AT NO COST

Retired Air force Brigadier Uncle Roy Gilo, is now clocking close to seventy but remains extremely hardworking, hard-drinking, clever, competent and even if retired loves dressing in top quality clothes as a  matter of course. He is also popular with his immense popularity attributed to his love of spinning some good yarns. This only happens though after partaking at least eight tots of his favourite drink of Rum.

His tall tales are embellished with apt descriptions in a controlled voice and pointed pauses of the natural storyteller.  His unnaturally bent nose further adds to the credence to the tales. I call his bent nose unnatural in the sense that it had once been broken and the surgeon did a poor job fixing it. I had asked him how he had ended up acquiring such a nose. Uncle had taken a long drag of his cigarette, sipped his rum, shook his head like a soaked dog and with a twinkle in the eye slowly narrated to me the story.

It had happened about forty years ago, Uncle says, in the late seventies when flying was almost a luxury and exclusively for the wealthy or for government employees. Flights were also not common and an aircraft crossing a continent had to do with several short hops and several connections. It was also during the apartheid regime in South Africa with aircraft then landing in the country having not allowed landing in any other African country except for Rhodesia and Egypt.

Long story short, Uncle Roy, a military sports administrator then, had attended a five day fully sponsored sports administrator’s symposium at Bangkok, Thailand. His route  back home was to be through  London where he had to spend 48 hours awaiting a British Overseas Airways Corporation  (BOAC) connecting flight f south to Nairobi.

Bangkok as a city even then, had been famous for its wild atmosphere. Nothing was off-limits and was a place where every one of the seven deadly sins could be gleefully practiced. Uncle Roy loved such arrangements.

With the symposium over and booked to fly home the following day, Uncle Roy took time to sample the delights of Bangkok; He said, in his words –“Wanted to expel all the negative toxic energy before drifting home all empty”.

Bangkok did not disappoint as each part of the city had an intriguing story to tell. Uncle visited several of the many dazzling temples, the spectacular palaces, the snake parks and the world-famous floating market of Chinatown. Insistently, Uncle Roy also made time to visit the select places especially meant for adult audiences (Uncle Roy would). He lapped generously at the adult experience, ended up overindulging and getting wrapped up in the warm throbbing embrace of a petite Thai (pun intended).

The following day Uncle Roy had woken up late after the night of purchased copulation, finding the beautiful partner had conveniently disappeared with his wallet. Luckily, Uncle Roy’s passport and air ticket had been kept in safe custody by the hotel. Dishevelled, confused and with a splitting headache, he managed to find his way to Suvarnabhumi International Airport using the hotels courtesy bus. Not surprisingly, he had missed his flight. Them days, flights from Bangkok to London, were weekly hence missing such a flight would pose many challenges. In his case, his predicament was also double-barrelled; the organisers had closed shop, his hotel booking had run out and he had no money.

Uncle Roy presented himself at the flight counter and explained his precarious situation. It was dire; the airlines only option was for him to book him in the next flight due after a week! Things looked forlorn and Uncle Roy was at his wit's end. The situation was however saved by an old thin-faced, lithe-bodied and bow-legged manager. The manager, who seemed ninety, had listened to Uncle Roy’s desperate pleas, searched among the many files (Computers were rare those days) and finally called Uncle Roy in his bare office where for a full minute he had stared at Uncle Roy from yellow jaundiced eyes as if castigating him for what he suspected had happened leading to the ensuing tribulation. Finally, after a long silence, the manager outlined a possible solution to Uncle Roy tribulations.

“If you agree and it is not a bother to you, the airline can assist in this regard” he solemnly announced through black/brown tobacco-stained teeth.

” We do have an aircraft taking off in the next three hours which should take you to Perth- Australia, a 10 hour flight, where you should get a connection for a for the 15-hour flight to Johannesburg- South Africa; in Johannesburg, you will get a connecting flight to London where you just may catch your flight back home to Nairobi. At no cost to you” He intoned

“At no cost?” Uncle Roy had expectantly asked.

“At no cost to you” The sallow skin manager affirmed.

For the first time in six hours, Uncle Roy finally relaxed and smiled. Not only was he out of prison but also, he now had the chance to see places he never imagined he could have visited, besides, airlines provided free food accompanied by rum!

The 10-hour flight to Australia-a country which was both a country and a continent- was uneventful, and Uncle Roy kept himself busy with a steady supply of rum. At Perth airport, Uncle Roy bumped into the indigenous people of the continent, the Aborigines, and was amused to learn that the Aboriginal language had no word for “Yesterday” or “Tomorrow”.

Eight hours later Uncle Roy boarded another 15 Hour flight for Johannesburg –South Africa. In those days Apartheid was at its peak, and on arrival at Jan Smut’s airport, a seething Uncle Roy was shepherded together with other blacks and mixed race passengers to another ill kept building emblazoned with large writing “Blacks and Coloureds Only”. White passengers were lifted by airport buses to a classy transit location in another part of the airport. Uncle Roy finally understood first hand, the evils of apartheid.

Four hours later, all passengers, blacks, coloureds and white again boarded the same flight for London, with an expected two-hour stopover at Cairo, Egypt. It was Ironic, Uncle Roy, noted that he would be overflying his home village in Kenya as he headed to London.

The flight was uneventful with Uncle Roy keeping himself busy imbibing his favourite drink.  It was while overflying Tanzania, when the pilot made an announcement which was done in the casual way which only pilots can manage.

“…that there is - “ah” a minor hitch with one of the aircraft engines and therefore the aircraft had been cleared to land in Nairobi for a “ ah “ minor “ rectification, something which should take less than an hour to fix”.

While other passengers were understandably jittery, Uncle Roy managed a rum filled smile-The gods of luck, were again with Him. Nairobi!

The plane landed and even before it had finished taxing; Uncle Roy was making his submissions to the chief purser who interestingly had a Kenyan Name- Maloba.

“Look!” He begged,” My final destination, is Nairobi and since this has happened could it be possible that I be allowed to disembark …now that the plane is here”

The Purser was adamant that it was against the rules. The issue was taken over by the pilot who was ready to consider the request only if Uncle Roy had no baggage in the hold. Too bad, Uncle Roy had a suitcase.

“Sorry” The The pilot had murmured” It is not possible, too much of a bother”

The passengers were again shepherded to a transit location at the west wing Nairobi’s Embakasi airport and closely kept under watch so that Uncle Roy imagined- he could not manage his way into Kenya. Uncle Roy spent the hours glued to the window, seething as he watched the airport routine of his beloved Nairobi; twice he waved at faces he knew crisscrossing the flight apron. He also returned a wave from Aunt Suzy’s workmate who had disembarked from another flight.

The “minor hitch” of the plane was completed after 6 hours with the tired passengers arriving at the old city of London late in the night. A dishevelled, tired and hungover Uncle Roy, slept for a record 20 Hours before connecting a flight back to Nairobi 28 Hours later

Back home in Nairobi, voluptuous Aunt Suzy had been  in a foul mood for two days straight, as word had somehow reached her that Uncle Roy had been spotted at the airport disembarking 3 days back since he had not been home, she surmised therefore that Uncle Roy, true to form was already in town but involved in some rather un-Christian activity in the seedy corners of town.

It was on Saturday mid-morning and Aunt Suzy was in the kitchen preparing lunch when Uncle Roy had reached home and gave out a cheery and loud hail: “Am Home!”

Aunt Suzy would later swear that the pestle in her hand had flown without her control landing fairly and squarely at the nose of unsuspecting Uncle Roy breaking it loudly. Uncle Roy spent the next forty-eight hours at the Forces memorial hospital getting his nose fixed.

At no cost.