Softly Calls the Serengeti Read Online Free PDF Page B

National Archives should be her first priority for contemporary history.
    â€˜Here are some Luo people I’ve arranged for you to meet,’ he said, passing a typed sheet to her. ‘They will be able to give you a good introduction to Luo oral literature—a very important part of your understanding of the culture, I’m sure.’
    Charlotte ran her eye down the list. They were all Nairobi-based academics and businessmen. She asked if he also thought she should meet some more typical Luos, out in the Luo homeland around Kisumu.
    Dr Gilanga adjusted his spectacles before replying. ‘Hmm,’ hesaid. ‘Ordinarily, I’d agree. But travel can be so dangerous for foreigners.’ He frowned in concern. ‘I suggest we keep your interviews more structured, my dear. The people I have listed there are known to me personally. They’re all very well acquainted with Luo culture and history. Let’s keep it on the safe side, shall we?’
    Charlotte thanked him and, shortly after, bade him goodbye, agreeing to meet again soon to plan the next phase of her study.
    In the taxi on her way back to the hotel, she looked down the list of names again. In consideration of Dr Gilanga’s efforts to help her, she would speak to these people, but she hadn’t come all the way to Kenya to work in the constrained atmosphere of a cultural laboratory. She’d find a way to speak to the average Luo too.
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    Kwazi loaded his wheelchair with newspapers while Joshua sat on a nearby stack of them, reading. Beyond the lights of the distributor’s storeroom, the compound was quite dark, but in the east there was a hint of pink. Kwazi knew they needed to hurry if they were to make Kenyatta Avenue by dawn.
    â€˜Let’s go,’ he said brusquely.
    â€˜We must register to vote, Kwazi,’ Joshua said, his head buried in the newspaper.
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜It says only registered voters can vote in the elections.’
    â€˜So what?’
    â€˜So what! So we can vote for Raila, of course.’
    â€˜Who says I am voting for Raila? Or anyone else?’
    Joshua looked up from the page. ‘You are joking.’
    Kwazi busied himself with the newspapers, making them into a tidier stack on the seat of his wheelchair. ‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,’ he said.
    He was annoyed with Joshua for not helping him load the chair, and was in no mood for one of his election rants. SinceJoshua had become involved with Koske and his campaign to promote Raila Odinga for president, he’d seen little of his younger friend. When they did get together, Joshua was a bore, bragging about how he and his Siafu friends would harass Kikuyu stall-owners, painting slogans on their duka walls and threatening anyone who dared to protest.
    Joshua scoffed. ‘Of course you are. You’re a Kisii. You couldn’t vote for a Kikuyu.’
    â€˜Who says I’m a Kisii?’
    â€˜You do!’
    It suited Kwazi to be contrary at that moment. ‘Well, what difference does it make if I’m Kisii or Kikuyu or Luhya or what? I care nothing about the elections. Now let’s go—it’s getting light.’
    Joshua remained seated. ‘How can you say that? It’s very important that we boot out the Kikuyu.’
    Kwazi looked at him and laughed. ‘Listen to you. They are all the same, these politicians. We booted out the Kalenjin because he was corrupt. Then the Kikuyu Kibaki comes in promising to end it. All the promises about this and that. And what happened?’ He stuck his jaw out, but Joshua would not respond. ‘Nothing! Nothing happened. So don’t tell me Odinga will do any better.’
    â€˜I am telling you he will! Raila is a Luo. He will make a difference.’
    â€˜Hah!’
    â€˜He will make a difference to Kenya and he will make a big difference in Kibera.’
    Joshua was referring to the fact that Odinga was not only a presidential