Tag Archives: Ahja Singh

Our trip to Kenya

(Sessio 12)

On this trip, nothing seems to go right. I’m sitting in my hotel room, physically sound, but mentally shaken. We have lost Mr. Barrington. The grief weights heavily on my chest.

We left for Port Said on May 12th 1925, sailed through Suez Canal on 13th, and reached Port Aden on the May 19th. It was May 27th when we arrived in Mombasa. We spend the night in a hotel. Our train to Nairobi leaves on saturday May 30th, and our lorries and cars are taken with us, along with our platoon of mercenaries.

In the morning, Mr. Walker, Mr. Griswold and me went to find the store of Ahja Singh. It actually was almost ext to our pier, 200 meters from it. It is a warehouse with a single floor, and the name of the establishment was written on its door  in english, arabic and hindi. We spend the night watching the warehouse and Singh’s home in three watches, but the home is dark and empty and warehouse manned all night.

Next evening, when it’s dark, we take it upon ourselves to pay a visit to both buildings. The home is empty, and has been for a while, but Mr. Borel and Mr. Barrington come back empty handed. At the warehouse we break into a safe, finding papers, receipts and a leather-bound ledger full of test in hindi. It looks like a shipping log, but we can’t say. Luckily, there is an indian fellow working at the hotel, who finds the names of Penhew Foundation, Omar Shaki, Maritime Company, and Ho Fong Imports. Thakur Singh, Brown City, Nairobi is repeated the most.

We board the train on saturday. The view from the window is breathtaking. First, we are presented green plains, with wildlife roaming about. Towards the evening, the plains transform into hills, and towards the night the terrain starts to get rocky. Far ahead we see snow-peaked mountains. The peaceful scenery can only last so long.

When Mr. Moore, Mr. Griswold, Captain Eaton and Mr. Barrington are leaving the back terrace of the train, they glimpse a figure, resembling a human, but burning with a blue flame, flying and gliding along the train. Suddenly it bursts into the train through a window, and an explosion shooks the whole train. Another one enters the train further up. It is as these devils are headed straight for us, ignoring Captain Eaton, and trying to grab Mr. Griswold. Mr. Moore intercepts him, and the thing tackles him down, leaving him burning.

In another compartment, Mr. Borel waves Mr. Walker close to him, does some kind of a trick, and hides them both in a blue smoke. It seemed to save their lives that night. In the hallway, Dr. Jusupov and Dr. Descours grab a bucket of sand each, and succeed in dousing one of the flaming monstrosities, which disappears.

After this, the train is derailed, and we are thrown about like ragdolls. Many people are gravely injured, and our dear friend, Mr. Barrington perishes to his wounds along the riverbed, next to the train wreck.

Not all cars are derailed, and the train can continue towards Nairobi in an hour or two. It is late in the evening, when we arrive in the Nairobi train station. Three people have died and fifteen injured.

In honor of late Mr. Elias

Notes of Professor Paynesworth:

Events of the tragic night on friday has left all involved in a startled state of mind. We are trying to figure out reasons for Jackson’s untimely demise, and the violence of it makes us all edgy. I think every one of us is trying to make some sense in to it all.

We met with Jonah Kensington, the head of Prospero House Publishing. He had presented letters and telegrams sent to him by Jackson along his travels, as well as some of Jackson’s notes. We spent the evening trying to piece together the route of Jackson’s travels and the reasons, findings and consequences of his investigations. It was alarming, how nervous and shaken he appeared to be when in London, according to his letter to Mr. Kensington. I think he believed to have found out something alarming considering the Carlyle Expedition.

I contacted Miriam Atwright, the head Librarian of Harvard University, to whom Jackson had sent a telegram from Nairobi, asking for book in their collection, “Africas Dark Sects” by Nigell Blackwell. She told that the book had disappeared from their collection before Jackson asked for it, in an unfortunate event that left part of the library ruined and filled with a foul smell, possibly rats. My further investigation revealed that the cuts in Jackson’s forehead corresponded to a sign known as the “sign of the bloody tongue” in the negro swahili language.

africa-cover

Mr. Matthew Griswold visited the sister of late Mr. Carlyle, and she was generous enough to give us a collection of four book held in dear value by his brother. The volumes were of alarming nature, describing things obviously made up by insane mind. Billy, Shane and Calvin visited Emerson Imports, where Jackson had been asking about company called Ahja Singh.  The lead brought them to Harlem, looking for shipments from Kenya to New York that Jackson was looking into, in a curiosity shoppe called “Juju House”, there they found nothing of interest however. Instead, they found out that some of the previous murder victims with the same kind of hideous mutilation with the bloody tongue sign were connected to some missing Emerson Imports shipments from the Kenya. Lawrence did some inquiries of his own, including asking about Jackson from the people at Penhew foundation. In addition, Basil contacted a visiting lecturer from Australia, Professor Cowles, an expert in myths of the aboriginals of his continent. Jackson had been listening to his lecture the night before his ghastly murder.

Everyone of us are trying to get the answer to the questions: what is the story that Jackson was after, a story that cost his life. Before the funeral, we raised our glasses and decided that we would finish the book, writing of which Jackson paid so dearly for.