The thing about Chifu is that, much like my boss here at the police post, the man is quite long in the tooth. You could even say that nowadays, he counts his remaining days on earth backwards from the moment the man with a white collar sticks him into the ground and pronounces “Ashes to ashes”. That is, if he does indeed find a man willing to lie with a straight face and say anything good about our departed chief.
You see, before I came here, the chief used to run the village the way gangsters run their gangs. He is a mountain of a man, and his big old hands were always dirty from dipping them in one filthy pot or another — chang’aa dens, land grabs, biased dispute resolutions. You name it, it had Chifu’s fingerprints all over it. He even used to charge the lorries collecting the harvest from the farmers. If you were too keen to “play it by the book”, the rains came early and the farms became inaccessible.
No one told me this when I was transferred here, but I believe Chifu was among the main reasons for setting up the police post. A counter-balance of sorts, seeing as Chifu was getting too big for his britches, as they say. You can, therefore, see how our presence here would rub dear old Chifu the wrong way, and personally, I’ve had enough run-ins with him to last me a lifetime. But that’s a story for another day.
Today, Chifu wobbles into the police post (his legs aren’t as strong as they used to be) and demands to see the boss.
“Good morning, Chief,” Sgt Sophia greets him. “I’m afraid the boss isn’t in at the moment, but my partner and I can help you with anything you need.”
“What would you wet noses know about the law?” he growls.
“Enough for someone to trust us with uniforms and working guns.”
“You mean someone stupid enough to think you can mess with the natural order?” He spits out a glob of tobacco juice. “You kids nowadays make me sick to my stomach. Barely out of your wet, poopy nappies, and you think you can just walk in and take what your forefathers spent a lifetime building.”
Not one to take anything lying down, Sophia goes toe-to-toe with Chifu.
“I’m sorry, Chief,” she says. “Has anyone offended you in some way?”
Chifu spits again, a bigger wad of saliva this time.
“Your mere presence offends me to the core.” He cuts me a look that could cut granite. “This one in particular is the kind of filth that makes me doubt that God created all humans.”
Sophia looks at me, amused.
“This one here? What has he done now?”
“I know you two are sort of married, but has he told you he abandoned his son? My own grandson?”
Now Sophia is no longer amused.
“He did what?”
“But that’s neither here nor there. I am here to discuss the matter of my succession.”
“Ah, but that’s not up to us,” I say, avoiding Sophia’s accusing stare. “You put in your papers of resignation, and the county appoints your replacement.”
“Nah. That won’t do. My son will be the next chief of Jiji Ndogo. Simple.”
“Chief—” I start before Sophia spins me around.
“What’s this about you having a son?”
