A chorus of songbirds announces the dawn as monkeys stir and swing lazily from tree bows. Long walks through wooded valleys, crimson sunsets over mount Elgon, a full moon bright as burning phosphorous, star studded black velvet skies, fish rising on glassy ponds and early morning mist hanging over the rain forest. Yellow weaver and turquoise thrush splash in a birdbath by the kitchen window and we drink tea beneath the shady acacia and jacaranda trees offering shelter from the suns mid-day rays.

Contrast these things with potholes as big as bathtubs, choking clouds of dust, diesel trucks and buses billowing black smoke, parched fields and grass verges. Newspaper headlines cry of blatant corruption of the leaders, scandal and theft swept under the carpet, disguised behind phony investigations. Children beg, street kids sniff glue to numb the pain of hunger and despair, mothers in Pokot search the bushes for wild fruits and roots to boil into a watery soup while crooked politicians export maize illegally.

Kenya is a land of contrasts for sure, there are so many injustices, and the poor are oppressed and exploited by the powerful and privileged. But once in a while, amidst the despair and hopelessness, the rewards are reaped here on earth for those who persevere and do the right thing. I wittnessed such a story recently.

Olango walked into the old brick farmyard office, puzzled and slightly nervous as to why he had been summoned there. Several police vehicles were parked in the yard and officers stood around in pairs glaring at him as he made his entrance. In the twenty-seven years he had worked at the farm he had never seen anything like this. He felt uneasy.         "Ahh, Olango, are you the manager of the seed maize department on this farm", the senior officer barked as Olango removed his cap in a gesture of humility.         "Yes buana, I am" Olango replied.         Smack, the police officer backhanded Olango across the face, knocking him backwards to the cement floor. "Then you will confess right now as to how seed maize is sold illegally from this farm and name those involved. If you do not, it will not go well for you. Now start talking".

Another officer grabbed him by his shirt collar and hauled him off the floor, slamming him down on an old wooded chair. Olango, stunned and confused, not understanding what was happening starred up at his accuser. He knew nothing about the sale of seed maize; this had to be some horrible mistake. He looked around, holding his throbbing cheek, hardly able to believe what was happening. Then his eyes made contact with Samuel's, the farm's security guard, the terrified look in his eyes confirmed that what was happening was real, as the nozzle of a police pistol jutted into Samuel's neck.

James, the owner of the farm, happened to be in Kitale town, some twenty miles away, when all this was going on. His cell phone rang as he stood in line at the bank. "Buana James, police are here at the farm, they want to talk to you, better you come right away buana James". Olango's voice trembled on the other end. "What's wrong"? James asked. "Just come buana", Olango replied, and then click, the phone went silent.

James left the long line and went out to his pickup truck, his mind racing trying to figure out what could be wrong as he drove back to the farm as quickly as he could. He tried to call anyone who might know, but nobody answered. A half hour later he pulled the pickup into the yard of his farm and entered the office to face his accusers.         The interrogation went on for a couple of hours and still unable to obtain a confession to the trumped up charge, the police handcuffed James and drove him to the police station back in Kitale town. He was promptly thrown into a cell where several other men were also detained, the solid iron door slamming shut behind him. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, a narrow slit in two walls being the only source of light and, as he soon discovered, of ventilation too. The heat was stifling, the stench choking. He was the only white guy in there and so he was easily identified by most of the others.

"Buana James, what are you doing here? Get out of here. Pay the bribe, open your pocket, you don't belong in this place". Several voices spoke to him from almost invisible black faces in the dim light. Thirty or so men were in the cell, some kept silent, others talked. James starred at the slit of light, numb. After a couple of hours the guard slammed an iron bar into the heavy metal door and with jingling keys through back the deadbolt. The door swung open and the men filed out in a single line and were lead to a caged yard to get their one-hour of daylight and the opportunity to relieve themselves. James could now see that some of them were barely teenagers, and he recognized a few as being street kids having occasionally dropped a couple shillings or a few slices of bread in their hand as they begged on the street outside supermarkets. Almost all the detainees only wore one shoe as he did, the other having been confiscated prior to being dumped into the cell. An apparent attempt to prevent some one from fleeing while at the same time the confiscated shoe created a convenient receptacle into which ones meager belongings could be stored and thereafter identified by matching the other shoe.

It is said that a man shall reap what he sows and James began to reap the rewards of years of treating his fellow man with respect and dignity while he sat in the stinking cell that day. Although born in Kenya he is a white man, but does not judge a man by his color. James was told that the newcomers are assigned to cleaning the latrines in jail and a warden poked a few disgustingly thilthy rags hanging from a stick in his direction. That was when two young men stood up, and although now grown, James recognized them as former street kids.         "Buana James, you will not clean the latrine, we shall do it. You treated us right when we were on the street, now it's our turn to do the right thing." And with that a half a dozen young men snatched the rags and headed for the latrines. There had been no water in the cells for over two weeks and the stench was overbearing.         Meantime the word was spreading around town of James's arrest and a crowd began to gather outside the police station. From street kids to store keepers, doctors, teachers and school children, they all came to plead for James's release. One principle threatened to bring all eight hundred students from his school to protest. The eight hundred are fed lunch each day from food donated from James's farm.          The pressure built and James's was released after seven hours of detention but only after a friend put up his farm as collateral for the bond. It is not uncommon for these events to occur on Friday afternoons after banks have closed as was the case here. A larger bride can be extracted when the accused is faced with a long weekend in jail.

So James walked out into the dark night, but not before promising to return with food for those left behind. The following morning he drove his pickup back to the police station with fifty loaves of bread and bottles of water. He heard the shouts of the inmates coming from the cell where he had been detained, the slit in the wall revealed a row of eyeballs. He hoped that perhaps a few slices of the fifty loaves would make it to those behind the walls.         James's attended court the following week for a hearing and sat all day in a courtroom only to find out his file had been 'misplaced'. He is accused of selling seed maize illegally from an apparently disgruntled employee who reported him to the company who have sole license to sell the seed. (The government runs the company by the way!) The disgruntled employee had worked on the farm for twenty six years, had paid for his eight children to be educated through primary, secondary and vocational school and had been given a plot of land with a house built on it. Medical and legal fees had been paid during his employment at the farm and a generous severance package had been paid when he left. But loyalty is skin deep in some. Perhaps James was sold out by the former employee who may have been paid to trump up the charges from a jealous competitor. I don't know and it doesn't matter. All I need to remember is, I will reap what I sow and the one who holds the truth in His grasp, also holds me in His grasp.