come at 5 pm or earlier, I can. After all, I do not work elsewhere during the day because I am supposed to be resting,” the security guard said. “Very good. On some Saturdays, I may want us to leave here at 2 pm to go shopping. Will that be okay with you?” The guard agreed. From then on, during evenings and weekends, Dr. Musa was always with the guard in the car. When he told people at the office about this measure, they liked it. They further suggested that sometimes when he did not feel like driving at night, especially when he went to a dinner where he might drink much alcohol, he could use one of the friendly taxi drivers who ran errands at the office. With these additional measures, Dr. Musa settled in into life in Nairobi, always having someone else in the car, either the guard or a friendly taxi driver. He thought he had a good security system set up for him and Thing-One when she returned in August for the new academic year. Unfortunately, on August 7, the American Embassy in Nairobi was attacked, and many people died. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Thing-One called from Geneva. “Daddy, I am sorry that the American Embassy was attacked. I am glad you were not affected. I know that the Population Council, being an American organization, is closely linked with the American Embassy. But Daddy, I have decided that I will not come back to Nairobi. It is 16 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala too insecure, and your job and my school are both at risk because they are American institutions. When I add this to your carjacking, I just feel unsafe, especially when you travel, and I am alone at home. I hope you understand.” “Yes, I understand, my child.” Dr. Musa’s eyes filled with tears. “I will see you when you come with Thing-Two and Thing-Three next July, as planned. We will go on safaris to see wild animals.” “Thing-Two wants to talk to you about the summer holidays next year.” “Daddy, I am sorry that you suffered so much during the carjacking. Me and Thing-Three feel that we should change our holiday plans. We would like you to meet us in Uganda instead of Kenya. We will feel safer there, and you can take us to visit our grandparents in Mbale.” Dr. Musa said he would think about it and get back to them. In early 1999, Dr. Musa went on a two-week duty travel to Johannesburg, South Africa. At the outset, his plan had been to rent a car for that period and drive himself around. However, when he read the news in South Africa, he learned that carjackings were on the rise in major cities, especially Johannesburg. What was most disturbing was that unlike in Nairobi where most victims of carjacking went unharmed, in South Africa most of the victims were shot and killed! Given such a situation, Dr. Musa opted to use taxis. He asked the taxi driver who took him from the airport to his hotel if he was available to take him to several meetings the next day in various places, including Soweto, Midrand, Pretoria, and other parts of Johannesburg. After the first day, Dr. Musa asked the driver to transport him every day for the two weeks of his stay. Dr. Musa made several trips to Johannesburg over the next couple of years, and he hired the same taxi driver every time, a concept he had learned from Nairobi, Kenya. While in Johannesburg, he stayed in the Sandton area, which had great eating places and shopping malls. One day he was walking in a department store in Sandston looking for some clothes, when a man in his early twenties emerged from among the clothes, as if he had been hiding. He said, “Sir, I am unemployed, and I have a wife and kids. We have nothing to eat, and my rent is overdue. Please help me and give me some money.” 17 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala Dr. Musa had seen the store’s notices posted everywhere stating, “No loitering or begging in here.” Now he understood the reason for them. It seemed people who needed money would come to the store posing as customers and then beg like this guy was doing now. Dr. Musa also understood why the guy had been hiding among clothes. He was probably hiding from security personnel. Dr. Musa was conflicted. As a responsible citizen, perhaps he was expected to notify the security personnel that there was a guy begging in the store. On the other hand, as a kind person, he was supposed to give the guy some money, although some people might argue that he was encouraging beggars to hang out in the store. He decided to neither disclose him nor encourage him and said, “I am sorry, I have no money to give you,” before walking away to the other end of the store. Soon the guy caught up with him and again surprised him by emerging from among clothes. “Sir, I do not want to steal. Please help me.” “I am sorry, my friend. I have no money to spare for you. Please go away. You are not supposed to be in here asking for money. Do you not see the signs saying no begging in here?” Dr. Musa spoke angrily but in a low voice, not wanting to draw the security personnel’s attention. Then the young man came back with a more desperate appeal. “Sir, I beg you. I do not want to steal. I do not want to kill. Please help me with some money.” At the word “kill,” a chill went down Dr. Musa’s spine, and he felt almost immobilized. He also tasted metal, as if he were tasting the lead of a bullet. He was feeling exactly the way he had felt when he was carjacked in Nairobi. He instantly put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a wad of South African bank notes. He gave the guy the money without counting it or making eye contact with him. Dr. Musa immediately left the store and the entire Sandton mall, heading back to his hotel feeling very shaken. Lying on his bed, he reflected on what had just happened. Did the guy rob him, or did Dr. Musa willingly give money to the guy? Did the guy have a pistol in his pockets? Had he ever killed someone? Why did he say the word “kill”? Was that a threat to Dr. Musa that if he did not 18 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala give him money, he would kill him? Or was the guy saying that if Dr. Musa did not give him money, he would have no alternative but to go out and kill someone to get money? Was this guy one of those carjackers reported in the news who shoot to kill their victims? Just like the Nairobi carjackers, this guy claimed he needed money to feed his kids. Dr. Musa also wondered how his body had reacted in the store in Sandton; was he going through post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) following the carjacking in Nairobi? The next day while in the taxi with his friendly driver, Dr. Musa told the driver the story and asked him some of the questions above. The driver nodded. “Sir, this is a very common practice these days. These guys go into the stores and beg from the customers, but they can be aggressive. I have never heard of any shooting of a customer in a store, but we usually hear of pickpocketing. Like in your case, he would have continued to observe your behavior and, when he saw you concentrating on maybe a shirt, looking closely to read its size, he would have slipped his hand in your pocket and taken your wallet.” “Oh, my God. It would have been easy for him to pick my pocket because each time he came to me, I was taken unawares. He would take me by surprise, appearing from nowhere. So, he was observing me while I was oblivious to him.” “It is worse with customers who pick up lots of clothing items before they go to the checkout counter because usually both their hands are full. Especially the ladies. These guys could easily sneak up behind them and take their purses,” the driver said. “Thanks for informing me, my friend. I still need to buy clothes here in Johannesburg for myself and my family. Is there a mall where I can shop in peace?” “No, sir. This is happening everywhere. There is no mall that is safe from those guys. What I suggest is that I go with you to the same mall. These guys only approach individuals, but if they see that you have a friend, the don’t come near you.” “So, this afternoon after work, we will go together so that I can do some shopping,” Dr. Musa said as he realized that he had adopted a second trick from Nairobi. In Nairobi, he always went with the personal security guard to do shopping. Now here he was going with the personal 19 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala taxi driver to do shopping. He gave the driver a little extra tip for being so kind to escort him while he did his shopping. The next time Dr. Musa visited Johannesburg, in addition to visiting the hospitals where his organization was conducting studies, he had been asked to find a residential house and space for a small office. The residential house would be for him and other staff from the Nairobi office to live when they worked in Johannesburg. They were conducting several projects in Johannesburg that required more and more staff from Nairobi to travel frequently to Johannesburg. It would save money for the organization if they had a house with several rooms that they would use when they came. The second assignment was to find a small office space where they could hire one or two local staff who would carry out local transactions and other activities of the projects as directed by staff from Nairobi via phone or e-mail. The idea for a residence that Dr. Musa had in mind was a house that could be accessed easily even with public transportation. He suggested this to the friendly taxi driver, who gave a very discouraging answer. “No, sir, you cannot sleep in a house accessible by public transport. That would be too risky and unsafe. You could easily be attacked by robbers.” “So, where should we rent the house I have described to you?” “The only place I suggest is a gated community. This is where people like you are living these days. Gated communities are emerging everywhere because it is the only way to keep safe.” “Gated communities?” Dr. Musa asked. “Yes, large housing communities with many amenities, including side paths for walks, swimming pools, parks, fitness centers, and places for games, all of which is enclosed and have one entry via a security gate. When a visitor comes to visit anyone in that community, they come to the gate and give the security personnel the name and house number of the person they want to visit. The security people then call the person and, if he agrees, they allow the visitor to drive in.” 20 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala After picturing the situation in his mind, Dr. Musa said, “I like the idea. How do we visit such a place to look at the houses there?” “Easy. We can go to one of those gated communities and tell the security personnel that we want to speak to the estates’ agent because we want to become residents.” “Great! Before we go there, I also want us to rent a small office where we can employ local staff who need to commute daily using public transport. Is that possible?” Dr. Musa asked. “Yes. That is possible. We can visit some office plazas where people like private lawyers and accountants rent offices.” Dr. Musa and the driver made preliminary visits to these places, and he found the places adequate and nice looking. He submitted his findings to his organization in Nairobi, and the following week the office administrator from Nairobi visited Johannesburg and made the visits, transported and guided by Dr. Musa’s friendly taxi driver. In a short time, the Population Council had acquired a residence in a gated community and a small office in an office plaza building in Johannesburg. Back to the situation in Nairobi, Dr. Musa had started to settle in as a survivor who had been initiated into life in the city through a carjacking. In a short time, his family also got used to Nairobi and even started to like it. For example, he had managed to convince Thing-Two and Thing-Three to start their summer holidays in Nairobi. They stayed there for a few days before he drove them in the Toyota Hiace to Uganda. After visiting Uganda, they drove back across the border to Kenya, where they took their flights back to Geneva. His organization offered free air tickets to his kids to visit him as a form of home leave for the kids, but the employer would only pay if they travelled between Geneva and Nairobi, not Geneva and Uganda. After a year in school in Geneva, Thing-One also seemed to have overcome her initial shock with carjacking. In the summer holidays, she called. “Daddy, I think I want to come back and study and live in Nairobi. I miss my friends there. I also want to go to university in Australia, but in Geneva I am studying in French, so it will be difficult.” 21 Carjacked in Nairobi, Kenya HISTORICAL FICTION | SHORT STORY Kalibala “I am really delighted about that. Let me contact the school authorities here.” Dr. Musa brushed away tears of joy. Thing-One returned to Nairobi, where she completed secondary school before going to university in Perth, Australia. The annual home leave arrangements for Thing-Two and Thing-Three continued every summer. Whenever each of the three girls reached their respective driving age, Dr. Musa would teach them to drive in Nairobi and Kampala, Uganda, where they took their driving tests and got their licenses. While living in Nairobi, Dr. Musa married his second wife, and they had two lovely daughters, whom he nicknamed Thing-Four and Thing-Five. Thing-Two and Thing-Three’s annual home leave and Thing-One schooling in Nairobi enabled the girls to get to know each other as they grew up. In January 2012, after working in Nairobi for 13 years for the Population Council and the International AIDS Vaccine Initiative, Dr. Musa moved to Washington, DC. When Thing-Two graduated in medical school in Geneva in December 2011, she chose to do a clinical attachment to study tropical diseases in the Aga Khan Hospital in Nairobi in March and April 2012. During the two-month period, she lived in Nairobi alone, without family, doing the clinical attachment. As she needed a car to get around, she used Dr. Musa’s last car in Nairobi: a four-wheel drive Toyota Land Cruiser. Dr. Musa did not talk to her or even worry about her risk of being carjacked. Thus, Dr. Musa’s love for Nairobi, as well as that of his family, had increased over time despite his initiation into Nairobi life by being carjacked. 22