Meeting John Kiriamiti: A busy maverick with playful banter

I live for the magical worlds and memorable characters created by fiction writers. One of my life-long ambitions was to meet Chinua Achebe and ask him how he conjured Okonkwo - perhaps the most colourful yet tragic character in the African novel.

One day, I hope to meet Ngugi wa Thiong'o and ask him whether Waiyaki in The River Between is Jomo Kenyatta. What with piercing eyes that burned bright and demanded respect. Does Kameno personify Murang'a and Makuyu Kiambu? But more importantly, why did he kill the gallant Muthoni so soon?

I also hope to meet my literary crush Chimamanda Ngozi and ask her whether the two anachronistic sisters - Kainene and Olanna are Nigeria and Biafra personified.

Do they also symbolise the Igbos and the Hausas? And more importantly for me, why did she make Kainene disappear just when I was crushing on her?

When I met John Kiriamiti at the Nairobi International Book Fair last weekend, I didn't squander the opportunity to ask him questions about his writing. His main character in the fictional thriller My Life in Crime has always intrigued me.

The character starts off as John Kiriamiti in the village, then morphs into Jack Zollo when he goes into crime in Nairobi. He then changed to Albert Ngure when he ran away to Congo after Nairobi got too hot for him.

While loitering deep in Congo where he imagines nobody can find him, he overhears a man telling his wife in Gikuyu: "Wambui indo ni ciaga." Wambui, I could not find those goods. Later, we realise that the couple happens to be from Murang'a just like Kiriamiti and are running a retail shop in Bukavu. Small world. Such are the twists in My Life in Crime.

Anyway, after some easy banter with John, I shot the first question: Where is Milly now?

He chuckled and then asked me: Where is the girl that you dated in high school? I mulled over this rhetorical question for a while dreamily, then smiled. Point home.

My next question was about the most delicious part of his novel. After running away to Congo, Kiriamiti got a job as a driver with a Greek millionaire Stephano. He impregnated his daughter, Hellene, got entangled with his secretary Miss Makarios and generally had a ball dating the two exotic belles - before hell broke loose.

Is the Congo part of the novel true? I asked John. Without batting an eyelid, he shot back like Jack Zollo from his novel: I thought you said you are a writer! Once again, point home.

I would have loved to cut a drink with John at Kagondo Bar, the old haunt where Jack Zollo used to spend time away, playing the jukebox. But he is a busy man, autographing books, answering pesky questions and discussing his works with students. A writer doesn't retire.

There is no pinning Kiriamiti down. In his early 70s, he is as sharp-shooting as the swashbuckling Jack Zollo of the early 70s. Being roughly the same age as my panga-clutching uncle, Kiriamiti for me personifies a golden era of Nairobi full of loud Ford Cortinas, blaring jukeboxes and Afros huge enough to cause an eclipse. This is the same world he so wonderfully recreates in his works.

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