BEYOND THE THROES OF PASSION

PRIDE, WISDOM, AND PEACE

Three friends sat together inside a hut, staring at the cool, cloudy skies outside. A strong wind blew across the green lands.

“Let’s go fishing,” one of the boys, called Kiburi, suggested to his friends. Another, called Hekima, looked at him with surprise.

“You can’t be serious, Kiburi. With this weather?” He replied, then continued staring outside. Kiburi ignored him.

“And you, Mwerevu? What do you think?” He asked his other friend. Mwerevu sighed and cleared his throat.

“I agree with Hekima. The weather is not conducive,” he said, then glanced at the roof of the hut. Kiburi stood up in a rage. He was seventeen years old with a huge body, deep voice, and puffy eyes. He loved having things his way. He folded his arms.

“What type of friends are you? A little cloudy weather is rattling you? Shake it off, guys. Let’s go,” he urged, trying to keep his cool. His two friends stood their ground. Hekima stood up, followed by Mwerevu.

“We’re sorry, Kiburi. It’s a no from us,” Hekima said, then turned to leave. He was the wisest one in the group.

“Who’s ‘us’? Mwerevu, come on. Let’s go. It’ll be fun,” Kiburi urged Mwerevu. Mwerevu shook his head slowly and joined Hekima. He was the most silent, shy, and peaceful one.

“Oh now you’re leaving? Go, you stupid peasants. Who needs your friendship? I can easily buy myself new friends with my father’s wealth!” Kiburi shouted at them from the door. Hekima turned sharply. Kiburi’s insult made him infuriated.

“We’d rather go than spend time with an overgrown baby who relies on his father’s property!” He spat. 

Kiburi marched towards him. He wasn’t going to take the insult lying down. Hekima was also willing to prove his bravery and wrestle his friend. Him and Kiburi were about to fight but Mwerevu stood between them as a peacemaker and stopped them.

“Step aside, Mwerevu. I want to square this now!” Kiburi said in an angry tone. Mwerevu retained his position.

“Come on, guys. We’re friends! Let’s shake on it and forget it,” he urged his furious friends.

“Over my dead body. That uncircumcised fool is not my friend,” Kiburi retorted, hungry for an uncensored, unrated exchange of insults. Hekima struggled to get his hands on him.

“I swear if I…Mwerevu, y-you heard him. Step aside, please, and let my fists talk,” he implored Mwerevu, who held on to him tightly. Mwerevu had an advantage  because he was the tallest and strongest of them all.

“Forget it, Hekima. A fight with him only makes you equal to him. Let’s go. Please,” he urged Hekima.

“But…” Hekima started.

“But nothing. Let’s go,” Mwerevu insisted as he pushed Hekima away gently. Hekima was reluctant to walk away from the fight, but his friend’s words sounded sensible to him.

“Let him go, Mwerevu. A fight he wants? Let him come and get it!” Kiburi persisted as he smirked scornfully. Mwerevu and Hekima took no notice of him. They walked on without a word. “Let me never catch you anywhere near here. We’re through!” Kiburi shouted, then clicked and cursed. 

He watched them for a while as they disappeared, then turned back and started walking towards their hut, just to freeze on seeing his elder sister, Mzuri, watching him from the window. She shook her head.

“A fight? Kiburi, are you out of your mind?” She said angrily as she walked out to her brother. 

She was eighteen years old, was plump, had light-coloured skin, and long flowing hair that she always plaited to preserve its delightful appearance. Dimples appeared on her cheeks whenever she smiled, contributing greatly to her beauty. As she stood before him, her brown eyes searched his face for a reasonable explanation. He clicked.

“That…goat called me an overgrown baby,” he muttered angrily.

“And because of that you want a fight? Come to think of it, Kiburi, you are an overgrown baby. How can you use Dad’s wealth to show off?” Mzuri answered calmly. Kiburi was speechless. He stormed into the hut and took his fishing rod. “Where are you going?” Mzuri asked him as he passed by her again.

“That’s none of your concern,” he hissed, without looking at her.

She watched him momentarily before shouting, “With this weather? Come back home, Kiburi. There’s going to be a downpour anytime from now.” He walked on silently while clutching on to his rod. A strong wind blew, making Mzuri shiver. “That child. Okay. Go on,” she mumbled to herself angrily then went in to continue preparing supper.

As Kiburi walked, numerous thoughts filled his mind. His heart beat furiously. He wanted to avenge Hekima and Mzuri for bruising his ego. The bad weather didn’t bother him.

“I don’t want to!” He could hear a faint voice declare. He stopped and listened. “I’m not going to!” The voice continued.

“Malaika?” He said, recognising the voice as he crept towards the hut belonging to her family. He hid in the bush near the hut and watched the proceedings from there.

“It’s not a debate, Jade. Whether you like it or not, you will!” Her mother barked at her. Malaika got out in a huff and slammed the hut’s door. She paced around in the area around the hut while holding her forehead. Shortly after, she began sobbing. Kiburi popped up from his hiding place.

“Malaika?” He said. She turned to him and fell into his arms.

“Oh, Kiburi! If you only knew,” she said amidst sobs as she sought solace in his warm embrace. He held her and stroked her hair. 

She was tall and slim, with chocolate-coloured skin, a soft voice and shoulder-length hair. Her face was radiant and beautiful and so were her features. She was Kiburi’s secret girlfriend whom he was planning to marry. She had been living with her aunt in Nairobi but was sent back to her home area, Kirinyaga, because of the high standards of living in Nairobi.

“What?” Kiburi whispered softly into her ear.

“My parents are forcing me to marry a certain old man. And I don’t love him,” she whispered back, as she rested on his chest. He made her face him and held her cheeks with his hands.

“We can change that,” he whispered, then kissed her.
“How? If it’s escaping, we have nowhere to go,” she reasoned. He ran his thumbs across her lower eyelashes to wipe her tears, then took hold of her hand.

“Come I show you,” he said to her as he led her to the bush. She followed obediently. In the bush, he took off his goatskin and took off her flowing simple dress, then made love to her.

“No one is going to snatch you from me,” he whispered to her, after they made love. She was also seventeen years old. Her heart rested peacefully. Drops of rain began pouring down. The door to the hut flew open, and her mother searched for her.

“Malaika?!” Her mother called out as she looked around for her.

“I-I have to go, J. Man I love you so much,” Kiburi said, as he slipped into his skin. She also wore her dress.

“Me too,” she replied, then they shared a parting kiss.

“Don’t make me start looking for you…oi!” Her mother started, but kept quiet on seeing Kiburi zooming from the bush. He didn’t greet her. After some time, Malaika also emerged from the bush.

“Here I am,” she said innocently to her fuming mother, who was shocked beyond words.

SHATTERED DREAMS

Back at Kiburi’s family’s hut, Mzuri was churning cassava for the family’s supper. Suddenly, Mrs. Malezi, their mother, arrived from the market with goat meat and spices.

“Hello, Mother,” Mzuri said happily and ran to hug her tired and wet mother.

“Mzuri, my daughter. How are you?” She replied, then handed her the groceries and removed the kanga around her head.

“I’m fine, just preparing supper,” Mzuri replied, then fetched a stool for her weary mother.

“That’s good. That’s good. Where’s your brother?” Mrs. Malezi asked her as she wiped her arms and legs. Mzuri hesitated.

“He, um, went out,” she replied as she continued churning. The hut was silent for a while.
“Out? Where?” Mrs. Malezi asked sternly. Mzuri shrugged.

“He had a quarrel with his friends and went off,” she said, then checked the cassava. It had already turned to flour. She poured it into a bowl and went into the kitchen.

Mrs. Malezi was silently thinking where her son would have gone. Mzuri reappeared and found her mother still thinking. She sighed.

“Don’t worry, Mother. He’ll be back. He’ll tell us where he was,” she comforted.

“After I’m through with him,” Mrs. Malezi whispered, then offered, “Anyway, let me help with supper.”

“No, no, Mother. I’ve got it,” Mzuri replied, and added, “You’re tired. Relax.” Mrs. Malezi was determined to help.

“I just can’t sit around here and there’s work to be done. Let’s go,” she insisted as she led Mzuri to the kitchen.

“But Mother…” Mzuri started.

“But nothing. Your father will soon be home and you know how he gets when he’s hungry,” Mrs. Malezi said hurriedly. Together, they continued preparing supper.

It was raining heavily and poor Kiburi had just a goatskin on as he made his way home. He was shivering. In his mind, he started preparing what he would say to his parents. On the positive side, his anger was gone and a new energy of confidence replaced it. He prayed for Malaika, that her parents wouldn’t skin her alive. He got rid of such an idea and heaved heavily on seeing his family’s hut from afar.

He quickened his steps. He prayed that no one was home, because he would be in deep trouble. As he stood at the doorstep, he composed himself and pulled the door to their hut open slowly. He peered into it. He was surprised that it was empty. Could God have answered his prayers? He thought as he entered and shut the door.

Malaika’s mother pulled her into the hut by her wrist.

“Ouch, Mum, you’re hurting me!” She complained. Mrs. Mawazo, her mother, took no notice. She forced her to stand before Mr. Mawazo, who was seated peacefully and was enjoying his evening tea.
“Margaret, what’s the problem? Why are you manhandling her like that?” He asked his wife as he set the tea on the ground.

“Manhandling? This is just a warmup, Harrison. You will not believe what your daughter has done and with whom,” Mrs. Mawazo replied angrily, then unhanded Malaika. Mr. Mawazo adjusted his spectacles and leaned forward.

“Out with it, woman! What has she done?” He roared to his wife, not able to contain the suspense.

“I’ve not done anything,” Malaika said, as she rubbed the wrist that her mother held. Her mother scoffed.

“This daughter of yours has done it with the Malezis’ son,” she reported, while glaring at Malaika. Mr. Mawazo stomped his right foot angrily and stood up at once. 

“What?!” He demanded, as he grabbed Malaika by her right hand.

“Dad…” she started.

“You heard correctly, darling. She did it with…him,” Mrs. Mawazo repeated, then folded her arms and stood back. Mr. Mawazo slapped Malaika mercilessly severally until she sprawled on the ground.

He wanted to continue but he stopped. He refrained himself, fearing the injury he would inflict on his daughter.

“Go on, Harrison. She needs to be taught a lesson,” Mrs. Mawazo urged him on. Malaika sat on the floor and fought the urge to burst into tears. She blinked repeatedly to keep them back. Mr. Mawazo put his hands on his hips, turned away from his daughter and wife, and stared at the roof.

“What have we done wrong, sweetheart? What?” He turned to Malaika and asked her in a gentle voice.

“Now we’re talking with her? Harrison, if you won’t teach her a lesson, I will!” Mrs. Mawazo said, and was about to rain merciless slaps on her daughter, but her husband stopped her.

“No, Margaret. Killing her won’t solve anything. No matter what, she’s still our daughter,” he told her, then stopped blocking her. Malaika stood up and went behind her father.
“Your daughter, Harrison. Can you imagine her? Just when we were going to marry her off to Mzee Nyemelea?” Mrs. Mawazo breathed. Mr. Mawazo turned to Malaika, passed her, and sat on his stool wearily.

“Where have I gone wrong?” He lamented as he sipped his cold tea.

“For starters, unataka kuni…(you want to…),” Malaika started.

“Speak in proper English, Jade. Not that street language you learned at the city,” Mrs. Mbugua said to her furiously, then went to the kitchen to prepare supper.

“You wanted to marry me off to an old man!” Malaika replied as she stared at her father. Tears were visible on her lower eyelashes. Mr. Mawazo swallowed his tea slowly.

“That is our culture, Jade. You’re not the first girl to be married off!” He spat, then clenched his fists.

“Well, I don’t approve of it, and I’m not going to partake in it,” Malaika said as she wiped her tears.

“Who are you? Who are you? As it is, you’ve shamed me. I have to return the dowry he paid for you. He won’t accept an unfaithful…” Mr. Mawazo started, but bit his tongue to avoid insulting his daughter.

“Unfaithful what? Dad, from the start I loved Kiburi, and he loves me…” Malaika started explaining.

“Shut up! What do you know about love? Clear from here before I finish you off!” Mr. Mawazo threatened, then sipped his tea furiously. He always had the last word. Malaika marched to her room. He watched her go, then cursed.

Kiburi fearfully looked about. He could see smoke in the kitchen. He decided to sit and wait for supper in the hut. He wasn’t courageous enough to face his sister. He didn’t hear his father walk in.

“Hello, Kiburi,” he bellowed. Kiburi was startled.

“Oh, hello, Father,” he replied casually, and stood up for his father. Mr. Malezi was a firm, no-nonsense man with a pot belly and well-trimmed beard.

Mzuri and Mrs. Malezi walked into the hut with trays in their hands. The aroma of supper made Kiburi and his father salivate. The trays were set before them.

“Welcome home, Father,” Mzuri said to Mr. Malezi, then looked at Kiburi and bit her left index finger playfully.

“Thank you, my child. I already feel welcome with this food,” he replied as he eyed the food before him. Mrs. Malezi hugged him.

“You’re welcome, darling,” she said to him. He smiled.

“Thank you, dear,” he replied. Kiburi stood and got a stool for his mother. She looked at him.

“So you’re back, Kiburi,” she said to him as she sat. He was uneasy.

“H-hello, Mother,” he stammered as he sank back on his stool. Mzuri brought washing water and washed her father’s hands, her mother’s, then hers, and took a stool and sat at her place in the hut.

After a prayer, Mrs. Malezi began serving the food. Kiburi washed his hands. Mzuri cleared her throat.

“So where were you, Kiburi?” She asked him, then began eating. His parents’ eyes were fixed on him.

“Where were you, Kiburi?” Mr. Malezi repeated. Kiburi glared at Mzuri and answered quietly.

“I went for a walk,” he said.

“After…?” Mrs. Malezi answered, urging her son to explain further. He pinched some of his cassava ugali, dipped it in the goat stew, and mouthed it. He chewed, as everyone’s eyes were on him. He wished the earth could open up and swallow him whole.

“After I quarreled with my friends,” he added quietly, then looked at the ground. Mr. Malezi sipped his soup.

“About what?” He asked.

“About going fishing. One of them called me an overgrown baby,” Kiburi added quickly. Mzuri glanced at their parents to see their reaction.
“What did you do about it, son?” Mr. Malezi asked eagerly as he bit into his meat.

“Well, nothing, because my other friend stopped us from fighting,” Kiburi replied, happy that his father was slowly siding with him.

“You should have given him a what for. No one calls a Malezi an overgrown baby,” Mr. Malezi said. Mrs. Malezi rubbed his huge, hairy forearm with her left hand.

“Dear, violence is not the answer,” she said to him, then turned to Kiburi. “Did you hear that?” She asked him with a murderous glare. He nodded slowly. Afterwards, a short silence prevailed before Mzuri cleared her throat after sipping her spicy soup.

“Dad?” She called out to Mr. Malezi.

“Hmmm?” He replied as he pinched a piece of ugali and dipped it in the soup.

“You should really talk with Kiburi about the way he talks to me—as if I’m his agemate,” Mzuri reported. Kiburi looked at her then their father. Mr. Kiburi nodded thoughtfully.

“Kiburi,” he called his son suddenly.

“Yes, Father,” Kiburi replied sheepishly.

“Respect your sister. The next time I hear you disrespected her…” Mr. Malezi started, then fixed his eyes on Kiburi. Everyone looked at him. “You know,” he concluded, then finished up his food. On finishing, he parted his legs, sat straight, and patted his pot belly happily.

“Honey, Mzuri, that was delicious. Thank you,” he said to his wife and daughter, then belched. Mrs. Malezi squeezed his forearm gently with a smile, and Mzuri nodded and went to wash his hands. Kiburi thought of Malaika.

“Oh, and that reminds me, Mzuri. How old are you?” Mr. Malezi asked his daughter as she went back to her stool.

“Eighteen,” she replied proudly, then sat.

“That’s a good age for marriage. I went to look for a suitor for you and I found him. He shall be coming tomorrow,” Mr. Malezi replied as he smiled at his wife and put an arm around her shoulder.

“Marriage?!” Mzuri exclaimed, then turned to her mother. The news was as shocking to her as it was to Mzuri. 

Mrs. Malezi remembered how her daughter shared with her her dreams of becoming a doctor upon completing Form 4. She got an A in her KCSE and was waiting to go to the university, until that unexpected bombshell struck.

Mzuri burst into tears. Her mother went to her and comforted her.

“I’m presuming those are tears of joy,” Mr. Malezi said as he looked at her. Kiburi watched her.

“Cheer up, Mzuri. At least you won’t be the one providing for yourself,” he said as he washed his hands. Mr. Malezi nodded vigorously.

“Hush, Kiburi. You’re only making things worse,” Mrs. Malezi rebuked him as she comforted Mzuri. 

It was impossible. No matter how hard she tried, Mzuri cried persistently as though a death sentence was proclaimed upon her.

“I’m not r-ready, M-mother. I d-don’t w-want to,” she said amidst sobs in a weak voice to her mother. 

Mrs. Malezi felt helpless. Her hands were tied. Her husband decided what went on in the family. Even as she looked into her daughter’s tear-stained eyes, her mind was blank with sorrow. She opened her mouth to speak but no word came out. She just rested her chin on Mzuri’s head and wrapped her arms around her.

“Let’s go to bed, dear. Tomorrow is an eventful day. We have to be up early,” Mr. Malezi said to Mrs. Malezi after standing up and stretching. Mrs. Malezi was torn. She didn’t want to abandon her daughter when she needed her the most, but she had no other choice.

“Sleep well, my dear,” she whispered to her as she released her slowly, then got up. “Sleep tight, Kiburi,” she said to her son.

“Good night, Mother,” he replied.

Mr. Malezi went over to Mzuri and squatted in front of her, then wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“Don’t cry, my daughter. Rejoice. This is the happiest stage of your life,” he advised her gently. Mzuri wanted to talk, but she remained quiet. “Good night, my little girl. Enjoy your last night of being a girl,” he added, then stroked her hair and stood up. He turned to Kiburi and smiled.

“Good night, son,” he said to him jovially. Kiburi returned the smile.

“Good night, Father,” he replied.

As their parents went to their room, Mzuri watched them until they were out of sight. She wiped her bloodshot eyes and said to Kiburi, “I don’t want to get married,” then sniffed. Kiburi looked at her sympathetically.

“You could always run away,” he suggested with a shrug. His sister shook her head.

“That would be shameful,” she replied.

“Isn’t marrying you off shameful? Look, Mzuri. Sometimes it is safer to take a ride on your wild side and release the beast in you. Express your feelings,” Kiburi advised urgently. Mzuri ran her hands through her hair in frustration.

“I’m-I’m confused, okay? A good night’s sleep will do the trick. I’ll pray about it. I’m sure God will help me,” she said wearily, then stood up.

“Pray?” Kiburi echoed unbelievingly.

“Good night, Kiburi, and thanks for the advice,” Mzuri said to him with a weak smile.

“Anytime, sis. Sleep tight,” he responded, then they both went to their respective rooms for a well-deserved rest.

THE SHOW STILL GOES ON THE ROAD

Mrs. Malezi tossed and turned on their mattress. Mr. Malezi, on the other hand, was sound asleep. She shook him gently.

“Dave,” she called as she shook him.

“Yesss?” He replied sleepily after a thorough shaking.

“I need to talk to you,” she whispered gently to him. He turned to her slowly.

“About what?” He asked strenuously.

“About marrying our daughter off so abruptly,” Mrs. Malezi replied. He scratched his beard.

“I’m all ears,” he said.

“I don’t think she’s ready for a wedding—let alone marriage—just yet. Other than that, she has big dreams of becoming a doctor,” Mrs. Malezi explained.

“Gladys, how old were you when we got married?” Mr. Malezi asked her.

“Sixteen,” she replied, remembering that day as if it was yesterday.

“Were you ready?” He asked her again.

“No, but…” she started.

“Exactly! You see, dear, no one is ever ready for marriage no matter their age. We were young and inexperienced. Look at us now: Twenty five years down the line and we’re still going strong,” Mr. Malezi said, then paused and continued, “So shall it be for Mzuri. At first it will be tears, but later on, it shall be cheers.” Mrs. Malezi couldn’t object further.

“Let’s get some sleep, hmmm?” Mr. Malezi suggested, and turned away from her. Mrs. Malezi closed her eyes and within no time, they were both sound asleep.

Early the next morning in the Mawazo hut, Mrs. Mawazo was already up. She was in the kitchen fixing porridge. Malaika slept soundly with a smile on her face. Mr. Mawazo woke up.

“Margaret!” He called out to his wife.

“Yes, dear,” she responded.

“Is that ungrateful girl up yet?” He asked her.

“No,” she replied briefly. Mr. Mawazo sighed heavily.

“I’ve invested in her for seventeen years, not holding anything back. What she wanted I ensure she got it no matter the cost,” he started regretfully. “I expect her to pay me back with a hefty bride price. God has indeed blessed me with a beautiful daughter. But how does she respond? Jade, how do you respond?” He continued angrily. His continuous ranting woke Malaika up. She woke up in the middle of the heartfelt speech. She stretched and yawned.

“Jade!” Her father shouted.

“I hear you, Dad,” she replied easily.

“What do you hear? Our pleas for a change or your selfish needs?!” Her father replied furiously.

“If I may interrupt, darling, talk is cheap. We should take our God-given responsibility as parents seriously. We should discipline her,” Mrs. Mawazo suggested, as she set the porridge in the living room. “Breakfast is ready!” She called out, then sat on her stool and began serving the porridge.

Mr. Mawazo was the first to appear. He had a scowl on his face. He sat on his stool moodily.

“Disciplining her won’t solve anything,” he repeated.

“Then what will?” Mrs. Mawazo roared as she handed him his porridge. He said a quick prayer and began sipping it. Mrs. Mawazo stared at him lengthily moodily then began taking her porridge.

Malaika appeared while gently wiping her face with a woolen face rug. Her hair was neatly arranged into a ponytail. As she stood before her parents, her father shifted away from her while her mother eyed her scornfully from head to toe.

“Morning Mum, Dad,” she said as she took her seat. There was no reply. She sighed, rubbed her hands together, and began sipping her porridge after a silent prayer.

“I think the best way to punish her is by forcing her to abort that rat growing in her,” Mrs. Mawazo said as she looked at her husband. Malaika froze. Her lips trembled. Her life was in her father’s hands.

“No,” he finally spoke. “We shall let her have the child and marry her off to that rascal,” he added. Malaika’s heart danced with joy. She tried maintaining a straight face but her occasional grins gave her away. Hiding her mouth with the porridge bowl proved futile also, as the corners of her lips were clearly visible.

“You’re not serious,” Mrs. Mawazo complained in a collected tone. She glanced at Malaika and saw her joying. 

Mr. Mawazo sighed heavily and placed his bowl on the floor with authority after sipping a mouthful of the sour porridge. He swallowed it and said softly, “I’m serious,” then looked at his daughter and shook his head.

“From now on, I shan’t call you ‘Malaika’ anymore. You’ve shamed my mother’s name. You were an angel but have turned into a demon,” he said bitterly, then sipped the last of his porridge and stood up. “Let me go and return to Mzee Nyemelea his hefty bride price,” he said wearily, then left. Mrs. Mawazo watched him go. After he left, she pinched Malaika.

“It’s all your fault,” she complained angrily, then sipped her porridge.

At the Malezis, it was a beehive of activity. Everyone had woken up and was preparing thoroughly. 

Mr. and Mrs. Malezi were dressed to impress, with Mrs. Malezi clad in an Ankara headband and matching blouse and skirt plus cowrie shell earrings, and Mr. Malezi an Ankara shirt and matching trousers. He had on his head a chief’s hat, to show his authority and superiority in the area. Kiburi was clad in a brand new leopard skin while Mzuri was the fairest of them all.

Her hair was neatly plaited and she applied crushed charcoal mixed with water on her eyelashes to act as mascara.  Her light skin looked even lighter thanks to the special powder she had applied. She had donned an ankle-length silk dress—perfect for the occasion—and her lips were decorated with coconut oil. She looked depressed. She still couldn’t come to terms with the fact that she would be someone’s wife in a few moment’s time.

Mr. Malezi looked at her and smiled. He put his hands on his hips and stuck out his chest proudly.

“No one in this village has a daughter as beautiful as mine!” He declared jovially, then rubbed her right cheek gently with his thumb, fore, and middle fingers. “Marriage is a blast, my daughter. Just give it a chance,” he told her, then grasped her right hand and squeezed it assuringly.

Mzuri didn’t count on it. In her mind, she wished her father would reconsider. She looked at her mother pitifully, hoping that she would be of any help. Mrs. Malezi looked back at her and smiled. Her smile was weak. ‘Take heart’ were the words her lips were forming. Within no time, everyone was ready and they took their seats outside neatly: Mzuri in front, Kiburi by her side, and their parents behind them.

“He shall be here with his people anytime now,” Mr. Malezi said expectantly as he tapped his feet impatiently on the well-swept compound surrounding the hut. 

Kiburi turned to his sister. She blinked repeatedly and avoided wiping her eyes to avoid rubbing off the crushed charcoal. Her face was powdered professionally. He slipped his hand into hers as a sign of consolation.

She looked at him, then squeezed his hand gently. She needed comfort. The fact that he cared gave her the strength to push on. She smiled. Faint music could be heard from a distance, after which a posh, well-polished Isuzu MU-X emerged from within clouds of dust. Mr. Malezi smiled.

“There he is,” he said, then held his wife’s hand. Mrs. Malezi didn’t know what to expect. She looked on at the approaching vehicle blankly.

As for Mzuri, her heart palpitated uncontrollably. Her chest rose and fell at a noticeable pace. Though she felt like she would vomit the countless butterflies in her stomach, she slowly retrieved her hand from her brother, took a deep breath, and smiled harmoniously. She entrusted her life to her one true Saviour, Jesus Christ, and was sure that He would not let her down.

Mr. Mawazo’s departure prompted Malaika to talk with her mother—to make her understand. She stared at her silently. All along, Mrs. Mawazo was looking around the room and cursing. Her gaze finally met Malaika’s.

“What?” She blared moodily as she sipped her porridge. Malaika sighed deeply and set the porridge bowl in her hands on the floor. She cleared her throat.

“Mum,” she started. Mrs. Mawazo stared at her blankly. 

She stood up and straightened her jeans. To her, the attire the people in the village wore was backward and outdated. She borrowed the dress code of her peers in the city. She walked towards her mother and stood before her.

“I’m your daughter,” she continued, and looked at her mother imploringly. Mrs. Mawazo licked the inner skin of her mouth and leaned forward. “Why don’t you understand me? You’ve known that from time immemorial I have loved Kiburi. I told you that, right?” Malaika asked politely. Mrs. Mawazo sipped her porridge again, then licked the corners of her mouth.
“What are you saying? That you are justified to sleep with him out of wedlock?” She whispered. Before Malaika could reply, she continued, “What you feel for that boy is infatuation. Probably lust. You’re young. The boy is still a child. You deserve someone mature. Someone wealthy.”

“Like Mzee Nyemelea?” Malaika said, with a look of disgust on her face.

“Exactly. You two are like peas in a pod. You’re irresistible. He’s stinking rich. Your children will be attractive and wealthy—sorry, would be. You’ve ruined everything. You’ve given up wealth for a confused urchin like Malezi?” Mrs. Mawazo replied, then added, “And to think that he had you in a bush? Not even a bed? A mattress, at least?”

“Mum, he’s the chief’s son,” Malaika started.

“That doesn’t change anything. No matter which amount he gives, he can’t afford you. You’re too beautiful for him,” Mrs. Mawazo replied quickly. She paused and continued, “Anyway, you’re carrying his shame in you. You foolishly let him defile you. Where is he now? Where is he to claim your hand in marriage?”

Malaika licked her lips and stroked her hair. She looked at her mother silently.

“Well? If he thought he would use you and dump you without even producing a cent, he has another thing coming,” Mrs. Mawazo said, then sipped her porridge. Malaika was as a statue, overwhelmed with astonishment.

“Mum. You mean that all that matters to you is wealth? Not even me?” She asked in a broken voice due to her hold-back of tears. Mrs. Mawazo looked at her.

“That, and you too. Should I die in poverty? Ever since I was a young girl, I’ve never gotten into a car. I’ve never owned anything enviable. When I have something good—gold, you—to give in order to gain wealth, visit places, and live well, you turn into charcoal—a useless stone that no one can purchase—and give yourself to that joker. Do you know what that makes you?” She replied. Malaika broke down and cried.

“You should understand, Mum. I don’t love Mzee Nyemelea and never will. Giving me to him would be subjecting me to immeasurable torture,” she said, amidst sobs. 

Mrs. Mawazo looked on at her and scoffed. She stood up slowly due to her obesity that contributed greatly to her slow pace. Despite that, she was beautiful and young-looking. People often than not confused her for Malaika’s older sister.

“I’m going to the Malezis. That boy has upset a beehive and must be prepared to be stung. He won’t escape scott-free,” Mrs. Mawazo said plainly, then turned and left without waiting for her daughter’s reply. Malaika was stunned.

“Malezis? Mum, wait…” she started. Mrs. Mawazo walked on. Malaika hurried after her to stop her from embarrassing herself and the Mawazo household.

The MU-X took a sudden stop a few metres away from the immaculate Malezis. The music stopped and one of its doors—the driver’s door—opened slowly. The Malezis looked on keenly. A well-polished Oxford gently set foot on the Malezian soil, then the rest of the much-anticipated guest emerged from the vehicle. He removed his shades and strode confidently to his new awestruck family. Kiburi stood quickly and rushed into the hut to fetch a stool. 

The visitor’s style appealed to him. He was dressed in a checked brown suit with the shirt’s sleeves peeping out of the coat’s hands. He had a thin body and a neatly trimmed trail of beard from the sides of his head to the chin.

“Hello, Mum, Dad, and…” he paused as his eyes met with Mzuri’s. Mzuri’s eyes faced her legs quickly. She felt shy. To her, he was gorgeous. He got down on one knee before her and gently took her right hand and kissed it. She felt a strange sensation rush throughout her as his lips came into contact with the skin of her hand. She giggled shyly.

“...sweetheart,” he continued, after kissing her hand. Mr. and Mrs. Malezi watched on silently with smiles on their faces. Kiburi stood behind the stranger with the stool in his hands.

“Um, welcome, son,” Mr. Malezi finally said to the stranger after a lengthy love-filled silence. The stranger winked at Mzuri and slowly stood up, then released her hand.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said as he adjusted his coat proudly and greeted him and his wife. Kiburi put the stool before him. The stranger sat on Kiburi’s stool—which was beside Mzuri—forcing Kiburi to take his stool. The stranger turned to Kiburi.

“Hi, bro,” he said to him, and offered him his hand. Kiburi shook it quickly.

“Hi,” he replied, trying to get used to being called ‘bro’ by a complete outsider who had no blood relationship with him whatsoever. After the greeting, the stranger turned to Mzuri once more and continued admiring her.

“May I get the pleasure of knowing your name?” He cooed to her softly as he lovingly stroked her petal-soft hand. Mrs. Malezi cleared her throat softly.
“Son, may we get the pleasure of knowing your name, your background, all about you?” She said, then turned to Mr. Malezi for support. He and Kiburi nodded vigorously.

“Yes, please,” Kiburi contributed eagerly as he eyed his stylish footwear admiringly. The stranger looked at Mzuri. She flashed a smile that melted his heart instantly like butter.

“Do tell,” she encouraged, as she smiled.

DRAMA AT A WEDDING

He stood before his expectant audience.

“Pardon me, Mum, Dad, bro, and…sweetheart for my rude manners. It’s just that my sweetheart’s beauty has erased my memory. I completely forgot,” he explained as he gazed at Mzuri. She blushed and laughed softly. Mr. and Mrs. Malezi and Kiburi nodded understandingly.

“My name is Arithmetic Swara and I’m a lawyer by profession. I’m thirty years old. I schooled in Riara during my primary school period and managed a grade A in my CPE in standard 7. For my secondary education, I schooled in Starehe Boys Centre and also managed an A after my form 4,” he explained proudly. He could hear ‘wow’s escaping the mouths of the fascinated Malezis.

“And where are your people?” Mrs. Malezi asked him as she scanned around his car for any of them to pop out.

“Right. Um, I came alone as my father is dead. He was a heavy smoker, so he contracted lung cancer. As for my mum, she’s ill. I couldn’t bring her. But as time goes by, perhaps I shall bring her. My extended relatives couldn’t make it because it was such short notice,” Mr. Swara explained. Afterwards, he turned and went to his car.

“I hope you didn’t expect me to come empty-handed,” he said as he opened the driver’s door and beckoned Kiburi. Kiburi jumped to his feet and rushed to where he was. “I want you to help me distribute these gifts. This is Dad’s,” Mr. Swara said, as he pointed to a crate of beer that was safely strapped to the passenger seat beside the driver seat.

Kiburi unstrapped it and stealthily carried it towards his happy father who stared on delightedly. As Kiburi dealt with the gifts inside the car, Mr. Swara dealt with the gifts in the boot. He offloaded them one by one. The Malezis and Mzuri watched excitedly as gift after gift was retrieved from the car. Mr. Malezi smiled to his wife and daughter as Kiburi set the gift before him.

Mr. Swara carried a neatly packaged parcel that was neatly decorated towards Mrs. Malezi.

“Mum, this is for you,” he said proudly as he presented it to her. She smiled, and her eyes blinked repeatedly rapidly.

“What is it?” She asked Mr. Swara as he set it before her then stood and aligned the arms of his expensive coat to avoid creasing them.

“Plenty of kangas and a mobile phone—latest in the market,” he replied.

Mrs. Malezi couldn’t contain her joy. She ululated and in the spur of a moment, rose to her feet and hugged Mr. Swara.

“God bless you, my son,” she said as she hugged him.

“Amen,” he replied, while returning the hug. After the hug, Mrs. Malezi sat once more. Mr. Swara turned just in time to see Kiburi carrying a make up set and a parcel that was almost like Mrs. Malezi’s.

“That’s my sweetheart’s. Be careful with it as it contains very fragile things,” he informed him as he stood back and watched him present the gifts to his ecstatic sister. After Kiburi set them before her, he winked at her.

As he made for the car once more, Mr. Swara said to him, “That will be all, bro. I shall present to you your gift.” Kiburi sat on his stool anxiously.

Mr. Swara stood before Mzuri. She smiled at him broadly. He smiled back, and fished into the inner right-hand side pocket of his coat with his left hand and took out an attractive small rectangular box.

“I have another gift for you, darling,” he whispered to her, then got down on one knee once again. 

He opened the box slowly and in it was a gold ring with a diamond on it, on an admirable raised platform. Mzuri gasped. Mr. Swara took her left hand and slowly slipped the ring around her ring finger. Her hand trembled as he did so. She had never been talked to or greeted by any man except her father and brother.
After putting the ring around her finger, he looked into her eyes. Their eyes met as he continued holding her hand.

“Now grant me the honour of knowing your precious name,” he whispered seductively to her. She covered her mouth with her free hand.

“Jane Mzuri Malezi,” she whispered after a while. Mr. Swara whistled as his eyes travelled around her curvaceous body.

“That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he said, then stroked her straight hair. She smiled and managed a ‘thank you.’ Mr. Swara leaned forward in a bid to kiss her, but he refrained. He wanted her to get used to him first.

“Mzuri, dear,” Mrs. Malezi intruded gently with an apologetic look on her face. Mzuri turned to her slowly. “Let’s…and leave the men to talk. We have to eat, you know,” Mrs. Malezi continued as she pointed towards the kitchen. Mzuri didn’t object, but Mr. Swara did. When she stood and turned to leave, he grasped her wrist.

“Do you have to go, sweetheart? You haven’t heard the poem I dedicated to you yet,” he said to her softly. Mzuri turned to her mother, unsure of what to say or do.

“Don’t worry, son. It won’t be long. She’ll be back,” Mrs. Malezi assured him. He let go of her hesitantly and watched her as she went. He shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t believe his luck. Such beauty, such grace, his—all his! Mzuri whispered to her mother excitedly as they went and turned severally to Mr. Swara with a smile. He waved to her longingly.

After they left, Mr. Swara stood up promptly and went to fetch Kiburi’s gift, as Kiburi had been staring at him impatiently. It was a carton box that was neatly sealed, with a photo of very stylish shoes on all sides of it. Kiburi held his breath as Mr. Swara put the box before him.

“Wh-what is it?” He asked, under his breath.

“Open it,” Mr. Swara replied simply. Kiburi did not wait to be told twice. He descended on the box and tore the pretty seal that secured the contents in the box mercilessly. Mr. Swara and Mr. Malezi laughed at his zeal. Once it was open, Kiburi froze. He stared at the contents in awe.

“Shoes. Clothes. A watch,” he whispered, then turned to Mr. Swara quickly with a smile.

“Hold on. Hold on, bro. Those are not just shoes. They are Air Jordans—a must have in the USA, those clothes are designer—Dolce and Gabbana material, and as for the watch…” Mr. Swara paused, stared at Kiburi and Mr. Malezi in turns, then continued, “It’s a brand new Rolex Submariner, imported from Switzerland. It’s all for you, bro.” Kiburi smiled broadly.

“Thanks, bro,” he said excitedly. He wanted to hug Mr. Swara but he refrained. Instead, he greeted him.

“No problem. My sweetheart’s brother deserves it,” Mr. Swara replied, then turned to Mr. Malezi. “My family deserves it all,” he added. Though Mr. Malezi was excited beyond words, he played it cool. Mr. Swara walked over to and went and sat beside him.

As for Kiburi, he went to put on some of his famous attire that downright brought out the young man in him.

“Wow. A gift for all, huh? Well, what about us?” Said a distant voice. Kiburi came out, donning an ‘NY’ labelled cap, a campus jacket, a white T-shirt, jeans, the Air Jordans, and the Rolex, and joined Mr. Swara and Mr. Malezi who were also wondering who spoke.

At first, a distant figure was visible but after some time, the figure became clearer. Mr. Malezi made out Mrs. Mawazo and a girl beside her, whom he presumed to be her daughter. Kiburi’s jaw dropped in recognition. He stood behind his father, where he thought he was safe.

“The Mawazos,” Mr. Malezi whispered in disgust as he watched them approaching. Mr. Swara watched the just-arrived guests blankly. He noticed Malaika but avoided focussing on her.

“What do you want, Margaret? If you’ve come to get a gift or two, well there’s none for you,” Mr. Malezi said mockingly as he glanced at Malaika then glared at Mrs. Mawazo. Mrs. Mawazo grimaced and put her hands on her hips.

Her gaze shifted from Mr. Malezi, to Mr. Swara, and finally to Kiburi, who looked scared stiff. She looked at his cap and stylish clothes and clicked with a wicked smile. Malaika stood behind her. Her eyes were fixed on Kiburi. He glanced at her. His fear couldn’t bring him to look at her. From the look in Malaika’s eyes, she was impressed by his civilised city dress code.

Mrs. Mawazo frowned. Before she opened her mouth to utter a word, Mrs. Malezi and Mzuri appeared, balancing several trays each that were packed with mouth-watering cassava ugali, roast meat, vegetable salad, and boiled potatoes. Kiburi rushed into the hut and got their table that was only used during special occasions like that one. After the table was placed before Mr. Swara and Mr. Malezi, the food was set before them.

“Margaret, Margaret’s daughter, feel free to join us for lunch,” Mrs. Malezi said after setting the table. Mzuri rushed back to the kitchen to fetch the bowls.

“No thanks, Gladys. We’re not here to wine and dine,” Mrs. Mawazo piped.

“Okay, suit yourself. Shall we pray?” Mrs. Malezi said, then prayed and began distributing the food. Mzuri wanted to sit on her stool, but Mr. Swara begged her to sit on his lap, which she did. Kiburi fetched Mrs. Mawazo and Malaika stools.

“Wow. Mum and darling, this food looks delicious!” Mr. Swara exclaimed to Mrs. Malezi and Mzuri as Mr. Malezi handed him his food, which was the most of all.

“Thank you, son, it’s our family specialty. Eat up,” Mrs. Malezi replied with a warm smile. Malaika sat, but Mrs. Mawazo stubbornly remained standing.

“Will you have some food, dear?” Mrs. Malezi asked her kindly.

“Thank you, madam, but I’m full,” Malaika replied with an awkward smile. She felt embarrassed by her mother’s behaviour.

“You still haven’t told us the reason behind your impromptu visit, Margaret,” Mr. Malezi said.

“Maybe you should ask your son,” Mrs. Mawazo replied as she glared at Kiburi. Everyone turned to him. He looked around anxiously and removed his cap.

“What is she talking about, Kiburi?” Mrs. Malezi asked him. He tried chewing the food in his mouth but it became dry all of a sudden and choked him. He coughed uncontrollably. Mzuri glanced at him, then Mrs. Mawazo, then Malaika, and put two and two together. She sighed.

“Come on, you coward! Open up or I will!” Mrs. Mawazo threatened. Kiburi coughed the stray food out of his windpipe and cleared his throat. 

He looked at Malaika. She urged him with her eyes but he was too ashamed to speak. As he looked at her, their love making session replayed in his mind. He tried forgetting it but the look on her face, her wonderful body, her voice—everything about her—always reminded him that the past is real and is here to stay.

“Well?” Mr. Malezi muttered with a dangerous glare at Kiburi. Kiburi glanced at him, then everyone else. His throat was dry. They all wore expectant looks except Mzuri, Mrs. Mawazo, and Malaika. Mzuri sensed the tension and stood up.
“Oh come on, people!” She started, as she looked around at the people in turns. “Isn’t it obvious?” She continued. There was no look of getting the picture on anyone’s face. Mrs. Mawazo sneered at her.

“Mrs. Mawazo and her daughter are here, Kiburi is panicking, Mrs. Mawazo is fuming…hallo?” Mzuri said, throwing a hint to her keen listeners. She saw the blank looks on their faces and sighed deeply. “Let’s wake up and smell the coffee, people!” She urged, as she sunk back onto Mr. Swara’s lap. The Malezis looked at each other.

“At least one of you is brilliant,” Mrs. Mawazo mocked them as she folded her arms and turned to Mzuri. 

Mr. Malezi was losing his patience. He hated surprises. He scratched his wrinkled forehead lightly in despair. Mr. Swara cleared his throat.

“Madam, will you kindly relieve us of our suspense and disclose whatever it is my brother did?” He said gently to Mrs. Mawazo. Mzuri shook her head in disbelief. Even he didn’t get it? She thought. Mrs. Mawazo shook her head firmly.

“He has to be man enough to own up,” she said. Mr. Swara looked at Mzuri.

“Sweetheart?” He said to her softly. She also shook her head and pointed to Kiburi.

“He has to admit to his deed,” she said, then took her stool and sat on it. Mr. Swara’s narrow lap didn’t offer her the comfort the stool did. Mrs. Malezi finally turned to Malaika, who all along was nervously biting her left thumbnail softly.

“Who are you, dear?” She asked her.

“How will that help us?” Mr. Malezi suddenly sputtered.

“Please, dear. Let her talk,” Mrs. Malezi replied calmly as she held his hand. All eyes turned to Malaika. Mrs. Malezi wanted to smell the coffee that Mzuri was talking about. Malaika cleared her throat and glanced at Kiburi, then faced the Malezis.

“I’m Jade Malaika Mawazo, the daughter of Mrs. Mawazo, here, and Mr. Mawazo, who is not present at the moment. I’m 17 years old and apart from English and Kiswahili, I also speak Sheng’,” she said, then took a deep breath in conclusion. Mr. and Mrs. Malezi looked at each other and nodded, then Mrs. Malezi looked at Malaika while Mr. Malezi looked at Malaika and Mrs. Mawazo in turns to spot any resemblance.
“You’re beautiful,” Mrs. Malezi complimented Malaika casually. She blushed.

“Thank you,” she managed. Mrs. Malezi could make a good mother-in-law, she thought.

“So what’s your relationship with our son?” Mr. Malezi intruded roughly.

“Um, well, you see…” she started, but Kiburi stopped her.

“Perhaps I should explain that,” he said as he stood confidently. All eyes were fixed on him. Malaika looked at him gratefully and smiled at him.

“Honey, this is not the way to go about this,” said a voice behind all of them. Mrs. Mawazo glanced at the unexpected guest and turned away from him.

“Go about what?” Mrs. Malezi asked impatiently as they all turned to the guest.

“You mean you Malezis still don’t know what your scoundrel did to our daughter?” He asked as he made his way to the centre of the audience, took Kiburi’s stool, and sat a distance away from Mr. and Mrs. Malezi.

“What?” Mr. Malezi asked between gritted teeth, resisting the temptation to strangle Mr. Mawazo. Mr. Mawazo was almost spilling the beans but Mrs. Mawazo silenced him.

“Hush, Harrison. Their son has to be man enough to confess,” she said. Mr. Swara calmly watched the proceedings as they unfolded before him. Mr. Malezi tapped him on his arm gently.

“I’m sorry, son. This wasn’t a part of the ceremony. These people are uninvited guests out to ruin this special day,” he said as he pointed at the Mawazos. Mr. Swara nodded understandingly. He was used to the hocus pocus before him in court.

“Don’t tell me you have another son, David?” Mr. Mawazo said in surprise as he stared at Mr. Swara.

“That’s his son-in-law,” Mrs. Mawazo whispered to him.

“That’s none of your business, Harrison,” Mr. Malezi replied coldly, then turned to Kiburi. “As you were saying, son?” He said curtly.

Kiburi looked at all the faces turned to him and his gaze rested on Malaika’s face. She was counting on him to be strong and fight for their love. Her warm smile exterminated the fear of being judged inside him and instead gave him a feeling of confidence. He wore his cap again firmly and adjusted his jacket. He was ready for some disclosure.

COMING OF AGE

He cleared his throat.

“Mum, Dad,” he started, as he looked at his parents in turns. They fixed him attentive stares.

“Do you remember when you said that I can talk to you about anything?” He continued, then proceeded, “Well, yesterday after the argument with my friends, I went out for a walk as I was feeling angry,” he paused, then adjusted the collars of his jacket.

“As I went on, I saw Jade here crying. She looked miserable,” he explained. Mrs. Mawazo looked behind her to locate the stool set for her and sat beside her daughter in a huff.

“Who is she to you?” Mrs. Malezi asked him gently. Kiburi opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He glanced at Malaika. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to make their relationship public.

“She’s my girlfriend, the love of my life since childhood,” he explained, then took her hand and prompted her gently to stand. 

She stood slowly, straightened her hair with her free hand, and stood beside him. Mrs. Mawazo tapped her feet in fury. Mr. Mawazo groaned in irritation. Mzuri looked at her courageous brother as he spoke. Mr. Swara adjusted his tie and adjusted himself on his stool to get a much more comfortable posture. Mr. Malezi motioned Kiburi to continue.

“I courteously asked her what was wrong and she told me that she would be married off to some old man,” he started.

“Rich old man,” Mrs. Mawazo quipped, attracting rude stares.

“Anyway, I couldn’t accept that as she is my childhood sweetheart,” he explained, then held both Malaika’s hands and looked into her eyes. She smiled.

“Then what?!” Mr. Mawazo demanded harshly, breaking the special moment.

“I comforted her, and did it with her,” Kiburi explained confidently. Malaika’s presence offered him courage.

“Did what?” Mrs. Mawazo asked slyly, then she sneered at him and Malaika.

“You don’t have to ask that, Margaret. We’re all adults,” Mr. Malezi said curtly, with a glare at the Mawazos.

“So she’s pregnant?” Mzuri asked Kiburi as she stared at Malaika. Kiburi gazed at Malaika, prompting her to answer the question.

“Yes. Yes I am,” she said, while looking at the ground shyly. The Malezis looked at each other sternly, then at Kiburi.

“And we’re here for dowry!” Mrs. Mawazo blurted suddenly.

“Margaret!” Mr. Mawazo hissed.

“What? We are,” she insisted. Malaika cleared her throat to prevent her parents from embarrassing her further.

“How could you, Kiburi?” Mrs. Malezi asked him in a disappointed tone. Mr. Malezi looked around in a confused manner.

“I suggest we discuss this later. Now is not an appropriate time,” Mr. Mawazo suggested humbly.

“Well, I suggest we discuss it,” Mr. Swara said vociferously, making everyone turn to him.

“I concur. This is a delicate issue that should be looked into immediately,” Mr. Malezi said, while scratching his moustache. “So how much do you want?” He asked the Mawazos after a long pause. They looked at each other.

“One million,” Mrs. Mawazo piped, without consulting her husband.

“What?! Surely that must be a joke, Margaret?” Mrs. Malezi asked in disbelief.

“Was it a joke when he was defiling our only daughter, let alone child?” Mrs. Mawazo replied cheekily. Mr. Malezi cleared his throat.

“It’s okay, Gladys. We shall give them the amount,” he said briefly. “Kiburi. Go and get me my savings basket,” he commanded Kiburi, without looking at him. Kiburi let go of Malaika’s hands and rushed into the hut. Mrs. Mawazo rubbed her palms together excitedly. Mr. Mawazo rolled his eyes and adjusted his spectacles.

“Speaking of savings, Dad, Mum, I have another present for you,” Mr. Swara announced happily to the Malezis, then got up and straightened his coat. “Excuse me,” he said, and with that, he walked towards his car. The Mawazos watched him go enviously, admiring his epitome of suave.

Kiburi reappeared with the basket and set it before his straight-faced father. It was packed with numerous notes. The Mawazos’ eyes widened on sight of it. They could not believe their eyes. Kiburi went to Malaika and held her hands. She looked at him from head to toe and smiled.

“Nice outfit,” she said.

“Yours too. I love the jeans. They really curve out your terrific shape,” Kiburi returned the compliment and hugged her. 

The smell of her hair made him smile and sigh deeply. For a moment, they got lost in each other’s arms but Kiburi was first to remember they were in front of their relatives who stared at them. He slowly stopped hugging her and held her hands again. He felt their smoothness with his.

“I think you should go and sit down now, Jade. It’s not advisable for you to stand in your condition,” he whispered to her softly. She nodded.

“I should. I should,” she replied, then pulled him close to her gently. “Come and join me there,” she indicated with her eyes where her stool was—beside her mother. Mrs. Mawazo shook her head firmly.

“I will not allow that. So long as his family hasn’t paid for you, you’re still ours, Jade,” she said, as she glared at Kiburi. Kiburi wondered whether his marriage to Malaika would be disastrous or harmonious.

“Maybe later,” he said softly, then squeezed her hands gently and released them for her to let go. 

Before she went, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss, to the irritation of her parents and surprise of the Malezis and Mr. Swara.  She didn’t care what any of them thought. It was a special moment for her. Kiburi, on the other hand, felt embarrassed to kiss her in front of their loved ones, let alone hold her. He didn’t make any attempt to hold her.
After the kiss, Malaika strode happily to her place and sat down at once, ignoring her parents’ rude stares. Kiburi was still trying to recover from his blissful feeling. He adjusted his cap and slowly went to have a seat. Mzuri smiled at his reaction. Malaika sighed dreamily.

“That boy isn’t your husband yet and you’ve kissed him?” Mr. Mawazo asked her furiously after forcing off his spectacles.

“In front of us?” Mrs. Mawazo added, trying to add petrol to the small glow of fire.

“You would have looked away, Dad, Mum. No one forced you to look on,” Malaika said, with a glance at them, then she refocussed her attention on Kiburi. All along, Mr. Malezi was carefully counting note after note without a word. He was totally oblivious of anything that went on around him.

Mr. Swara reappeared carrying a well-polished silver briefcase. He courteously presented it to Mr. Malezi. The Mawazos’ eyes were fixed on the briefcase. They wondered what it contained. Mr. Malezi looked up from his money.

“What is that?” He asked wearily.

“Open to find out, Dad. It’s a special present,” Mr. Swara replied with an encouraging smile.

“I’m busy at the moment,” Mr. Malezi mumbled, then turned to Mrs. Malezi. She didn’t wait to be asked. She received the briefcase instead.

“Thank you, son,” she said, giving him a chance to go and sit. She opened the briefcase slowly. Her eyes widened on seeing the contents. “Wow!” She exclaimed, making Mr. Malezi glance at the exciting present. His eyes widened slightly.

“What is it, Dad?” Mzuri asked curiously.

“Bundles and bundles of money!” Mrs. Malezi replied on his behalf.

“Lots of it,” Mr. Malezi emphasised, making sure that the Mawazos heard. Indeed they did and they looked at each other.

“Perhaps we should have asked for 2,000,000,” Mrs. Mawazo said to her husband regretfully. Malaika shook her head and rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wished that Mr. and Mrs. Mawazo were not her parents.

“Son, you shouldn’t have,” Mr. Malezi said happily as he looked at Mr. Swara and the money in turns. Mr. Swara held Mzuri’s hand and smiled proudly.

“It’s my pleasure, Dad. Your beautiful daughter here is worth every single note in there,” he replied as he smiled at Mzuri. Mzuri blushed as she hugged him briefly. Their eyes met.

“I wish you knew how beautiful you are,” Mr. Swara whispered to her as he looked into her eyes.

“Stop it,” Mzuri replied dreamily as she absorbed his compliment.

“No, you are. And I have a poem for you to prove it,” Mr. Swara said softly. Everyone stared at him attentively, waiting to hear the poem.

“Though morning and night are two different things, you are the light that shines in me, and the assurance that my life is complete. 

You give me a reason to smile now, baby. For you I can do anything, including walking for miles. 

What’s day without light, tea without sugar, love without a lover, food without salt, and a man without a woman? 

For you, my darling, are my light, my sugar, my lover, my salt, and…” he paused as he looked into her eyes. She was beaming. “...my woman,” he concluded, as his head slowly came towards hers. He was totally in the moment. Their noses touched.

“That was beautiful,” Mzuri whispered happily.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Mr. Swara whispered. Everyone except the Mawazos looked on in delight. Just as they were about to kiss, Mrs. Mawazo cleared her throat loudly to remind everyone of their presence.

“I think we’ve seen enough of that,” Mr. Mawazo said in a low tone.

“And besides,” Mrs. Mawazo started, “can you compare my daughter to yours, Gladys? David?” She added, as she stood up. Malaika groaned and buried her head in her hands. “I mean, look at her: She’s tall, slim, beautiful…” she started.

“Mum!” Malaika interrupted her urgently. Mrs. Mawazo looked at her with a sneer and ignored her call.
“She can drive any man crazy and unfortunately, it had to be your sick son,” she continued, while gazing around the Malezis with a raised eyebrow. “Look at her breasts: Fresh, lively, fine. I’m sure your son can bear me witness that they are sweet,” she explained with a cheeky smile.

“Margaret!” Mr. Mawazo shouted to her angrily. She was still not ready to stop.

“They have to understand that our daughter is gorgeous. What about her backside? Jade, sweetheart, please get up and turn for these people to see your beauty,” Mrs. Mawazo said as she turned to Malaika, whose head was buried between her legs. She was thoroughly embarrassed.

“Margaret, that’s enough!” Mr. Mawazo declared angrily, then stood and grabbed his wife’s wrist. “Our daughter isn’t a piece of meat that you’re dangling before fierce man-eating dogs, for God’s sake. Respect her!” He continued, maintaining his angry tone.

“Thanks, Dad,” Malaika said happily to her father. Mrs. Malezi and Mzuri exchanged quizzical looks. Mr. Swara stifled his laughter by putting his index and middle fingers before his lips. Mr. Malezi passed his hand across his eyes and cleared his throat.

“Now that those sentiments are put across, we can get down to more serious business,” he said seriously as he looked at the Mawazos in turns. 

Mzuri and Mrs. Malezi looked at Mrs. Mawazo while shaking their heads. Mzuri had no reason to doubt her beauty. Mr. Swara had already confirmed it to her and she herself knew that she was foxy and attractive.

“Here is your 1,000,000 in full,” Mr. Malezi said calmly while handing them bundles and bundles of 500-shilling notes. The Mawazos could not believe their eyes.

Unbelievingly, Mr. Mawazo reached out and took the bulky amount. His hands trembled due to the weight of the money. He had never seen such an amount in his entire life. Mrs. Mawazo took it hastily and started counting it.

“It can’t be all of it. It can’t be,” she said to herself as she counted.

“Margaret, it’s all of it,” Mr. Mawazo said curtly as he looked at his wife in an irritated manner.

Malaika signalled to Kiburi for him to go and sit beside her. He insisted that she, instead, went and sat beside him, which she did gladly. She took her stool and went where he was, then she sat.

“Now that that is over and done with, we are no longer indebted to you, Harrison and Margaret,” Mr. Malezi said contentedly as he rubbed his palms together to symbolise washing his hands.

“So where will Kiburi and Jade stay?” Mzuri asked as she looked in everyone’s direction. They all nodded except Mr. Malezi. He smiled proudly.

“I knew that this day would come, so I prepared for it. I had a house built for my son and his wife at Nairobi in Lavington, to be precise. Son, go and fetch me my keys from under my mattress,” he explained, then looked at the Mawazos, who hung their heads in shame. It was their daughter’s big day and they had no present for her and her husband.

“Thanks, Dad!” Kiburi said excitedly as he jumped to his feet and raced into the hut.

“It’s okay, son. It’s our present to you,” Mr. Malezi replied proudly. He returned with the keys and secured them in his jacket pocket.

“How will they know which house it is?” Mrs. Malezi asked as she faced her husband. He nodded thoughtfully.

“It has a blue ceiling and a huge compound around it,” he replied.

Mrs. Malezi, Kiburi, Malaika, and Mr. Swara nodded slowly. The question had been answered. Their question had been answered. Mzuri, however, wasn’t satisfied.

“But how will they get there?” She asked quickly as she glanced at her brother and his wife. Mr. Swara smiled proudly. It was his time to shine.

“I won’t mind transporting them,” he said with a humble voice. The Malezis looked at him gratefully.

“Really?” Mr. Mawazo asked, with a tinge of jealousy clearly coming out in his tone.

“Yes,” Mr. Swara said calmly, then put his right arm around Mzuri’s shoulder and crossed his legs.

“Well, now that that is taken care of, Mzuri…” Mr. Malezi started as he motioned Mzuri to approach him. She got up and went towards him. He held her hands and looked into her eyes.

“My girl,” he said with a heavy and hoarse voice. Mzuri stared on at him silently. “May God bless you mightily with good health and many children!” He exclaimed.
“Amen,” Mzuri replied as she fought hard to hold back the tears that were threatening to come down her smooth visage.

“May He bless your new home, you, and your family,” he continued as his grip on his daughter’s hand tightened.

“Amen,” she whispered, almost inaudibly, totally unable to hold back her tears. They flowed freely down her cheeks. There was an awkward silence before Mr. Malezi released her hands.

“I now hand you over to your mother,” he said heavily, then looked away from her. Mzuri couldn’t control herself. She stooped and emotionally overwhelmed her father with an impromptu hug.

“I love you, Dad,” she said amidst sobs.

“I-I love you too, Mzuri,” he whispered. Everyone watched as father and daughter were locked in each other’s arms. After a while, Mzuri withdrew and faced Mrs. Malezi.

Mrs. Malezi smiled sweetly as she looked on at Mzuri. She took her right hand and held it with both her hands. Mzuri wiped away her tears in a flash and with the back of her free hand and sniffed.

“My child,” Mrs. Malezi started, and continued, “marriage is like food—add spice to it, and it is sweet. Leave it plain, and it loses taste,” then paused and continued, “But I know yours shall be a spicy wedding with spices and salt and…” lightly, but silenced on seeing Mzuri smile.

“Seriously, I believe you can do this, my child. After passing through my hands, I have faith in you. Respect is paramount and is the pillar of a long, healthy marriage. Put God first and serve your husband,” she concluded.

“And you, son…” she said, as she faced Mr. Swara. His ears pricked up and he became attentive. “...love and cherish my daughter,” she continued. Mzuri faced Mr. Swara with a smile, just in time to see him nod vigorously.

“I shall, Mother,” he and Mzuri said in unison.

“Can’t I also get a hug?” Mrs. Malezi asked Mzuri as she faced her once again and squeezed her hands.

“Of course, Mum!” Mzuri exclaimed and stooped to hug her mother. They both began crying and laughing at the same time in each other’s arms. Mrs. Malezi didn’t want to let go of her baby.

“Er, Gladys…” Mr. Malezi interceded in a gentle tone. Mrs. Malezi released Mzuri hesitantly.

“I love you, Mum,” Mzuri said as she blinked away the tears that were clouding her eyes.

“I love you too, darling. I always will,” Mrs. Malezi replied emotionally.

Kiburi stopped holding Malaika’s hand and stood up quickly. He spread his arms and hugged his sister. She returned the hug.

“All the best, sis. As you begin your new life, may God guide you,” he whispered to her as he hugged her, then stopped hugging her. “I’m sure when we shall see you next, you’ll be expecting Junior,” he added and smiled, making her smile shyly.

Mr. Swara stood and greeted Mr. Malezi and Kiburi, and hugged Mrs. Malezi. Afterwards, he stood beside Mzuri and put his right arm around her waist. Mrs. Malezi ululated, then stood and began dancing around him and Mzuri while chanting a local folk song.

Malaika followed suit and walked towards Mr. Mawazo. Mzuri’s ceremony encouraged her. She looked at both her parents as she approached them and wished under her breath that they would put their differences with her aside, give her their blessing, and be happy for her.

A CHANGE OF LOCATION

Mr. Mawazo looked up at her. He moved his spectacles. His deep, piercing eyes made her regret coming for his blessing. She contemplated walking away from him. He sighed heavily.

“If this is the life you’ve chosen for yourself, with him,” he indicated Kiburi with his eyes and continued, “then I shan’t ruin your happiness. I wish you the best, my daughter, as you embark on this journey called marriage,” he said, then held her hands and kissed them.

Malaika licked her lips excitedly. So far so good. She went on to her mother, who was marveling at the bundles of money. Mrs. Mawazo looked at her momentarily. She held both her hands and stood up.

“The day has finally come,” she started, then paused. Malaika stared at her, praying that she doesn’t embarrass her some more. “Everyone has theirs and yours is…him,” Mrs. Mawazo continued, and paused to look at Kiburi from head to toe with a sneer, and hugged Malaika once. 

“You may be stubborn, but you’re still my daughter. Take care of my grandchild and yourself and love and serve your husband. I love you, Jadey, and may God bless you and your marriage,” she concluded, and let go of her hands. Malaika hugged her once again. It was the first time in a long time that they enjoyed a warm embrace. Afterwards, Malaika went to Mzuri for a word.

“Good luck, Jade, and congratulations,” Mzuri said, then offered her hand to her. Malaika took it.

“You too, Mzuri. You look stunning, by the way,” she complimented.

“Thanks. So do you. Drop the formalities. I’m your sister now, remember? Call me Jane,” Mzuri replied, then beamed at her. Malaika nodded, then they withdrew their hands.

Kiburi got up and began greeting his in-laws and had an uncontrollable feeling of rejection when Mrs. Mawazo almost snubbed his handshake.

The Malezis welcomed Malaika to their family jovially with greetings and hugs, contrary to what she expected. Things were looking up for her. It was almost as if Lady Luck favoured her. Kiburi hoped after that discouraging encounter with the Mawazos, he would never have to cross paths with them again. 

He greeted his father who bellowed, “Govern your home like a man,” to him and hugged his mother who advised, “You’re now a man. Love, protect, cherish, and respect your wife. And put God first in all things.”

“I will, with my heart,” Kiburi said in a sure manner and wrapped his left arm around Malaika’s shoulder. Malaika wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him. There was an ominous silence as everyone else tried to mind their own business. Mzuri and Mr. Swara smiled at each other.

“We’ll go ahead, Mum, Dad,” Mr. Swara suddenly said to the Malezis. Mr. Malezi nodded.

“It’s getting late. Travel safe,” he said briefly with a weary wave of his left hand. Mrs. Malezi and the Mawazos bade them farewell. 

Malaika and Kiburi smiled at each other and held hands. Kiburi felt like the luckiest man on earth to have a wife whom all men want and desire. Malaika was a sight to behold.
Mr. Swara led his gang to his expensive vehicle as the Malezis and Mawazos watched their children go off to begin independent lives away from home.

Though Mrs. Mawazo considered the dowry to be her second child, she watched on sadly as her daughter got into the car, followed by Kiburi. The engine started and after some relaxing music was played, the car came to life and drove off. The four parents sat stationary as they digested the sight of the disappearing vehicle. The Mawazos sighed and left for their home quietly.

“So they did love their child?” Mrs. Malezi joked as they left.

“Every caring parent does,” Mr. Malezi replied. 

It was late in the evening. Mrs. Malezi got up and cleared the dishes while Mr. Malezi returned the stools and table into the hut. Afterwards, Mrs. Malezi started preparing supper while her husband looked on at the dark horizon outside the hut.

Malaika looked back from her seat through the car window and sighed. She never thought she would miss her parents. In fact, she always dreamed of leaving them for good. Kiburi held her hand as a way of comforting her. She turned to him and smiled. With him, she knew she was in good hands.

“So, Jade, how did you meet my brother?” Mzuri asked to break the unwanted silence in the car. Apart from the music, there was no communication whatsoever. Malaika smiled as the day rang fresh in her mind. Kiburi, on the other hand, looked blank.

“It was last year on the 15th of June when my mum sent me to the market. As I went, some men whom I call pigs surrounded me and tried to molest me. They began all that ‘I want to marry you’ and ‘you’re beautiful’ cliche and caught me by my arms. Another cupped my mouth. It was around dusk, so I saw all hope was lost until Kiburi, here, intervened and single-handedly warded off the wild dogs with his iron fists,” she explained as she looked at Kiburi gratefully.

He smiled modestly.

“It was nothing. And anyway, some passers-by also helped,” he contributed.

“But you saved me first. And that’s what makes it special,” Malaika replied, then they shared a lovey dovey moment.

“After that,” Malaika continued as she turned to Mzuri who was all ears, waiting to hear the rest of the fairy tale-like lovers’ meeting, “I instantly knew he was the one for me because he fought for me. In a nutshell, we fell in love and the rest is history,” she concluded, then looked outside her window.

“Wow,” Mzuri said as she reflected on the story.

“Anyone hungry?” Mr. Swara, whose eyes were fixed on the road, suddenly asked.

“We’re all hungry,” Mzuri replied, then turned to Kiburi and Malaika for any contradiction. They nodded in agreement.

“That’s good, because there’s a hotel that serves the best dishes up ahead,” Mr. Swara explained as he took a quick and sudden sharp turn. Kiburi gasped. It was his first time in a car, so he was really fearing for his safety. An eerie silence filled the car as everyone was lost in the song that was playing.

“What time is it?” Kiburi asked suddenly.

“Seven thirty. Why?” Mzuri replied.

“It feels like we’ve been travelling forever,” he said.

“It’s been two hours. Don’t worry, once you eat, you’ll relax,” Mr. Swara said to him, while still focussing on the road. After the turn, Kiburi felt anxious and restless. Malaika sensed it and smiled at him.

“Relax,” she whispered to him after resting her head gently on his broad chest. He held her and rested his chin on her slanted head. Suddenly, the car came to a grinding halt, shoving everyone forward. Kiburi panicked.

“We’re here,” Mr. Swara announced as he looked around his shaken counterparts.

“Finally,” Malaika commented wearily.

“I could eat a whole cow!” Mzuri exclaimed as she looked out of the window to get a better view of the hotel. It looked elegant and glamorous with a huge neon sign post that read ‘Jillatel Hotel- where real taste meets your taste buds.’ It was illuminated by the nearby street lights.

“I’ll be right back. I’m going to order us some food,” Mr. Swara said as he grasped his car door and pushed it open. Mzuri reached out and touched his forearm.

“Let me come along,” she requested.

“No, dear. It’s too dangerous,” Mr. Swara replied, trying not to look her in the eyes.

“Please,” she begged as she slightly tugged his arm. He sighed heavily as he unexpectedly met her imploring gaze.

“Alright, but you have to be warm,” he said, then took off his coat and wrapped it around her. They both got out and were greeted by the cool evening breeze.

“We’ll just stay here and guard the car,” Kiburi said to them through his window. Mzuri nodded. Mr. Swara took her hand.

“We’ll be right back,” he told Kiburi and Malaika, and left with Mzuri.

Kiburi and Malaika cuddled against each other.

“J,” Kiburi called Malaika after a brief silence.

“Mmh?” She replied, all cosy in his warm embrace.

“Did you have another boyfriend before we met?” He asked in a soft tone. Malaika sat up and faced him.

“Why?” She asked inquisitively as her eyes narrowed. He shrugged foolishly.

“Well, now we’re married and there shouldn’t be any secrets between us,” he answered, feeling ridiculous for having asked.

“Yes. I had a boyfriend. One, but we broke up,” she replied. The sheer realisation of the fact sent hot chills down Kiburi’s throat, making him have a hot sensation throughout his head. He stared at her blankly. She returned the stare.

“Johnnie? Are you alright?” She asked worriedly. He snapped out of his blankness and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he replied in a confused manner.

“And you? Did you have a girlfriend?” Malaika asked, fixing him a focussed stare. He shook his head.
“It’s only you,” he replied hastily and heavily. “Did you have sex with him?!” He asked. Malaika hesitated. “Did you have sex?” He repeated, in a more alert and aggressive tone, then grabbed her arm.

“John…,” she cooed softly with a confused and surprised look on her face. Just then, the car doors in front of them flew open and in came Mr. Swara and Mzuri with cartons and napkins.

“We’re back,” Mzuri said, as she turned to the feuding couple. Kiburi almost cursed her and Mr. Swara for arriving in the nick of time.

“Excuse us,” Kiburi uttered, then he grabbed Mzuri by her arm and forced her out along with him.

“Johnnn you’re…,” Malaika protested as she was forced out. Kiburi shut the door behind them, leaving Mzuri and Mr. Swara exchanging curious looks.

“What’s going on?” Mzuri wondered aloud. Mr. Swara shrugged, sharing the wonder.

“Did you have sex?!” Kiburi asked Malaika angrily. She freed herself of his tight grip and rubbed the affected part with her other hand.

“It was a long time ago. And it was only once,” she replied innocently. Kiburi hit his forehead with the head of his clenched fist repeatedly.

“I don’t believe this. So I made a mistake…,” he said, as he fixed his eyes on Malaika, who was already starting to break down in tears.

Out of curiosity, Mzuri peered out into the thick darkness through her window to at least hear or see anything. The moonlight enabled her to see her brother and his wife exchanging words, but she couldn’t hear a thing.

“What’s going on?” Mr. Swara inquired, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

“They’re arguing. I can’t hear about what, though,” Mzuri replied.

Kiburi remembered Malaika’s condition and the repercussions the argument would have on his baby and softened his heart. As tears went down her cheeks, Kiburi found himself almost crying as well because of his foolishness.

“I’m sorry. I truly am,” Malaika apologised pitifully, amidst sobs, as she slowly approached Kiburi. He outstretched his arms and she fell into them. She cried bitterly in his arms for her past mistake.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Let’s forget that issue. Stop crying,” he whispered softly as he shielded her from the cool evening breeze that hit them. She buried her face in his chest.

“Now let’s get back into the car. This cold isn’t good for you and the baby,” Kiburi said, after he released her. 

She wiped the tears off her face severally, then breathed in and out to clear her nose. When they were ready, they got into the car only to be met with inquisitive stares that spoke volumes of what was on Mzuri and Mr. Swara’s minds. They ignored the stares.

“Where’s the food?” Kiburi asked as he sank into his seat. Mr. Swara handed him a carton and napkin silently. Mzuri couldn’t stand the suspense.

“Trouble in paradise?” She asked none of them in particular as she passed Malaika her food. Kiburi felt irritated.

“Can we mind our own business? Jane? Please?” He said curtly as he tore open his carton and opened the tin in it. It had chips and a spicy chicken wing. Mzuri and Mr. Swara glanced at each other.

Malaika remained quiet and began eating slowly and steadily. Mzuri and Mr. Swara also began eating, with an unexplainable zeal. As silence filled the atmosphere, save for the music, Mzuri eyed Malaika, and from her puffy eyes, concluded that indeed there was trouble in paradise.

“So what plans do you have for your family, bro?” Kiburi asked Mr. Swara casually as he forced a handful of chips into his wide open mouth. 

Mr. Swara tore the meat clear off the chicken bone that he was tackling, then wiped his mouth with his napkin. He put the chicken bone in the chicken carton he had and rubbed his fingers together lightly.

“I’m planning to open up a business for my wife. A salon, maybe?” He replied, and asked Mzuri as he turned to her. She nodded absent-mindedly. She was busy attacking the scrumptious, golden, crunchy chips.

“Perhaps she should eat first,” Mr. Swara joked as he turned to Kiburi, who shared the suggestion. Mzuri elbowed him in his ribs playfully.

“I can multitask, unlike you,” she said as she glanced at him and paused from her eating.

“And you?” Mr. Swara asked, as he glanced at Malaika, who seemed to be eating her delicacy distantly. Kiburi put his empty carton aside and wiped his hands and mouth with his napkin roughly, and smiled at Malaika, who smiled back.

“We’ll have plenty of children. Plenty!” Kiburi exclaimed happily. Everyone was silent, waiting for him to continue, until the silence became too much.

“And?” Mzuri interceded as she finished her food. Kiburi couldn’t think of anything else.

“And begin a business of some sort,” Malaika chipped in, while looking at everyone in turns.

“Right. A business,” Kiburi supported as he leaned back and slipped his arm around Malaika.

“Which business?” Mzuri inquired, as she put the remainder of her food aside and passed her napkin across her lips.

“We’re not sure yet. We’ll sit down and plan it later,” Malaika replied softly as she offered Kiburi the rest of her food. He took it and began eating greedily. “Thanks, guys, for the meal. It was delicious,” Malaika said, as she wiped her eyes, to Mr. Swara and Mzuri. 

Mr. Swara nodded, and Mzuri replied, “No problem.” Mzuri looked at Kiburi and smiled. “Here’s some more,” she said, as she offered him her remaining food. He finished Malaika’s and embarked on hers.

“You must have been hungry. Can I buy you more?” Mr. Swara offered as he watched Kiburi eating. Kiburi shook his head quickly.

“Oh no. Don’t bother. This is enough,” he struggled to utter, through a full mouth. 

Everyone else relaxed and enjoyed the music as Kiburi ate on. After he had finished, he handed Mzuri the empty cartons neatly labelled ‘Jillatel’, and she threw them out through her window.

“That was great,” Kiburi said as he threw himself back and rested his head and Malaika’s laps.

“You’re welcome,” Mr. Swara replied as he glanced at Malaika—how she stroked Kiburi’s head lovingly, and smiled at all the nothings he, Kiburi, whispered to her—and sighed. “Um,we have to camp here for the night as it is too dangerous to proceed,” he informed his gang wearily.

“I agree,” Mzuri backed him.

“Fine with us,” Malaika spoke, on behalf of Kiburi who was already drowsy.

“Try and make yourself as comfortable as possible to avoid feeling stiff tomorrow,” Mr. Swara advised as Mzuri rested her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her after covering her properly.

They all exchanged ‘good night’ s among each other, and after Mzuri closed her eyes, Mr. Swara looked at Malaika from the rear view mirror. She leaned on her car door and within minutes, was in the land of slumber. There was something about her that intrigued Mr. Swara. Was it her beauty? Her shape? Her smile? He wondered silently, then stopped his eyes from travelling along another driver’s road.

He shut his eyes and faced Mzuri, who slept on his chest gracefully with a contented smile on her face. He shook her slightly. She opened her eyes slowly. He raised her head by her chin to be in line with his, and kissed her softly. The look in her brown eyes—the spark in them—reminded him what pulled him to her.

“I love you,” he whispered to her after looking into her eyes briefly.

“I love you too,” she replied happily, then resumed her sleep.

As he listened to the song that was playing, Mr. Swara wondered whether it was directed to him. He was torn between bounds, Mzuri, his brown beauty, or Malaika, Kiburi’s luscious forbidden fruit? He was deeply in thought but before long, sleep came upon him and possessed him. The radio sang on through the night.

BRAVERY AMID FEAR AND DOUBT

At 3.00 a.m., hard metallic objects pounded each side of the car continuously. Kiburi was the first one to wake up.

“Bro!” He whispered urgently to Mr. Swara, who was deep asleep. Malaika lay on top of Kiburi and he didn’t want to wake her. Slowly, he turned her to her side of the window and sat up cautiously.

Suddenly, the windows burst into tiny fragments on them, giving Mr. Swara, Malaika, and Mzuri rude wake up calls. Strong, muscular hands pulled Mr. Swara’s car door till it flew open and in the spur of a moment, Mr. Swara was yanked off his seat by one of the hands.

“Darling!” Mzuri cried as she tried to save him, but in vain.

“Give us your money!” A hoarse voice commanded Mr. Swara.

“I-I have n-none,” he replied fearfully.

“Girls,” Kiburi started as he looked at Malaika and Mzuri in turns, “stay here. I’m going to help Arithmetic,” he added, as he grabbed his car door. Malaika grabbed his arm.

“No, Johnnie. It’s dangerous out there,” she whispered. Mzuri didn’t have the time to want to know what was just said.

“But…,” Kiburi started.

“She’s right, Kiburi. Stay here,” Mzuri cut, with a whisper of finality. They could hear Mr. Swara being tortured out there.

“No money? So a poor person can own a car and dress so sophisticatedly but have no money? Boys, rough him up!” A voice commanded.

“No!” Mzuri whispered amidst sobs, as they heard Mr. Swara receiving punch after punch.

“That’s enough. Victor, search him,” the voice ordered. Kiburi guessed that the speaker was the gang’s leader. He was rudely interrupted from his guess by other hands that reached out for him, Malaika, and Mzuri at the same time.

They tried resisting, but their meagre strength was not even a quarter that of the carjackers.

“Look what else we’ve found, boss,” the carjacker with Mzuri announced proudly. The boss shot the car radio silent and laughed quietly.

Kiburi put up a brave fight and punched his attacker twice on the face. He tried making out their faces, but the dim moonlight made it impossible. Another carjacker came and helped his counterpart to control Kiburi. One, Kiburi could handle. But two, it would be suicidal to resist. They beat him senseless and twisted his right arm.

“Johnnie!” Malaika cried, as Kiburi was dropped in a heap.

“Kiburi!” Mzuri amplified.

Victor retrieved a bundle of notes from Mr. Swara’s inner coat pocket and gave them to the boss.

“What do we do with the girls?” One of the carjackers asked.

“Carry them and let’s go, before the police show up. We have all we need,” the boss replied, and led his gang away. Malaika and Mzuri screamed for help to their seriously wounded husbands as they were carried away. Mr. Swara groaned his response without moving a muscle. As for Kiburi, he was knocked out cold.

The soft morning sun shone upon him and Mr. Swara. From a first glance, one could think that they were dead, as they lay perfectly still. After a while, Kiburi tossed and turned and got up.

“J?” He called out as he looked around the deserted area desperately. “Bro, are you alright?” He asked Mr. Swara, who held his jaw tightly and winced almost inaudibly.

“A little,” he replied.

“Let’s go and get the girls,” Kiburi suggested as he tended to his sore arm.

“I say we call the police. We’re no match for them,” Mr. Swara advised weakly. Kiburi massaged his neck.

“I’ve handled worse people than them. We can do this, bro,” he said confidently, as he got to his feet.

“I don’t think I’m up to it. Maybe you should go,” Mr. Swara said. Kiburi nodded, then helped Mr. Swara into his car gently.

“I’ll use my instincts. We rural dwellers are born with a good instinct,” Kiburi boasted, then turned to go. “Just stay put until I get back. Okay?” He told Mr. Swara, who nodded wearily.

“Good luck,” Mr. Swara said to him softly.

“Thank you,” Kiburi replied, as he began his rescue mission.

Mzuri and Malaika were all tied up side to side. Their kidnappers eyed them. One of them, a short straight-faced man, walked towards them.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted them gently with a frightening smile. As Mzuri looked at him, she couldn’t help shuddering, but acted calm.

“What do you want?” She asked, as her gaze shifted to his partners.

“What do we want, boys?” The boss asked his men as he turned to them. Two of them had a good build, another was tall and thin, while the last of them looked gentle and harmless. They all laughed roughly.

“Let us go!” Malaika demanded as she tried to free herself.

“Relax. We will, after we get what we want from you. Such beautiful girls should not go to waste. Right, Hugo?” The boss asked the gentle-looking one.

“Right,” he answered quickly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Malaika declared boldly as she blew off a strand of hair from her face. Mzuri rolled her eyes at her naivety. The boss strolled towards her with hands in pockets.

“You’ll know soon enough,” he said to her softly, as he gently stroked her cheek with the back of his right hand. She spat on him. His expression changed, as he clenched and unclenched his massive fist.

Mzuri and his boys watched on while holding their breath, fearing for Malaika. He wiped the spit quickly and angrily, but maintained a blissful smile. Hugo stepped forward to teach Malaika some respect, but the boss stopped him with an outstretch of his arm.

“It’s okay, Hugo. I love girls beautiful. I wouldn’t want her de-faced,” he said, while casting a deadly yet admiring glare at Malaika. She wanted to speak, but Mzuri nudged her.

“You should thank your lucky stars that you’re still alive and breathing, and stop talking and doing trash for your husband’s sake. You put yourself in a very tight spot back there!” She whispered to her at a rattling speed.

“Whom should we have first?” The boss asked his boys as they let their eyes travel around Mzuri and Malaika.

“I like the brown one. She’s simple and…sweet,” one of the heavily-built men said as he smiled at and blew a kiss to Mzuri.

“Oh brother,” she whispered, and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“I like the sassy and daring one. She’s brave and shapely,” Victor said as he stared at Malaika’s breasts. She bit her tongue and looked away into the distance, praying that someway, somehow, their husbands would make an impromptu appearance.

Kiburi knelt down on one of his knees and smelt a handful of earth. In his estimation, they were a few kilometres ahead. He sighed wearily as his stomach rumbled. Breakfast would have been in order before his tedious one-man manhunt. He stood, put his hands on his hips, and stared at the horizon. Sordid thoughts began filling his mind. What if they kill them? What if they torture them? What if they…the worst of them all made him come to from his thoughts and curse.

He noticed a passerby staring at him as she passed. He glanced at her, then said to himself, “I swear, if those men have touched even a strand of hair on their heads…,” he paused, then massaged his aching jaw, and continued, “they will realise that it takes more than a thrashing to kill a cat—a wild cat!” As his eyes widened, then removed his jacket and proceeded with the hunt.

“You girls hungry?” The boss asked Mzuri and Malaika after observing how they shifted uneasily and licked their lips.

“Hungry for your blood!” Mzuri answered quickly.

“Raul. Get them something to eat,” the boss ordered one of the heavily-built men after a disdainful laugh.

“We won’t eat!” Malaika said vociferously as sweat trickled down her forehead.

“We’ll see,” the boss replied. Raul left. The boss looked at the girls, then nodded at Hugo and Thud—the other heavily-built attacker. “Carry them to that shade over there. As I said, I like my girls beautiful,” he ordered.

Before either girl could object, they were in the arms of their carriers who carried them as if they were sacks of feathers. On reaching the shade, Hugo and Thud set them gently under the huge mahogany tree in the middle of the clearing.

“Why don’t you have us then do away with us?” Malaika stated boldly.

“Jade!” Mzuri rebuked her. It was a bold statement.

Victor smiled at Malaika sensually as he rubbed his rugged chin slowly.

“That’s why I want her. Sassiness—now that’s what I’m looking for in a woman!” He declared as he looked at her, then his boss.

“Keep your trousers zipped, Victor. We all want a piece—no, the whole of her—but that comes later. She has to eat first,” the boss said as he patted Victor’s broad chest.

Mzuri wanted to rebuke Malaika again but she refrained. She figured that it could be her imbalanced hormones that were causing her to talk as she did. But all the same, she wouldn’t want to be some ugly beast’s supper, thanks to Malaika’s loose tongue and provocative words.

Raul reappeared with several loaves of bread and a bottle of water.

“It’s time for your lunch,” the boss told Mzuri and Malaika sternly as he delved into his left pocket. “I may be a gentleman,” he started as he fished out his pistol, “but I’m definitely not a saint. Now I want you both to behave and eat your food or you’ll end up with several bullets each in your skulls,” he added softly and gently, as he stroked his weapon gently.

“We’d rather die!” Malaika sputtered. Mzuri gulped.

“As you wish,” the boss said, as he aimed his pistol at Malaika.

“We…she’s changed her mind. We’ll eat,” Mzuri intervened desperately. Malaika looked at her queerly. “Think about Kiburi, your parents, and your baby, if not yourself, and shut up. Would you want him to come and save us along with my husband just so they can find corpses?” Mzuri added briefly as she glanced at Raul as he opened a loaf of bread and took out three slices. He grabbed a handful of Malaika’s hair.
“Ow!” She protested.

“Open up!” He ordered.

“Easy, Raul. Don’t hurt her,” his boss instructed. Raul let go of her hair. Obediently, she opened her mouth and took a bite of the bread.

“Good girl,” Raul encouraged, as he shifted the bread to Mzuri, who also bit hastily. After they swallowed, Raul opened the water and gave each of them a sip.

“Lovely ladies. Now that’s better,” the boss said as he admired his powerful pistol.

Mzuri and Malaika kept alternating biting the bread and sipping the water under Raul’s skillful guidance until all of it was over. The boss clapped, with the pistol still in hand, as Mzuri gulped down the last drop of water.

“Isn’t that better?” He asked them. Malaika wanted to snap at him but chose not to after looking at Mzuri, who shook her head grimly.

The boss squatted before Mzuri and kissed her on the cheek. As he did, she tried resisting, but was rendered helpless by the ropes binding her wrists and ankles. He smelled her face and sighed.

“You’re one of a kind,” he complimented her. She took no notice. She wished she could be free so that she could at least smack his teeth out for touching her with his black lips.

“Do you know that we’re married?” She asked him casually with a fake smile.

“To who?” He started as he turned to his men, and continued, “Those boys whom we killed back there?” then laughed. His boys joined him. 

“They are not boys,” Malaika said, after patiently persevering the drops of spittle that hit her face randomly as he laughed.

“Whoever. My point is, you women need men. You need to experience love at its maximum,” he said in a serious tone as he stroked Mzuri’s cheek as before.

“And that’s what our husbands give us,” she put across bravely with a cheeky expression on her face. The boss got up.

“Enough chit chat. Boys, who wants the sassy one? I’ve got the simple one. She’s my kind of girl,” he asked as he slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers.

“Me! Me! Me!” The men cried in unison, as each struggled to go first.

“One at a time, gentlemen,” the boss said, as he let his trousers drop to his ankles—revealing his white pair of boxers.

“Oh, God,” Mzuri said in disgust as she and Malaika looked away. They felt like items to be bidded for in an auction. The highest bidder, who was Thud, got the first opportunity with Malaika.

“I promise you’ll love it,” he said, as he slowly took off his dark calligraphy-decorated T-shirt, revealing his sweat-coated abs and pecs that gleamed in the afternoon sun.

“I promise I’ll regret it,” Malaika said, as she shut her eyes tightly and began praying for a miracle.

Up ahead, Kiburi could see a thick clearing. He knelt as before and smelled a handful of earth again.

“I’m getting warmer,” he said happily as he stood happily and let the earth flow between his fingers. “I hope they’re still alive,” he said as got to a river that was before the clearing. 

He could do with a cool drink after travelling for several hours. He took handful after handful of the cool, refreshing water. Afterwards, he undressed and dove into the river for a well-deserved swim. He sighed contentedly as the water soothed his body. He swam back and forth, and after a while, got out of the river and got dressed. He felt fresh and ready to continue. He crossed the river and cautiously proceeded to the clearing.

After crossing over some scattered vegetation with spikes and carefully treading along a rocky path, he arrived at the clearing and separated the thick bush leaves with his hands to see the other side. What he saw made his jaw drop open. He squinted his eyes as he strategised how to make it across.

Malaika was on the ground lying horizontally with her arms and legs tied and top raised, so that her dark brassiere was exposed, and her jeans pulled down to her ankles, revealing her panties. There was a man undoing her brassiere and another, whom Kiburi presumed to be the boss, stood over her, pointing a gun at her.

“Since you’ll have me anyway, to hell with all of you!” She shouted.

Mzuri was also half-naked, and another one of the men held her tight. She stared longingly at the sky though she was expecting her brother and husband to drop from it and execute some justice on those villains. Kiburi had seen enough.

“Stop right there!” He declared heroically as he bravely emerged from among the leaves.

“You?” The boss said to him angrily as he slipped on his trousers.

“Baby!” Malaika said happily. She had given up hope and was waiting for the worst, but after Kiburi’s show-up, her hope was revived. Hugo fished out his gun from his back pocket hurriedly and aimed it at Kiburi.

“This ends now, fool!” He declared.

“Hugo, don’t. Thud, leave the girl alone first, and let’s deal with this pest,” the boss instructed as he put his gun in his pocket. Thud cursed. He had been anticipating stirring Malaika’s still waters. Mzuri said a thanksgiving prayer silently.

“No guns?” Raul asked in disbelief. It was totally unlike their boss to prohibit them from using weapons in situations like those.

“No guns. He’s a boy, we’re men. He’s one, we’re many. Let’s win this the old-fashioned way—by bashing him to death,” the boss replied as he stared at Kiburi steadily. He and his men approached Kiburi with sinister smiles on their faces.

Kiburi looked at them in turns, then at Malaika and Mzuri who stared at him expectantly. He was their ray of hope. They had complete faith in him, after he proved himself during Malaika’s moment of distress. Malaika winked at him.

“You can do it, Johnnie!” She encouraged cheerfully.

“Show them, bro!” Mzuri added.

“Prepare to die, boy,” the boss told him menacingly. 

A big portion of Kiburi told him to turn and run for the hills, as the battle ahead seemed lethal and impossible, while a small portion cheered him on. He stood his ground courageously and decided to be victorious or die trying. The boss flung his fist at Kiburi, but Kiburi ducked, and instead hit his groin. The boss squealed.

Victor took over. He tried hitting Kiburi severally, but Kiburi calculated his every punch and missed them. Kiburi punched then kicked him, making him fall immediately. Hugo and Thud joined forces and decided to attack him at once, as they noted his weakness: One, possible. Two, impossible.

As Kiburi fought, Mzuri chewed on the ropes that were binding her wrists tirelessly. Malaika cheered her on until she eventually freed herself. She had no time to rejoice or be happy. She quickly untied her ankles and wore her dress. Everyone was too busy to notice that she was free. Malaika begged her to untie her. She declined.

“Stay put. You should not join the action in your delicate state. We’ll free you later,” she answered.

“So what are you going to do?” Malaika asked her. 

She wiped the cheek the boss kissed and replied, “Whatever I can.” She took a stone and advanced towards the boss who was recovering from his injury.

At first, Kiburi successfully handled Hug and Thud, but after a while, they overpowered him and one held him as the other hit him again and again.

“Silly boy,” the boss taunted as he struggled to stand upright. 

With one swift move, Mzuri hit him hard on the back of his head with the stone. He growled like a mad dog and turned and grabbed her by her neck abruptly. “I’ll kill you!” He whispered to her as he cupped the rear of his head with his free hand.

He began squeezing her neck but she kicked him in the stomach with all her force. He groaned and let go of her, then fell down slowly. She acted fast. She reached into his pocket and obtained his pistol.

“Wow. So this fighting thing runs in the Malezi family?” Malaika asked her admiringly as she faced her.

“You could say that,” she replied proudly as she pulled down Malaika’s top and pulled up her jeans.

“That was close,” Malaika whispered gratefully.

“You could say that again,” Mzuri agreed as she faced Kiburi. “Kiburi!” She called out to him, and when he turned to her, she threw him the pistol. Thud panicked and tried to get to it first. Kiburi kicked him on his side and got the pistol.

“No more Mr. Nice Guy,” Victor said as he reached out for his gun forcefully. Before he could, Kiburi shot him twice in the chest. He staggered around like a headless chicken and finally fell flat on his back.

Malaika gasped in horror. She had never witnessed a real life shooting. Strangely, Kiburi and Mzuri felt no horror. A sweet sense of revenge engulfed them. Kiburi turned to Thud and shot him in cold blood. 

Hugo, who was behind Kiburi, had his gun and was almost shooting him. Mzuri threw the stone she had at Hugo, directing the gun away from Kiburi and to the sky. He shot the sky accidentally. The gunshot made Kiburi turn to him quickly and shoot him. He sank onto the ground in a pool of blood.

“Leave their leader to me. I have a score to settle with him,” Mzuri said, as she eyed the sickly boss, who was writhing in pain on the ground. Kiburi handed her the pistol without objecting and looked around at the lifeless thugs that they successfully conquered. Mzuri towered over the boss intimidatingly.

“Hello, sir,” she mocked, and continued, “I didn’t quite get your name.” He glared at her silently. She pointed the gun straight at him. “What’s your name?” She repeated sternly.

“J-Jerome,” he stammered pathetically.

“How ironic, right? The simple girl you wanted to violate is on the winning side, and the powerful boss, reinforced by heavy boys at his side and guns, is on the losing side,” she said with a sardonic smile.

“Please, baby…,” he started, but before he could continue, Mzuri shot his right leg. He gave out a loud cry of pain.

“Good! And that’s just icing on the cake!” Malaika said satisfactorily as she watched on. Her voice reminded Kiburi that she existed. He was so caught up in the satisfying moment that he forgot about her. He rushed over to her and set her free. “Johnnie!” She said happily as she hugged him.
“Not ‘baby’ again?” He joked as he enjoyed the warmth of her body on him. She laughed and kissed him. “Are you alright?” He inquired as he chivalrously helped her to her feet.

“I’m alright now,” she said, as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder and looked on at the woes of her torturer gleefully. Kiburi wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight. They watched on.

“I’m not your baby. I’m the woman who will quickly and painfully end your life,” Mzuri said, as she perfectly steadied her aim towards Jerome’s groin.

“Please p-please have m-mercy,” he begged. Mzuri took no heed. With three shots to his groin, she ended his life, just as she had promised.

“Bastard,” she whispered angrily as she let her arm with the gun fall and watched the spring of blood that gushed out from one of the holes left by the bullet.

“Shameless fool,” Malaika added, as she clung on to Kiburi. The bloody scene did not appeal to her at all.

“Let’s go,” Mzuri said, as she turned to them and gave Kiburi the pistol. “Keep it. We might need it,” she explained. The trio looked at the corpses for the last time.

“Wait,” Malaika said, making them freeze. She continued, “One of them isn’t here. Where’s Raul?” as she looked around them fearfully.

“Perhaps he ran away?” Mzuri suggested with a shrug.

“Should I go after him?” Kiburi asked willingly with a tight grip on the pistol.

“No. That’s enough. Let him run far, far away,” Malaika said, still holding on to him. With that, he tucked the pistol in his back pocket and they began the journey back to the crime scene silently.

UNREQUITED LUST

They walked side by side silently for a long time, with Kiburi leading the way.

“How’s Arithmetic?” Mzuri finally asked him.

“He was in a sorry state the last time I saw him, but I helped him into his car. He should be fine now,” he replied, without facing her.

“I hope so. Was he badly injured?” Malaika asked, as she arranged the few stray strands of her hair with the rest neatly.

“No. He just had jaw pains. He endured a lot, you know,” Kiburi reported. They nodded their agreement. “So what did those brutes do to both of you, apart from, well, you know, trying to rape you?” He asked after a long pause while glancing at them in turns.

They looked at each other as if their ordeal was handwritten on both their faces.

“They forced us to eat bread and drink water at gunpoint,” Mzuri reported, and continued, “Their boss kissed me on the cheek.”

“And tried to seduce me,” Malaika added.

“As if that was not enough, they treated us like items in an auction. ‘Who wants her?’ ‘Me! Me! Me!’” Mzuri mimicked.

“The swines. They even had the audacity to undress in front of us!” Malaika exclaimed as she shook her head, and added, “For real, Kiburi, if you hadn't shown up when they undressed us, they would have had their way with us, for sure,” as she smiled at him.

“You were good out there, bro. I take back calling you an overgrown baby. Mum and Dad would have been proud,” Mzuri admitted. Kiburi smiled broadly.

“I wouldn’t have been successful were it not for you two: Mzuri, your helping hand saved me from the jaws of death, and J, your continuous cheering for me throughout the battle gave me the morale to emerge victorious,” he complimented both of them.

“Thanks. Are you okay? Those punches looked fatal. I’m surprised you’re walking on your own,” Malaika asked him as she studied his reddish face. He passed his right hand all around it.

“I’m fine. I just feel a bit tired,” he said, as he led them across the path that led to the crime scene.

“Thank God,” Mzuri said quietly as she looked at the trees around them. “How did you find us?” She suddenly asked.

“I followed my instincts and used my hunting skills,” he replied as he pointed ahead. “There he is, but he seems to have some company,” he added, as the three of them looked ahead. They stopped to study the sight better. Mzuri took a few steps forward then stopped.

“Let’s go,” she said, as she quickened her pace. Kiburi and Malaika followed her.

As they came forward, they could hear Mr. Swara trying to convince the concerned stranger that he was alright.

“I may be a mess, but I’m alright,” he insisted, then turned to Mzuri. “Tell him, sweetheart,” he requested her.

“He’s alright. We got it from here. Thanks for your concern,” Mzuri confirmed, to the stranger. The stranger hesitantly turned away from them and left. Mzuri squatted before Mr. Swara and studied him.

“You’re a mess, dear. Are you alright?” She asked worriedly as she gently ran her finger around his face.

“Now that I’ve seen you and Jade are alive and well, yes,” he said with a sickly smile. Mzuri neared him and kissed him, then went round to her side of the car and got in. Kiburi and Malaika stooped to observe him better.

“I told you, bro. We don’t need police when I’m on the job,” Kiburi bragged.

“Indeed. Congratulations,” Mr. Swara said, and added, “Are you okay, Jade? How is the baby?”

“It’s still too early to tell about the baby, but we’re both fine,” she replied, then she and Kiburi got into the car.

Mzuri and Malaika looked around at the broken windows.

“Those animals! How could they?” Malaika said angrily. The rest shook their heads.

“Where are the glass crystals?” Mzuri asked as she lifted herself off her seat lightly with her hands and checked to see if she sat on any. Kiburi and Malaika nodded and followed her example.

“I took the liberty of cleaning the seats some time before you all came,” Mr. Swara explained.

“How thoughtful,” Mzuri complimented, then reached out and stroked his cheek lovingly.

“It’s the least I could do after missing out on the action of saving you,” he said as he looked at the surface of the car sorrowfully.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Malaika intruded gently as she looked at him from the rearview mirror. Mzuri held his hand.

“And besides, what matters is we’re alive. They tried to kill us, yes, but the tables turned on them,” she comforted. Mr. Swara smiled at her.

“You’re right. What matters is that you’re both safe,” he said.

“And that we’re alright,” Kiburi added as he beamed at Malaika. Mr. Swara gazed at her from the rearview mirror just in time to see her smile at Kiburi. 

His inner desires began bubbling up again. Her smile was magical. Just what he needed to recover fully from his brutal attack. If he could only hold her…he sighed, then snapped out of his thoughts and looked at his radio.

“It looks like we have to tell each other stories to entertain ourselves as we continue with our journey. The radio’s kaput,” he said remorsefully as he looked at his passengers in turns, then turned on the engine.

“At least they didn’t ruin the engine. We would be stranded,” Kiburi said gratefully.

“Are we proceeding with the journey now?” Mzuri asked her husband. He nodded as the car came alive.

“If Kiburi and Jade are to arrive at their house early and we as well, yes,” he said, as he gripped the steering wheel tightly with his two hands and began driving.

“But you need to rest first,” Mzuri protested meekly.

“Come on, Jane,” Kiburi started, then added, “he said he is fine.”

“We wouldn’t want to camp out again tonight and be a target for other carjackers, would we?” Malaika added. Mzuri surrendered the debate. There were three yays and one nay, so the yays had it.

“We forgot to reclaim the money they stole,” Kiburi observed suddenly after deep thought. Mzuri and Malaika shared his alarm.

“Now what?” Mzuri wondered in despair. 

“It’s okay. We’re a few kilometres away from Nairobi. When we’re there, I’ll go into my bank and withdraw some more cash,” he said, with his eyes glued to the road. Mzuri stroked him gently on the shoulder. How convenient, she thought.

“So if any one of you is famished, just hold on,” he said, and added, “How did you manage to escape anyway? Those guys were dangerous and armed,” with a glance at Mzuri.

“God knows. It was a bit of this and a bit of that. They tried molesting us but Kiburi came and tackled them,” she started explaining as she admired a smartly-dressed woman they had passed.

“Alone?” Mr. Swara wondered as he looked at the car’s speedometer. The zone they had entered allowed a maximum of 80km/h and he was going at 50km/h. He gradually accelerated to the designated speed limit.

“At first, until Jane intervened. She and I were tied up, but she broke free and hit the boss on his head,” Malaika continued.

“Wow. I’m glad to have a brave and beautiful girl for a wife,” Mr. Swara said, then continued, “But won’t they be back?”

“Not a chance in hell. We shot them dead, Jane and I, and one was lucky to have escaped,” Kiburi finished, feeling unsatisfied by their great victory. He wanted to kill all of them.

“I have to hand it to all of you. I personally would’ve called the police,” Mr. Swara said shyly. They all felt proud of themselves. Kiburi glanced at Malaika. Suddenly her expression changed. Her eyes grew wider and she cupped her mouth.

“Stop the car,” Kiburi said, wondering what was happening. Mzuri turned to find out the source of commotion.

“Stop the car!” She echoed, more urgently. Mr. Swara stepped hard on the brakes and the car came to an unexpected halt. Malaika forced the car-door open, staggered outside, and uncupped her mouth. Torrents of vomit came out of her mouth at once.

“What’s happening?” Kiburi asked cluelessly as he watched her from the car. Mzuri glanced at him and rushed out to Malaika’s side. She stroked her back softly as she recovered from the heavy outburst in a bent position with her legs apart. Kiburi emerged from the car slowly.

“It’s the pregnancy that’s causing this,” Mzuri explained to him.

“Sorry, J. It will be over soon,” he comforted Malaika. Mr. Swara watched on from the car. Malaika let a long, thin drool escape her mouth then slowly stood upright and supported herself on Kiburi.

“This pregnancy is stressful, Johnnie. I want to abort it,” she said wearily after a deep groan. Mzuri waved away concerned passers-by.

“It’s under control,” she said. Mr. Swara observed Malaika. Her suffering pained him. He wanted to teach Kiburi a lesson for impregnating her. He cleared his throat.

“The bank is a few metres from here. Let me go and withdraw some cash, then buy us some supper,” he said, as he looked at the quickly-darkening skies.

“Alright, but buy Jade something with no fat and spices,” Mzuri answered, with her hands on her hips as she eyed Malaika carefully. “You’ll be alright, Jade. Oh! And get her some water as well,” she called out, to Mr. Swara, who got out of the car. He nodded, then took off his bloody coat and left.

Kiburi wrapped one of his arms around Malaika’s shoulder and put his other hand on her stomach, then helped her back into the car.

“Don’t worry, J. All this will be over. Don’t abort,” he comforted her softly. Mzuri followed and entered, then faced them.

“So what were you saying back there, Kiburi?” She inquired quickly.

“I apologised to her and assured her it will all be over. She said that the baby in her is a problem to her and she wanted to abort it, but I encouraged her not to,” he explained as Malaika slowly rested her head on his chest. He slowly stroked her smooth hair.

“How did you know Sheng’?” Mzuri asked Kiburi.

“I taught him,” Malaika replied weakly, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. “Sorry, Jane. I speak Sheng’ mostly when I’m annoyed, sad, and under stress,” she explained. Mzuri nodded understandingly.

“Have you felt better?” She asked her softly. Malaika nodded.

“I could do with some water, though,” she said.

“Don’t worry. Arithmetic will bring some,” Mzuri assured her.

Mr. Swara’s car-door flew open and in he came with a fast food bag and some bottles of water.

“Talk of the devil,” Kiburi said.

“At this time, the queue has very few people, so the service is fast,” Mr. Swara explained, as he distributed the water bottles and opened one, then gave it to Malaika. She received it quickly and drank the water gratefully. After a few gulps, she livened up and her colour returned.

“Is that alright?,” Kiburi asked her after he sipped some of his water. She nodded.

Mr. Swara took a foodbox from the bag and gave it to Mzuri, another to Malaika, then Kiburi, then he took the last one.

“I considered you, Jade. I hope you’ll like it,” he said to her, as he watched her open her box. The aroma of boiled potatoes filled the air.

“This will do fine, thanks,” she replied, as she admired the delicacy. Kiburi and Mzuri opened theirs.

“Fried rice and steak? Thanks, bro,” Kiburi exclaimed happily to Mr. Swara.

“You shouldn’t have, darling,” Mzuri said as she slowly stroked his cheek with her thumb.

“On the contrary, it was my pleasure,” he said, as he opened up his box. They began eating silently, except for the occasional glances around the car or outside.

The night had caught up with them. It was completely dark outside. They were enjoying their meals with a source of light, courtesy of the light system in the car.

“I don’t think we can go on in this darkness,” Mzuri commented after looking out at the dark environment.

“We have to, to avoid an ordeal like the previous one,” Mr. Swara said, after swallowing a spoonful of his food. He jovially handed Kiburi another box from the bag when he had finished his food.

“Thanks,” Kiburi whispered, then took the box.

“It’s my pleasure. There’s still some more,” Mr. Swara informed him.

“Okay,” he blurted, and spooned a spoonful and chewed it.

“Isn’t there some place to go? A lodging? Hotel?” Mzuri asked worriedly. Mr. Swara shook his head as he mouthed another spoonful.

“We’re in Nairobi town, dear, where clubs and brothels are more available. Or would you rather we go to either?” He asked cheekily after swallowing.

“Hell no! So what? We’ll continue?” Mzuri answered as she mouthed her last spoonful and put away the box. Mr. Swara offered her a second helping but she declined.

“Thanks. I’m good,” she said.

“Yes, we’ll proceed. Lavington is a few kilometres from here,” Mr. Swara said, then focussed on his food.

“What do you think, guys?” Mzuri asked Kiburi and Malaika, counting on them for support.

“I agree with bro,” Kiburi replied as he tackled his steal skillfully.

“Me too, I mean, the carjack still makes me shudder,” Malaika intoned, while slowly eating her food. She was the slowest of all of them.

Mr. Swara accidentally stared at the rear-view mirror as he surveyed the dark outside with traces of light from street lights via the front window. He found himself observing Malaika keenly and uncontrollably. Mzuri looked outside through her window, feeling stupid for losing the second time. Was she the only one who reasoned? She thought to herself. Malaika looked peaceful.

She was enjoying her food peacefully. Mr. Swara was fascinated by her style of eating—how she mouthed a potato and let it linger in her mouth before chewing it. Her skin was soft, perfect. He found himself smiling as his eyes lowered to her chest. The cleavage of the top was not satisfactory. His eyes were glued to her chest. How he wished he could see more!

“Bro,” Kiburi called him, yanking him out of his fantasies.

“Yes?” He replied absent-mindedly.

“Some more. I must admit this food is good,” Kiburi said, while licking his lips. Mzuri cast him a surprised look.

“Aren’t you full yet? What, you have a hole in your stomach?” She joked. Mr. Swara handed him the last box.

“It’s okay. He needs it,” Mr. Swara said, as he once again stole a glance at Malaika. She had finished her food and was looking outside. “Have you had enough?” He asked her softly.

“I couldn’t eat another bite. Thanks,” she said as she handed Mzuri her empty box. As she straightened her top, Mr. Swara secretly admired her. 

He felt hot blood rushing through his veins. He felt like the hyena in the fable his grandmother always told him as a young boy, who didn’t know which way to go as they both led to two different parties! He was caught up in quite a conundrum: Malaika or Mzuri?

“Come to think of it, I think I know a safe place for us tonight,” he said as he looked around at his passengers. Mzuri’s face brightened.

“Really? Where?” She asked happily.

“I’ll show you,” he replied, then turned on the engine after ensuring Kiburi and Malaika were comfortable. Kiburi tossed his empty box outside and belched, then stroked his full stomach. Malaika cosied herself on his chest and he wrapped his arm around her. 

They had resumed their journey once again.

“I’m sure we’ll all have something to remember about this journey,” Malaika commented, to start a conversation and brighten up the dull mood darkened by silence. Mzuri nodded.

“Indeed,” she agreed, as she looked on at the road.
“I just hope we’ll live to see tomorrow, with the parking out, and all,” Kiburi said pessimistically.

“We will, bro. I assure you, because…,” Mr. Swara started, then took a sharp right and continued, “the place we are in is protected 24/7,” after stepping hard on the brakes. 

Kiburi, Mzuri, and Malaika looked around the place they were. It was lit and had several other cars, plus a watchman a short distance away.

“A parking area?” Mzuri asked happily. Mr. Swara nodded proudly. “Smart,” she said in admiration as she looked around, then sank happily into her seat.

“Have you changed your view?” She asked Kiburi as she looked at him through the rear-view mirror.

“But I say we pray for safety’s sake,” Kiburi insisted, unwilling to accept the security he felt.

“I’m for that,” Malaika said as she looked at the neighbouring cars from Kiburi’s window, and added, “You never know,” in a spooky whisper.

“Then do so,” Mzuri encouraged. They all shut their eyes and Malaika led them in a word of prayer. 

After that, Mr. Swara smiled inwardly as Mzuri rested her head on his chest. He wanted Malaika and Mzuri both by his side. And as for Kiburi…well, to hell with Kiburi, he thought as he glared at the oblivious Kiburi from the rear-view mirror. Both his and Malaika’s eyes were closed. 

Mr. Swara imagined himself being the one holding Malaika, being the one with her. Were it not for his lust for her, their journey would have proceeded and they would have arrived at Lavington by 11.30 p.m. or midnight, and it would be bye bye Malaika from him. That last thought saddened him. He slowly turned to Mzuri and stroked her arm affectionately.

“See you tomorrow,” he whispered to her, then shut his eyes to get a well-deserved rest after such a hectic day.

HEAVEN MEETS EARTH

Before the next morning began, the clouds moved across the sky slowly as God and His angels watched over the car from heaven. The devil appeared before God.

“Have you had enough?” God asked him mockingly.

“Never. I still have plenty up my sleeve,” he replied.

“I have given him everything he needs to destroy your plans,” God said, as His angels assembled and sang praises to Him.

“You are forgetting that he is mere flesh and blood with weaknesses,” the devil taunted.

“He may be, but he has virtues  such as bravery and forgiveness,” God echoed, and added, “So far, what have you accomplished to bring him against me? When I put his friend to stop him from fighting, you said that I protect him too much and so I laid off a bit. Does he go astray?”

“For starters, he fornicated with the mortal Jade. He sinned,” the devil said, with a wide smile.

“And I shall punish him for that unless he repents. I don’t tolerate sin,” God replied.

“Will you kill the baby like in the mortal David’s case?” The devil asked curiously.

“That’s for Me to decide,” God answered, as He eyed Mr. Swara. The devil noticed this.

“Why did you allow the mortal Jane to marry him and yet he’s an unfaithful mortal?” He asked.

“What’s with the questions? I’m the Supreme Being who doesn’t answer to anyone, including you. I have my plans and you have yours. I’m not subjecting my daughter to hardship for nothing. She will eventually gain,” God replied. The devil left his presence.

The cool morning breeze and the rumbling of his stomach are what made Kiburi wake up from his peaceful sleep. He looked beside him for Malaika but she was not there. On looking outside, he saw her vomiting once again.

“Again?” He groaned sleepily as he rubbed his right eye, then went out to her sheepishly. She had let out another mouthful, then spat and recovered in a bent position. Kiburi went to her and stroked her back comfortingly. She stood straight wearily.

“I don’t like this life, Johnnie. I want it to end,” she said as she hugged him. He held her and smelled her.

“I love you, J,” he whispered into her ear, and added, “And you’ll give birth to this baby,” then they stopped hugging and held hands. They looked into each other’s eyes. Kiburi smiled.

As he looked at her, memories of their night together played in his mind. He craved her, but the embryo within her had to come first. Making love again would come later. His smile made Malaika smile weakly. It encouraged her that he was there with her every step of the way throughout the hardship she was experiencing.

“What has pleased you like that?” She asked finally.

“That night of ours, J. Do you remember it?” He replied as he let his eyes travel around her. “Man, you’re so beautiful,” he added enthusiastically.

The smile on Malaika’s face faded and she withdrew her hand.

“You mean I’m here in pain, I’m suffering, and instead of you thinking how we’ll raise this baby you’re only thinking about sex?” She asked roughly. Her sudden change of mood caught Kiburi by surprise.

“It’s not like that, J. It’s just that…,” he started pathetically.

“It’s just that what? It’s just that you’re not the one with child, vomiting all the time like a fool?” She bellowed angrily.

She shouted so loud that she woke Mr. Swara and Mzuri. With the absence of windows, they could hear every single word.

“Another argument?” Mzuri wondered as she watched the argument sheepishly. For some strange reason, Mr. Swara was smiling inwardly. Perhaps God was answering his prayer of splitting Malaika and Kiburi.

“Please, J, please…,” Kiburi started remorsefully. Malaika outstretched her open palm to him. He kept quiet.

“Tell me one thing, Johnnie. When you made me pregnant, is it because you love me or because you lust for my body?” She asked in a more relaxed tone as she stared straight into his eyes. Kiburi tried to hold her, but she refused. She was waiting for his answer.

“I love you, J. There’s no need for me to tell you that. You know, right?” He responded calmly. Malaika clicked.

“Go away with those lies of yours,” she retorted, then got into the car and began crying, leaving Kiburi rooted on the spot he was standing, totally surprised. He turned to Mzuri who was staring at him from her window.

“What? Can’t a couple fight in peace?” He asked angrily and got into the car.

He had already confirmed to her what she wanted to know, because though she could hear what they were saying, she couldn’t understand most of their words as they spoke in Sheng’. Mr. Swara could sense the tension in the car. Mzuri looked at Kiburi and Malaika from the rear-view mirror. Malaika was crying while facing her window, while Kiburi looked out of his window moodily.

“We could really use some breakfast, right dear?” Mr. Swara asked Mzuri as he loosened his tie.

“Right,” Mzuri replied, as she maintained her view of the couple at loggerheads.

“Then let’s go and get it,” Mr. Swara said as he winked at her.

“No, I’ll just…,” she started, but Mr. Swara grabbed her by the waist and gently pulled her out of the car. “Hey! But…,” she protested. She wanted to hear what Kiburi would say to patch things up with his wife.

“A nice stroll will do the trick for us as they sort out their issues,” Mr. Swara said to Mzuri as he pocketed.

“I guess,” Mzuri said, as she admiringly studied a tall building a distance away.

“We’ll just go and buy breakfast,” Mr. Swara said to Kiburi and Malaika from his window.

“Alright,” Kiburi said plainly. Mzuri looked around Nairobi. She had heard plenty about it, but she was then experiencing it firsthand.

With that, Mr. Swara and Mzuri left, leaving Kiburi and Malaika alone in the car. Kiburi stared at Malaika. She was sobbing uncontrollably with her face buried in her hands. He cleared his throat and rested his hand on her shoulder.

“J, stop crying. Please. When we made love, it was because I love you and didn’t want another man to marry you,” he explained gently. 

Malaika stopped sobbing and looked up at him. He held her head and wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

“But when you see me, do you see me as your wife or just a casual party girl?” She asked, and before he could reply, she asked again, “Why are you only thinking of love matters when I’m suffering? Or are you imagining me naked when you’re looking at me now?” and kept quiet for him to answer.

Ever since she became pregnant, he noted, she had been strange. As she looked at him, he was tongue-tied. She freed her head.

“Well? Answer me, Johnnie. I want to know,” she insisted. 

She looked even more attractive when she was annoyed. He didn’t have any reply for her. He leaned forward and gave her an impromptu kiss that lasted for a minute or so, then looked into her eyes, hoping that the kiss saved him from the tonnes of explanation he had to do for her.

“With that kiss, I’ve shown you that I love you as my wife. The way I love you, I love our baby as well,” he said, then held her hands. Her expression changed into a light smile.

“Serious?” She asked him as she bit her lower lip playfully.

“Serious,” he replied as he licked his lips. They looked into each other’s eyes. Kiburi held her head again and smiled. “There’s no other woman if it’s not you,” he added. As she smiled broadly, he could feel a hot sensation throughout his body.

Mr. Swara and Mzuri had bought two loaves of bread and some coffee. As they approached the car, they could see Kiburi and Malaika going to kiss.

“See, I told you, sweetheart. All they needed was some privacy,” Mr. Swara said as he smiled at Mzuri. She was anxious to know how they reconciled. “And now they’re kissing,” Mr. Swara said as he savoured the moment.

“Shouldn’t we like, step in or something?” Mzuri said as she faced her husband. His eyes were glued to Kiburi and Malaika.

“No. That would be ruining everything,” he said as he focussed on Malaika. They were totally enjoying each other. Since Kiburi had taken off his T-shirt, Mr. Swara figured that in the next few seconds, Malaika’s top would have come off.

“Well we can’t stand here all day,” Mzuri said as she turned away and examined the cars beside theirs. Mr. Swara stood still, watching the action keenly.

“They need a little…more…time,” he said lazily, as his heart increased its pumping rate as Kiburi played with Malaika’s top, looking for its bottom with his hands as he kissed her. Her hands travelled around his masculine chest and she finally undid his jeans.

“Why? For them to play doctor and nurse in a car? That’s it. I’m tired of playing voyeur. I’m going to end this,” Mzuri said firmly, and was on her way before Mr. Swara could stop her. He cursed under his breath.

Kiburi was already pulling the top off Malaika when a sudden ‘ahem’ made him stop. It was his sister.

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” She asked, without looking into the car.

“Er, no,” Malaika replied, as she straightened her top and gave Kiburi his T-shirt, which he roughly put on.

“Come in,” he said, after wiping his lips and zipping up his jeans.

Mzuri pulled her car door open and sank into her seat. Mr. Swara opened his and entered slowly. Mzuri handed Kiburi and Malaika cups of warm, black coffee and tore open the loaf of bread she was carrying. Kiburi and Malaika giggled as they sipped their sugary coffees. Mzuri handed them three slices of bread each. Mr. Swara handed her her coffee as he sipped his. He meditated on the chance that had just passed him.

“So how far are we from Lavington, bro?” Kiburi asked him, while admiring the bread he had just bitten.
“Not so far. We’ll be there in a few hours’ time,” Mr. Swara replied, then gingerly bit into his bread.

“I could really use a shower. It’s been days!” Malaika exclaimed as she fanned herself.

“Me too. I feel dirty and sweaty,” Mzuri added.

“Well, we had passed a river just recently. You both would have bathed there,” Kiburi commented as he reached out for more bread.

“Are you serious? Girls bathing in a river?” Mzuri asked him unbelievingly.

“Well, I don’t see why not. Our grandmothers and ancestors of old did it,” Mr. Swara reasoned. Malaika scoffed.

“Those were them, and they lived in an era where showers were like the biggest inventions ever,” she said as she turned to Kiburi and Mzuri in turns.

“True. In this day and age, people bathe in bathrooms and not rivers. Can you imagine dipping in a river and some pervert comes and observes you?” Mzuri agreed.

“But I bathed there and no one was there to observe me,” Kiburi defended himself innocently.

“Point blank: Women should not bathe in rivers or public places, with or without observers,” Mzuri insisted, then finished up her bread and sipped her coffee. 

There was a prolonged silence as they ate their breakfast silently. Mr. Swara finished his bread and added two more slices. As for Malaika and Mzuri, the three slices they had eaten were enough. Kiburi tried persuading Malaika to have some more, but she strongly shook her head in defiance.

“I’m fine, Johnnie,” she said.

“Remember that you’re also eating for the baby,” he reminded her gently as he single-handedly started devouring the last loaf of bread. He offered Mzuri some but she declined. Mr. Swara also shook his head.

“You go ahead,” he encouraged him.

Jerome and his boys were brought before God by one of His angels.
“Where are we?” Jerome asked nervously as he felt his groin. He was surprised. “I thought that girl shot me. Why am I still alive?...and not bleeding?” He asked, then turned to Victor. “Where are the girls?” He asked him. Victor was paralysed with fear. His lips shook.

“Boss. Look,” he said, as he pointed at God and his angels. The men were not referred to by their earthly names anymore.

“Yes, mortal. You should be very afraid,” Angel Michael said as he looked at them all in turns.

“W-who a-are y-you a-a-and h-how d-did y-you kn-now m-my n-name?” Victor stammered.

“I am the Archangel and He,” Angel Michael started, and paused, then pointed at God and continued, “is the Almighty God.” Victor wanted to faint but he couldn’t.

“That’s not possible. I thought that if you see God with your eyes, you’ll die,” Hugo said, sharing his obvious bit of wisdom. The rest nodded. They didn’t see God’s face though, just His glory from afar, as He was surrounded by countless angels and the twenty-four elders.

“Well, think again, mortal, because you’re all dead and have been summoned to know where you shall go,” Angel Michael informed them in a steady voice. Jerome got on his knees before God and begged for mercy. His boys followed his example.

“You all had the time to repent. Before you carjacked your last car, you should have repented. Before you thought of raping those two girls, you should have repented. Before you died, you should have repented,” God said.

“Please, God. We…I’m sorry,” Jerome begged. God shook his head.

“Please,” Thud begged persistently.

“No,” God said angrily. Victor was almost crying. He turned to the Being beside God, on His right.

“Y-you’re the Lord Jesus, right?” He asked humbly.

“I am,” the Being replied. Victor knelt with his face touching Jesus’ feet.

“Dear Master, I beg for forgiveness. I sinned,” he begged. Thud joined him.

“I intercede for the living and ask for forgiveness on their behalf. But when they die in sin and reject Me, then I can’t help them. They’ve sealed their fate,” Jesus explained as He turned away from them. “Go away from me. I don’t know you,” He said in disgust as He dismissed them.

“Your friend still has a chance to repent. As for all of you, your eternal home is hell!” God declared angrily, and the angels and twenty four elders bowed before him and sang praises to Him. He allowed the demons to drag the souls into hell.

“Please! We repent!” Thud cried as his skin began experiencing the scorching golden flames of hell. God and Jesus didn’t reply.

“You were deceived and you listened,” the demons taunted in unison then tossed them into hell at once, where they burned and wept for their ignorance.

After a hearty breakfast, Mr. Swara stretched and wiped his mouth, then started the engine.

“Ready?” He asked his crew as the car came to life.

“More than ever,” Kiburi replied the loudest, after strapping himself in and throwing the breakfast debris out of his window. The car started, and they were on the road once again. The cool morning breeze hit each of them, refreshing them.

“So where will you be living, Jane?” Malaika asked Mzuri as she freed her arranged hair. It danced around to the rhythm of the breeze.

“Man!” Kiburi exclaimed as he admired her. She threw her head back and shook it wildly, then giggled excitedly. Mr. Swara glanced at her from the rear-view mirror and swallowed, then refocussed on the road. She was too much.

“I have no idea. Perhaps my sugar here will do the honours of telling us,” Mzuri replied, then played nudged Mr. Swara on his rib.

“We shall be living in Kileleshwa. We’ll drop by your place some time in the future and take you there,” Mr. Swara replied, as he honked at the slow taxi ahead of them.

“Kileleshwa? Wow! That’s a choice place,” Malaika said, as she looked into the distance, visualising the house already while stroking her chin.

“It is?” Mzuri inquired as she turned to her for more information.

“Are you kidding me? The best houses are there. Kileleshwa was recently christened ‘Land of The Rich,’” Malaika explained.

“Lucky girl,” Kiburi enthused as he winked at and smiled at Mzuri. She was thirsty for more.

“Have you been there?” She asked, while trying to overpower a persistent smile that was forming at the corners of her mouth.

“Tonnes of times! Jane, you’ll love it there: Huge compounds, fancy bigwigs mowing the lawns, picnics on Sundays…,” Malaika started, and sighed and paused as she remembered the good life she lived there. “My aunt lives there, so, you know, I stayed with her. Nice place,” she concluded, with an impressive shake of her head.

“Only the best for my darling,” Mr. Swara said with a proud smile as he focussed on the road. Mzuri stroked his cheek lovingly. Hadn’t he been driving, she would have ambushed him with grateful kisses.

“I love you,” she said lovingly.

“The feeling is mutual,” Mr. Swara recited poetically as he glanced at the rear-view mirror. His eyes rested on Malaika. For a moment, he forgot he was driving.

He even forgot she was married. He maintained eye contact with her but she stared out of the window. His eyes travelled around her shapely body. She cleared her throat and looked in his direction by chance. They were staring at each other. Mr. Swara winked at her. He felt a new sense of courage. However she took it was not his problem. She looked away from him and stroked her hair nervously.

“Watch out!” Mzuri shouted, thrusting him back on the wheel. He immediately stepped on the brakes just in time to prevent a head-on collision with a tree. The car came to an unexpected halt, shoving everyone forward, making Kiburi and Malaika hit their faces at the backs of Mr. Swara and Mzuri’s seats.

“Sorry. I lost myself for a moment there,” Mr. Swara explained with a nervous smile as he looked around at his shaken human cargo.

“It’s alright. We understand. It’s not easy driving after receiving a fatal group beating,” Mzuri said, after recovering from the shock. Malaika managed a smile but Kiburi frowned. His heart was thumping fast.

“On the plus side, we’ve arrived at your place, Kiburi, Jade,” Mr. Swara informed, as he turned to Kiburi and avoided turning to Malaika, to ease any suspicion he may have caused about himself to her. Kiburi sat up and surveyed Lavington for his home.

“There it is!” Malaika said as she pointed to a large house with a blue ceiling and a large compound around it. Its scene was breathtaking. Everyone got out of the car for a better view.

“Wow,” Kiburi exclaimed as he admired its beauty. “Let’s go,” he told Malaika hurriedly. She nodded. He turned to Mzuri.

“Bye, sis,” He said emotionally as he reached out for her and hugged her. Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes as they hugged.

“Take care, bro. No more big sis to take care of you and pamper you. You have new mouths to feed,” she said after the hug, as they held hands. Kiburi fought the urge to cry. “I believe in you, bro. Good luck,” she added, then hugged him once more and released him.

“I wish you the very best, sis. Thanks for all you’ve done for me to this point, I pray that God bless you and your husband and give you a big, beautiful family as you strive to live for him,” he said with a trembling voice.

“Amen,” Mzuri said, then smiled weakly and nodded. Afterwards, he greeted Mr. Swara.

“All the best, bro,” Mr. Swara said to him. 

“Thanks,” he replied briefly with a quick nod. Malaika greeted and hugged Mzuri.

“Bye, sis. My brother is in your hands. Now you’re the one living with him. When he misbehaves, starve him,” Mzuri joked, then laughed amidst tears. Kiburi and Malaika shared her laughter.

“I’ll remember that. Travel safe, and I thank you for accepting me,” Malaika said, after the laughter died down. They hugged once more, then Malaika turned to Mr. Swara and greeted him.

“Thanks for the ride. We appreciate it,” she said to him, then withdrew her hand.

“It’s my pleasure. I wish you the best as you begin this long journey on your own,” he said to her warmly.

After that, Kiburi took their belongings from the boot and wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulder.

“Bye! Travel safe!” He shouted to his sister and her husband as he and Malaika waved at them.

“Thanks,” they replied, then watched them as they left.

A NEW CHAPTER

Mzuri sighed as she watched them disappear.

“They grow up so fast. It was just the other day that he was suckling mum’s bosom happily in her arms,” she paused and laughed as she remembered the sight fondly, then continued, “and now he’s…he’s going to be a father. I’m going to be an aunt!” 

Mr. Swara listened silently as he looked at Malaika’s backside as she walked. He resisted the temptation to whistle. After they had gone, he looked at the petrol meter of the car.

“Uh oh. We’re short on petrol. Let’s go for a refill before proceeding,” he said as he started the engine. Mzuri wiped her tears and looked at the house for the last time, then concentrated on Mr. Swara.

“That’s…that’s a good idea,” she agreed. The car started and they proceeded with their journey.

Kiburi handed Malaika the keys to the house and handled the luggage as she walked casually beside him. She remembered Mr. Swara’s wink and dismissed it as a good will wink. He can’t be hitting on me. What about Jane? She thought to herself as she looked around the compound. They arrived at the doorstep and she had the privilege of unlocking their matrimonial house.

She pushed the head of the key into the keyhole and turned the doorknob. It opened automatically.

“Wow!” They exclaimed in unison as they went in and admired their house. Kiburi dumped the luggage on the huge couch in the living room, then he and Malaika admired the house, room by room.

“An Italian carpet on the floor, marble walls, deluxe furniture, a smart TV with DSTV?” Malaika narrated as she looked around the whole living room. All that was too much for Kiburi to take in. He was dumbfounded.
“Not to mention a home theatre system with a double mega sound amplifier?” Malaika added excitedly as she ran to survey another room, the bathroom. Kiburi joined her sheepishly.

“Nice,” she said after opening its door and giving a wolf whistle. It had a tiled floor and several showers—one hot, one warm, and the other cold. “Your dad must love you,” she commented after shutting the bathroom door and facing Kiburi. He held her by her arms.

“He loves us,” he said as he looked into her eyes.

“But isn’t this too much? I mean, most young couples who are just starting a family don’t live in a house that’s this big,” she said, as she began walking around while surveying every corner carefully.

“So you wanted a single room squatter where we share a mattress on the floor?” Kiburi asked, in a confused tone.

“No, but I was hoping we’d have somewhere more simple like the houses in Umoja. This place can house the whole world!” Malaika exclaimed as she stroked the smooth, beautiful wall that led to the kitchen.

“We’ll be a full house soon. Junior is on the way, and probably 10 others. Relax. This is exactly what we need,” Kiburi explained, as he came from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist then rested his chin on her shoulder. She turned to him. He was going to kiss her but she declined gently.

“You’re right. This house is a blessing. I should be thankful,” she said with a smile. He nodded as they looked into each other’s eyes. “Let’s go check out the kitchen,” she suggested as she turned and left.

“No, you go ahead. I’ll go and lie down upstairs. I’m kind of tired,” Kiburi replied, then he slowly went up the spiral set of staircases.

It was early evening when Mr. Swara’s MU-X pulled up at a petrol station. A petrol pump attendant in a cap and uniform promptly appeared at his window.

“Good evening, customer. How much petrol do you require?” He asked courteously.

“For 1,000 shillings,” Mr. Swara replied. The man nodded briefly and went off to fill the car.

Mzuri stared outside her window and saw two men smiling at and waving at her. She found it annoying at first, but found it flattering later on. She considered one of them attractive, but remembered that she was married. She waved back at them briefly and looked away from them. She turned to Mr. Swara.

He was resting on his seat peacefully with his eyes closed. She decided to join him. She laid back on her seat, held his hand, and shut her eyes. It felt so relieving and relaxing, as though it was some kind of therapy. They maintained that posture for a while until the attendant reappeared at Mr. Swara’s window with a warm smile.

“All done, sir,” he said gently, while smiling at both Mr. Swara and Mzuri.

“Oh,” Mr. Swara said as he sat up. He took out a crisp clean 1,000-shilling note from his wallet and gave it to the attendant.

“Thank you,” he said, as he handed him the note.

“No, thank you, and welcome again,” the attendant said as he took the money, then rushed off to attend to another customer. Mzuri looked outside her window, where her admirers were and found that they had gone. Mr. Swara held her hand. She turned to him.

“Darling,” he started.

“Mmm?” She replied softly with a slight smile, after leaning back on her seat.

“We’re going to see my mum, right?” Mr. Swara asked gently.

“Of course,” Mzuri started, then smiled and added, “It would be an honour to meet her.” Mr. Swara kissed her hand and started the car.

“She doesn’t live far from here,” he explained as he drove, with his eyes on the road. Mzuri nodded, as she looked outside her window. 

For the days she had been away from home, she had missed her parents immensely. She remembered all her moments with them nostalgically and longed to be with them once again, for she was always at rest with them.

Mr. Malezi sat outside his hut in deep meditation. Had he done the right thing to sell off his daughter? He wondered. On the day after his children left, Mrs. Malezi fell ill and was unable to cook. Mzuri could have come in handy, he thought, as he regretted giving her away. He was interrupted from his deep thoughts by Mrs. Malezi’s weak call. He rushed into their bedroom and onto the mattress where Mrs. Malezi lay.

“I feel like taking some porridge,” she said in a sickly voice. Mr. Malezi hesitated. 

He didn’t want to enter the kitchen. In their tradition, women did cooking and all house chores while men ate and attended public meetings. And besides, he reasoned, if his fellow men discovered that he, a chief, cooked for his wife, he would be a laughing stock in the village. He swallowed.

“I’ll make you some,” he finally said, and added, “Just let it be between you and me.”

“You don’t have to. You can always ask Margaret for help,” Mrs. Malezi suggested meekly.

“No. I can do it,” Mr. Malezi maintained firmly, then he left the room. He couldn’t stand seeing his wife in that state. He wanted to employ a faster method to cure her—by inviting a witchdoctor—but she firmly refused.

She was a staunch Christian and believed in God’s healing power. Mr. Malezi was also a Christian and had been praying ceaselessly for his wife’s healing, but God didn’t seem to be answering. He had given up on God.

“It’s for the good of everyone. And when she’s healed, she’ll thank me,” he reasoned as he carefully prepared the porridge.

A few huts away, the Mawazos were happily enjoying their evening tea.

“Harrison,” Mrs. Mawazo called after a long silence.

“Mmm?” Mrs. Mawazo replied, then sipped his tea.

“Do you know that now we have no connection to the Malezis whatsoever? We’ve given out what we cherished—our goldmine, our daughter?” Mrs. Mawazo explained, then sipped her tea.

“But they paid for her,” Mr. Mawazo said sheepishly.

“True, but they should also see us as in-laws, not just ‘The Mawazos,’” Mrs. Mawazo replied. Mr. Mawazo nodded and stood up.

“You’re right,” he agreed, then turned away from her and observed the ceiling. She poured the tea left in his bowl into her bowl. “They should respect us,” Mr. Mawazo added, then took his seat, and raised his bowl to sip his tea. He frowned. It was empty. He looked at Mrs. Mawazo.

“Where’s my tea?” He asked her quickly.

“It appeared you had enough, so I drank it,” she replied as she took a huge sip of her delicious, milky tea. Mr. Mawazo’s eye twitched.

“Y-you what?” He asked, then stood up angrily. “Get in there and fix me some more!” He roared as he pointed to the kitchen.

“There’s no more milk,” Mrs. Mawazo replied in an unmoved tone. Mr. Mawazo held her by the collars of the blouse she wore and yanked her to her feet.

“We’ve been eating poorly since Jade left and you’re saying you thought I had enough of a bowl of tea that is supposed to be supper?!” He roared angrily as he shook her.

“Hey!” She exclaimed in protest, as she tried to break free. Mr. Mawazo slapped her severally mercilessly then let go of her. It was her turn to react.

“Hit me again! Hit me again if you’re man enough!” She provoked as she continuously hit his chest with her clenched fists. Mr. Mawazo removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes, then turned away from her. “I could have you arrested for assault!” Mrs. Mawazo bickered as she held back her tears.

“Ever since our daughter left, you have been disrespecting me, forgetting that I’m your husband and not your child!” Mr. Mawazo replied angrily, with his face an inch away from hers. “You have been feeding me nothing but porridge and tea for the past two days as if there’s no money for a proper meal!” He continued.

“What kind of a man beats his wife?” Mrs. Mawazo retorted. Mr. Mawazo calmed down and hugged her forcefully and tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her as he clung on to her like a leech. She struggled to free herself but her efforts were futile.

“Will you ever hit me again?” She asked curtly as he begged her.

“No,” he answered, almost immediately. “I promise,” he added. Mrs. Mawazo reciprocated and hugged him as well, then they stopped hugging.

“Don’t worry. From tomorrow onwards, the diet will change. I have a plan,” she said.

“What plan?” He inquired innocently.

“You’ll see. But the dowry is for emergencies. We can’t afford to waste it,” Mrs. Mawazo explained as she looked into his eyes. He wore his spectacles. Wasn’t sleeping hungry an emergency? He thought to himself. “As for now, let’s go to bed. It’s late,” Mrs. Mawazo said softly as she held his hand. He smiled.

“If I had the energy, I could show you how much I love you tonight,” he said wearily. Mrs. Mawazo punched him on his stomach playfully.

“Harrison. We’re too old for that. The last time we did it was before Jade was born. We had all the time because we were young and energetic. I was 27, you were 29…,” she said dreamily as she remembered the good times. “But that was 17 years ago when I had a cute figure and was young. Now…,” she continued as she looked at her full figure.

“You can do it and I can too. Age is but a number. To me you’re always Maggie Baby, that sweet girl who ran away from home to bear my child 19 years ago,” Mr. Mawazo assured her lovingly as he put his arms around her waist and led her into their bedroom. They laughed cheekily as they staggered into their room.

“Naughty old man,” Mrs. Mawazo giggled, as they sprawled onto their mattress and fell asleep with her on top of him.

Mr. Malezi carefully carried the porridge he had prepared to his wife who was fast asleep. He knelt on their mattress and woke her up gently with his free hand as the other carried the bowl of porridge. She sat up and received the bowl, and drank its contents slowly.

“This is good,” She whispered after swallowing a mouthful of it.

“Thanks,” he replied as he lay on the mattress and covered himself.

“I still suggest that you swallow your pride and ask Margaret to help in the cooking. Mzuri is gone, you know. Or would you rather drink porridge until I recover?” Mrs. Malezi asked after a lengthy silence. Mr. Malezi rested his head beside her hip.

“I’ve got it, dear. We don’t need the Mawazos. Just relax and get better,” he said, then smiled at her and slept. 

She didn’t argue further. She had always known him to be stubborn and he liked having things his way. On the other hand, she admired him for putting his ego aside and preparing porridge for her. She needed it. She sipped it all, kissed him on his forehead, put the bowl aside, then curled herself up by his side, after which she whispered a quick prayer and slept.

“The mortal Gladys is sick? But she adores you!” The devil exclaimed to God, after his short trip around the world. “I thought I was the one to afflict your followers. First off, you marry off the mortal Mzuri to a sinful womanizer, second, you made her mother sick, and third, you let the mortal Kiburi get away with fornication? What kind of a God are you?” He continued.

“A God with plans. Gladys will be sick but she won’t die. Through her sickness, I shall reach Kiburi and I shall humble David. As for her children, Kiburi is a special boy before me, but I also punished Samson for his loose morals. Mzuri is in my heart. I shall bless her mightily,” God replied as he watched Mr. Swara and Mzuri.

“How?” The devil questioned. God didn’t reply. He silently watched the mortals down below as the angels and twenty four elders sang praises to Him.

Mzuri looked outside her window sleepily into the peach darkness outside, then slowly turned to Mr. Swara. All his attention was on the road. He wasn’t at all sleepy. He was determined to arrive at his mother’s place before dawn. Mzuri wanted to suggest that they proceed the next day after a good night’s sleep, but she knew that he would oppose her, so she didn’t.

“How far are we?” She asked instead. 

He cleared his throat and quickly rubbed his eyes with one of his hands, then replied, “Not far. Just a little more and we’re there.” Mzuri rolled her eyes wearily and looked at the digital clock. It read 10.30 p.m. She sighed and forced herself awake when her eyelids closed slowly.

“You can sleep if you like. I shall awake you when we’re there,” Mr. Swara told her as he concentrated on the road. She shook her head.

“If you’re awake, I’m awake. What if you doze off while driving due to fatigue and heaven forbid we have an accident and die?” She said sleepily. Mr. Swara laughed.

“Baby Jane. Always thinking and suggesting the extraordinary,” he said, as he drove.

“I have to. For instance, how can you drive after a thorough beating?” She replied, then wiped her face.

“Well, worry no more, sweetie. We’re here already,” Mr. Swara said as he gently stopped his expensive vehicle in front of a large, beautiful house with hedges on both its sides.

“We are?” Mzuri said happily as she sat up. Mr. Swara nodded, as he stared at the steering wheel, then at Mzuri.

“It’s that one right there,” he said as he indicated it with his forefinger. It was well-lit. Crickets could be heard chirping in a sweet chorus as if they welcomed the weary travellers.

Mzuri, as was her nature, surveyed the house. She could feel her heart beat. She would meet her mother-in-law in a few minutes. How was she to greet her? Was she to curtsy? What language was she to speak? Was the dress she wore too short? All these questions played in her mind repeatedly, each of them waiting for an immediate answer.

“Let’s go. I know that she’ll be happy to meet you,” Mr. Swara told her softly, then held her hand. Mzuri nodded nervously.

“Am I well dressed?” She suddenly asked him as he opened his car door.

“Of course you are, darling. You’re lovely,” he replied, then got out and gently helped her alight. After they got out, he shut the door and locked it, then put the car keys in his pocket.

Side by side they walked towards the house. Mzuri tried to compose herself and act natural.

“The only way to face the world is by being yourself,” she quietly recited the saying her mother had told her time and time again as she walked beside her husband. Being an adult came with many challenges and responsibilities, and she was ready to face them head on.

A DOG WILL ALWAYS BE A DOG

Though it was late at night, Kiburi couldn’t sleep. He lay on the comfortable mattress and tossed and turned. Something was bothering him.

“Johnnie, food is ready!” Malaika called out to him from downstairs. He could really use some food. He hurried downstairs and found Malaika setting the table.

“Let me help you,” he offered. She shook her head.

“I’m fine. I’ll manage,” she insisted.

“In your condition you’re not supposed to…,” Kiburi started calmly.

“Which condition? You’re putting it as if being pregnant is being disabled. Sit down. Here’s your food. Eat,” Malaika cut, in a slightly angry tone, as she put several casseroles and a plate and spoon before him. He sighed. She put a mat on the side of the table she sat at and took a seat opposite Kiburi.

Kiburi took her plate and served her.

“I’m not eating much,” she said briefly as she looked at the beans. He served her a sizable amount and handed it to her. “Thanks,” she said as she received it. 

He served himself a huge portion until some almost poured off his plate. He was hungry. They prayed and began eating. Malaika focussed on her plate while Kiburi focussed on her.

“J, I love you. I don’t like seeing you strain. I can hire a househelp, she works until you give birth,” he said to her, then ate.

Malaika didn’t respond immediately. She ate most of her food before pushing her chair backwards, and pausing.

“The only way you’ll show me that you love me is by letting me do my duties as a wife. We don’t need a househelp,” she replied plainly, then stood to go.

“Where are you going? Come and finish this delicious dish that you prepared,” he implored her gently after spooning five spoonfuls of the rice and beans. She turned to him.

“I’m going to shower. I’m full. Just finish it,” she said. 

Kiburi looked at her from bottom to top. She turned and left. Though he was disturbed, he couldn’t let good food go to waste. He finished the food on his plate and added the one in the casseroles. He cleared all the food, then cleared the table and put the dishes in the kitchen sink.

He decided to watch some TV since he wasn’t sleepy. He sank onto the couch, grabbed the remote, and scanned through the rich variety of local and international entertainment. He settled on a movie in which a man knelt before his wife in tears. He begged his wife for a child, to the extent of crying. He was wealthy, and said that he needed a child to inherit his wealth.

Kiburi found himself laughing at the man’s stupidity. He wanted a child while Kiburi prayed to God that the baby Malaika was carrying would die. He wasn’t ready to be a father. The wife in the movie said that children are a burden and are time and energy consuming. Kiburi nodded. He pictured himself as the woman and Malaika as the man. He switched off the TV and went upstairs.

He removed his T-shirt and threw it on the tiled floor, then lay on their bed in wait for Malaika. He was in the mood for some sex. She came in after a while, wrapped in a towel. She stopped where the strewn shirt was and studied it, then Kiburi.

“With all due respect, Johnnie, you’re a man now. Not a child. What do you mean when you throw a shirt like this?” She asked irritatedly.

Kiburi forced himself up, took the shirt, folded it neatly, and put it into the huge wardrobe that faced their bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her softly as he began stroking her arms. She wanted to be held. 

He held her head and began kissing and petting her. He could smell the sweet scent of herbal soap on her. Slowly they sat on their bed, and spread out, with Malaika below and Kiburi above. Gently, Malaika’s towel began easing off. Kiburi undid his jeans and removed his manhood. Malaika froze, and covered her exposed body once again.

“What is that?” She asked as she sat up and looked at his erect manhood. He felt irritated.

“ It is…,” he started explaining.

“Uh-uh. I don’t want you to tell me what it is. I mean, what are you doing?” Malaika clarified as she stood and tightly secured the towel around her torso.

“I want to make love to you,” Kiburi said, as he stood and returned his manhood back in, then zipped his jeans and let them sag. Malaika looked at his slightly flabby chest then his face and shook her head.

“So long as I’m pregnant, we’ll abstain until the baby is born,” she said, then stroked his chest gently and neared him. “Please understand,” she breathed. 

Kiburi sighed heavily. Again he found himself cursing for impregnating her. He wished he hadn’t. The embryo wasn’t yet born and it started competing with him for Malaika already? He thought angrily. Malaika saw the uneasiness in his face and held his head. She made him face her. Tears went down her cheeks.

“Please, Johniie, don’t be angry. It’s only a short while and the baby will be born,” she comforted. Kiburi looked at her sympathetically. She always trapped him with her tears. He softened up and nodded.

“It’s okay. No problem. I’ll abstain,” he said, then held her hands and smiled at her. She smiled back.

“Thanks for understanding,” she said. 

She opened the huge wardrobe and took out a shirt that she decided to use as her sleeping attire. It concealed most of her, except her legs. Kiburi took off his jeans and remained with his pair of boxers. Malaika got onto the bed and covered herself. Kiburi followed suit. He wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Sleep well, he whispered to her lovingly.

“Same. Let’s see each other tomorrow,” she replied, then shut her eyes and smiled gracefully. She was content but Kiburi wasn’t. He said a quick prayer, persuading God to relieve him of his unwanted burden silently, then slept.

Mr. Swara and Mzuri were received by a tall, slender woman in a red uniform.

“Hello, Matilda. How is mother?” Mr. Swara asked her casually. She nodded as she welcomed them in. 

“She’s healthy and fine. As a matter of fact, she’s awake. Welcome,” she replied, then shook his hand.

“Matilda, this is Jane, my wife,” Mr. Swara introduced Mzuri. Mzuri smiled awkwardly and outstretched her hand to Matilda.

“Pleased to meet you, madam,” Matilda said as she shook her hand.

“Likewise,” Mzuri replied sleepily. After the introduction, Matilda led them to the living room, where Mr. Swara’s mother was comfortably outstretched on a sofa, listening to music on her radio.

“Mama,” Mr. Swara called out to her gently. She sat up in quick realization and smiled.

“Swara?!” She exclaimed happily, then Mr. Swara stooped to hug her. She happily wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on both cheeks. Mzuri stood by, watching the happy reunion. Matilda stood opposite her, waiting for instructions. Mzuri studied her.

She was beautiful with a well-curved figure and relaxed appearance. She arranged her hair into a neat low bun and had light-brown eyes, naturally pink lips, and an almost-pale skin. Mzuri estimated her to be in her late 20s. Her busty feature made her stand out.

After the happy hug, Mr. Swara introduced Mzuri to his mother in their local language. His mother observed Mzuri keenly. Mzuri outstretched her hand to her as she cluelessly looked at Mr. Swara.

“She likes you,” he informed her.

“How do you do, mama,” she said, in the politest tone she could manage, to her mother-in-law. Mr. Swara’s mother smiled at her warmly and stood, then hugged her.

“You’re a very beautiful girl,” she complimented her as they hugged.

“Thank you,” Mzuri whispered as they stopped hugging, then Mr. Swara’s mother held her hand and sat on the sofa with her—side by side.

“I’m doing well, my girl. How about you? Don’t be afraid of me. I don’t bite. My name is Jessinta,” Mr. Swara’s mother said, as she wrapped her arm lovingly around Mzuri’s shoulder. Mr. Swara sat on the sofa beside the one his mother and wife sat on. Jessinta instructed Matilda in their local language. Matilda nodded, then rushed off.

“She’s bringing us food,” Mr. Swara informed Mzuri, who didn’t understand what was said. She nodded. Jessinta spoke to Mr. Swara. He replied. Mzuri felt uncomfortable listening to a conversation that she couldn’t understand. 

“She was asking how old you are. I said eighteen,” Mr. Swara translated as his eyes caught Matilda, who walked in with a tray containing ugali on a thali, several bowls of fish stew and kales, and a jug of water in a bowl. She set the tray on the coffee table in the middle of the room and distributed the bowls.

As she did so, Mr. Swara admired her backside. He let his eyes travel around her. She sliced the ugali and washed Mzuri’s and Jessinta’s hands, and finished with Mr. Swara as they wiped their hands.

“Thank you, Matilda,” Mzuri said as she dried her hands and stared at the food before her. It reminded her how hungry she was. Matilda nodded good-naturedly with a smile.

“Thank you,” Mr. Swara echoed, after he had cleaned his hands. Again, Matilda nodded briefly, then set the bowl and jug on the floor beside the table and went to the kitchen to have her supper. Jessinta led them in a word of prayer, then they began eating. As Mzuri ate, she surveyed the room.

It had a neat rug on the floor and colourful satin curtains on the window with a wall unit with a colour TV on one corner and a locked space with cups and plates on another. There were well-framed pictures of a young woman—who Mzuri assumed to be Jessinta—the same woman and a group of small children, and many others hung all around the walls in the room neatly. The fresh scent of air-freshener filled the entire room. Mzuri nodded.

The place was good and so was the food, she thought, as she courteously attacked the ugali before her. Within no time, the food was finished.

“Should I add you some more?” Jessinta asked her kindly.

“No, mother. Thank you. I’ve had enough,” Mzuri replied, then glanced at the beautiful wall clock. It read 1.00 a.m. 
It was late, and she felt it. She washed her hands and poured water for Mr. Swara’s hands as he washed them. Jessinta knew that her son always ate a little, so she didn’t bother inquiring whether he wanted a second helping. He thanked her in their local language.

“Mother, I want to go and sleep. I’m tired,” Mzuri informed Jessinta wearily. She couldn’t bring herself to call her by her name yet. As Jessinta nodded, Mzuri studied her from head to toe.

She was a black, stout, beautiful old woman with shoulder-length, grey hair and a warm smile. She also had smooth skin with few wrinkles, dark-brown eyes, and a mouth full of teeth despite her age.

“Okay,” Jessinta finally said, as she called for Matilda and instructed her in their local language once she appeared.

“Show me where I can shower first,” Mzuri told her as she led her away. As they walked, Mzuri couldn’t help but admire her confident strut. Matilda showed her to the bathroom, and after a refreshing shower and change of clothes, Matilda showed her where she and Mr. Swara would sleep.

Mr. Swara stayed on and informed his mother how he had met Mzuri and all that had transpired on the day of their wedding. Jessinta laughed at Mrs. Mawazo’s behaviour of describing Malaika to her in-laws. She snorted with a disdainful laugh. They were happily chatting and catching up on good times until Mr. Swara finally excused himself to go and shower. 

Matilda reappeared, and Jessinta instructed her to clear the table. Mr. Swara swallowed at the sight of her. There were so many beautiful women around him. If he could only have all of them to himself, he wished, then removed his shoes, wore flip-flops, and went to the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.

He had bought the house for his mother and also hired Matilda to take care of her, so he was well-acquainted with every place and room in the house. Jessinta switched off her radio and gave Matilda the go ahead to go and sleep as she herself went.

God made it rain. He wasn’t pleased with Mr. Swara at all.

“Arithmetic is treading on very dangerous ground,” He said plainly.

“He’s just being human, following his desires,” the devil replied with a dastardly smile.

“Those desires will lead to his downfall if he doesn’t change. I have blessed him with intelligence, wealth, and a beautiful wife. What more can a mortal want?” God wondered.

“More beautiful wives,” the devil replied. God shook His head.

“I am slow to anger but when I eventually react, I come like a flood, drowning he who dares make me lose my temper,” He said.

“I shall cause havoc on the mortals Mzuri and Kiburi’s marriages. I shall make them suffer,” the devil declared.

“But I shall sustain them. He who holds on to Me shall be prosperous in the end,” God cut, then they continued observing Mr. Swara.

After a soothing shower, Mr. Swara felt relaxed. He went into the room Mzuri was in with a towel around his waist and found that she was deep asleep. He groaned. He tried shaking her, but she turned to her side and slept even more. Mr. Swara smiled. He had another option. If his wife couldn’t play her part, there was another who could. He just had to play his cards right.

As he walked out of their room, there was a battle within him between his conscience and his desires. Remember you are a married man, his conscience reminded him. But she’s asleep. Matilda is beautiful also and she’s awake. Go for it! His desires incited. Mr. Swara put off his conscience. It was then or never. He could feel his heart beat in excited anticipation as he gently knocked on her door.

The door slowly opened slightly and there she was, clad in a light silk mini nightdress that curved out her figure. Mr. Swara whistled and forcefully let himself into her room and shut the door.

“Sir…,” she started, totally astonished by his impromptu visit, and at that time of the night. He cupped her mouth.

“Matilda, please. I’m begging you to cooperate,” he said, then began kissing her on the side of her neck.

“But sir, you’re married,” Matilda reminded him, in a whisper.

“She’s asleep right now. Please, I’ll give you any amount of money you desire, just please me first,” Mr. Swara whispered urgently as he gently undid her dress straps. As the dress slipped off, Matilda stopped it half-way, exposing only her shoulders.
“My price is Ksh. 100,000. Do you have it?” She asked, grasping her opportunity to get rich quick with both hands.

“I do. I shall give it to you tomorrow,” Mr. Swara whispered as he held her and pulled her to himself, so that there was no distance between them. Matilda broke free.

“Do you have protection? I don’t want a child, AIDS, or STDs,” she said as she observed him from head to toe. He clicked, then shook his head.

“But you won’t get pregnant or contract any disease. I promise you,” he said desperately as he held her again.

“How do you know?” Matilda interrogated stubbornly.

“Please. Trust me. I shall tell you tomorrow. My body aches for you,” Mr. Swara whispered, and began kissing her. Matilda let her dress slide onto the floor and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. She stopped kissing him briefly.

“If you don’t keep your end of the bargain, I shall say that you raped me to your wife and mother,” she threatened with a warning forefinger.

Mr. Swara nodded, then grabbed her head and resumed their affair. They moved backwards and fell onto Matilda’s queen size bed that had a duvet and several silk sheets plus a blanket after she locked the door. Mr. Swara pulled off his towel and parted her legs. She let him have his way with her. At least she had something against him. To her, it was the easiest way to win the lottery overnight. She had to admit, he knew how to satisfy a woman. He was fast, but effective.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered to her, as he rested on top of her after the passionate and intense sessions. Matilda was too exhausted to speak. They were both sweaty and messy, panting uncontrollably as they savoured the moment.

She laughed shortly and sighed, “You’re a man.” Mr. Swara smiled proudly and kissed her, then rose from her as he surveyed her bare body once more. He kissed his fingers and touched her breasts and genitals with them.

“Let’s go and shower,” he suggested. She obliged. After the shower, Mr. Swara took the towel, wrapped it around himself, and said, “Au revoir mademoiselle,” in a sexy French accent, and began to leave. Matilda watched him go as she ensconced herself on her warm bed. She breathed in and out and after he went and shut her door, she closed her eyes and slept.

Mr. Swara smiled to himself as he cautiously walked to his and Mzuri’s room. Women are like pigeons—toss them some feed and they’ll give you all you need, he thought with a smile as he sneaked into the room and shut the door. He observed Mzuri and smiled. She rested her head on her joined hands and breathed in and out in a relaxed manner.

“My wife. Your turn is tomorrow. As for Jade, all in due time. All…in…due…time,” he said, as he crawled onto their snug bed, took off the towel, and lay beside Mzuri and covered himself. He felt fatigued. With only a few hours to the break of day, he needed to rest. He felt like the world was his yo-yo and he played with it however he felt like.

With two women at his beck and call, there was only one left to win over. One left to entice.

“I’m all about money. I reek of money. Who said money can’t buy happiness? I can have any woman I want because I got it. Me, Arithmetic Swara, a proud and wealthy man with a good job. Who’s a single girl if I’ve conquered a woman?” He whispered proudly, then smiled and laughed triumphantly after which he finally fell asleep.

THREE PROBLEMS, ONE SOLUTION

Malaika woke up early the next morning and examined herself in the wardrobe mirror. She tightened the baggy shirt she wore to get her exact shape. She smiled, then frowned upon realising that once she gave birth, her curvaceous figure would be gone and be replaced by fat.

“Hi, beautiful,” said a voice behind her. She turned to see Kiburi, all covered up in bed with a smile. He had just woken up. Malaika smiled.

“Good morning,” she replied. He sat up and scratched his head.

“Good. Since I’ve seen you it has become super good,” he said, then rose from the bed and made it. “Let me go and shower,” he said as he scooped up his jeans, folded them, and put them in the wardrobe.

“That shirt really brings out your beauty, by the way,” he complimented his wife, then held her from behind, as he admired her reflection.

“Stop lying,” she said as she blushed. He was going to kiss her, but on remembering their agreement the previous night, he didn’t, and let go of her.

“One kiss or more won’t affect the baby,” she said in a humorous tone, after turning to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist. They shared a loving kiss, then Kiburi marched off to the bathroom while Malaika rummaged for something to wear in the wardrobe.

The Mawazos’ day had started with Mrs. Mawazo fixing some porridge while Mr. Mawazo waited patiently in the living room. His stomach yearned for some solid food. He wondered how his daughter was faring in Kiburi’s hands.

“Perhaps she saw the light and is on her way back home right now,” he said with a smile, then shook his head and added, “I should be wishing her the best. I already blessed her,” he added. Mrs. Mawazo entered the room carrying two bowls of white, steaming porridge. Mr. Mawazo swallowed.

“Don’t worry about the quantity. It’s just to sustain the stomach,” Mrs. Mawazo said as she handed him his bowl and sat on the stool next to him.

“So what’s the plan?” He asked her, then blew the steam off his porridge and sipped it.

“You shall know soon enough. It’s foolproof. It’s genius,” she replied, then sipped her porridge. It was thin and sweet, but sufficient to satisfy them until lunchtime.

“I’ve not seen much of the Malezis lately since the wedding day,” Mr. Mawazo observed.

“Perhaps they moved to the city or are on vacation,” Mrs. Mawazo guessed.

“That’s not possible. I saw David seated outside their hut yesterday in deep meditation,” Mr. Mawazo reported, then adjusted his spectacles and sipped a mouthful of porridge.

“And Gladys?” Mrs. Mawazo asked attentively. Her husband shrugged. The news made Mrs. Mawazo eager to know her whereabouts. She poured her remaining porridge into Mr. Mawazo’s bowl. He was astonished.

“Wow. You’re full already?” He asked her. She shook her head.

“I don’t have much of an appetite and it’s compensation for yesterday,” she replied, then smiled at him and stroked his arm. He beamed, and happily gulped down all the warm porridge at once.

“That was delicious, Margaret,” he said as he handed her his empty bowl.
“It’s my pleasure to please my husband,” she replied, as she stood and took their empty bowls to the kitchen. “I’ll be right back,” she added. 

Mr. Mawazo watched her go as he smiled. And that’s how a woman should behave, he thought proudly. She reappeared and they quickly left their hut, heading to the Mawazos’ hut.

“It’s awfully quiet,” Mrs. Mawazo observed upon their arrival. Her husband nodded, and cautiously knocked on the door. He knocked for quite a while with no reply until they finally heard a weak ‘come in’ from within.

Without wasting any time, he pushed the door open and his wife hurried in.

“Gladys?” She called out as she looked around the deserted sitting room. Mr. Mawazo got in and shut the door.

“Margaret?” Mrs. Malezi replied from her bedroom. The Mawazos looked at each other.

“Yes,” Mrs. Mawazo managed.

“Where are you?” Mr. Mawazo asked as he peeped out into the kitchen. Mrs. Malezi hesitated.

“Behind the shut door before you,” she replied. The Mawazos stared at the door before them on their right, itching with curiosity.

“May we come in?” Mrs. Mawazo inquired softly. She had already grasped the doorknob of the door in preparation to storm in.

“Sure,” Mrs. Malezi replied. The Mawazos came in and were surprised to find her all covered up and shivering on a mattress with a bowl of porridge at her side.

“Where’s David?” Mr. Mawazo asked her as he looked around the room. It was simple and spacious with a single window that had a drawn curtain.

“He’s gone out,” Mrs. Malezi replied, then groaned. Mrs. Mawazo stared at her.

“Are you alright?” She asked her. Mrs. Malezi was getting tired of the continuous questioning that she was being subjected to.

“Yes, I just have a migraine,” she replied curtly. Mrs. Mawazo shook her head and looked at her husband. He returned the look. Just then, the front door opened.
“Welcome, sir,” a voice said as the door was shut once again. The Mawazos stared at the bedroom door curiously, waiting for the ‘sir’ to emerge. Mrs. Malezi casually waited to see the unexpected visitor. As far as she was concerned, they were not expecting any visitors.

Mr. Malezi appeared with a wide grin on his face. He was accompanied by a tall, well-built man with marks on his cheeks and chest. He was dressed in an outfit made entirely out of leaves as an outer garment and an animal skin as an undergarment.

“Mawazos? What do you want? No, no. How did you get in here?” Mr. Malezi asked, with a disdainful expression on his face.

“We are not just Mawazos. We are your in-laws,” Mrs. Mawazo put in quickly.

“Forget that. That was just a tragic accident that should never have happened. If only your daughter kept her skirt on…,” Mr. Malezi retorted.

“Well, if only your son didn’t ruin our daughter’s life, then we would never have crossed paths!” Mr. Mawazo returned, in the same tone. The visitor cleared his throat.

“Enough of all this. I let them in. So who’s your visitor?” Mrs. Malezi intervened, then coughed violently and eyed the humble-looking man. All the attention turned to him.

“I’m James Kitana, renowned herbalist,” he introduced himself without delay.

“Herbalist?” Mrs. Malezi repeated as her gaze slowly shifted to her husband. He smiled uneasily with a shrug.

“At least he isn’t a witchdoctor,” he said softly. The Mawazos watched on, thoroughly enjoying every minute of the free soap opera before them.

“Didn’t I make it clear that only God is to heal me?!” Mrs. Malezi shouted, then groaned and held her head. 

The shout made her head ache. Mr. Malezi nodded to the herbalist, giving him the go ahead to commence treatment. Is she going to die? Mrs. Mawazo wondered as she watched the herbalist performing his duty.

Mzuri had woken up and had gone to take a bath. Mr. Swara was still sound asleep, after the previous night’s tiresome nature. After a while, he felt for her. She wasn’t at his side.

“Darling?” He murmured sleepily as he forced himself to be alert and looked at her side of the bed. She was nowhere in sight. He sheepishly got up, got dressed in a T-shirt and pair of shorts, and walked out of the bedroom. He went into the kitchen and found Mzuri chatting with Matilda. She turned to him and smiled.

“Hi, dear,” she greeted him jovially.

“Morning, sir,” Matilda added, as she looked straight into his eyes.

“Hello, good morning,” he replied, as he looked at both of them in turns. Matilda was keeping an eye on the tea as it cooked, while Mzuri was carefully applying slices of bread margarine and setting them beside the omelettes and fruits in another plate.

“Darling, you are supposed to be relaxing. That’s why I hired Matilda—to do all the work here,” Mr. Swara told her softly, then approached her and stood beside her.

“I don’t mind helping out. I’m used to it,” Mzuri replied, then smothered the last slice of bread with margarine, and added, “I’m done with the bread, Matilda. What’s next?”

“You can just leave it there. I’ll take it to the living room along with the omelettes and fruits once I’m done with the tea,” she replied.

“No. Let me take it,” Mzuri offered, and carefully balanced the plates of bread and omelettes and fruits and walked towards the door before her husband objected. He sighed wearily and once she was out of sight, he reached into his pocket, fished out a bundle of notes, and shoved them into the pocket of the apron that Matilda was wearing.

“That caters for last night,” he whispered to her. He cautiously looked out for Mzuri, then wrapped his arms around Matilda’s waist and kissed her on the cheek, then breathed, “We can do it again tonight, baby,” to her.

“Call me that again and I swear you’ll regret it,” she snapped, and added, “And let go of me. What if your wife walks in on us?” then looked to the direction of the door and freed herself.

“Relax. She has gone to run an errand for my mother. We still have time,” Mr. Swara announced happily.

“And we’ll spend that time on you telling me how sure you are that I’m not pregnant right now and that I’m not infected with any venereal disease,” Matilda said, then switched off the cooker once the tea boiled and faced Mr. Swara. He sighed.
“Will I get a kiss afterwards?” He asked, then smiled at her sensually as he eyed her from head to toe.

“We’ll see,” she replied with a straight face.

“It was back in high school when the ordeal struck. It was during lunch break when I climbed up a tree to get some sleep, where it was safe from the teacher on duty’s reach,” he started. Matilda indeed as he continued, “when I had fallen asleep. I got an erection and the branch I was sleeping on broke,” then paused and remembered the immense torture at the time.

“Then?! Hurry up before she gets back!” Matilda urged impatiently as she once again stared in the direction of the door. Mr. Swara looked at her and wondered how cold and heartless she could be.

“I fell, face first, on my erect penis…,” he continued.

“Ouch!” Matilda exclaimed as she imagined the pain.

“...I screamed. I groaned. Long story short, when I was rushed to the hospital, the doctor told me I would be alright but I wouldn’t be able to impregnate a woman as my testicles and sperm duct were badly raptured.” He concluded, then held her.

“Couldn’t an operation be performed on you?” She asked, then freed herself. He shook his head.

“The damage is permanent,” he replied.

“Does your wife know?” Matilda asked, as she turned back to the tea.

“That doesn’t matter. As for my health, I was tested last month for AIDS and venereal diseases and the results came out negative, so you’re safe. Now how about that kiss?” He cooed, as he eyed her rear while licking his lips stylistically. She laughed to herself and glanced at him.

“You want a kiss? Go and get it from your wife,” she said curtly with a harsh smile.

“But…,” he started.

“But nothing. You should be ashamed for cheating on your wife under the same ceiling as her with your mother’s housegirl. A man of your status and caliber? Isn’t she beautiful enough? What do I have that she doesn’t?” Matilda lectured.

“A nice shapely body, and…,” he started.

“Aargh! Leave me alone or I shall reveal your secret!” Matilda roared in an enraged whisper, and began sieving the tea. That was the last straw. A mere servant like her was not going to talk to Mr. Swara like that. He frowned.

“If you love your job, you will do what I want,” he bellowed.

“Or else what? You’ll sack me? Go ahead! I can do modelling, journalism, air-hosting…the options are endless!” She replied, with her eyes enlarged. Mzuri walked confidently into the scene with a friendly smile. She heard Matilda’s last words.

One look at her husband and Matilda told her that something was amiss.

“I think I’ll go take a shower,” Mr. Swara uttered incoherently. Mzuri watched him go then turned to Matilda. 

She avoided her look and poured the tea into a thermos, set it on a tray, and carried it to the living room. Mzuri had to know what was wrong. She walked out of the kitchen and to their bedroom. She found her husband sitting on their bed in deep meditation. He stood hurriedly on seeing her.

“What was that all about?” She asked as she shut the bedroom door and approached him.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered, trying to keep his temper in check. His pride was injured badly. She stood before him and looked into his eyes.

“From Matilda’s tone, it can’t be nothing. Come on, darling. I’m your wife,” she urged him as she held him. Matilda’s words echoed in his head. He forced a smile onto his face and held her.

“Forget about that stupid househelp. What say you and I have our appetiser before breakfast?” He said, and lowered his head slightly to kiss her. She wasn’t going to let it slide.

“At least tell me what the argument was about first,” she persisted. He sighed and let go of her.

“Please,” she begged, as she pressed him onto her and looked into his eyes. He looked away. He freed himself and took the towel on the rack.

“Excuse me,” he said, as he walked past her. She grabbed his wrist with both her hands.

“Arithmetic…,” she pleaded in a whisper. He was enraged. With one quick turn, he pushed her with all his force and walked out of the room. She sprawled onto their bed and had a surprised expression on her face.

The devil roared with laughter and clapped delightedly.

“Aren’t I good? Not even a week of happy marriage and the mortals have argued,” he laughed. God watched on.

“Arithmetic has already sealed his fate. I warned him through his conscience but his love for the flesh hardened his heart,” He said, with a shake of His head.

“Did you see how he pushed his wife? Beautiful!” The devil said happily. God studied Mr. Swara.

“The sinful shall perish,” He said.

“But Father, man is sinful. Just give him time. Please,” Jesus interceded. The devil laughed wickedly.

“Time? Time to do what? To go sleeping around with more women? That mortal is mine,” he said.

“Not yet. He still has a chance to come clean. Even Matilda can escape the burning flames of hell,” Jesus replied.

“With her love for money? I don’t think so,” the devil replied quickly.

“But she took a bold step by standing for what is right. She overlooked the money that Arithmetic was offering and gave him a thorough tongue-lash, not caring about losing her job,” God observed. Jesus nodded. The devil frowned.

“The fact remains, she slept with the mortal Arithmetic, making her a candidate in hell,” he insisted.

“The fact is, she’s born of the flesh and is prone to sin,” Jesus said.

“And she’s not alone,” the devil said as he looked down at Kiburi.

After a nice, refreshing shower, Kiburi strolled to his and his wife’s bedroom in his boxers. He was bare chested with a towel around his shoulders. He shook off the few droplets of water from his hair. He saw Malaika washing the previous evening’s dishes. She looked exhausted.

“Can I help you with those dishes?” He offered. She looked at him and shook her head. She was clad in a shirt and trouser belonging to him from the wardrobe.

“Go and get dressed. I’m fine,” she replied with an assuring smile. He looked at her sweaty face and how she shifted her weight between her legs in turns.

“This baby is almost due. I can feel it,” she prophesied as she looked at her expanding womb, then Kiburi. He hoped not. The thought of it made him shudder.

“How do you know?” He managed.

“Mother’s instincts. They never lie,” she replied, and washed the final casserole. Kiburi nodded slowly then went to get dressed.

Malaika felt exhausted but the thought of a housegirl did not appeal to her. She had heard and seen countless cases of housegirls who had affairs with their mistress’ husbands in Nairobi. She didn’t want the same misfortune to befall her. She washed the sink and rested on the counter with her hands. She rested momentarily then began preparing breakfast.

Kiburi reappeared dressed in a polo shirt and calf length denims. He leaned on the kitchen door and folded his arms.

“You’ve done a lot of work. Let me help you,” he persisted. Malaika stopped what she was doing.

“You’ll help me by going and letting me cook. Have you forgotten our traditions?” She asked. Kiburi raised his hands in surrender. He was tired of arguing with his stubborn wife.

He strolled into the living room and slumped onto his favourite couch—the one next to the TV—and spread himself on it. He looked at the chandelier in the ceiling and thought of his future. What was his future? He wondered and snapped out of his thought. He turned on the system and listened to the melodious Christian tune it played thoughtfully. The song reminded him that God is in control of his future.

He got tired of the music and turned on the TV instead. He scrolled through the channels but found nothing pleasant to watch. He sighed, put off the TV, and scrolled through the stations on the radio. He found a specific fast-paced, lively song that made him smile. He listened to it as he waited for breakfast. He was starving.

After a while, Malaika walked into the room while balancing a tray containing several thermoses of tea and a casserole. Kiburi sat up hurriedly once the food was set before him and rubbed his palms together. Malaika looked exhausted. She fell on the floor and began writhing and groaning.

“J?!” Kiburi exclaimed as he rushed to her side.

“I’m in pain,” she whispered, as she unbuttoned her trousers. Kiburi could see blood on her ankles, flowing from upwards.

“Are you on your periods?” He asked her absent-mindedly while looking at her pair of panties, which was drenched in blood. She was too distressed to answer. Kiburi  rushed out of the house in a haphazard manner in pursuit of help.

“Help!” He shouted at the doorstep, while heaving and panting and looking around.

“What is the matter?” His neighbour, who was watering her flower garden asked, with a concerned look on her face. 

He beckoned her, then rushed back into the house with no reply. The neighbour stopped what she was doing and rushed into the house. She paused on seeing Malaika in a pool of blood on the floor in the living room.

“Have you called an ambulance?” She asked Kiburi while rushing over to nurse Malaika. He shook his head. “Never mind. Bring half a bucket of lukewarm salty water and a rug. I’ll do it,” the neighbour said as she removed Malaika’s trousers and panties slowly. Malaika squealed.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be alright,” the neighbour comforted her as she, the neighbour, grabbed the cloth of the arm of the nearby chair and pressed it against Malaika’s genitals. 

Malaika was sweating profusely and wincing. The neighbour grabbed the telephone on the table at the centre of the room and phoned a local hospital for an ambulance.

“It’s an emergency!” She stressed, and slammed down the telephone onto its cradle. She reduced the volume of the radio and turned the armcloth over, as one of its sides was already drenched in blood.

Kiburi rushed to the scene with the necessary requirements and set them before the neighbour. She took the rug, dipped it in the water, squeezed it, and began massaging Malaika’s upper thighs, near her genitals, gently. 

It seemed to be working, as Malaika moaned in relief with her eyes closed. She elevated her abdominal with her legs due to the pleasant warm sensation and lay flat again. Kiburi smiled in relief as he stood behind the neighbour and watched the treatment being administered.

The angels and the devil watched intently.

“Isn’t it a bit too early for her to conceive?” The devil wondered aloud.

“The baby in her is a special one with a special mission,” God replied.

“Which one?” The devil asked. God didn’t reply. “Will the child die?” The devil asked again. Jesus looked at him and shook His head.

“Since when, except in the time of Job, did Good and Bad share ideas, let alone a conversation?” He asked him. His question silenced the devil.

Once the herbalist touched Mrs. Malezi’s forehead, he could feel a vibration. Suddenly he heard a voice and lifted his head towards the roof with his eyes shut. He nodded severally while still in the same position.

“Is he a pastor or a herbalist?” Mrs. Mawazo whispered sarcastically to her husband. Mr. Malezi motioned for her to keep quiet. The herbalist stopped nodding and opened his eyes, then faced Mr. Malezi and the Mawazos.

“I have just received a message from the Most High,” he said, while shaking visibly due to the fact that he heard God’s voice.

“Let us hear it,” Mrs. Mawazo said as her ears pricked. The herbalist glanced at Mrs. Malezi, then his attentive listeners.

LIES, DECEPTION, AND HOPE

Though she had argued lightly with her husband, Mzuri didn’t show it. She decided to investigate the matter from Matilda, who was having breakfast downstairs with Jessinta. She plodded down the spiral staircase that led to the living room while staring at Matilda. Jessinta was watching TV peacefully but she looked up at Mzuri once she appeared.

“Have you argued?” She asked, while looking at her pitifully. Mzuri managed a smile and shook her head.

“It’s just a small misunderstanding,” she replied, as she took a seat beside Jessinta.

“Where has he gone?” Jessinta asked while watching TV.

“He’s taking a shower,” Mzuri replied, then poured herself a cup of tea and took several slices of bread. 

After a short, silent prayer, she began having breakfast. Matilda watched her as she ate. She had the urge to spill the beans to her, but remembered that she was also caught up in the mix.

“The tea’s good,” Mzuri complimented her after a moment of silence. Matilda nodded.

“Thank you,” she replied uneasily. She finished up her breakfast, stood, and took her cup to the kitchen.  Mzuri acted fast. It was her chance. She gulped down all her tea and finished her bread then followed Matilda to the kitchen. She found her washing her cup slowly and carefully.

“Matilda,” she called out as she approached her slowly. Matilda turned to her slowly. Matilda reached out for her cup but she stopped her. “It’s okay. Let me wash it,” Mzuri said as she began washing her cup. “What was the argument between you and my husband about?” She asked her gently as she washed. Matilda froze. “It’s alright. I won’t tell him you told me,” Mzuri assured her.

“He-he insulted me,” Matilda blurted, the first lie that came into her head. Mzuri put the clean cup in the rack and wiped her hands with the hand towel.

“How?” She asked, as she focused all her attention on Matilda.

“That my cooking is bad,” Matilda said, with an acted tone of hurt. Mzuri smiled.
“That’s it?” She asked.

“Yes,” Matilda replied, and looked at Mzuri. She saw her smile, and rejoiced inwardly that she had bought it. “You don’t know how painful it is sweating to make a meal and then you receive such criticism!” She stressed as she paced around before Mzuri, then stopped and faced her. Mzuri nodded.

“Actually, I do. My cooking used to be criticised by my family all the time,” she said with a friendly smile. She put herself in Matilda’s shoes. “Alright. I’m sorry, on his behalf. I’m sure Mum would hate it if you resigned over such a small issue,” she said.

“Thanks, but it would help more if your husband apologised. He hurt my feelings,” Matilda said softly.

“I’ll go talk to him. I’ll see to it that he delivers a proper apology, okay?” Mzuri assured, then rested her right hand on Matilda’s left shoulder. Matilda nodded, then smiled modestly. “I may be your mistress and you may be older than me, but let’s not let that keep us from being friends,” Mzuri said as she looked into her eyes, then hugged her.

A burning feeling of guilt filled Matilda’s soul. Friends? She thought to herself. After the hug, she put a smile on her face and tried looking as guilt-free as possible.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Mzuri announced, then went away. Matilda watched her as she went. Her smile faded. She felt dirty and like a prostitute. She had sacrificed her dignity for money, forgetting virtues like love and friendship.

“If she only knew,” Matilda said quietly, then sat on the kitchen counter.

A loud wailing of a siren could be heard from the front porch.

“They’re here!” The neighbour said, prompting Kiburi to rush outside and direct them in. 

The ambulance screeched at the front porch and two muscular men alighted from it with a stretcher. They rushed past Kiburi, into the house. The neighbour dressed Malaika up once again before the men appeared. Once they arrived, they put the stretcher down and carefully put Malaika on it.

“Careful,” the neighbour said as she stood aside and watched the men as they carried her. Malaika groaned.

“J-Johnnie?” She called weakly as they whisked her away on the stretcher.

“I’m here. I’m here,” Kiburi replied as he tried to keep up with the men’s fast pace.

“Don’t leeeeeeeeave me,” Malaika struggled, as a woman in the back of the ambulance opened the back doors and received the top of the stretcher from the man at the front. Kiburi rushed and locked the house, then entered into the ambulance hurriedly.

“I’m her husband!” He said urgently when the men tried to stop him. The woman shut the doors once the men got in and the ambulance drove off hurriedly. The neighbour watched it until it was out of her vicinity then she proceeded with watering her garden.

“I’m not the one to heal her,” the herbalist said, after a deep breath.

“What? You mean I paid you for you to come here and hide your quackness by claiming that you are not the one to heal her?” Mr. Malezi spat, while fixing the herbalist a cold glare.

“Then who is?” Mr. Mawazo asked.

“I don’t know. He has said that a pastor is supposed to be called for immediately,” the herbalist replied.

“Now where on earth am I to get a pastor?” Mr. Malezi said in despair, then held his head with both hands.

“I can help,” Mrs. Mawazo offered. Mr.s Mawazo and Malezi stared at her, before Mr. Malezi broke down to a mocking laughter.

“What, you’re a pastor?” He mocked her.

“No, but I have a close friend who is,” she replied courageously as she looked into his teary eyes. Her husband was baffled by her courage. Mr. Malezi stopped laughing.

“You do? How much do you want to bring her?” He asked, while wiping the corners of his eyes. Mr. Mawazo licked his lips. Mrs. Mawazo looked at Mr. Malezi and shook her head.

“You’re all about money: Money this, money that, but simple as we may be, we don’t want your money,” she said, then looked at her husband. His jaw dropped. She looked at Mr. Malezi once again. “But the help I’m offering is too valuable to give for free. I want food to be ready for us when we return with her. Plenty of it,” she said, in consideration of her husband. He beamed. 

He had never imagined that she would raise the Mawazo name high up in the air, from the gutters of uselessness to the skies of usefulness. Mr. Malezi, the proud and arrogant tycoon, was wrapped around their pinky thanks to her. Mr. Mawazo wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pressed her against his chest.

“Hurry. The pastor is required immediately,” the herbalist reminded them as he stared at the unconscious Mrs. Malezi.

“Fine. You have yourselves a deal,” Mr. Malezi replied quickly. The Mawazos nodded quickly and made their way out of the hut. The herbalist bowed slightly to Mr. Malezi and left. “Thanks for the help,” Mr. Malezi said moodily to him as he disappeared, then sat beside his wife in frustration.

“I have decided to communicate with the mortals,” God said to the devil as He watched the Mawazos disappear. “At the same time, I have united two families that had bad blood all because of wealth. I have favoured the Malezis so much with wealth and power, and being the just God that I am, I have also decided to smile upon the Mawazos by providing them with a helpful friend for this urgent hour,” He added.

“What have you accomplished?” Jesus asked the devil with a mocking sneer.

“Disrupting a peaceful marriage that, very soon, will hit rock bottom, and I promise you both,” the devil started while looking at both of them in turns, and continued, “that is just the beginning. I deal in things that man desires: The flesh, wealth, and power. The mortal Kiburi, being a boy, shall not say no to me,” then smiled.

“And Arithmetic?” Archangel Michael asked him.

“He’s already in my camp. Him and his partner in sin, Matilda. I’m just waiting for the time that they will join me in hell. The mortal Kiburi is my prime target. He has so much potential but I can ruin it with the desires of man,” the devil replied and nodded happily.

“I have blessed him with wealth and a beautiful wife with whom he’s happy. I shall help him throughout your temptations,” God said to him quickly.

“But at the end of the day, it’s for him to decide. He has the power of choice, and not even You can decide his final place. He’ll do it himself,” the devil replied, then glanced at Jesus. “Being a human is tough work, right?” He asked Him. He nodded.

“And that’s why we are so lenient with them. We understand them,” He replied.

After a long, casual trek, the Mawazos finally arrived at their destination.

“She lives here,” Mrs. Mawazo said, as she knocked on the well-painted door of her friend’s cottage that was located in the forest near the village. Mr. Mawazo looked at the house.

“Is she married?” He asked casually. Before his wife could answer, the door was opened by a slim, brown woman with short, curly hair. She was dressed in a long, flowing dress, and was pleasant to behold.

“Margaret?” She said to Mrs. Mawazo with a wide smile.

“Harriet?” Mrs. Mawazo replied with the same enthusiasm, then they laughed and hugged happily like bosom sisters who have been away from each other for a long while. After the hug, Mrs. Mawazo introduced Mr. Mawazo. “And this is my husband Harrison,” she said as she indicated him.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said warmly, then he outstretched his right hand to her. She didn’t shake his hand

“The pleasure is all mine,” she said cheerfully, while staring at it. “I’m not being rude, so don’t take it the wrong way. I don’t shake men’s hands. It’s a devotion-to-God thing,” she added. Mr. Mawazo nodded as he withdrew his hand.

“So to what do I owe this visit?” She asked Mrs. Mawazo with a smile.

“We need your help. An in-law of ours is very sick and according to God, you are needed,” Mrs. Mawazo replied.

“Really? So how did you talk to God?” Harriet asked.

“We didn’t. He passed the message through a herbalist. Let’s go,” Mrs. Mawazo explained quickly then urged.

“Okay. Just a minute,” Harriet replied and locked her house, then added, “You’ve really changed. The last time I saw you you were a girl with a narrow waist. Your husband takes good care of you right?” to her friend.

“Yes. And not only that. A lot happens in 20 years—marriage, children…,” Mrs. Mawazo replied as they walked.

“So you have children?” Harriet asked.

“Yes, one. A girl,” Mrs. Mawazo replied.

“How old is she?” Harriet asked.

“Seventeen,” Mrs. Mawazo answered.

“She must be a lovely girl, like her mother. Where is she?” Harriet asked.

“You’ll meet her soon. But enough about me. You haven’t changed a bit, except agewise, of course. Are you married? Do you have children?” Mrs. Mawazo asked her. She laughed softly.

“A year after we parted, I dedicated myself to God fully and forewent boys and parties and all those things that young girls fancy. I am not married and have no children, but you can say that God is my husband,” she replied, and added, “It may sound absurd, but that’s the story of my life.” They stopped conversing and continued with their journey silently.

Mr. Swara and his mother were having a conversation. His mother lectured him as he listened silently while eating his breakfast. Mzuri walked in and found them talking. Mr. Swara looked up at her. Jessinta stopped talking and also looked at her.

“I’m sorry if I’ve intruded in a mother-son moment,” she said meekly while staring at Mr. Swara.

“No. Not at all. In fact, I wanted to see you,” he replied, then gulped down his tea and set the cup on the table.

“Likewise,” Mzuri said, as she smiled at Jessinta. Jessinta smiled back and talked to her son in their local language.

“She says you’re very beautiful,” he translated. Mzuri blushed.

“That’s sweet. Tell her I said thanks,” she replied. He passed on the message, and Jessinta nodded and spoke once again. Mr. Swara spoke back, then turned to his wife.

“She says that you’re shapely and attractive, but you’re still a girl. She also said that I need to make a woman out of you—to make your breasts larger and more tender,” he reported uneasily. His mother’s words made Mzuri uncomfortable, but she smiled the awkwardness away.

“And what did you say?” She asked immediately.

“I told her that you are my wife and I love you the way you are,” he replied. Mzuri smiled. That was a good way of defending her, reminding her that despite their brawl, she held a special place in his heart.

“I need to talk to you,” they said to each other in unison, then laughed. “In private. You first,” they added, again in unison.

“We both seem to have something to say,” Mr. Swara said as he looked into her eyes. She nodded while smiling shyly and scratched the nape of her neck lightly with her forefinger.

“Matilda!” Jessinta called out as she watched TV. Matilda came hastily. She was instructed to clear the table.

“Then let’s go to our bedroom,” Mr. Swara suggested to Mzuri. She nodded and led the way. Mr. Swara and Matilda exchanged glances then he followed Mzuri and she cleared the table.

DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH

The ambulance made a sudden stop outside the hospital, and the two men offloaded Malaika and carried her into the hospital. They were followed by Kiburi and the woman at the back of the ambulance.

“We have a patient who needs immediate treatment!” One of the men announced as they transferred Malaika onto a hospital bed. A doctor and several nurses came over to take over. The men left.

“What is her condition?” The doctor, a huge, bespectacled man with a beard and an overcoat, plus a stethoscope around his neck, blared at Kiburi as he observed Malaika. She was holding on to Kiburi’s wrist as if her life depended on it.

“I-I don’t know, sir. She’s expecting a baby and started bleeding,” he replied. The four nurses stood around the bed as the doctor analysed the report. He adjusted his spectacles thoughtfully.

“She seems to be experiencing prepartum bleeding,” he said to himself and nodded. “She needs an obstetrician-gynaecologist,” he said, then turned and left. “Nurses 1 and 2, wheel her into the emergency room. Nurse 3, come with me. Nurse 4, stay with the patient. Calm her,” he said as he went. The nurses did as they were told. The woman went into another room. Kiburi followed the nurses wheeling Malaika away.

“You’re not allowed in here till later, sir,” one of the nurses told him when they arrived outside the ER, then they wheeled his wife in. 

He cursed and sat on the bench beside the room. He was worried, not for the baby, but his wife. He could still see the pain in her eyes as she squeezed her legs together in a bid to hold back the blood that was flowing. He could hear her moaning and writhing.

Had he done the right thing? Could he have allowed her to be married to Mzee Nyemelea? Or was she being punished for their sin?” He wondered to himself. He was brought back to the present by the voice of a nurse as it neared.

“This way,” she said, as she led a buxom woman of medium height with short, kempt hair and an overcoat into the ER. “She is bleeding profusely,” the nurse added as they entered.

Kiburi looked around the hospital. It was large and prestigious. He watched a crippled man being pushed on a wheelchair by a nurse and examined the room he was in. It had a TV that was tuned to a local channel. He was too worried to watch it. Suddenly the door of the ER opened and out came a nurse. She hurried past him and returned with a clean, flowing white gown.

“Excuse me,” he called out to her. She was a tall, slender woman with light skin and straight black hair that she neatly arranged into a ponytail. She turned to him. He stood up. “How is he?” He asked weakly, then wiped his forehead.

“We have found a way to control the bleeding. The doctor has not yet stated how she’s faring, but if you ask me, she’s weak and needs more blood. Excuse me,” she replied, and hurried back into the ER. The report made Kiburi shiver.

He had to go and get some money for his wife’s upkeep. The doctor came out of the room with a straight and stone appearance on her face.

“Who are you to her?” She asked him.
“I-I’m her husband,” he replied anxiously.

The doctor nodded then said, “She needs an immediate transfusion of four pints of blood before she gives birth.”

“How much will those pints be?” Kiburi asked.

“Ksh. 20,000. Hurry up. She still has a chance,” she replied.

“And how is the baby?” He asked.

“She is fine, but her mother’s state will soon affect her,” she answered, then pocketed her overcoat. Kiburi marvelled. He was going to have a girl? He thought happily.

“Excuse me. I’m going to get the money immediately,” he said, then rushed off. The doctor nodded and went back into the ER.

The Mawazos could smell roast meat in the Malezi homestead.

“There seems to be a party of some sort going on,” Harriet commented as they approached the hut. The Mawazos smiled at each other.

“I’m glad that he kept his end of the bargain,” Mr. Mawazo said, while rubbing his stomach.

“I’m sorry, you lost me. What bargain?” Harriet asked him as they stood in front of the door of the Malezi’s hut.

“If we bring you to heal our in-law’s sick wife, he treats us to a heavy meal,” Mrs. Mawazo explained. Harriet nodded.

“We’re here!” Mr. Mawazo informed Mr. Malezi noisily without knocking. The door was opened quickly and Mr. Malezi welcomed them in.

“Here she is,” Mrs. Mawazo said proudly as she indicated Harriet.

“Pleased to meet you, madam,” Mr. Malezi said courteously as he outstretched his hand to Harriet.

“Save the handshake, David. She doesn’t greet men. It’s a religion thing,” Mr. Mawazo informed him after folding his arms.
“Oh,” Mr. Malezi said, and withdrew his hand.

“It’s a pleasure,” Harriet said to him, and added, “Lead me to your wife.”

“Your food is in the kitchen. I am a man of my word,” Mr. Malezi said to the Mawazos, then led Harriet to his and wife’s bedroom. They wondered how he was able to cook and hastened to the kitchen to get an answer.

The kitchen was crammed with the women who lived nearby. They had cooked chapatis, beef stew, ugali, kales, and roast meat and had prepared it for the Mawazos.

“I should have known. Mr. Millionaire hired women,” Mrs. Mawazo said as she eyed the mouthwatering array of dishes before them. Mr. Mawazo washed his hands hurriedly.

“I don’t care which means he has used, as long as the food is ready,” he said quickly, and greedily descended on the ugali, kales, and roast meat.

“Eat up, Margaret, and if it’s not enough, let David know. We are at your service if money is involved. We shall be back to cook some more,” an elderly woman, who prepared the chapati, said to Mrs. Mawazo and winked at her with a smile.

“Come on, ladies. Our work here is done,” the woman said to her fellow cooks and led them out of the kitchen. They went to Mr. Malezi, and he paid them for their services, then they went to their respective houses. 

Mrs. Mawazo washed her hands and joined her husband. She served beef stew for herself and took one chapati from the stack near her.

“This is the life!” Mr. Mawazo exclaimed happily as he stuffed his mouth with ugali.

“No, this is the foolproof plan I was telling you about. Eat up, dear. There’s plenty of food and if it’s not enough, we shall get more!” Mrs. Mawazo said confidently, then enjoyed her meal. They laughed excitedly as Mr. Mawazo patted his wife on her back.

“Well done, honey. Tonight shall be a night you’ll never remember to forget. The night that we made Jade was nothing,” he said. Mrs. Mawazo giggled like a shy schoolgirl, then they focussed on their meals.

“Don’t mind the appearance of the room,” Mr. Malezi told Harriet as they entered the room. Mrs. Malezi was still unconscious.
“What is she ailing from?” Harriet asked, as she knelt beside Mrs. Malezi on the mattress.

“Migraines, weakness, and loss of appetite,” he replied, and stood beside her to watch her at work.

“God Almighty. I, your daughter, come to you now, begging you to help me cure your child!” She said loudly, with her hands on Mrs. Malezi’s head.

Harriet, you are not the one to cure her. You shall relieve her of her pain and bring her back to consciousness, but healing her is reserved for a member of her family whom I’ve chosen. Her son shall be the one to heal her, God replied, in her head. She was the only one who could hear Him. She nodded.

“With the power bestowed upon me by the Almighty, I speak consciousness upon you, God’s servant!” She said authoritatively, to Mrs. Malezi. Mrs. Malezi’s eyes fluttered open. Mr. Malezi laughed joyfully.

“She’s alright!” He said excitedly, almost hugging Harriet. 

His laughter caused the Mawazos to come from the kitchen. Mr. Mawazo had a bone that he was sucking marrow out of, while Mrs. Mawazo was chewing a mouthful of food. For the first time, Mr. Malezi was friendly to them. He hugged them both.

“The Mawazos can also be helpful,” Mrs. Mawazo bragged as he hugged them. Harriet stood to her feet slowly.

“Who are you?” Mrs. Malezi asked her.

“I am God’s servant, who has relieved your pain,” she replied. Mrs. Malezi sat up. She felt strong. Harriet faced Mr. Malezi and the Mawazos.

“I have not healed her,” she said, then paused to see the shock on each of them’s face, and continued, “That is not my job. I have only relieved her of her pain. There is someone else ordained by God to do that,” she continued. Mr. Malezi looked at the Mawazos dangerously.

“Then whose job is it, Harry?” Mrs. Mawazo enquired.

“Someone from the Malezi household. The son,” Harriet replied.

“Kiburi?” They all said in unison.
“That’s a joke!” Mr. Mawazo spat.

“A big one. Do you know what that rascal did to my daughter?” Mrs. Mawazo asked Harriet.

“There’s no need to open old wounds, Margaret, and don’t forget that I paid for her,” Mr. Malezi said.

“My son has been chosen by God?” Mrs. Mawazo said with a smile. The Mawazos sneered.

“God must have made a mistake. Of all the people?” Mr. Mawazo said as he sucked the bone he had.

“God never makes mistakes. Irrespective of Kiburi’s crime, he is God’s chosen,” Harriet replied.

“This calls for a celebration! My wife is strong and my son is special,” Mr. Malezi said arrogantly.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Malezi agreed, then stood from the mattress and went to the kitchen. The Mawazos went to enjoy the rest of their food.

“Thank you, Harriet,” Mr. Malezi told her.

“Don’t thank me, thank God. I have just been used by Him. Excuse me,” she replied, and went to help out in the kitchen. Mr. Malezi paced around the bedroom excitedly. He never regretted using plenty of money for his wife’s healing. It proved worthwhile.

“Contact with the mortals. Okay,” the devil commented as he nodded.

“I have not done it in a long time,” God replied, and smiled down at Mrs. Malezi, who sang praises to Him. “I delight in the praises of My people,” He added.

“I have also made contact with them and in this case, one of my demons has taken over,” the devil said.

“My people shan’t suffer under you,” God said to him.

“I shan’t hurt them. I shall tempt them. Kiburi shall receive his dose and as for the mortal Mzuri…,” he started as he looked down to her.

Mzuri and Mr. Swara had arrived in their room. Mzuri slumped onto the bed while Mr. Swara locked the door.

“I’m all ears. You first,” he told her as he joined her on the bed.

“I spoke to Matilda about your quarrel with her and she told me everything,” she started. Mr. Swara panicked inwardly.

“She did?” He asked casually.

“Yes, and I must say, it’s a small issue,” she replied, then held his hands.

“It is?” Mr. Swara asked, filled with surprise at how calmly she took it. “Aren’t you angry?” He added.

“Because you insulted her cooking? No, I’m just glad it wasn’t mine you were insulting,” she replied, then punched his arm playfully. He smiled and got into character after heaving a sigh of relief.

“It was tasteless. Don’t you think so? And she claims that I’ve insulted her?” He said.

“Well, you don’t have to tell her to her face. I’m speaking as a woman. I know how painful it is to be criticised about my cooking. It hurts,” Mzuri told him.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“Don’t tell me, tell her. She wants a sincere apology from you,” she answered. He nodded. He owed her more than an apology. He owed her his life. “You’re right. It was stupid of me. I shall apologise,” he added, then squeezed her hands and smiled at her. She smiled back.

“What did you have to say?” She asked. He cleared his throat.

“We’re leaving immediately,” he said.

“What? Now? Couldn’t we stay a bit longer? How will Mum take it?” Mzuri wondered.

“I spoke to her and explained to her that we crave for some time alone and that I’m needed in court tomorrow,” he explained. Though it was soon, Mzuri agreed. The real reason was to prevent Matilda and Mzuri from being too close, then Matilda accidentally opens Pandora’s box.

“Pick anything of yours,” Mr. Swara told her as he took his watch from the bedside drawer. She looked around.

“I came with nothing and I shall leave with nothing,” she said. Mr. Swara examined her. She was still in the wedding dress.

“Let’s go. I shall buy you clothes when we arrive at a clothes mall, where the best clothes are sold,” he said, then wrapped his arm around her shoulder and together, they walked to the living room. Jessinta looked up at Mzuri as they approached.

“You’ve decided to leave?” She asked her as Mr. Swara sat and put on his shoes. She sat beside Jessinta and nodded.

“There’s so much to do. We have no otherwise,” she said, then added, “I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Mother,” then hugged her. Jessinta smiled.

After the hug, she replied, “You’re a very good girl. Also beautiful. My son chose well. I know you’ll be an obedient, good, and humble wife. I leave you with my blessings,” and kissed her on both cheeks, then added, “Travel safe.”

Matilda was standing beside the living room door, trying hard to act nonchalant as she looked at Mr. Swara. He had already put on his shoes and was bidding his mother farewell. Jessinta had even stood up to bid him properly, as she was not sure when she would see him again. She hugged him and was so caught up in the excitement that she almost squeezed him.

They uttered farewells to each other in their local language as Mzuri conversed with Matilda.

“It’s time for us to go now,” she said.

“It was an honour hosting you, madam,” Matilda replied.

“Drop the ‘madam.’ Call me Jane. We’re friends, remember?” Mzuri said, then outstretched her hand to her. Again, Matilda felt a fire of guilt burning in her. To think that she slept with the husband of a girl who had considered her, not a househelp, but a friend. She felt sick.

“Oh, right,” she said with a faint smile as she shook Mzuri’s hand, then they hugged briefly. Mr. Swara joined them, before her guilt would consume her and force her to speak up.
“Matilda, I know that I was harsh to you back then. I shouldn’t have insulted your cooking. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart,” he said to her as he looked into her eyes. She looked away from him to internalise the apology, then looked at him once again.

“It’s alright, sir,” she replied quietly.

“Good. Now we are all alright,” Mzuri said happily, as she looked at them in turns.

“Take good care of mother, okay?” Mr. Swara told Matilda as he left with Mzuri.

“I will, sir,” she said, as she eyed him. He winked at her, then left. She watched them go momentarily. Jessinta asked her for a glass of water, which she went to get with a weary conscience.

Kiburi strolled along the busy urban pavement worriedly.

“Where will I get the money?” He asked himself. Anyone who saw him could think that he was a lunatic, as he kept talking to himself. Kiburi, a voice called within him. He looked behind him. Everyone seemed to be moving about, without a single one even glancing at him. He shook his head. “I must be going mad,” he thought. Kiburi, the voice called him again.

He looked around for a bench to sit on. He found one, and wearily, he went and sat on it. Kiburi, called the voice, a third time. He looked around suspiciously. “There’s someone out to get to me,” he said as he wiped his face. Kiburi, look above you, said the voice. He obeyed and looked at the skies. The clouds formed the words ‘I AM THE LORD TALKING TO YOU.’

Kiburi was panic-stricken. “I must be seeing things,” he muttered as he slapped himself. Tell me something you want, God told him. “It is crazy talking to myself, but I want to get home,” he replied sluggishly. There was a honk of a vehicle right in front of him on the road. It was a taxi.

“Are you in need of a lift, sir?” The driver, who was dressed in a smart uniform, asked him.

“Yes, but I have no money on me right now,” Kiburi replied sadly.

“Not to worry. It’s on me. I’ve been watching you and I’ve decided to help you out,” the driver said. Kiburi was overjoyed.

“Is that You incarnate?” He asked God. There was no reply. He shrugged and jovially took the ride.

“Where to?” The driver asked him.

“Lavington. Step on it. It’s an emergency,” he replied quickly. I do the asking, you do the answering, God told him. Do you believe it’s Me now? He added. Kiburi nodded. He felt honoured to be spoken to by God. Remove the pride in your heart, God warned him, as He knew that Kiburi felt important and proud.

“How long will I live?” He asked God.

“Sorry?” The driver asked. Kiburi realised that if he kept talking to God in public, he’d send the wrong messages.

“I mean, how long are we to travel before reaching?” He lied.

“With the smooth roads—no traffic and no obstructions—we’ll be there in no time,” the driver replied. Kiburi felt elated as he looked out through the window. He couldn’t wait to tell Malaika and see the look on her face.

“Is Jade going to be alright?” He whispered to God. She’s taken care of, He replied.

After observing Malaika for quite a while, the doctor looked at her pitifully. The bleeding stopped but she was weak.

“I don’t think the foetus can survive with little blood,” she said. She had already taken a sample of Malaika’s blood and performed ABO typing on it. She turned to one of the nurses. “Nurse 1, go to the blood bank. Bring four pints of O+ blood. Nurse 2, get me the transfusion apparatus. Nurses 3 and 4, stay with the patient. I shall go and prepare for the transfusion,” she added, and left the ER. Nurses 1 and 2 left with her. 

Malaika was unconscious. She was suffering from anaemia.

“Anette, do you think she’ll survive?” Nurse 3 asked Nurse 4 as she studied Malaika’s pale skin. They had already changed her into the gown.

“I don’t know, Fiona, but I believe so, after the transfusion,” Nurse 4 replied as she stroked Malaika’s hair.

“I hope her baby is alright,” Anette said as she looked at Malaika’s womb.

“But she looks too young to have a child,” Fiona commented.
“Perhaps the young man who brought her here is her husband,” Anette said. Fiona shook her head.

“I know teenage boys. They use girls and run for the hills when they hear that they are pregnant. He could be her brother,” she said. Anette nodded. 

Their conversation was cut short by the burstion open of the ER’s doors. Nurses 1 and 2 returned with what they were requested. Nurse 2 set the apparatus beside Malaika and Nurse 1 connected the first pint to the tube of the apparatus.

“Careful, Virani,” Nurse 2 told Nurse 1.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the doctor, Debbie?” Anette asked Nurse 2.

“She’s coming,” she replied. The doctor returned with gloves on and connected the tube onto Malaika’s left wrist. Blood began being transfused into her.

A GEM EMERGES

“We’re here, sir,” the cab driver informed Kiburi. He looked outside his window. He could see the familiar surroundings of his house, and itself.

“Thank you so much, my friend,” he replied, then alighted from the cab. The driver nodded and drove off. Kiburi quickly unlocked his house and entered. Everything was exactly the way he had left it.

The breakfast was still neatly set on the table. He poured himself a cup of tea and took several mandazis from the plate of mandazis beside the thermoses and ate to his fill. All the worrying could work up an appetite. He finished the entire breakfast and began looking for money around the house.

“Now where do I look?” He wondered as he looked around the living room. He switched off the radio that had been on all along. Go into your bedroom, God instructed him. He obeyed and went quickly after clearing the table. He stared around it.

“Here I am,” he said. What do you see? God asked him. “A bed, a wardrobe, a clothes rack…,” he started. Look deeper. Under the mattress, God told him. He hurriedly went and lifted the mattress of their bed. There was a brown envelope there. He took it quickly and looked inside. There were bundles of notes!
“All this time? Why hadn’t I thought of it?” Kiburi said as he admired the bundles one by one. Don’t forget the note, God told him. He looked into the envelope once again. There was a well-folded piece of paper inside. He took it. “To: Kiburi and wife,” he read, then unfolded the paper. “Who is it from?” He whispered as his eyes scanned the letter.

“Dear Kiburi,” he started, “Congratulations for crossing over this stage in life. I’m sure that you’re as excited as can be. In this envelope, I’ve enclosed a sum of Ksh. 700,000 for you and your family,” he paused, then stared at the bundles and continued, “If you waste the money and it ends, then it’s up to you. This is the first and the last financial support that you’ll get from your mother and I.” That statement displeased him. He swallowed, then began reading the second paragraph.

“How is the house? Do you like it? It’s a special gift from us, your parents. Step up to the challenge of being the head of the family. All the best. Take care. Your loving dad, David Malezi,” he concluded, then sighed, folded the letter, and returned it back into the envelope.

He took several bundles, stuffed them in another envelope, then stored the rest in the first envelope and placed the envelope under the mattress. Walk through the wall, God commanded him. He hesitated. “That’s not possible. Won’t I collide with it?” He asked, while examining the smooth, well-painted bedroom wall. Walk through the wall, God repeated. Slowly, Kiburi did as he was told with shut eyes.

Contrary to what he expected, he didn’t hit the wall. When he walked through it and opened his eyes, he couldn’t believe where he was—in the waiting room, outside the ER in the hospital. When will you learn to trust Me? God asked him. He felt stupid, forgetting whom he was dealing with.

The light-skinned nurse was just emerging from the maternity ward, a few rooms away from the ER, and was surprised to see Kiburi.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said as she approached him, then changed her expression to thoughtful. “But the first time I had passed here, you weren’t here,” she said.

“I have just arrived. So how is she?” He explained, then asked.

“She’s much better. We have started an emergency transfusion on her and she’s recovering well,” she replied.

“And the baby?” Kiburi asked.

“She’s also fine as before. You should really thank God for the miracle,” she answered. Kiburi smiled at her.

“I’m John. What’s your name?” He asked her as he reached into the envelope.

“I don’t go distributing my name to every Tom, Dick, and Harry,” she replied, irritated by his audacity.

“Perhaps this will change your mind,” he said, after fetching out a Ksh. 1,000 note. She stared at it. “Don’t worry. You’ve helped me, I’m helping you. No strings attached,” Kiburi promised. The nurse took the money.

“For your sake, I hope so. I’m Virani Mantra, but you can just call me Nurse 1. Wait here as I inform the doctor on your arrival,” she said, and entered into the ER.

You have just wasted marital money, God told Kiburi. He smiled dreamily as he sank onto the bench. “No, I have just tipped the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he replied. Watch your heart, Kiburi. Remember that Jade is your wife, God reminded him. “Jade is my wife. I know. Virani is…is a casual friend,” he said, then sighed. I know you much better than you know yourself, God told him.

The doctor came out of the ER.

“I see you’re back,” she started, then stared at the envelope and continued, “with the money.” Kiburi stood up and nodded.

“Yes,” he emphasised, and gave her the required amount. “How is she?” He asked. The doctor smiled.

“She’s out of danger. While you were away, we transfused her. She’s now conscious and is taking in the 2nd pint. You can see her if you like,” she said.

“Thank you, doctor,” Kiburi said with a nod, and rushed into the ER to find Malaika chatting happily with the nurses. She smiled on seeing him.

“Johnnie!” She declared happily. He approached her bed while eyeing the fancy transfusion apparatus and smiled at her. The nurses walked out of the room in a numerical order.

“J!” Kiburi said happily, then stooped to hug her. Her skin gained its original colour and she seemed stronger than before. “How are you feeling?” He asked her, after holding her hand.

“I’m fine, I just feel dizzy,” she replied, then asked, “And you? Why are you so excited?” after a momentous silence.

“Because I’ve seen that you’ve recovered. Man, peace has come back to me,” he replied. Malaika wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Without you, there’s no place I’m going,” she said, then hugged him fondly. He held her and stroked her hair.

“By the way, J, I spoke with God,” he boasted excitedly after they withdrew from each other.

“I also speak with God all the time,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“You don’t understand. I heard God talking to me. He told me to look up, I saw the clouds written ‘I AM GOD TALKING TO YOU’,” Kiburi explained, but he was cut short by Malaika’s shrill laughter.

“Wait, wait. Let me continue the story. Elijah came down with chariots of fire, you went to heaven…,” she mocked, as she tried to stifle her laughter.

“It’s true, J!” He insisted. She nodded.

“He also spoke to me. He told me that when your hubby is stressed, he starts imagining things,” she said. Kiburi could see that he was not getting through to her. Suddenly Malaika’s expression changed to one of alarm.

“What is it?” Kiburi asked in surprise. “Is it happening again?” He added.

“T-the b-baby,” she groaned, while panting quickly. Droplets of sweat were visible around her head—around her hairline. Her cervix was dilating.

“Doctor!” Kiburi shouted as he ran out of the ER. The nurses rushed in to help where they could. When he finally caught up with the doctor, he spoke incorrigibly in a state of panic. The doctor, sensing the panic, guessed that something was wrong and rushed into the ER.

“She’s ready for labour, doctor,” Nurse 2 said, as she fumbled with the tube in a bid to disconnect it from Malaika’s wrist. Kiburi came back into the ER and watched all the activity as it happened.  The dilation took 12 hours before the doctor gave the go ahead for the pushing to commence.

“Nurse 1, pull up her gown. Nurse 2, part her legs. Nurse 3, encourage her. Nurse 4, join me,” the doctor instructed, as she removed her overcoat and tossed it to the bed beside Malaika’s.

“Go and stand beside her and offer her all the encouragement you can. She needs it,” she instructed Kiburi. He did as he was told. He held her hand and soothed her.

“I want you to push, sweetie,” Nurse 3 told Malaika. She groaned and pushed with all her might. The gown was soaked in sweat. Veins were visible along her neck. She took in a deep breath and pushed once again, with a high, steady cry. She squeezed Kiburi’s hand.

“Continue baby. You can do it,” he whispered to her. He could feel the intensity travel around his body.

“It’s almost coming, push! Push!” The doctor encouraged, with her hands that were in gloves outstretched towards Mzuri’s vagina. The foetus’ head was visible at the top. Malaika groaned.

“I honestly can’t,” she whispered, while puffing and panting as though she was taking part in a marathon.

“You can do it, baby. 1,2,3, let’s go!” Kiburi encouraged, then squeezed her hand. She took in a deep breath, and this time, pushed with all her energy. The doctor’s remarks of ‘There’s her head’ then ‘A little more for the legs,’ gave her the energy to push until she heard the cry of a baby. She fainted on seeing the doctor holding her baby. Nurse 3 examined her and raised her legs to increase blood flow to the brain, then checked her vitals.

The doctor snipped the placenta and gave the baby to nurse 4, then gently inserted her hand into Malaika’s vagina and removed the placenta manually. She examined it then gave it to Nurse 4 to dispose of it.

“Don’t worry. She’ll come to after some time,” Nurse 3 comforted Kiburi, on seeing his concerned stare at his motionless, sweaty wife.

Nurses 1 and 2 watched on, behind the doctor. Kiburi looked at his child with a mixture of pride and hatred.

“Do you want to hold her?” Nurse 2 asked him, after she managed to quiet her. Kiburi nodded and received the bouncing baby girl who was wrapped up in a cloth in his arms. Nurse 3 fanned Malaika.

The baby weighed 4 kilograms and was wet, had large beautiful eyes, purple skin, and a temporarily cone-shaped head. She was plump like her father and resembled her mother. She breathed fast and stared at Kiburi with her thumb and forefinger in her mouth. He swallowed. He didn’t know anything about fatherhood. As he looked into her puffy eyes, he felt like crying at the realisation that from then henceforth, he was somebody’s father.

“Congratulations, sir. Is she your daughter?” Nurse 3 asked him as she admired the baby. He thought for sometime. The question had caught him unawares.

“Er, she’s my niece,” he stammered, then gave the child to Nurse 3. He glanced at Nurse 1 who shrugged a ‘What?’ to him. He shook his head and focussed on his wife, who lay peacefully. Nurses 1 and 2 went where Nurse 3 was to admire the baby.

“She’s so cute!” Nurse 2 said as she tickled her slightly. Nurse 1 made faces and spoke baby with her. She was enjoying the attention and smiled.

“Would you like us to clean her?” Nurse 2 asked Kiburi.

He nodded and said, “Then bring her back. Her mother will want to see her once she wakes up,” he replied. The doctor did a few tests on Malaika and reconnected the transfusion tube to her wrist.

“We’ll just leave you two to bond. Come on, nurses,” she said, then left, with the nurses behind her. Kiburi held Malaika’s hand with both of his. Why are you troubled? God asked him.

“I wanted the child to die,” Kiburi complained in a whisper. I want the child to live. You made her, so now you own her, God replied. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Please take her away, Kiburi implored humbly. You can’t just sin and wish the repercussions away. You will take care of her, God stressed. Kiburi sat beside his wife in deep meditation. You lied about your relation to the baby, God reminded him grimly.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…,” Kiburi started. That you didn’t want Virani to know that you have a daughter then she rejects you, God continued. Kiburi couldn’t deny it. It was the truth, and he couldn’t oppose God. This is where you are to say no to the flesh and be true to your family. You made a mistake, I punished you. Would you like to err again? God asked him.

“I won’t. I have everything under control. Virani is a friend. Jade is my wife,” he defended himself. Oh really? God said to him, then Nurse 1 walked into the ER with his clean baby in her arms.

“She’s a beautiful baby. I’m sure her parents will be proud,” she said, then gently put her in Kiburi’s arms and looked at Malaika.

“Yes. Me too,” Kiburi said, as he stared at the menace—his baby—in front of him. Nurse 1 turned to leave. After she left, Kiburi followed her out with the baby.

“Erm, Virani…,” he called out to her gently. She turned to him. “I would like it very much if we got together. As friends,” he continued, with a nervous smile. She looked at the baby, then him.

“Take care of her first. We’ll talk later,” she replied, then left. Your wife is waiting for you, God told him. He sighed then smiled, but frowned on remembering that he was carrying a baby. He carefully got back into the ER and found Malaika awake. She smiled.

“Give me, give me, give me!” She said eagerly with outstretched hands as she smiled at her baby. Kiburi gladly gave her the child. “My, she’s so beautiful!” She exclaimed excitedly while cuddling her fondly.

“Like her mother,” Kiburi said, then smiled at her when she smiled at him. Nurse 4 walked in.

“I’m sorry, sir. Visiting hours are over. Come by tomorrow,” she said to Kiburi.

“He’s going alone?” Malaika asked her. She nodded.

“You have to stay here until tomorrow, when you’ll be all set to leave,” she explained. Malaika frowned. Kiburi kissed her and the baby.

“Ntacome kuwaona na kuwachukua kesho. Promise (I’ll come and see and pick you tomorrow. I promise),” he comforted her, then left. The joy of holding her very own baby made Malaika forget Kiburi’s departure.

The celebration was successful. The Malezis and Harriet were eating and savouring the joyous theme of the celebration while the Mawazos feasted in the kitchen. After a while, the Mawazos came to the Malezi’s party.

“It’s late. We have to get going,” Mr. Mawazo said plainly. His wife went and packed some food for them. Once she was done, they left without waiting for a reply.

“Late? But it’s only after lunch,” Harriet wondered, then continued eating. Mr. Malezi scoffed.

“Those Mawazos are strange. Don’t let their absence ruin the festivity,” he said, then bit into his chicken.

“God used them to bring her here, dear,” Mrs. Malezi said, while indicating Harriet. Harriet nodded. Harriet, stay here until Kiburi comes, God instructed her. 

“I have just been told by God that your son is coming,” she announced casually, then sipped her juice. Mrs. Malezi brightened up.

“Today?!” She asked.

“Well, I’m not sure, but the way God put it, yes. In fact, he’ll be here any minute,” Harriet replied.

“But isn’t Lavington far? How will he make it today?” Mr. Malezi wondered.

“All things are possible with God,” Harriet answered.

“I’d better prepare him something special. My son, God’s chosen one, oh!” Mrs. Malezi exclaimed happily and went into the kitchen.

“Honey. You spoil him too much. No wonder he’s huge,” Mr. Malezi said after her.

“Who else will? I’m just doing my job as his mother,” she replied, from the kitchen. Harriet smiled as she heard their different ways of reasoning.

“Hasn’t God told you anything about a girl—his sister?” Mr. Malezi asked her. She shook her head.

“Wherever she is, I’m sure Mr. Arithmetic is taking proper care of her,” Mr. Malezi stated, then ate.

“So she’s married?” Harriet inquired keenly.

“Yes. To a rich man,” he replied proudly.

“How old is she?” She asked.

“Eighteen. She’s beautiful, kind, respectful…in short, she’s my special girl,” he replied, then smiled fondly. Harriet also smiled, then looked at the roof.

STOLEN HONOUR

Mr. Swara parked his car outside a popular mall and smiled at his wife.

“Let me just go and treat you, then we proceed. We’re not far from arriving,” he said to her, then stroked her cheeks. She smiled.

“Let’s go. We’ve been seated for so long while on the road that my body feels numb. I need to stretch it,” she replied, then got out of the car. She stretched gracefully, with her head tilted to her side, then joined Mr. Swara, who had also alighted.

“If you insist,” he said, then held her hand, and together, they walked into the mall. It was huge, with all the clothes, footwear, accessories, and purses that anyone could want.

People were in various departments, shopping their wallets empty. There was a GENTS department, LADIES department, and CHILDREN’S department. They walked into the ladies’ department and he told her to pick whichever outfit and footwear she fancied, regardless of their cost.

And that she did. She chose various dresses, skirts, blouses, jeans, tops, and heels, and also had the privilege of trying them on in a designated cubicle. They fitted her perfectly. The lady at the counter, who wore a red shirt with the name of the mall on the breast, passed the items through a special scanner, and their price was displayed on the computer beside her.

“That will be Ksh. 70,000 please,” she said to Mr. Swara as her assistant packed the items in red shopping bags. He fished out his credit card and proudly gave it to the lady at the counter. She passed it across the scanner. The Ksh. 70,000 was withdrawn from his account. She smiled at both of them. “Thank you for shopping with us,” she said, while handing Mr. Swara his card.

“Do come again,” her assistant added. 

Mr. Swara carried the bags and led Mzuri out of the mall and into the car. Mzuri was all smiles. As Mr. Swara put the bags into the boot then started the car, she remembered how, though her father was filthy rich, he had never spoiled her or Kiburi the way her husband did. She sank into the seat happily with a smile.

“And that’s just the beginning. Wait till you see the house,” Mr. Swara told her, with his eyes fixed on the road.

Kiburi tried searching for Nurse 1 but in vain.

“She already left,” said a nurse whom he had enquired from. 

He felt like an insect trapped in a web, but his was a web of love. Or was it a crush? He wondered, as Nurse 1 looked older than him by a couple of years. All in all, he felt attracted to her. Forget Virani, Kiburi. I want you to walk out of this hospital, God ordered him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“But that’s what I was going to do,” he said wearily, and walked towards the wide open entrance leading to the hospital. He went out and once he stepped outside, he was outside his father’s hut. He gasped. “I’m home!” He said happily, attracting immediate attention. His father came out to meet him.

“Son! How did you get here so fast?” He asked as he welcomed him into the hut. Harriet looked at him.

“So you’re Kiburi?” She said, with a smile.

“And you are…?” Kiburi replied.

“I’m God’s servant. He informed me of your arrival,” she said.

“Why are you here?” Kiburi asked her as he sat on a nearby stool.

“To strengthen your sick mother. You’re her only hope. Only you can heal her,” Harriet explained, after sitting opposite him.

“Mum is sick? How?” He wondered. Before he could receive an answer, Mrs. Malezi came into the hut with a tray containing spicy chicken and ugali, which was Kiburi’s favourite.

“My son! My chosen son! Welcome home!” She said, after setting the tray in front of him. He stood, and they hugged fondly. 

“You’re sick, Mum?” He asked her after the hug, after she had taken a seat. She nodded.

“God, I’m here now. What am I supposed to do?” Kiburi asked, with his eyes to the ceiling. The Malezis watched on proudly, expecting  to hear God’s voice, but they didn’t. Hold her hands and pray for her, God replied. Kiburi did just that. He held her and told all of them, “Let’s close our eyes for a word of prayer. It is the remedy to Mum’s illness,” then prayed for her. Immediately, she became as she was before. Her health returned to her.

“My work here is done. Thank you for the food and warm welcome. I have to go now,” Harriet said to the Malezis, then turned to Kiburi after she had stood up and advised him, “Use your chance with God well,” then left. Kiburi nodded, but deep inside, he felt important. He had just healed his mother! What more could he do? He thought proudly.

“Thank you for coming. God bless you,” the Malezis said after Harriet.

“Mum, Dad, I can’t stay long. My wife needs me. She had a baby, but it would be rude for me to go without eating this delicious food before me,” he said, then went to wash his hands and returned, then began eating the food.

“Wow! Already?” So when do we get to see the baby?” Mrs. Malezi asked him.

“She’s a her. You’ll see her very soon,” he replied. He shared with them about the events that happened since he and his sister left, specifically the attack, the kidnap, his bravery, and the killings.

“Oh my. How’s your sister and her husband?” Mrs. Malezi asked him as he ate.

“They’re fine now. They dropped Malaika and I to our place, then they headed for theirs. We exchanged blessings and pleasantries, and parted on good terms,” he replied. His parents nodded contentedly.

“I’m glad you’re fine,” his mother said to him affectionately. He beamed.

“You haven’t answered my earlier question, Kiburi: How did you get here so fast?” Mr. Malezi repeated anxiously.

“It would be a lie to say that I knew. One moment I’m in the hospital with my wife and the next, I’m home,” he explained, after swallowing a mouthful of food. The Malezis looked at each other.

“How did God sound?” His father asked him. He shrugged.

“Like God: Deep, bold, authoritative,” he replied, then stood up after finishing his food, carried the dishes to the kitchen, washed his hands, and returned. He hugged his mother and greeted his father. “Thanks for the delicious food. I have to go now. See you soon,” he said to them.

“Greet your wife and our granddaughter for us,” Mrs. Malezi said, as she smiled.

“I will,” he promised, then walked out of the hut. His parents rushed out to see him go but on arrival at the doorstep, he had vanished.

“Is he some kind of angel now?” Mr. Malezi asked his wife.

She shrugged then said, “Let’s go and break the good news of Malaika’s conception to the Mawazos. I’m sure they’ll be as happy as we are.”

“I doubt it. You know as well as I do that they hate us,” Mr. Malezi objected.

“But they love their daughter. Come on, let’s go. Stop being so pessimistic,” Mrs. Malezi replied, then walked out of the hut. Her husband followed her hesitantly while murmuring to himself.

It was half past six in the evening when Mr. Swara suddenly braked his car and sighed with a contented smile. Even before he announced it, Mzuri knew that they had arrived at their destination. She peeped out through the window and was impressed. It very much went hand in hand with Malaika’s description: Huge houses, each with their own compounds, with grass on them.

“We’re here,” Mr. Swara breathed, then pushed open his car door and got out. 

Mzuri did the same, then retrieved her shopping. The view was breathtaking and the cool evening breeze kissed them. Mzuri outstretched her hands sideways and threw her head back to take it in. It was fresh. A young mother and her son who were passing by greeted them. They replied jovially. Mr. Swara watched Mzuri react while smiling. He walked to her, took the shopping in one hand, and wrapped his other arm around her waist.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered as he led her. She looked around at the environment in a daze as they walked. It was all too splendid to be true, she thought. Mr. Swara took out the key of their home from the back pocket of his trouser and unlocked its door.

A fresh, flowery scent welcomed them. It was a spacious but simple home, with the living room and dining area joined, the bedroom opposite the toilet, two bedrooms and a garage, plus a relaxing room. Mzuri smiled as she walked in. Finally, she had a place to call her own. 

She looked around at the comfortable-looking sofas in the living room, the marbled floor, the home theatre, and the plasma screen TV, and smiled even more. The only times that she could watch TV was during the entertainment sessions on Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon in her former high school. Mr. Swara took her shopping into their bedroom then returned and stretched himself on one of the sofas.

“You like it?” He asked her, then took the remote and switched on the TV.

“I love it! Where’s the kitchen? I’d love to cook in it,” she replied excitedly. Mr. Swara took her to it and returned to watch the evening news. Mzuri admired the gas cooker and the cabinets and shelves. “I can get used to this,” she said, with a classy pause—her hand on her hip and her head slightly raised—then looked into the shelves to decide what they would have for supper.

She prepared three packets of pasta and tomato sauce to go with it. She observed that a cooker was faster than the firewood she was used to. She served the food on two plates from the dish rack on the counter beside the sink and carried the two plates to the living room. Mr. Swara sat up.

“It smells good,” he complimented as she set the plates on the glass table in the middle of the room. 

After a quick prayer, he began eating while his wife went to get some chili from the kitchen. As she left, he watched her and remembered how his friends asked him why he liked young girls more than women, then smiled on remembering his reply: Girls are naive and are easy to manipulate and live with, while women are for fun and good company. He looked at her from head to toe when she reappeared and winked at her.

“This is delicious,” he said, then forked another mouthful of spaghetti.

“Thanks. Eat up, there’s plenty more of it,” Mzuri replied, then sat on the sofa opposite his, seasoned her food with the chili, and began eating while watching TV.

The programme that followed the evening news wasn’t at all interesting. Mr. Swara handed Mzuri the remote for her to select something for them to watch. One weakness of hers was that she was a TV junkie and loved West African movies, but that day, she was exhausted and had no mood for TV. She switched it off and concentrated on her food.

It was so delicious that she actually added more. Mr. Swara wasn’t much of a foodie, so after clearing his plate, he declined her offer to refill his plate. He again remembered how his friends always commented negatively on his choice of females, young ones, and shook it off as he watched his wife eating proudly. If only they were there to see his selection for a wife!

“What?” She asked, after noticing his intense stare. He went and sat next to her, then looked into her eyes.

“You’re beautiful. Your beauty amazes me. Every time I set my eyes on you, I remember that God cares for me by giving me you as my wife,” he said softly, then stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She blushed, to the extent that the food in her mouth almost choked her.

“I…I…,” she started, but Mr. Swara put his forefinger before her lips.

“Hush. Eat. Don’t say a word. My heart belongs to you,” he said. A shy laughter escaped Mzuri. 

His words made her feel special. She ate as he watched her, but mentally, he was far away, remembering that Matilda could have been his wife. He remembered how he brought her there and chatted her up as he did Mzuri, then asked for her hand in marriage.

She declined, saying that she just wasn’t ready. He promised her a good life but her mind was made up. Then, she was in the university and needed a job desperately to cater to her poor brother and parents’ needs. He had given her her present job to be close to her. To show her gratitude, she had given herself to him, then he took her to his mother’s house to care for her.

Due to his insatiable desire for women, he had several flings with various women before opting to marry a sweet girl for companionship and, of course, sex. He smiled, and came back to reality just to see Mzuri standing in front of him with a naughty smile. He smiled back, not knowing what was on her mind. She had finished eating and clearing the table. She outstretched her hand to him.

“Take me to our bedroom,” she said seductively. 
He grabbed her hand and granted her request at once. Those were words he never thought would come out of her mouth. On arrival, he pushed the door open, revealing a spacious room with a divan that was neatly spread with satin bedsheets and a duvet. There was a dressing table beside it, and a woolen rug on the floor, white walls with a pink finish, and windows that were covered with zebra print curtains. Mzuri walked in, sprawled onto the divan, and outstretched herself.

“What are you still doing at the door? Get ready and make me yours. I long to bear you children,” she whispered. 

Mr. Swara rushed in, shut the door, peeled off his shirt, and came on top of her. He took off her dress while she unbuttoned his trousers. He covered her face with kisses. Mzuri had always been told by her mother that she would one day have children and saw like it would never happen.

But then, as her husband proved his love to her, she lay still and moved along only when she thought she was supposed to. A stream of a small amount of blood flowed through her vagina upon penetration. Her mother told her that a man is not only in control in the house, but also in bed. He was aggressive in his movement and approach, displaying not only his love, but his virility as well.

When an orgasm was achieved, Mzuri found herself moaning in delight as a stream of clear, odourless fluid gushed out of her. Mr. Swara came out of her and smiled as he breathed vigorously as he looked at the blood-stained sheet.

“So you were a virgin?” He asked her with a smile.

“What did you expect? I’m new to this game. I saved myself for my one, my Prince Charming, the man who would eventually steal my heart and that’s you,” she said drowsily and turned to her side, slightly embarrassed by the mess she made. “I never knew that it was that laborious. I’m exhausted,” she complained. He felt flattered. 

“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it,” he whispered, then kissed her on the side of the neck and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go shower,” he urged her gently. She turned to him and groaned lazily, then got up with him. They had a shower, then he changed the sheets and they got into bed. He put his arm around her waist after covering her and himself.

“I never felt your sperm getting into me,” she said, then turned to him. He fumbled for words.

“It doesn’t happen immediately. You excited me, I released some. Be patient, baby,” he lied. She nodded, then turned to her previous position.

Mr. Swara smiled to himself. No wonder he was a lawyer. He specialised in the field of twisting information and making it plausible to the judge in court and all his female partners.

“Good night,” he whispered to his wife. She didn’t reply. She was already deep asleep.

Kiburi had walked into his house through the wall of his father’s kitchen as was beginning to be his trend. He felt tired, so he went into his and his wife’s bedroom as he tried to get used to the quietness that the house suddenly had due to his wife’s absence.

“Virani,” he whispered, after throwing himself on the bed and taking off his polo shirt. He smiled as he remembered her parting words, ‘Take care of her. We’ll talk later.’ He suddenly longed to talk to her. Forget Virani and focus on your family, God advised him. He nodded. 

“I love Jade with all my heart. As for our baby, I’ll try to. Virani fascinates me. Am I allowed to marry her too?” He asked. No. You have Jade and she’s enough for you, God replied. Kiburi sighed wearily as he covered himself and slept. He couldn’t wait for the next day to once again behold Virani.

FOLLY

The next morning, when the digital clock on the dressing table went off at 6.30 a.m., Mr. Swara jumped out of his sleep and shut it. That day, Monday, was a work day, which prompted him to shake Mzuri lightly out of her sleep.

“Wake up, dear. I’m supposed to be at work by 8.00 and I need you to fix me something to eat,” he whispered, then got up and went to have a shower.

After his bath, he could smell a tantalising aroma of scrambled eggs from the kitchen. He rushed to their bedroom, retrieved a well-laundered suit from the wardrobe, and put it on after sprucing himself up in terms of grooming. 

He sat on their well-spread divan happily, took his shoes, polished them to perfection, and slipped them on. Afterwards, he admired himself in the wardrobe mirror and whistled. He looked like a winner. He strutted out of the bedroom and into the living room.

As he waited for breakfast, he sat on the sofa and turned on the TV to get an update on the morning news before leaving. After ten minutes, Mzuri appeared in an apron and was dressed in a red blouse and knee-length skirt with a slit at the back. She was carrying a tray with a plate of several slices of scrambled bread and cubed mangoes and a cup of coffee.
“You look lovely,” he complimented her, while eyeing her as she set the tray on the table. She smiled.

“Thanks. And you look dashing,” she replied, then looked at the wall clock. It was 7.00 a.m. Mr. Swara took four slices and began eating them hungrily and sipping coffee after each bite. Mzuri sat beside him and watched the news.

“This is good,” he appreciated, while taking the last four slices from the plate. Mzuri nodded and glanced at him, then smiled, before laughing.

“Go easy. You’ll choke yourself,” she teased, and slapped him on the back gently then crossed her legs.

“I have to hurry. I don’t want to be late,” he struggled, then popped the last pieces of bread into his mouth and supplemented them with the last sip of coffee. He ate the cubed mangoes then stood up, straightened his coat and tie while chewing, and kissed Mzuri after swallowing. “I have to go. Thanks for the breakfast, and don’t expect me home before 5.00 p.m.,” he said, then hugged her briefly and made for the front door. “I love you!” He said to her, before leaving.

“I love you too. Have a nice day,” she replied, and went to the doorstep. 

She watched him get into his car, start the engine, and wave at her, before he drove off. She waved back and sighed. She lingered there, admiring the beautiful scenery and watching the neighbours—‘bigwigs’— as Malaika called them, mowing their lawns, before getting into her house and shutting the door.

Before she had breakfast, she had a shower, washed the stained sheets and the previous night’s dishes, drew all the curtains—including their bedroom’s—and finally put everything in order. She had prepared for herself the same meal as her husband’s, and settled down to watch a movie as she ate it.

The day was sunny and the mood was perfect for a nice stroll, but she decided to stay home instead and perhaps stroll around the neighbourhood the next day. The movie was scintillating and captivating. 

It was about a young man who had fallen in love with a talking she-snake and was banished from his community and disowned by his parents for his unacceptable choice of a lover. He believed that behind the fangs and scales was a gorgeous woman, so he was taking it to the witchdoctor.

Mzuri watched on intently, totally engrossed and anticipating to find out what would happen next. There was a knock at the door. At first she ignored it, but when it persisted, she sighed deeply and forced herself towards the door.

“Who’s that at a time like this?” She wondered.

On his part, Kiburi woke up, had a shower, and clad in a leather jacket, a checked shirt, trousers, and safari boots. He took the envelope with money and after confirming that he looked sharp, he went into the kitchen, drank water, and sighed, “Virani,” he paused and looked at the ceiling, imagining that God was casting a glare at him, and added, “and Jade and our baby, here I come,” then walked through the kitchen wall effortlessly. 

He ended up in the hospital and a mentally ill patient saw him appearing from the wall.

“Magician! Magician!” The patient yelled, while pointing at Kiburi. Kiburi panicked. 

The nurse helping the patient glanced at Kiburi and said, “Yes. Yes. He’s a magician,” to calm the excited patient. They were going to the psychiatric ward.

Kiburi heaved a sigh of relief and swore to be careful. What if the man would have been sane? He thought to himself as he headed for the ER. On arrival, he scanned around it for Malaika but she wasn’t there. A series of critically ill patients were there, but not his beloved wife. He approached a nurse and doctor who were analysing a dying woman’s wounds.

“Excuse me,” he started, to draw their attention. They both faced him. He was relieved on seeing that the nurse was the woman who had helped in carrying Malaika the previous day. “I’m looking for a young woman who was admitted here due to an extreme bleeding case and a pregnancy,” he continued, while looking at both of them in turns. The nurse nodded.

“She had been transferred to the maternity ward. It’s the room opposite the surgical department,” she explained.

“Thanks,” Kiburi whispered, and rushed out of the room. 

As he went, he looked around for Nurse 1’s familiar face. She wasn’t around. He could see tonnes of other nurses helping sick people around but not her. When he arrived at the outside of the ward, he saw the doctor who had helped in Malaika’s conception walking out of the ward. He greeted her and tried to enter, but she restricted him.

“I’m sorry, sir. Visiting hours are from 2-5 p.m.,” she said.
He hesitantly accepted the rule and asked her, “Where’s the canteen?”

“Just follow this path, and turn to your right. You will see a large building like a supermarket. That’s it,” she explained. He nodded a ‘Thank you,’ then proceeded under her directions. Where the hell was Virani? He thought to himself. He decided to take care of his hunger first then look for her.

The canteen was spacious with a wide variety of snacks, ranging from sodas to delectables. Kiburi licked his lips and walked in. There were several nurses at the counter who were chatting together happily. He adjusted his jacket as he walked towards the counter while looking at the nurses. He had spotted Virani among them! He smiled triumphantly as he approached them.

“Excuse me, ladies. I would like to talk to Ms. Virani if you all don’t mind,” he said, in the most courteous tone he could manage.

“Sure,” they said in unison as they eyed him, then Nurse 1, and left.

“We meet again,” Nurse 1 said as she took one of the seats before the wide counter.

“Is it destiny?” Kiburi said, then sat beside her. The order taker appeared before them and asked for their orders. “Order whatever you want. It’s on me,” Kiburi encouraged Nurse 1 proudly, then cleared his throat. She giggled and placed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ll have an orange soda,” she told the order taker.

“Add a cake to her order. I’ll have chips, roasted beef, and a litre of Coke,” Kiburi said to the order taker, then winked at Nurse 1. He looked at his Submariner. It read 12.00 p.m. He smiled. He had two good hours to get to know his crush better.

“What exactly do you want, John?” She asked him with a smile. He looked into her eyes.

“To know you. To know who Virani Mantra is,” he said zealously, then thanked the order taker when he placed their orders before them. Nurse 1 smiled and bit her cake, then took a sip of the cool, refreshing soda.

“We have just met and you already want to know me?” She asked him. He took a chip, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed it thoughtfully.

“I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, that you are my one,” he said, then took a huge gulp of his Coke.
“I am 24 years old, and I’m an intern from India. I have lived here in Nairobi for the past 6 months. I am studying medicine at Egerton University. Hopefully, I shall be a doctor. And you? Who is John?” She asked him.

He breathed in and out, before asking the big question: “Do you have a boyfriend?” She laughed, then focussed on her snack.

“Does it have to come to that? Okay, I had one but we broke up after I caught him cheating on me pants down—literally,” she answered, and sipped her soda, then looked at him. He cleared his throat. If he wanted her, he had to be and sound sophisticated.

“I’m John Kiburi and I’m 25 years old. I’m in The Technical University of Kenya studying aeronautical engineering. Currently I’m single, but with a gorgeous chick like you around, I guess that’s about to change. I own my own house,” he concluded, then took a bite of his beef. He could see that she was impressed. She stroked his forearm and came closer to him.

“I own a place too and it’s…private,” she whispered to him. He felt a tingly sensation. She looked at her watch and sighed. “I better get back to work. Listen, I like you, okay? And I would also like it if we got together. Meet me back here at 5,” she said, then stood up and gulped down all the soda. “Thanks for the snack,” she concluded, and left.

Kiburi could not believe his luck. He fidgetted on his seat excitedly. He watched her go and smiled, then looked at his watch. It was thirty minutes to two. He finished his order plus Virani’s cake and signalled the order taker.

“Get me another round of what I ordered,” he said to him. The order taker nodded, then cleared the empty plates and bottles and came with a fresh chips, roast beef, and Coke order. Kiburi nodded, then guzzled down the meal as if he were in an eating contest and once again signalled the order taker. “How much will all that be?” He asked him when he came.

“Ksh. 5,000,” he replied. Kiburi comfortably took the amount from the well-folded envelope and paid up.

“Wrap up some roast fillet and chips, plenty of it, for me,” he instructed the order taker as he took the money. The order taker nodded and left, then reappeared after some time with the neatly packaged order. “How much?” Kiburi asked him.

“Ksh. 2,200,” he answered. Kiburi paid up and walked out of the canteen and into the hospital with the takeaway order. He walked to the ward in a confident swagger as he remembered his and Virani’s appointment at 5. He couldn’t wait. He reached the ward and looked at his watch. It read 2.00 p.m. on the dot. He took a deep breath then walked into the ward. 

There were tonnes of women there, ranging from middle-aged ones to girls who looked as young as 15 years! He looked around for Malaika’s familiar face. She saw him and waved at him with a smile. He smiled back, then approached her.

She was suckling their baby and judging by her immaculate look, she had taken a bath and made herself presentable. She was beautiful. Kiburi put the order on the locker beside her bed and hugged her, then kissed her. She was happy. He tickled his daughter a bit and sat on the foot of his wife’s bed.

“You’re smart,” she complimented him while admiring his attire.

“Thanks. You and the baby look good too. So how are you faring?” He asked her, after she had finished feeding the baby.

“I’m fine, and the doctor has said that since I’ve recovered, I shall be released to leave today,” she announced proudly while wiping the corners of the mouth of their baby, then gave her to him.

“Wow. Today?” He said in surprise, while receiving the child slowly. She nodded, then took the paperbag and took out its contents. She smiled after unwrapping the fillet and chips.

“Imagine I was thinking of these! Thanks so much, baby,” she said, then took a bite of the fillet. He nodded with a smile.

“Eat then. You need it,” he said, then looked at their baby. Her big adorable eyes looked into his in an innocent manner. “So have you chosen a name for her?” He asked Malaika. She shook her head and swallowed her food.

“I was waiting for you. She’s ours, so both of us should name her,” she replied, then stuffed a handful of chips in her mouth. Kiburi nodded. “Give your suggestions,” she told him while covering her mouth, as she watched how he admired the baby.

“And Rose?” He suggested. She shook her head.

“That’s a common name. Look for a unique name,” she said, then continued enjoying her delicacy. 
Kiburi wrinkled his forehead in thought as he stared at the baby before him. She touched his face and laughed. He found himself laughing too. Call her Christiana, for she is a special child, God instructed him.

“How about Christiana?” He asked Malaika. She nodded vigorously.

“Like that one. Let her be called Christiana Neema Kiburi,” Malaika contributed. Neema was his mother’s maiden name. Kiburi nodded his agreement and tickled their baby. The doctor walked into the ward and found them talking happily.

“I’m sure your wife has informed you?” She asked Kiburi after approaching them.

“Yes, and it’s good news,” he said, as he looked at her.

“It is. Her vagina has greatly reduced to normal size and she can walk, so we thought, why keep her?” The doctor said, then smiled at Christiana, then Malaika. “When you’re ready, just inform me. I shall bring the forms you should fill. Also, your child’s birth certificate will be ready after 10 working days, so please come for it,” she added.

“Actually we are. I just need my clothes to change,” Malaika replied. The doctor nodded.

“Right. I shall be back with the forms and documents and I shall have a nurse bringing your clothes. Excuse me,” she said, then left. Malaika finished up her meal and put the debris in the paper bag. She held Kiburi’s hand with both of hers.

“May I get you some more food?” He offered. She shook her head.

“I’ve had enough. I’m just so excited. Thanks,” she replied, then cuddled against him. He glanced at his watch. It was 3.00 p.m. He smiled, then turned to his child who was staring at him all along.

Mr. Swara went where he worked, to defend his client who was alleged to have raped his neighbour’s daughter. The client denied the charges and provided evidence, his next of kin, who testified in court. Mr. Swara put up a strong defence for his client. The judge listened keenly and pronounced that the accused was innocent, and cancelled the case.

The client was an affluent and influential man. He paid Mr. Swara Ksh. 500,000 in whole hard cash in a briefcase. They shook hands, then Mr. Swara walked out of the courtroom proudly and into his car with the briefcase in his right hand. He sighed happily.
“Two down, one to go. Jade, baby, you shall be mine whether your husband likes it or not!” He said to himself with a smile and drove off, heading to Lavington.

“Matilda?!” Mzuri said in surprise as she stared at her unexpected visitor after opening the door.

“Hello, Jane. Is your husband in?” Matilda replied as she looked around.

“No, but…,” Mzuri started.

“Good,” Matilda cut, then let herself in. “I shall be very brief, as my time is limited, as to why I’m here,” she added, as she walked to the sofa and sat on it. Mzuri shut the door and joined her on the sofa.

“From the look on your face, I shall answer your first question. Your husband Arithmetic brought me here some time in the past and proposed to me,” Matilda started. Mzuri was too shocked to speak, so she continued, “But I declined. That’s how I’ve known this place. What I’m about to tell you is going to shock and anger you greatly, so brace yourself,” and paused to look at Mzuri. Mzuri grabbed the remote and switched off the TV.

“Proceed,” she said curtly. Matilda took a deep breath and exhaled heavily.

“Your husband and I have slept together on several occasions: When he offered me my job, and recently, when you and he came to Madam Jessinta’s house. He promised me money, see, and I was in dire need of it,” she explained. Mzuri nodded calmly, keeping her anger at bay. Matilda continued, “Apart from those times, we have never done it again. That time when you walked in on us arguing, he wanted to do it again but I refused, and he threatened to sack me.”

“So you lied to me that he insulted you?” Mzuri whispered to her dangerously. She nodded slowly while looking down. Mzuri tapped her feet anxiously and stroked her hair. “So why have you decided to let me in on all of this?” She asked with a slightly raised tone.

“Because you are a kind and innocent person who is difficult to lie to. My conscience condemned me and guilt burned within me like a raging fire. Finally, I feel it’s important for you to know that Mr. Arithmetic is impotent. An accident happened to him in high school that caused it. Had he told you that?” Matilda reported. For a moment, Mzuri forgot about Matilda’s presence.

“No wonder,” she whispered to herself as she recalled the previous night’s affair, how she didn’t feel his sperm flowing into her.

“Excuse me?” Matilda asked with a concerned look on her face. Mzuri snapped out of her flashback.

“Nothing. I think that it’s best if you leave. I don’t want to see you again, now or ever,” she said sternly. Matilda didn’t oppose her.

“I’m sorry, Jane. I really am. I hope that you forgive me. It would mean a lot,” she said softly, then stood and left. Mzuri watched her go in fury while biting her nail and breathing fast.

“How could she? A person whom I considered to be my friend?” She roared, after Matilda left, then thought a bit and again said, “And how could I be so gullible and naive? Buying all his lies? What type of marriage is based on lies, deceit, and secrecy? Shouldn’t it be founded on love and trust?”

A tear escaped her left eye. She let it cascade down her cheek. She stood and looked around the room as she remembered her previous evening’s folly of giving herself mind, body, and soul, to a conniving liar like himself. 

She looked at the golden ring on her ring finger and forced it off murderously, then threw it on the floor forcefully, sank onto the sofa she sat on previously, and buried her head in her hands and wept bitterly. She felt so used and abused, yet didn’t know how to react but cry her anger away.

“I’m a fool! I’m a fool! I should have seen all this coming!” She lamented, while punching the cushion of the sofa with her clenched fist. She stopped and lay face first on the sofa and uttered a prayer for guidance. Her instincts directed her to Lavington, that something wicked was about to ensue there.

Without wasting any time, she trusted her instincts and rushed to hers and her husband’s bedroom. She pulled open the top drawer of the dressing table. In it was a camera, a phone, and some money. She took the money and rushed out of their house after securing it under lock and key, to save whoever it was about to be Mr. Swara’s next victim.

Kiburi and his family had already been cleared from the hospital. Malaika was dressed in her home attire, but felt ridiculous being in men’s wear. Kiburi cleared the hospital bill and filled all the forms while Malaika held their baby. They had officially checked out of the hospital at 4.00 p.m. He booked his wife and daughter a taxi.

“Aren’t you coming?” Malaika asked him, once she and Christiana were safely inside the taxi.
“I’m coming. There’s some business I’m sorting out here first. I won’t be long. I promise,” he assured her, then kissed her and paid the taxi driver.

“Lavington, and fast,” he instructed him.

“Be fast,” Malaika told him, as the taxi sped off. He nodded, then watched the taxi disappear into the horizon. What are you doing? God warned him.

“I’m just going to see where she lives. I promise nothing will happen between us,” he replied, as he hurried back into the hospital. There are dire consequences for doing what you’re going to do, God said. “Please, God. I can’t let this beautiful lady slip through my fingers just like that. I have to know where she lives and I promise you, I shall go to my family,” he assured, while looking around as he made for the canteen.

You shall go to her place, she’ll attract you, you’ll sleep with her. Escape the trap, Kiburi, God foretold him, as he sat on one of the seats before the counter. He shook his head obstinately. “I have my principles. I am a married man, not an unstable bachelor,” he insisted. From then on, God didn’t talk to him.

“No order. I’m waiting for someone,” he told the order taker, who dutifully appeared to take his order. He looked at his watch anxiously. It read 4.30 p.m. His heart raced at a fast pace. “I shan’t sleep with her. See her place, go home,” he repeated to himself continuously as he waited for the time of times to arrive.

NO MORE SECOND CHANCES

The long awaited time had arrived. 5 p.m. sharp.

“I love a punctual man,” a voice behind him said. He could recognise it anywhere. He turned in delight.

“Wow!” He exclaimed. His eyes almost popped out of their sockets. It was Virani, and she was clad in a low cut top, jeans, and open shoes. She had released her hair, and it hung freely down her shoulders. Her outfit curved out her figure. She was breathtakingly attractive.

“Are you ready to leave?” She asked him. He was on his feet in a flash.

“After you,” he said, then walked towards her. She waited for him to be at the same pace with her, then they walked towards the rear of the canteen.

“You weren’t expecting us to walk, were you?” She asked him with a smile. Kiburi shook his head, wondering if a magic carpet would whisk them away to her place. They came across a black BMW. She pressed the ‘unlock’ button on the car key fob twice and opened for Kiburi the door to the passenger seat beside the driver’s seat. “Get in,” she said to him in a gleeful tone. Then, she went and got in through the driver’s door.

As he got in, Kiburi was awestruck. She wasn’t just a sophisticated girl, but also a stinking rich one! He thought, as he closed the passenger’s door and she fastened her seatbelt. She put the key in the ignition and drove her fancy piece of machinery onto the main road and to a place that he would soon know.

“Here. Here,” Malaika told the taxi driver when they arrived at Lavington. He promptly stopped the car. She got out with Christiana in her arms. Once she was out, she shut the car door and adjusted her shirt. “Thanks,” she said to the taxi driver. He nodded, and drove off. She smiled at the familiar sight of her house, and unlocked the front door. All was still, except for the nice evening breeze that swept across the room.

She went straight to the living room and after setting Christiana on the middle couch, she stretched beside her and turned on the radio to listen to some music. She was relaxed and entertained at the same time. Christiana began crying. She patiently tended to her and lovingly soothed her. There was a knock at the door.

“I wonder who that is at the door now, Mummy?” She told Christiana as she carried her and went to answer the door. She opened it and was surprised to see Mr. Swara at the doorstep.

“Hello, Jade,” he greeted warmly.

“Hi. Come in,” she replied, and made way for him to pass.

“Thank you. And who is this adorable baby?” He said after he entered, while playfully stroking Christiana’s cheek with his finger.

“She’s Kiburi and I’s daughter, Christiana,” Malaika replied plainly, and went back to the living room. Mr. Swara closed the front door and followed her. She sat where she previously sat and reduced the volume of the stereo.

“Congratulations. Wow, she’s beautiful, like her mother,” Mr. Swara said, with a plastic smile as he feigned joy and took a seat on the couch beside the TV. “Where’s your husband?” He asked casually, then crossed his legs and put the briefcase on top of them.

“Thanks. He’s out,” Malaika replied, then smiled at her child, who was smiling at her. Perfect, Mr. Swara thought.

“Can I get you anything to eat or drink?” Malaika offered.

“No, thanks. I’m fine,” he replied. He had experience with all types of women and decided to go all smooth, slow, and seductive on her. “Are you enjoying your marriage, Jade?” He asked her after a while.

“Pardon?” She replied, finding the question strange, especially from him.

“I mean, being married to a jobless, adolescent glutton cannot grant a beautiful damsel as yourself joy,” he recited poetically in his fluent grammar.

“I’m not following,” Malaika said, after preparing herself for anything and holding Christiana tightly against her bosom.

“Angel, what I’m saying is, you need a handsome, mature, and learned man such as myself to satisfy all your needs, be they physical, mental, or…,” he paused, then clicked the fasteners on the briefcase open and concluded, “...financial,” as he turned the briefcase to her direction. Malaika stared at the bundles of money in the case, then at him.

“Are you trying to woo me with your eloquence and affluence?” She asked him angrily. Before he could answer, she continued, “I’m very disappointed and shocked that you’d do something like this to your wife and brother-in-law. When you tried making a pass at me back in the car, I let it go. Now you’re doing it openly in my husband’s absence and in the presence of his daughter,” in a calm voice, then paused, pointed at the front door with her free hand and said, “Please leave. I’m not some cheap prostitute who sacrifices her principles and dignity for money.” 

Mr. Swara’s left eye twitched. He was not about to be embarrassed a second time in a row by another woman. He smiled. Perhaps he underestimated her. He decided to use another approach: Aggressive and alluring. He got up, took off his coat, and tossed it on the couch.

“There’s a difference between a man and a woman: A man gets what he wants and when he wants it, while a woman submits to him due to her weakness,” he said, while taking off his shirt. Malaika’s eyes widened in horror. Her discomfort made Christiana burst into another fresh round of tears. Malaika got up and tried escaping, but Mr. Swara grabbed her by her shoulders and forced her back onto the couch.

“Help!” She shouted. He cursed, and cupped her mouth forcefully.

“You will be mine, Jade, whether you like it or not!” He shouted at her in rage, and began searching her trousers for its zip and button, while on top of her. She kicked the air furiously as she struggled to free herself and her daughter. Christiana was caught up in the middle, and was crying with the climax of her loud voice.

Just then, the front door flew open and in bursted the neighbour, with Mzuri behind her. Mr. Swara froze and stared at both of them while still maintaining his position.

“Poor baby!” The neighbour said pitifully and rushed towards Christiana, scooped her up, and comforted her.

“It’s not what it looks like, Jane. He…,” Malaika began explaining to an infuriated Mzuri, who walked into the scene slowly, with her eyes fixed on her husband.

“I know, Jade. Save it. How could you, Arithmetic? How?” She asked him angrily as tears filled her eyes. 

He got off Malaika and laughed gruffly as he approached Mzuri, until they were face to face. Malaika sat up and adjusted her clothes. The neighbour went and sat beside her and calmed her, as she was shaking like a leaf. She took Christiana and breastfed her. Christiana stopped crying and watched as Mr. Swara and Mzuri stared at each other as she sucked her mother’s nipple.

Before he could utter a word, Mzuri slapped him thunderously smack on the cheek. He wanted to retaliate, but refrained.

“With Matilda? Who knows how many more whores you’ve slept with after and before me? And now Jade? Who knows if I’m even infected as I speak?” Mzuri roared, straight to his face. He swallowed and rubbed the sore cheek.

“Where did you get that information from?” He whispered to her.

“That doesn’t matter. Just tell me: If you don’t love me, then why deprive me of my independence and take away my virginity?” She replied, in the same angry tone.

“She told you, right?” I swear that that maid will get it from me!” Mr. Swara spat, then turned away from her. She grabbed him by the arm and forced him to face her again.

“And then lying about your fertility when you’re impotent?!” She shouted, as tears fell from her red eyes and down her cheeks.

“Listen, Jane. I’m sorry for fooling you, okay? What was there between us was lust. I don’t love you,” Mr. Swara said plainly, then turned to glance at Malaika.

“Sorry? Will sorry give me back my honour? Will sorry justify your disgracefulness?” Mzuri fired back, then paused and broke down and cried bitterly. Mr. Swara rubbed his eyes in frustration and bit his lower lip.

“I’m through with you,” he said calmly and turned to Malaika. Mzuri looked around for something to bash the shameless monster with. Her eyes rested on the briefcase of money. She grabbed it, closed it, and angrily hit him on the back of his head with it.

He groaned, and turned to her furiously. He threw his clenched fist at her and punched her. She staggered backwards slightly, and with one quick motion, hit him on the cheek with the briefcase with all her force, causing him to sprawl to the ground with a low whimper.

Malaika, the neighbour, and Christiana expressed their approval by looking at Mr. Swara’s motionless body.

“Get up, you shameless womaniser!” Mzuri shouted to him. He groaned in pain. 

It was then that he realised that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. He tried getting up but the impact of the hit was fatal. The affected cheek went numb and his head ached. He lay still after several attempts to turn over. Mzuri wiped her tears, sniffed, and turned to Malaika.

“Where’s my brother?” She asked her, then looked at Christiana.

“He’s not home. He was with me in hospital but ordered me a taxi. He stayed there, staying that he had some business to take care of,” Malaika explained, while looking at Mr. Swara.

“And who is she?” Mzuri asked, indicating Christiana with her eyes.

“She’s your niece, Kiburi and I’s daughter. She’s called Christiana,” Malaika said, as she smiled at her daughter who looked around contentedly. Mzuri smiled, and after kicking Mr. Swara, crossed over him and went over to her niece. She greeted the neighbour.
“May I ?” She courteously asked Malaika as she stooped before her and Christiana with outstretched arms.

“By all means,” Malaika replied. Mzuri gladly held her niece in her arms and pressed her gently against her chest.

“She’s so cute! She has actually taken your looks,” she said admiringly as she turned to Malaika.

“Really?” Malaika replied joyfully. Mzuri nodded, then rubbed noses with Christiana and mimicked the squeaking of a mouse. Christiana laughed out loud, giving Mzuri the motivation to entertain her even more.

“Shouldn’t we be worried about his prolonged state of motionlessness?” The neighbour asked Mzuri as she looked at Mr. Swara. Mzuri gave Christiana to Malaika and walked to where he lay with a straight face.

“Him?” She asked, then kicked him. “Get up, Casanova!” She commanded him. He was motionless. She squatted before him and checked his pulse.

“Well?” Malaika and the neighbour asked in unison. Mzuri looked up at them and sighed.

“We’ve lost him,” she replied heavily. There was an eerie silence as they all internalised his unfortunate demise.

Mr. Swara saw brightness everywhere he was.

“Arithmetic Mapenzi Swara,” a voice called him. He shuddered.

“Who is that?” He asked fearfully. The thick fog all over cleared, and he saw two Beings on thrones who shone brighter than the sun, surrounded by other beings with wings who sang in an enchanting chorus. “Who are all of you? Where am I?” He managed, despite his great fear.

“Arithmetic, your time on earth is over. I am the Lord God and this is My Son. These are My angels and behind you is your master, who shall accompany you to your eternal dwelling place, along with his troop,” God said. Arithmetic turned quickly and saw a gruesome-looking beast with a dastardly grin on his face, surrounded by black ugly-looking beasts all over.

“Hello, mortal. We have in a large number to give you a red carpet welcome to your new home,” the gruesome-looking beast said.

Parklands was Virani’s residence. She parked her BMW beside a neat-looking detached house.

“Nice place,” Kiburi complimented, then cleared his throat nervously as he tugged his right earlobe. She smiled, and alighted from her car.

“Wait till you see the interior,” she replied, while walking towards the house.

“I, um, have to get going,” Kiburi said hesitantly while still in the car.

“Won’t you come in for just a drink?” She said softly after unlocking her front door, then turned to him. 

He bit his lower lip in a total dilemma, as he looked at her from head to toe. He yearned for her, but he had to keep his desires at bay for his family’s sake. Remember what I told you. Reject and leave, God warned him. Virani watched him and folded her arms.

“Are you going to stay in there all this while?” She mocked jokingly.

“Just a drink,” he whispered to God, then got out of the car and shut it. There shall be a storm to warn you that you’ve exceeded your welcome, God told him as went towards Virani. He smiled at her and admired her rear as she entered, then got in himself. “Just one drink,” he promised himself as he looked at the spacious house.

It had a crimson red theme everywhere, from the walls and chandeliers to the couches and carpet in the living room. Virani showed him to the living room then excused herself. As Kiburi sat on the luxurious red couch, nodded.

“How can such a girl be single?” He asked himself, then looked at the red carpet on the floor. “I have to get going, Nurse 1!” He shouted to her impatiently because to him, she was taking forever and he wanted to leave safely without what God told him would happen happening.

“I’m coming. Just a sec,” her faint voice replied from, Kiburi guessed, her kitchen.

After a while, she reappeared in a short, tight, red dress, and carried two red flutes with strawberry juice in them. Kiburi cursed inwardly as he swallowed. Didn’t she know that he wanted her and that she was provoking him? He wondered as he tried hard not to admire her shapely body that the dress was carving out successfully. Virani handed him one of the flutes.

“Drop the ‘Nurse 1.’ We’re not in hospital. At home and to my friends, I adapt to my name, Virani,” she said, then sipped her juice. Kiburi stared at the red drink, wondering what it was. “Don’t worry, it’s strawberry juice. It’s good for you,” she said, then sat beside him. 

He flinched when he saw the dress she wore move upwards along her smooth thighs, revealing more of her. “Sorry, is this dress too much? Cause I’m a relaxing kind of person and love wearing these kinds of dresses at home when I’m…relaxing,” she whispered to him seductively, then stared at him as he sipped his drink.

“No. Not at all. In fact, it suits you,” Kiburi replied, trying to hide his feelings. He felt hot inwards, and his heart palpitated fast. Virani crossed her legs. 

Kiburi glanced at them, sipped his drink, and said, “So you love red, I see,” while looking around the room and avoiding looking at Virani in the face. She nodded.

“Red defines me. I’m passionate, determined, and, well, something I’m not quite proud of, easily angered,” she replied, then sipped her drink and admired it. She deliberately leaned back on the couch forcefully, spilling the drink on her chest in the process. She groaned in disgust. “Clumsy me,” she said, while trying to wipe it off. The heat was getting too much for Kiburi.

He gulped down his drink and wiped his mouth. Virani held his wrist. He looked at her with a look of surprise. She had never touched him that warmly since they met.

“I can’t deceive you and myself anymore. I have already thrown several hints at you, but I guess it’s true that psychologically, men are slow in understanding romance, but quick to react under physical stimulation. I’ve fallen for you, John, and from the way you look at me, I can tell that you want me but you’re scared, because of God knows what,” she started softly, then put her drink and his on the oval red glass table in the middle of the room and held his hands.

Suddenly, there was a strike of thunder, and a strong wind blew. The tranquil, sunny afternoon transited into grey cloudy weather. It began raining.

“And now it’s raining. Stay here with me,” Virani implored. Kiburi remembered God’s warning and retrieved his hands slowly.

“Virani, er…you’re beautiful, in fact gorgeous, but there’s something I must tell you,” he started timidly. Virani stood before him.

“Less talk, more action. Let’s stop lying to each other,” she said, then took off her dress slowly. That was enough. Kiburi stood up promptly.
“Look, Virani, I…,” he started, but she grasped him by both arms.

“I love you. Look into my eyes, John, and tell me that you despise me and regret meeting me and spending this time with me,” she said, then pressed herself to him and gently slipped off his jacket down his shoulders. 

He was weak. He watched his jacket fall off to the floor, then looked at her. She was in her panties, with nothing else on. He groaned.

“Virani, please…,” he said wearily.

“Please show me that you love me, because your eyes tell it all. I’m here. I’m all yours. Let’s prove our love to each other, John. Come on,” she said softly and slowly took off his shirt. He raised his hands to allow it to slip off easily.

There was no better feeling than the one Kiburi had with Virani wrapped around him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel his chest pressing against hers, the warmth of her body against that of his. His hands were on his hips. He was contemplating holding her. She looked deeply into his eyes.

“You know you want it as much as I do,” she whispered into his ear. There was a battle going on within him, one of insistence against resistance.

END OF THE ROAD

With a sudden rush of emotion, Virani pushed him onto the couch and smiled lusciously.

“Let’s enjoy ourselves,” she said, and took off her panties, then spread herself on him. He was powerless. She ambushed him with numerous kisses and before he could object, she had already begun unzipping his trousers.

“Shouldn’t we be using protection?” Kiburi breathed as he put his hands on her waist.

“To hell with protection!” Virani breathed furiously, then forced Kiburi’s trousers and boxers off. Her beauty mesmerised him. He gave in to her and pulled her towards him and began venting all his hidden passions and desires on her.

She, on her part, was also enthusiastic and intentional, ensuring that her movement was methodical and effective. She licked his ear and kissed him on the side of his neck. He ejaculated into her once and rested, then went into her again severally.

After the intense rounds of fiery passion, they lay motionless on each other.

“That was amazing,” Kiburi managed with a tired smile. It was then that he remembered Malaika, their daughter, and God’s word that came to pass. There was the mew of a cat, then the loud chiming of a bell.

“Kiiiiibbbbuuuurrrriiii!” A deep voice bellowed. Kiburi was terrified.

“Can you hear that, Virani?” He asked Virani, who got off of him with a serious expression.

“You’ve made a big mistake, John Kiburi,” Virani said, as she wiped his sweat off of her.

“What?! Virani, how do you…,” Kiburi started, but stopped in astonishment on seeing her going through the wall. His jaw dropped.

“Look at your skin, Kiburi!” The voice thundered. Kiburi looked at his whole body. He was covered in painful pus-filled sores.

“Go and confess your folly to your wife and sister back home!” The voice ordered him.

“Please, God. I can’t do that,” Kiburi complained weakly.

“Then I’ll make you do it,” God said, then gave him the dignity of a decent presentation by dressing him in his trousers, then He brought him before Malaika and Mzuri. 

Malaika screamed in horror and cupped her mouth in disbelief at the hideous sight of her husband. Mzuri slapped herself severally to confirm if she was dreaming. She wasn’t. The neighbour screamed and left the house in panic. It was all too much for her to take in.

“Oh my God! Kiburi, what’s this?” She uttered, then rushed and knelt beside her brother and studied his ugly body. Malaika was too shocked or scared to move. She just watched him from a distance, with Christiana securely in her arms.

“I have blundered big time, Mzuri. God spoke to me and chose me to heal Mum, and even warned me of a disaster but I turned a deaf ear,” he struggled, then coughed.

“What disaster?” Malaika blurted.

“Virani Mantra. A nurse at the hospital. I slept with her, and now I’m sick. I’m ruined,” he confessed, and added, “I can see an entity coming for me. My time is up.”

“You what?!” Mzuri demanded. 

Malaika sank onto the couch and groaned loudly, then said, “I’m an idiot. I’m mad! I should have married Nyemelea then!” Christiana started crying. Mzuri stood up and observed her brother as his eyes closed slowly, then turned to Mr. Swara’s corpse.

“Men never change. How could you, Kiburi?” She said, then broke down into tears. “What do I tell Mum and Dad?” She asked herself, then went over to Malaika, took Christiana, and comforted her. Malaika began crying bitterly, and went over to Kiburi’s corpse.

“What do I tell our daughter? That her father has died because of being promiscuous?” She managed amidst sobs. Mzuri went over to her and placed her hand on her shoulder as a sign of consolation.

“We have both been played, but we have to be strong. We have to transport Kiburi home for a funeral. As for him…,” Mzuri started, then looked at Mr. Swara’s corpse and continued, “...I shall organise for his body to reach his mother. I shall go and break the news to her.” Malaika nodded, then hugged her and Christiana at once. They wept in each other’s arms for the great loss.

Kiburi appeared before God.

“You have failed miserably, Kiburi,” God said, then continued, “I believed in you. I warned you. I blessed you with a beautiful wife, yet you couldn’t say no. Not to a woman but to…,” he paused, as the devil broke down into a triumphant laughter. Virani approached Kiburi.

“Virani?!” He wondered in surprise.

“Who’s Virani?” Virani asked him, then transformed into an ugly beast right before his eyes.

“Oh no!” Kiburi exclaimed loudly as he grimaced at the sight of it.

“Oh yes. I knew your weakness and sent my demon to use it to destroy you. At first you put up a good fight, but your love for beautiful women has led to your downfall,” the devil said, as he turned to the demon who played out Virani.

“I’m Virani Mantra, but you can just call me Nurse 1…I am 24 years old, and I’m an intern from India…,” the demon recalled tauntingly in Virani’s soft voice. God sighed deeply.

“You had a bright future, Kiburi. Take a look,” He said, then in a flash showed Kiburi how his future would be. 

Kiburi saw himself all mature and grown up in a suit and in a Mercedes, talking to and laughing with a young girl whom he presumed to be Christiana later on, in a smart uniform. He was driving her to school.

“Chri…my girl,” he whispered remorsefully as he watched.

Then he saw himself in his old age, looking stout, well-nourished, and well-built at the same time with a long, flowing grey beard, and Malaika, looking graceful and beautiful even in her old age. He had lots of property: Houses, livestock, wealth, and even companies under his name. There was a beautiful full-grown woman who looked exactly like Malaika but with lighter skin, with a man beside her. She was introducing the man to him and Malaika. After that, the display vanished in thin air.

“You were to live to a ripe old age. Your wife and daughter will enjoy that privilege. Had you listened to Me, had you not fallen into the trap, you could have lived to enjoy it all with My blessing and protection. I could have used you for My glory. But you allowed your desires to rule you,” God said, and showed him the moment from when Virani took off her dress to when they had sinned. He was too embarrassed to watch.

“I’m sorry. I sinned. Please give me another chance,” Kiburi begged, and fell to his knees.

“The life I give is full of second chances. Once you die, that’s the end of it all. You’ve chosen your eternal destination. There are consequences beyond the throes of passion. Join Arithmetic in the flames of hell, since both of you couldn’t be satisfied with your wives. Take him away!” God ordered the devil and his demons angrily in a crack of thunder.

“No, wait. Please, Father God. At least credit me for trying. I’m just a human being. Please, Lord Jesus, intercede for me. I need to go back to my family—my wife, my…!” Kiburi’s voice faded away as the devil and his demons dragged him to hell.

“Go away from Me. I don’t know you!” Jesus roared at him, and shut His eyes in total displeasure on hearing Kiburi’s scream as he plunged into the hell fire that was scorching with sulphur and brimstone.

“Man is naturally sinful and rebellious. I gave him everything a young man can wish for. I was going to use him to change the world, to win Me more converts, but he failed. He failed Me. Women can bring even the strongest and greatest of men to their downfalls. But his failure is not a surprise to Me. I knew of it and tried to warn him but he just couldn’t listen. I am a God who sees forward. I shall use his daughter in his place. She shan’t lack. I shall be her Father. I shall bless her mother, and also Mzuri and her family, who stood true to me with steadfast determination,” God said, then the angels, the creatures, and twenty-four elders sang in a loud voice and praised Him.

UPHILL FROM HERE

Mzuri had travelled to Mr. Swara’s mother house with his body in a coffin and broke the sad news to her. She was as a mad person.

“M-my ch-child Swara? He’s dead?” She said softly, then got up and held her head with her hands. “My child Swara is dead? Swara? Oh! Oh! Swara!” She mourned loudly while hugging the coffin. Mzuri tried comforting her but she refused to be comforted.

She fell face first on the floor and mourned for what seemed like eternity. Mzuri knelt beside her and stroked her back consolingly as she looked at Matilda, who sat on the seat opposite Jessinta. 

She was grief-stricken, but didn’t shed a single tear. For a man of Mr. Swara’s kind, that sort of death was inevitable. An unfortunate one indeed, she thought, as she meditated on the news of his death then looked at the coffin.

“He left a lot of money and wealth behind. I’ll ensure that Matilda brings it to you…,” Mzuri started, to Jessinta, who was still sobbing, but Jessinta stopped her.

“All that is yours. Even the house and car. You’re his wife, so you’ve inherited everything that belonged to him,” Jessinta said, then buried her face on the floor once again and broke into a fresh round of bitter tears while breathing heavily. Mzuri couldn’t refuse the lucrative offer. She motioned Matilda to take over.
“Take care of her,” she told her, then proceeded, “My own family needs me. I shall leave immediately.” With that, she got up, looked at the coffin for a while, then sighed deeply and left for her home area where Malaika had gone with Christiana and Kiburi’s corpse in a coffin.

The Malezis were overwhelmed with sorrow on seeing their son’s ugly corpse. It looked like a reptile’s, with swollen sores that emitted smelly pus. Mrs. Malezi cried uncontrollably.

“Why didn’t you stand firm, son? Why did you give the devil a chance? Why did you ruin your future?” She asked his corpse, in tears. 

The Mawazos were in-attendance. They watched the proceedings in silence. Mr. Mawazo studied the corpse thoughtfully and Mrs. Mawazo carried Christiana with one hand and placed her other arm around Malaika’s shoulder. Malaika was sobbing and wrapped both her arms around her waist.

Mr. Malezi was sad, but he couldn’t cry. He held his wife and stared at his dead son intently, then at Malaika and Christiana.

“He has left someone to take over from him. Someone who I believe is capable of running a family,” he said, and motioned for Mr. Mawazo to help him carry the coffin to the area behind the kitchen. “We have to bury him before he stinks further,” he told him. Mr. Mawazo nodded, then they took shovels and began digging a deep hole.

Malaika had already cried herself silly. Her eyes were red and sunken. She and her mother watched the grave being dug thoughtfully. She was strategising on how she would manage a family alone. She had so much hope in Kiburi, but he was gone…she came back to the present moment upon Mzuri’s arrival.

Mzuri had on a black dress plus hat and put on a grim face. Tears hung above her lower eyelids, threatening to fall. She hugged her parents without a word, as the mood was sombre. Mr. Malezi had to pause the digging as his daughter engulfed him in an emotional hug. 

He groaned painfully as she cried in his arms for a while. He continued digging when she went and hugged her mother. They cried in each other’s arms. Then finally, she hugged Malaika and Christiana, who looked around obliviously in the arms of her mother. Mrs. Malezi went and took Christiana, and kissed her fondly with a smile then hugged her warmly as painful tears continued falling down her cheeks.

The grave was finally dug. Mr. Malezi sighed and said, “What, then, shall we say about Kiburi? He was a boy with a promising future. His life had so much spark, until the ugly head of death showed itself in the form of that damned nurse,” he paused to let his heavy words sink into everyone present. He tied ropes on the handles of the coffin. Everyone hung their heads in sorrow as he and Mr. Mawazo gently lowered the coffin into the hole. 

Afterwards, Mr. Malezi breathed, “We shall all miss you, Kiburi. We believe you are in a better place now. As for the young girl who did this to you, only God knows how to deal with her.” 

Mrs. Malezi, Malaika, and Mzuri broke down into tears. Christiana, on seeing her mother crying, also started crying. Mrs. Mawazo consoled her daughter, and kissed her on the forehead as they hugged fondly. Mrs. Malezi gave Christiana back to her mother.

“Rest in peace, son,” Mr. Malezi concluded, and he and Mr. Mawazo began shovelling the earth on the coffin. Mrs. Malezi broke out loudly in the arms of Mzuri. Malaika comforted Christiana as she herself tried to stop crying. It was an emotional moment, and everyone lingered on at the burial site after Kiburi was buried.

One month after the burial, Mzuri had already decided her way forward. She enrolled at Moi University and studied medicine. She paid for her fees, using the immense wealth that her former husband had left behind. 

Mr. Malezi respected her decision on seeing that the marriage he had forced upon her backfired. He didn’t urge her to get married once again against her will. She moved into her house at Kileleshwa and lived there as a bright and independent young woman with beauty, brains, and cash.

Malaika, on the other hand, went to live with her parents once more for Christiana’s sake and went back to school to complete her studies as Mrs. Mawazo took care of her daughter. She locked up her house in Lavington until later when she cleared high school. Though Kiburi left upon her a huge task, she was prepared to give herself and her daughter all the best.