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| (c) Copyright 2007 by HM Inc. + Meja Mwangi |
no country for a woman
The settlement materialised like a chameleon out of the bush ahead.
As they got closer it turned into a dust-blown frontier town. It
comprised of ten buildings, the largest of which was the police post,
distinguishable from the rest by the flags flying in its courtyard and a
landrover marked POLISI.
A few dozen meters from the police post was the road block, a simple
affair comprising of a pole barrier with a couple of sand bunkers on
either side of the road.
As the convoy approached, a massive, moustachioed officer stepped
onto the road and raised his arm. Noah’s Ark slowed to a stop. Jack,
Eddie and Gail stepped down to face the police officer. He was dressed
in a neat khaki uniform and carried a small machine gun in addition to
the pistol at his hip. The rest of his men, about two dozen in all, were
armed with various automatic rifles.
“Good morning, officer,” said Jack Rivers.
The big man ignored him as he watched mouth open, amazed at the
size and length of the convoy. It stretched back as far as the eye could
see. Some of the trucks were only just beginning to stop, others still
coming.
“What is this?” asked the officer seriously. “A circus?”
Eddie burst out laughing. Jack and Gail smiled. The man looked from
Eddie to Jack, smiled at Gail, turned to the men and offered his hand to
shake.
“Good morning,” he said. “I am Chief of Police in this place. Captain
Hussein, they call me.”
“Nice to meet you, Captain,” said Eddie shaking hands. “Is there
perhaps coffee in this place?”
“Coffee?” asked Hussein awed by the size of the convoy.
“Oh yes there is coffee, plenty of coffee. But first things first. Who are
you? Where are you going and what do you carry?”
“Well, Captain,’ said Jack Rivers. “That’s a long question.”
“Good,” said the Captain. “It is tiring being Chief of Police at this
place where nothing happens.”
Turning to his men he said, “The papers, check the papers,”
His men hastened to do as ordered.
The captain turned to Jack.
“What do you carry?” he asked.
“Famine relief,” said Jack. “For Arrakan.”
The Captain nodded to himself then slowly walked down the line of
trucks. Jack walked with him. Eddie and Gail tugged along.
“What’s this place?” she asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know,” said Eddie. “It isn’t on any of the maps we looked at.”
Captain Hussein glanced back at them, then at Jack and kept walking.
There is much blood in Arrakan,” he said. “Have you been there?”
“Yes,” said Jack.
At this pace, it would take them all day to get to the tail of the
convoy.
The Captain stopped to look under a truck and on looking up stared
Jack in the eye.
“So you know how far it is?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Jack.
“Why didn’t you go down from Adan?” he asked. “It is much nearer
that way.”
“The port was jammed in Adan,”answered Jack carefuly. “The ships
could not off-load in time and this cargo is urgently awaited in Arrakan.
Many people are dying there from hunger.”
The Captain nodded. “I have heard.”
He seemed to notice Gail. He scrutinised her and appeared
impressed by her simple beauty.
“Who is she?” he asked. “Your wife?”
“No.”
“It is no place for a woman.”
“She is a doctor,” said Jack.
That seemed to settle that. He walked two more trucks down,
peered under the third one and on looking up asked, “How many
lorries?”
“One hundred.”
“One hundred!” he was genuinely impressed. “I have never seen so
many before. Are you Red Cross?”
“Famine Busters,” said Eddie.
The Captain scrutinised him.
“I never heard of you,” he said.
As they approached Gibril’s truck, Gibril ducked out of sight.
“Gibril?" called the Captain. "When did you come out of jail?”
“Soon,” said Gibril, keeping out of sight.
The Captain turned to Jack Rivers.
“Now we go back to the post and wait,” he said. “You want to have
coffee?”
Without waiting for an answer, he led the way back along the convoy
to the roadblock. There he issued further orders to his men in Arabic
before leading Jack, Eddie and Gail to the mud and thatch police post.
READ ON ...
The settlement materialised like a chameleon out of the bush ahead.
As they got closer it turned into a dust-blown frontier town. It
comprised of ten buildings, the largest of which was the police post,
distinguishable from the rest by the flags flying in its courtyard and a
landrover marked POLISI.
A few dozen meters from the police post was the road block, a simple
affair comprising of a pole barrier with a couple of sand bunkers on
either side of the road.
As the convoy approached, a massive, moustachioed officer stepped
onto the road and raised his arm. Noah’s Ark slowed to a stop. Jack,
Eddie and Gail stepped down to face the police officer. He was dressed
in a neat khaki uniform and carried a small machine gun in addition to
the pistol at his hip. The rest of his men, about two dozen in all, were
armed with various automatic rifles.
“Good morning, officer,” said Jack Rivers.
The big man ignored him as he watched mouth open, amazed at the
size and length of the convoy. It stretched back as far as the eye could
see. Some of the trucks were only just beginning to stop, others still
coming.
“What is this?” asked the officer seriously. “A circus?”
Eddie burst out laughing. Jack and Gail smiled. The man looked from
Eddie to Jack, smiled at Gail, turned to the men and offered his hand to
shake.
“Good morning,” he said. “I am Chief of Police in this place. Captain
Hussein, they call me.”
“Nice to meet you, Captain,” said Eddie shaking hands. “Is there
perhaps coffee in this place?”
“Coffee?” asked Hussein awed by the size of the convoy.
“Oh yes there is coffee, plenty of coffee. But first things first. Who are
you? Where are you going and what do you carry?”
“Well, Captain,’ said Jack Rivers. “That’s a long question.”
“Good,” said the Captain. “It is tiring being Chief of Police at this
place where nothing happens.”
Turning to his men he said, “The papers, check the papers,”
His men hastened to do as ordered.
The captain turned to Jack.
“What do you carry?” he asked.
“Famine relief,” said Jack. “For Arrakan.”
The Captain nodded to himself then slowly walked down the line of
trucks. Jack walked with him. Eddie and Gail tugged along.
“What’s this place?” she asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know,” said Eddie. “It isn’t on any of the maps we looked at.”
Captain Hussein glanced back at them, then at Jack and kept walking.
There is much blood in Arrakan,” he said. “Have you been there?”
“Yes,” said Jack.
At this pace, it would take them all day to get to the tail of the
convoy.
The Captain stopped to look under a truck and on looking up stared
Jack in the eye.
“So you know how far it is?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Jack.
“Why didn’t you go down from Adan?” he asked. “It is much nearer
that way.”
“The port was jammed in Adan,”answered Jack carefuly. “The ships
could not off-load in time and this cargo is urgently awaited in Arrakan.
Many people are dying there from hunger.”
The Captain nodded. “I have heard.”
He seemed to notice Gail. He scrutinised her and appeared
impressed by her simple beauty.
“Who is she?” he asked. “Your wife?”
“No.”
“It is no place for a woman.”
“She is a doctor,” said Jack.
That seemed to settle that. He walked two more trucks down,
peered under the third one and on looking up asked, “How many
lorries?”
“One hundred.”
“One hundred!” he was genuinely impressed. “I have never seen so
many before. Are you Red Cross?”
“Famine Busters,” said Eddie.
The Captain scrutinised him.
“I never heard of you,” he said.
As they approached Gibril’s truck, Gibril ducked out of sight.
“Gibril?" called the Captain. "When did you come out of jail?”
“Soon,” said Gibril, keeping out of sight.
The Captain turned to Jack Rivers.
“Now we go back to the post and wait,” he said. “You want to have
coffee?”
Without waiting for an answer, he led the way back along the convoy
to the roadblock. There he issued further orders to his men in Arabic
before leading Jack, Eddie and Gail to the mud and thatch police post.
READ ON ...
| In this novel Meja Mwangi brings this genocide to world attention in a manner that never declines to apathy yet the skill captivates. Weapon of Hunger is an engrossing piece that takes us to this dehumanised land of want. Meja Mwangi goes beyond the narration of known facts. Meja creates a literary plot around the much publicised concord of entertainers who sensitised the world to this ruin. It was that effort which sired We Are the World. Meja Mwangi scores several successes in this novel: creating fiction out of the African dilemma and helping to sensitise humanity against the atrocities in countries like Ethiopia, Sudan and elsewhere. It is a perfect work of imagination in which a Kenyan has brought his readers to the doors of the tragedy. Okech Kendo, Sunday Nation |
| Weapon of Hunger |
| Weapon of Hunger is perhaps Meja Mwangi's best book yet. The picture he paints of the relentless quest for modern Africa is grim. What is most depressing, is that there seem to be no solutions. Western philanthropists, such as Jack Rivers, are portrayed in a favourable light as sincere people. All their energies, however, are expended on trying to understand Africa's problems and once they understand them they realise that the problems are beyond them. As for the Africans themselves, they could have provided solutions, but since they are lined up in warring factions, that is impossible. While the two sides fight on to the finish, will million of ordinary people continue to starve to dead? That is the questions which Meja Mwangi asks himself and which he asks the readers of weapon. Lyne Mansure, Weekly Review |
| Weapon of Hunger hm books 2008 ISBN 978-0-9796476-5-9 |
| The rebels of Arrakan Liberation Front claim they are defending their territory against a regime that wants to kill its people and exploit its rumoured oil resources. The petrodollar claim is dismissed by the government as rebel propaganda. The government has decided to seal the wells, bomb the once fertile lands in rebel zones. This is the Weapon of Hunger. There remains a tired barren land of reckless sand. Hunger. But the government still denies that people are dying; Meja Mwangi writes; "The guerrillas had known of the famine even longer than the Americans . . . their attempts to draw world attention to the looming catastrophe had been dismissed by the free world as mere rambling of malcontent outlaws". |
| Weapon of Hunger |
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