Cover of the book ‘Until Further Notice’ by Sam Kisika
“The cop locked the door after the detainee staggered out and proceeded with him to the reception, never to return again. Police officers went around the cells calling out names of the students being bailed out.
I was dazed and a flame of relief swept through my body when my name was called. I hobbled out in the bright sunshine to the reception. I was astonished to see Rosy waiting in the reception with the cash bail receipt. We had never talked since she busted me with Liz.
“Is he the one?” the officer asked.
“Yes, officer,” she answered softly.
“Okay. Young man, pick your belongings from there and do not riot again,” he ordered pointedly. “But I wasn’t rioting,” I protested in my head, but just nodded.
I sampled out my shoes and the belt from stacks lined along the wall and limped out abreast of Rosy, silently after putting them on and stuffing my phone in the blazer. She gazed at me nervously when I paused at the front door abruptly and welcomed her into my arms.
“Rosy, thank you for setting me free,” I whispered in her ear heartily.
“You are welcome, my love,” she breathed fondly.
“Hey, this is a police station and not a place for romance,” one of two police officers chatting at the front office archway, barked.
This scene from writer Sam Kisika’s stunning and very relatable “coming of age” novel ‘Until Further Notice’ captures both his style and the themes of (campus) romance and politics that are the twin threads that run throughout this well-written novel, a book that Justin Muturi, former Speaker of the national assembly and a VIP guest at the launch (at the Alliance Francaise) confessed he could “barely put down, once I began reading it, and that brought back the university politics I participated in that brought us to national prominence, and to principled leadership in Kenya.”
The protagonist in the book, a young fellow from Western Kenya, whose rustic nature and relationships Kisika captures in colourful, evocative strokes – both at the start and the end of this novel – lands as a true fresher in this city in the sun, Nairobi.
But this greenhorn will not stay so naïve for long, as he not only meets horny campus mates but also the juicy Jezebels and delicious Delilahs in dalliances that he, rather manfully, tries to resist, as he tries to stay true to his one true rose – but not always; as the fragrance of other flower(s) leads him down the garden path of pleasure(s), including all the way to Sabina Joy, where he encounters true twilight damsels.
Then there is the “fire fire” church whose services our hero attends – and although the preacher there does not claim to talk to God on ‘Whatsapp’ the way one ‘Rasputin’ looking prophet does (are the chargers in heaven all ‘Type C,’ or do we have some normal ones too?) – we see the charlatanic financial nature of some of our modern ‘apostles.’
Also, though this novel is set in a tertiary institution, with the perennial university strikes and long Campus closures that Hon. Justin Muturi lamented about at the launch, it could as well also be an allegory of the ‘bottom-up’ inefficiencies, to put it mildly, in our educational systems.
Currently it is the pioneer CBC ‘Grade 10’ learners in the headlines – with confused CBE curricula across the board, inadequate capitation, no books in schools (because publishers were only paid in mid-January, and just half at that) and hundreds of thousands of Grade Tenners still sitting at home, for lack of fees and uniforms.
Publishing consultant John Mwazemba at the launch also spoke, eloquently so, about how Until Further Notice mirrors our national politics in three ways. “Firstly, tribalism slithers into campus and infects student leadership and the calculus of elections. The two sides (KM’s and TiBu’s) mobilise along tribal lines through the regional tribal blocks on campus.”
The narrator, who was new to campus life, admits, “It was hard for me to fathom the unity behind my erudite tribemate’s move of forming an ethnic forum other than positioning themselves politically... We neither had such tribal groupings in primary school nor in high school. It was strange because we never secluded others in everything we did as learners based on our mother tongues.”
Secondly, in using money for political mobilisation. A character in the novel says that at the university, “votes are cheaply purchased, opposing voices’ loyalty is bought.” Just like in national politics, after attending a political rally, the narrator is given “10,000 shillings without breaking a sweat.” He says, “It was my first big money. I quickly felt the trouser pocket I stuffed my envelope in. It was still intact with the smartphone. A mixed mood of glee and maddening thoughts of a long wish list of competing items to buy whirled in my head. I was eager to start a new life in a very simple, well-furnished cubicle... I wanted a carpet, an electric coil stove, a television, a subwoofer, a suit, a pair of shoes, and clothes.”
Thirdly, in the use of violence to settle political scores. One character says that at the university, “the electoral system is corrupted for rigging. Also, goons are readily available for hire.” Both TiBu and KM hire bouncers and goons that attack each other “viciously like a pack of stray dogs. Screaming, wailing and groaning... one candidate’s supporter hit the remaining ballot boxes in a flash with kicks... as a humming ballot box flew across the room.”
Rowdy students riot all over the compound, attacking each other and smashing window glasses and vehicles in the parking lot with rocks...until teargas intervenes.
Politics, lust, religion and romance are the heady mix of this book, available at Nuria bookshop – and a perfect St. Valentine’s Day gift as any good book is.
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[email protected]. Mochama is the author of the Grade 10 KICD-approved ‘Catch Cher if You Can.’
