At nine o’clock sharp, Rafiki was standing face to face with the County Security Committee inside the DC’s office. The inquisition was chaired by the District Commissioners and comprised of the District Security Committee, DSC, the District Police Chief, DPC, Chief Majengo, CM, head of the Criminal Investigation Department, CID, the head of the District Development Committee, DDC, the Commissioner of Women’s Bureau, CWB, the Nanyuki Mayor and numerous other county officials and people he had never imagined would want to talk to him. Everyone had a place card bearing his job initials on the table in front of them. Rafiki had a time trying to figure out what the initials meant.
He knew enough not to underestimate any of them. They could have him tossed in the black hole and rarua him in ways that would shock a Trench Town thug. But first, perhaps to put him at ease, they toyed with him. Where was he born and where did he live? How many wives did he have? Did he have children with any of them? How old were they? All of it information they already had, seeing as they were the county intelligence pool. Rafiki answered them non-the-less, apparently correctly, for, after a while, they gave it up and turned to business.
The DC took over the inquisition. He had heard much about Rafiki, all of it so bad he did not care to go into it. He had heard so many allegations and accusations that he knew not where to begin. He had heard, for example, that Rafiki had run amok in Majengo.
“The whole county,” revealed the CDO. “The whole county?” Marvelled the DC. “The district too,” said the DO. “I have heard reports that women are beating their husbands demanding transparency, asking proof that they have paid for household appliances.”