5

Kaniürü strode into the room confidently, holding a briefcase in his right hand. For him to be summoned to the State House in his own right for whatever reason, bad or good, was a great honor. One look at Sikiokuu, though, and he knew that all was not well. Then he saw the Ruler pointing at him. The size of the hand and of the Ruler came as a surprise to Kaniürü, but he did not let it show or unsettle him.

“We want to hear a full report from the deputy chairman of Marching to Heaven,” the Ruler told him, waving him to a seat next to Sikiokuu.

He also told Tajirika to move and sit next to Machokali, the two pairs facing each other. The arrangement made it possible for the Ruler to keep everyone within his gaze at all times.

“Your Mighty Excellency, I have a lot to tell, only I don’t know where or how to begin,” Kaniürü said as he opened his briefcase and ostentatiously pulled out file after file and put them down at his own feet on the floor.

“Why don’t you start with the visitors who bring you money?” the Ruler commanded.

Kaniürü did not look perturbed. The question and the hostile tone simply confirmed his own observation that Sikiokuu was in a tight corner and that, in the event of a crisis, his friend would not be able to help him. Now it was every man for himself.

He took his time arranging his files and receipts in proper order. He then sat up to explain himself.

It was indeed true, he quickly admitted, that when the Aburlrian business community learned that he had been accorded the unique honor of serving his Ruler and country as the deputy chairman of Marching to Heaven, they started visiting him, giving him what they called their visiting cards, which of course amounted to envelopes stashed with paper money. At first he did not know what to do with these envelopes, but after discussing the matter with his friend and benefactor, Minister Silver Sikiokuu, it was agreed that, of the money received, he would keep twenty-five percent, and the rest, seventy-five percent, he would put into Sikiokuu’s various accounts.

Sikiokuu could not believe his ears.

“What? Are you crazy?” he said in English, jumping up without knowing exactly what he would do. So he just stood there, pulling his earlobes in fury while appealing to the Ruler. “Your Excellency, can’t you see? My enemies have conspired with this man to discredit my name and character. I swear that I have had nothing whatsoever to do with these visiting envelopes. Kaniürü, so it is true what the Waswahili say, that a donkey shows gratitude through its kicks? Yes, asante ya punda ni tnateke.”

“My friend,” Kaniürü said affably, “I have one life like you and everybody else in Aburlria. The difference between my life and the lives of others is that mine is completely dedicated to the Ruler and there is no way I would ever tell a lie before him. Believe me, my very body would denounce me.”

“This man is lying through his teeth,” cried Sikiokuu in sheer frustration.

“Young man,” said the Ruler, “do you know that what you are saying is very serious? Do you have any evidence to back up your claims?”

“Your Mighty Excellency, I don’t understand why Sikiokuu is denying any knowledge of the envelopes and their contents. I can assure you that it is neither Sikiokuu nor I who solicited the gifts from these businessmen. This has absolutely nothing to do with bribery or corruption,” he emphasized in English.

“Yes, but I have had nothing to do with it,” said Sikiokuu.

“That’s true,” agreed Kaniürü, “but it is because I handled everything.”

“Where is the evidence?” the Ruler intervened. “I want evidence, not endless arguments.”

“May I approach?” Kaniürü asked the Ruler as if he, Kaniürü, were a lawyer asking permission to go near a judge’s bench.

Without waiting for an answer Kaniürü took a bundle of canceled checks and handed them over to the Ruler, showing that, every day for several months, Kaniürü had written checks payable to Silver Sikiokuu. All had a seemingly valid bank stamp showing that they had been cashed or deposited in Sikiokuu’s accounts.

What Kaniürü did not disclose was that his friend at the bank, Jane Kanyori, had set up a bogus account in Sikiokuu’s name to facilitate Kaniürü’s supposed deposits. Neither did he disclose that Jane Kanyori had given him a bank card in the name of Sikiokuu, enabling Kaniürü to withdraw the money he had deposited in Sikiokuu’s account and redeposit the money in his own at other banks. Everything according to the book. Kaniürü was an artist, and his calligraphic skills became useful in forging Sikiokuu’s signature.

“If my share of twenty-five percent is ever needed for any of our Lord’s self-help programs, I will part with it anytime,” Kaniürü declared, and returned to his chair next to Sikiokuu.

For once in his life Sikiokuu was at a complete loss for words. His mouth remained open, unable to deny, protest, or affirm his innocence. But his head was busy trying to figure out, without success, how and when he had wronged Kaniürü. Instead, what came to the fore were his own generous deeds on his friend’s behalf.

“Your Mighty Excellency, there is more to this than meets all of our eyes,” Sikiokuu finally said in a teary voice. “Please, I beg you to let me look into the whole matter and bring to light what is hidden in the dark.”

“There is a shorter and easier way of verifying this,” said the Ruler. “I will demand your bank statements.”

He gave the order and in a few minutes had the information he sought from the National Bank of Commerce and Industry. The records supported everything that Kaniürü had claimed.

In abject frustration, completely helpless, unable to expose Kaniürü’s lies, Sikiokuu, close to tears, just stared ahead.

The Ruler seethed inside. So much money made from Marching to Heaven, his own project, and not one cent had come his wayr Sikiokuu and even Kaniürü, a mere youthwinger, had already banked millions.

But suddenly he remembered something Tajirika had said earlier.

Substance was in the details. He quickly picked up the canceled checks and bank records and scrutinized them again.

Sikiokuu prayed with all his heart that the Ruler would find a discrepancy, something, however tiny, that would undo the harm done by Kaniürü.

“Let me ask you,” the Ruler said, waving some of the checks toward Kaniürü. “Here I see only records of Aburlrian money”

“Yes, my Lord,” Kaniürü said. “It’s all Burls.”

“Where are the dollars?” the Ruler asked.

“Dollars?” asked Kaniürü, puzzled.

“Yes, dollars. American hundred-dollar bills. Three sacks each five feet by two in one afternoon. Like Tajirika before you. Or did your visitors not look down upon the value of the Burl? They didn’t say, Bunni bur et”

“Got you, sucker!” Sikiokuu said to himself, rejoicing. “The cunning fellow has been caught red-handed.”

Tajirika also rejoiced, sure that his wiliness had placed Kaniürü in a situation from which he could not extricate himself.

And suddenly it all dawned on Kaniürü: Those businessmen had been paying Tajirika in dollars all along? Why had they not done so with him? Tajirika had not been the fool he had taken him to be. Still, Kaniürü thought quickly on his feet. Without seeming flustered in any way, he replied to the Ruler:

“There were some who wanted to pay in dollars. But Sikiokuu and I refused their offer. By accepting foreign currency we would have broken all the rules and regulations of the Central Bank concerning foreign exchange for nothing but self-gratification, and I am not very good with that kind of thing. Personally, I wanted something on the record that I could defend, even if I was found to have done wrong. I want to be judged on my record. I myself grew angry when I heard some of them talk as if they looked down on the Burl; one even said, Bunni bure. I am not the kind of person who can stand idly by while people say nasty things about our national currency. My friend and benefactor, Sikiokuu, was even more furious with them for their lack of patriotism. In short, we refused to be bribed in dollars.”

“Your Excellency,” interjected Sikiokuu, “I pray you to please believe me when I say that no such conversation about Burls and dollars ever took place between me and this scoundrel.”

The Ruler registered very little of what Sikiokuu had said. His mind was still preoccupied with the three sacks of dollars, for, to him, a bag of dollars was more valuable than all the Burls in Aburlria. He, too, thought the national currency worthless, its value always changing like a chameleon. He now saw Tajirika in a new light: here was a bright mind that knew how to make a dollar out of thin air. Kaniürü and Sikiokuu seemed to him foolish for insisting on being paid in Burls.

“Mr. Tajirika,” he said, turning toward Tajirika, “Kaniürü has told us what he did with his Burls. What did you do with your three bags of dollars?”

All eyes turned to Tajirika.