THE MISSING SEATS

OCCURRENCE BOOK (O.B)
Justice be our shield and defender…
Missing Seats.

There were five people already waiting outside, all seated on the bench just next to the flagpost. The blue, yellow and red colour of the police force dominated the serene compound. There was evident tension amongst them, punctuated with continuous accusations and counter accusations.
“What is the problem now?” the shorter and heftier policeman asked the crowd as he opened the gate to the counter. All five walked in behind the two smartly dressed policemen.
“Who came first?” the taller – though still short by military standards, asked.
An old man with a walking stick, straw hat and heavy boots rose up and spoke. “I was the first one here with this young boy.” He pointed at the ‘boy’ who did not look amused by the reference.
“State your problem,” the policeman invited.
The old man, like all villagers, started his story right from the beginning. “I have eight children, five male and four female.”
“Just state the problem omusakhulu, we don’t have the whole day,” cut in the taller policeman.
The old man looked hurt but he skipped the details. “We buried my daughter yesterday. And today these people claim that fifty of their plastic chairs are missing! He wants to be paid shs.50 000 for the missing chairs!”
“So the problem is the missing plastic seats,” concluded the first policeman as he turned to the ‘boy’.
“I am not through yet. Today, this ‘boy’ came to my village with ten men and took away two of my biggest bulls,” the old man added. “Mannerless young men with no respect for elders!”
The accused stood to defend himself, “I have my records here,” he interjected as he produced a neat exercise book.
“Who told you to talk?” the taller policeman peered at the man. He quickly apologised and sat down.
The policeman satisfied with his powers now declared, “Now you may speak! But first, is it true that you took away his bulls?”
The man produced his book. “Here are the records of the seats borrowed.”
“Young man, did you hear my question?” the policeman reminded him in a very low tone that spelt impatience.
“Yes, I had to take two of his bulls because 50 of my chairs are missing,” the young man defended himself.
“So you are now a policeman, prosecutor and judge? You have taken our job,” the taller policeman told the young man in the same tone as before.
In the village set up, there are very few secrets. Everyone knows everybody’s else’s story. Soon the other three who were waiting along joined in the debate.
“It is said that they hire out seats and then steal them so that you can pay for them,” one villager muttered as a matter fact.
This time the policemen did not interrupt. They seemed to know something as well.
Another woman joined in the fray. “Last month they claim to have lost a total of 250 seats during funerals, yet they still hire out more seats. Where do these seats come from?”
The accused was up to defend himself. “I replace them immediately. This is business and I have to survive!”
“Or you have your own people who steal the seats from the functions,” replied the lady. “You know, women talk and the women from your village are talking.”
The two policemen were definitely enjoying themselves. “And what have the women in the village been saying?”
The lady now buoyed by being the centre of attraction at the police station went on with her story. “Each time there is a function, men are contracted to steal the seats which they are paid for. The going rate is shs.100 per seat returned.”
The old man, who obviously had not heard such stories before, shot up. “I want my bulls right now!” he bellowed.
“You will get your bull omusakhulu,” the taller policeman assured him. He turned to the young man. “And how many people have you defrauded?”
“None!” he exclaimed. “I am a law abiding Kenyan and I swear by the grave of my mother that I have not stolen from anybody.”
“Should we lock you up and then go the village to investigate this matter?” the shorter policeman asked.
There was silence as the young man contemplated the prospects of being in cell.
The policeman took the silence as a sign of consent. “You have up to tomorrow evening to return all the money that you have collected from people illegally.”
“But let him start with my two bulls,” the old man pleaded.
“Of course, he will start with your bulls.”
And with that the party walked out of the police station to go and start the process of recovering stolen goods.