Bingo's Run by James A. Levine Read Free Book Online

clutched the Hareef Food Supplies brown paper bag. At the bus station every day, actors play-act to teach people about HIV and not to beat up women. Workers watch before they go home. It is a good place to lip people. The actors are rubbish, but they make the workers laugh. I can act better than they can. I acted frightened. It was easy to do.
    Wolf’s hut had electric. Like Boss Jonni, he had a hooker draped over him. Wolf said, “What, Meejit?” He pushed her off him as if she was a rag. For Wolf, like me, work was work.
    I screamed, “Wolf Sa, Wolf Sa!”
    Wolf shouted back, “Meejit, what?”
    My panic got real. “Wolf Sa, I got to Boss Jonni.” Tears pushed out of my eyes. “When I’z get there, Boss Jonni, he’s dead. Shot up. Blood everywheres.” Brilliant acting.
    Wolf leaped off his throne and shook my shoulders. “Meejit, what da fook ya say?” Wolf’s acting was rubbish.
    â€œBoss Jonni iz shot, ya. Fookin’ shot-up dead,” I cried. I held up the brown paper bag. Wolf ripped it from my hand. The bag toreand the eight blocks of white and his money fell on the floor. “What da fook iz this?” Wolf shouted.
    I answered crying, “It’z your monay, Wolf Sa, and I bring eight blocks.” There was silence. Wolf’s face changed—more rubbish acting. He spoke slowly. “So ya sayz Jonni iz shot up?”
    â€œYes, Wolf Sa. And two hookas iz shot.” The girl at Wolf’s feet crawled away. “Wolf Sa—please, sa. I bring you’z tha eight blocks.”
    I saw the happiness hidden inside him. Wolf said loudly, “Bet tha fookin’ Manabí kill ’im. Maybe South Ifricans. Maybe police.”
    He didn’t ask me about Boss Jonni’s businessman case full of money.
    Wolf shouted into his mobile. In three minutes, his seven generals, including Dog, had appeared. Everyone shouted and argued about who had killed Boss Jonni. They were silent when Sinja Smith from Parklands arrived. He was like Wolf but worked from Parklands on the other side of Nairobi. I knew his runners. They all said he was crazy.
    I waited at the back of the hut. Dog stood behind Wolf, panting. His eaten-up nose opened and closed. He said, “Wolf and me here tha whole time.” He was well trained. Woof.
    Everyone was talking. Wolf shouted, “Sha,” and everyone got quiet. “Meejit!” he called, and I came forward. Wolf said, “Meejit, you was there, what ya see?” The room was silent.
    â€œI did tha run to Boss Jonni tonight,” I said. Wolf stared as if his eyes were putting words in my head.
    Sinja Smith, who always wore a red army flat hat (it had come off a soldier’s head) said, “Meejit, tell me what you see there?”
    I said to him, “I did tha run. Boss Jonni all shot up. Blood everywheres.” I threw my arms up.
    Sinja Smith said, “You see who done it?” He looked at me as if he knew.
    I shook my head. “Nah. But I run right out the high-rise. Outside there iz three boys, ya. Jus’ around.” The best way to lie is to tell the truth (Commandment No. 10).
    Sinja Smith said, “What they look like?”
    â€œThey all big,” I said. To me, all boys are big.
    â€œWhat else?” Sinja said.
    I was ready. “Don’ know,” I said. I looked down at the floor. Then I looked up, “They all got Tiger ink.” It was dark, and I had been busy with my vomit. It was possible they had Tiger inked on their arms, Manabí style. It was possible.
    Wolf said, “Fookin’ Manabí.” His eyes shone, but he tried to contain his happiness.
    The room filled with murmurs. Dog’s eyes stared at me. He tried to add everything up, but it was too much for him.
    Sinja Smith added, “Manabí, we will fookin’ kill ’em.”
    The crowd groaned, “Kill ’em.” There had not been a good riot for