Day Six: the sins of the sons

The boy had done what anyone would have done. A child of the raped, living alongside rapists. The matatu’s roof groans with the crates of hens and goats, on top of which sit children, eyes slitted against the dust. The man is going to Nairobi. He has been told that he can meet there with the chief of police. He doesn’t believe it but they have given him a ticket. The woman he spoke to, blonde, in a pale safari suit, looked pleased when he nodded at the translator’s words. That’s settled then, she said, and bowed her head briefly to acknowledge him before closing the case and turning to exit. The…