On Saturday morning Warĩĩnga was visited by her landlord, the owner of the house in Ofafa, Jericho, Nairobi, in which she rented a room. (A house or a bird’s nest? The floor was pitted with holes, the walls gaped with cracks, the ceiling leaked.). The landlord told Warĩĩnga he was increasing her rent. She refused to pay more. He ordered her to quit the premises that instant. She objected, declaring the matter should be referred to the Rent Tribunal for settlement. Her landlord climbed into his Mercedes Benz and drove off. Before Warĩĩnga could blink he had returned with three thugs wearing dark sunglasses. The landlord stood at some distance from Warĩĩnga, arms akimbo, taunting her: “There I have brought your Rent Tribunal.” Warĩĩnga’s things were thrown out of the room, and the door was locked with a new padlock. One of the henchmen tossed a piece of paper at the girl, on which was written:
We are the Devil’s Angels: Private Businessmen
Make the slightest move to take this matter to the authorities and we shall issue you a single ticket to God’s kingdom, or Satan’s-a one-way ticket to Heaven or Hell.
Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong’o, “Devil on the Cross”, 1982
Photo: R. Kennedy Stephen
