Open Writing

Chapter 24
Faith and Patience

The bank was opened at 9.00 am sharp by a man dressed in a
business suit. Not such an extraordinary observation, you might feel,
but it was the first time I’d seen this garb in many a year. He nodded
warmly to a passer-by and stood at the entrance adjusting his bright
blue tie, seemingly relishing the morning air. It was as if, like a greengrocer
or a fishmonger, he was waiting to greet the first of his customers.

Within minutes, a steady flow of people began to enter the
building.
I watched from the front veranda of our eatery as the boy followed.

We’d found him the previous afternoon shining shoes for
tourists outside the Dream of Africa Hotel. He was fourteen, short for
his age and certainly looked younger. A clever-clogs, his English was
immaculate. As instructed, he wore his school shorts and a pressed
white shirt. On his back he carried a blue rucksack which would
normally have been stuffed full of books, with perhaps also a samoza
or two, and a drink for his lunch break.

‘Remember, you must go to the counter which says “Foreign Ex-
change,” I’d told him. ‘Hand over this envelope. It contains a little
note from us to the Manager and an important code. When he has
read our letter he should ask for your bag, into which he will place
some money for you to carry out of the bank. If he asks you any
other questions at all, just walk away,’ I advised.

‘Okay,’ he replied simply. ‘Am I robbing the bank or something
like that?’ he’d asked, as if enquiring about the time of day.

‘Not robbing, dear boy. The Manager will just be closing our account.’

‘Then why don’t you go?’

‘Listen. It’s a tajamala. Some bad people may be looking out for
us. They want to take our money. They won’t have their eye on you.

Because you are a nice schoolboy, right! We like you too. We’re going
to give you two hundred euros for helping us. Do you know how
much that is? It’s a lot of shillings eh?’

‘Hakuna matata,’ he replied phlegmatically. No problem.

‘That’s my boy. Now, tell me again what you do when you have
the money safely packed into your rucksack?’

‘I come over here to the restaurant. I don’t come to sit beside
you. Instead I go to the toilet, lock the door, stand on the seat, open
the window .........’

‘Right. And you pass the rucksack outside to Mr Nimrod. When
you are sure he has it in his hands you walk past me again, but this
time you pick up a special rucksack which I have prepared for you. It
is just the same as the other one. In it you will find your school
books, some presents, a change of clothes and your money. Just pick
it up and leave without saying anything to me. Got it?’

‘Ndiyo.’

We knew the bank’s security procedures would be derisory in a
tourist town. It all went like clockwork.

**

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