PLOT TWIST

Plot twist: Barack Obama Sr. survived that road crash but sustained some serious injuries, so serious that he now walks with the aid of two bakoras. His faculties are still in great shape even as he approaches his 80th birthday.

The elder Obama still loves his Johnny Walker served “double-double” as he loved it back in the days he patronized The Hilton, The InterCon and other social attractions of those days. Though his finances limit his partaking. Age and infirmity have mellowed him, though his shortness of temper still does manifest occasionally.

Siting outside his Simba in Kogello, and being the father a sitting American President, he looks back wistfully at that time his American son came looking for him, seeking his identity and answers - wanting to know why never made any contact since his last visit to America.

The younger Obama seemed in conflict with himself, a young man trying to get a grip of his life. He had taken his father through his sojourns in Indonesia and the life he had shared there with his mother, half-sister and step-father. The elder Obama had nodded sagely as Barry narrated his experiences, including the breakup that led him to be taken back to Hawaii to the care his maternal grandparents.

Senior’s mind had momentarily flashed back to the university days when he and Ann Dunham were in a relationship that ultimately resulted in Barry’s birth. He nostalgically remembered the famous airlifts that he was a beneficiary. His mind wandered to those many letters he had penned to several American universities, seeking a scholarship. He still kept them in a little bundle, held together by a rubber band. He recalled the last argument he had with Ann’s family on this last visit when he tried to exert paternal authority on his young son. It had not been well received. His African pride wounded, he had resolved to relinquish his nominal parental responsibilities and move on with his life.

Of course he could not tell this to his son, who now sat on the small African stool outside his father’s Simba, both jointly exorcising the demons of their past. Young Barry knew better not to ask about the domestics woes that his father and mother shared in their brief dalliance. He had heard some of it from his mother and grandmother back in America.

But he could not resist asking him about his destroyed career. Here he was a Harvard educated economist, living in Kogello without formal employment and a means of livelihood. On this one he touched a raw nerve.

Barack Senior shot up, supporting himself with his bakoras and unleashed a diatribe that had his next door neighbors surreptitiously prying between the hedge, listening and ready to intervene if necessary.  

He was heard to shout,

“Mzee Kenyatta said I would never work in any part of this country! That I would be impoverished till I could not afford shoes!”

“Mzee Kenyarra said that?, Asked the young Barry, wide-eyed wondering what could possibly drive the founding father to cast such a life changing curse on one of his subjects.

“Yes!”, shouted the old man shaking with anger, “and all because I testified to the parliamentary committee that was investigating the death of Tom!”

“Tom Mboya?”, asks Barry, “the man who helped you to come to America?”

“Yes, that one! Son, get me a double-double!”

Young Barry rushed into his father’s semi-permanent house to fetch him a drink - at this point, he could not afford  Johnny Walker, and had to make do with some a second generation drink labelled Johnny Walter.

Senior’s rants caught the ear of Sarah, his  step mother and Auma, his daughter. In native Dholuo she confers with her son, castigating his recklessness with words and warning him that the dreaded Special Branch is everywhere eavesdropping.

A defiant Senior shouts back in a mix of Dholuo and English, daring any Special Branch within earshot to arrest him. It takes some persuasion from Mama Sarah for Senior to calm down and for normal conversation to resume. This was clearly not Senior’s first double today and he’s in a mood to let the world know, through his son, the tribulation the post-independence government put him through.

A curious Barry is trying to follow the conversation is dependent on Auma  to fill him in on the Dholuo parts. Being an ardent journal-keeper, he’ll transcribe the events of that day into his diary.

With calm restored, mama Sarah sets up a small stool and serves steamy ugali, Sukumawiki and fried omena. The two famished gentlemen, together with Auma, demolish the food as their father –who has regained his humor -regales them with tales of his other marriages, kids, local politics and Auma’s VW Beetle which he thinks was not worth the money bought. Thrice it has broken down, he points out, once along the Kisumu highway and they had to send for a jua kali mechanic to fix it.

Auma is quite defensive of her treasured possession, to a point of mocking the battered pick-up that their father has permanently parked in the compound after that accident. She even jokingly threatens not to drop Barry to the airport on his departure date, if he continues to laugh at their father’s mockery of the Beetle.

Barack Senior’s thoughts drift to the present. He smiles and picks his iPhone and dials the number the Secret Service gave him. The President’s aide in charge of Kogello picks the call:

“Hallo Mr. Obama, The President is currently on Air Force One as per schedule for the GES Summit in Nairobi, Kenya but is on a conference call with president Kenyarra. He says he will talk to you once he gets there”

“Thank you son, tell the president the whole family is looking forward to meeting him tonight”

“Will do, Mr. Obama. Will you be receiving him?”

“No, Son, I’m an old man and not in the best shape health wise. Auma will represent me. Tell him to have her ride in that car…what’s the name of that car The President rides?”

“The Beast sir”

“Thank you”

Click.