“I’ll need time to digest everything you've said, and then I’ll get back to you. Or I can ask our dearest friend Caro, to share my response with you.”
I leave feeling great about my miniature performance, and I am sure that my baby is proud to have a strong mother as me.
As I walk off I can’t help wondering what those women were thinking. I only see such timid and foolish women on TV scenes directed by misogynist male screen writers and directors, but not in real life. Mid–way through, I have a change of mind and rush back at Caro’s with hopes that I will find the meeting still in progress.
“Hey, you’re back!" Caro exclaims.
“Yes, I am back. I didn’t want to waste your time as you wait for my answer. So, I have decided to think fast enough about everything you said and…” Dru's girlfriend cuts me short,
“No, you don't have to make a rush decision. Take as much time as you want."
“As I was saying before I got interrupted, I have thought about what you have had to say, and I have decided that, I need you off my businesses. Do you seriously think that I am the only girl your boyfriend has ever cheated on you with? There definitely are dozens of others out there, and who knows where he is right now? So, instead of you stressing about my intrusion into your fake perfect relationship, how about you talk to him? This is no same script, different cast sort of thing. And, if I were you, I would start by getting this new friend off my personal problems.”
I feel good, so damn good. It’s like finally being able to breathe in clean and fresh air after months of being confined in a dungeon.
I call up mama later in the evening hoping that she will finally pick up my call. She doesn’t. I can’t leave a voice message for no-one leaves or listens to any of those messages. Were I in her shoes, I also wouldn’t want to talk to me, but I would have to.
Aunt Sylvia is the only one who has been kind enough to keep in touch. Ever since the big news found their way into the village, she has been consistently calling to check on me. In the beginning, she would call me names; bad names, as though I was the first girl to get pregnant while still in school, when she herself had had her first born while still in high school. The name calling was soon replaced with sessions of lecture, to sympathy, and now, empathy. She wants to know everything; how I am doing, how I am feeling, if I am eating right, if there is someone out there stressing me, how the baby’s father is dealing with the situation… I mean every single detail.
I ask her about mama. She hesitates to say a word. A few minutes later, as if her engine has just been ignited, she starts complaining. Telling me how mama has become like a robot over the years while her husband sucks every remaining strand of womanhood from her. Out of her tantrums I can pick up bits of information about the situation back home. It reminds me of back in the day, when my sisters and I felt that mama was keeping important breaking news from us. On that day, we would play very well behaved children. We would ask Godly questions, bring mama her tiny Bible to read for us, and at the end of it all, she would pray. It's out of these prayer sessions that we would pick important information like who had passed on, which neighbour had been admitted to the hospital, whose child had ran away from home, whose family owned mama debts, what couple was fighting each other, which family was starving or who had been caught stealing during the day.
Auntie tells me that father is no longer talking to mama, or to my sisters. I don’t see anything wrong with that. He has always been verbally abusing us, and by him going mute, that must be a glorious miracle!
I would have written a letter to my sisters had they still been in boarding school, but father had pulled them out for fear that they would take after me. They were now day scholars. He had brought them closer home where he was now using his natural CCTV cameras to spy on them. I think about texting mama, but I fear for her and her daughters too. If father were to see the text, I can't even imagine how they would manage to survive living in that hell for another day.
I try dialling a couple of numbers that belong to some of mama's close friends. I get through one which belongs to her colleague, and also a family friend.
“Your mother has been worried sick about you, we all are. Are you okay?” She greets me as soon as she picks up the phone.
I tell her that I am coping alright before requesting that she deliver a message to mama.
“I would love to help but that won't be possible.” She tells me.
“Why not?”
“You don’t know? She resigned from work.”
I am taken aback. Nursing has always been her dream. She loves helping people, young kids especially. Her career had been the only dream that had remained alive after the rest had been trampled upon by her husband.
“I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help. I have also been trying to call her but she never picks up my phone. Have you tried calling her?”
“Yes I have. I mean no. I’ll try later. Can you then pass my message to her through Soni, or Ciku?”
“No I can’t. Your sisters haven’t been in school for the past one week. I hear that they are being homeschooled.”
Why is it so hard to get rid of that tainted man? He isn’t that good looking and neither is he that rich nor admirable. We live in a big farm with plenty of bushes, open pits and with a river and forest just a kilometre away. Getting rid of a body can't be that difficult.
Up here, I too have become a slave of another man; a man who defiled the only remaining part of my innocence that father failed to reach. He is God sent, that's how I lie to myself for the sake of keeping my sanity. He has rented me a better off space, catered for almost all of my needs, and has just started hanging around my new house rather too often hence leading the neighbours to start rumours about how I have stolen another man’s husband and made him my own. They now think that I may also be eyeing their husbands.
When father closed his gate, doors and windows on me, Dru opened his. The new door is a lot more sophisticated and full of the things I only imagined I would have after I had had a steady career for at least 5 years. The conditions though are making it unbearable. With every single passing day, I point out a symptom in him that may one day result to a chauvinistic syndrome similar to the one father suffers from.
It's hard to say no to these symptoms, especially when there’s a reward at the end of each one of them. He doesn’t ask for much, just a bit; make me some breakfast, I'm running late how about you start making us some dinner, mind ironing my shirt as I take the shower, help me find my other sock, pass me the remote... I hate to play messenger girl, but why should I complain when he’s always giving me more than enough pocket money, paying the bills, driving me to school, the hospital and has even promised to help me find a good place to intern after giving birth?
#7
Five cows, ten goats and half a million shillings
That’s what he used to lure the elders with to let her get into his bed
In the name of animals and paper, he now owns her
It’s because of those stunted cows that she now has to wake up early in the morning
Go look for firewood, warm his water, prepare his breakfast, iron his clothes, polish his shoes
And guess what; he opts not to shower
He’s too late so he’ll have breakfast in the office
He picks a different suit, pair of shoes-and doesn’t even say goodbye
The skinny goats and cows they slaughter every Christmas are responsible for her having to cook for him, clean after him, wash for him-and, look good for him
Despite all that, he never fails to find a fault
If the food isn’t too salty, then it has to be burnt
Or there’s a crease here, a stain there
But, you’ve got to hear about the paper
That paper comes up everytime they have an argument, a conversation, or even a joke
When she thinks of that paper, she remembers that she is
someone’s property, not a woman
That’s why she never answers back, fights back or even talks back
And now, he says that he wants a refund-says that she’s depreciating
Her flat tummy is long gone, her weight has tripled, her sex appeal vanished
Her friends say he’s messing around
And last night, for the first time, she saw her
You're the past, me; the future, she brags
But she’s glad
For she no longer has to continue pretending to be his perfect half
He used to be, and somehow still is one of my favourite lecturers. The guy has always graded all of my papers with clean A's and although I am smart enough to get my own A's, I’ve always wondered whether it had anything to do with his being interested in me.
He relocated back in the country just a few years back after life became too unbearable for him abroad. I gather that up there, any student-teacher relationship could easily lead to the end of one's career, but down here, if such a scandal ever gets within the earshot of the media, the Public Service Commission first promotes, and then transfers the culprit into a very remote institution, where their sexual escapades are yet to unfold.
Dr. Kamau has a bit of everything; a bit tall, not well built but knows how to manage his weight, dresses well, not that bad looking and, has a killer smile. In each one of his lectures, no matter what the topic is, he always finds a way to fit in a sexually stimulating discussion, which is understandable because, men tend to think about sex 19 times in a day. What separates him from the other men though is that instead of thinking about sex, he ends up fantasising about it. An hour or two later, you can tell that his libido has climaxed and for this, no female student dares follow him or remain behind to chat him up after class, except for his cheap girlfriends.
Just like every other polygamous man, he used to have his favourite, whom he has since replaced. Her name was Wambui, the true definition of a woman who knows how to exploit her sexuality in exchange for a good life. She must have been his first bait in college, and just like every first wife, she too was very manipulative and excessively aggressive. To fulfil his promise towards her, he had hooked her up with one of the directors of the largest media company, where she is now climbing the ladder of success all the way to the glass ceiling, by sleeping around with any man who sits at the round table.
We always admired her, and many girls dreamt of becoming just like her. But since there was barely any vacancy to fill when she was around, girls would do absolutely anything to get into Dr. Kamau's office. It was always a scene worth watching as they waited for him at the parking lot, or stalked him to his favourite hangout joints. I never stooped that low, and the more I dismissed him, the more he got interested.
Today, things are different. It's my turn to chase after him.
Whenever I was paying him a visit, I would always find an escort, whom he jokingly called my bodyguard. Since Caro dumped my friendship to join the Dru’s exes support group, and Sera is at the moment torn in between choosing sides, I have opted to go solo. After all, I am positive that I am no longer as sexually attractive as I used to be, so there's no way he'll still be interested in flirting with me.
He is sitted behind his medium-sized desk marking the students’ papers. I notice that he has a few drops of sweat on his forehead, his tie loosed and with two of his shirt buttons buttoned into the wrong holes. It’s evident that another one of those aggressive girls who use their genitals more than they use their brains were here, or is still here, hiding. I want to enjoy this, and so I choose to bring up an extra long conversation.
“Hello Ms. Neema, how’s the going? What brings the lovely you into my office this afternoon?” He greets me as he signals for me to take a sit opposite his desk.
I can hear some strange noises coming from within the office, but can't tell exactly where.
“I am doing okay. Just wanted to drop by and see how you’re doing, and maybe get an exam leakage.” I jokingly respond as I look around for the not so obvious places where a girl would hide when playing hide and seek with her lover.
“You are funny, and interesting. See, that’s why I like you. And talking of interesting, what happened to your bodyguard?”
“Well, today I decided to give her a day off.”
“Then why didn’t you leave the door open?”
Out of his overly weird and irritating behaviour, I would have Caro accompany me to his office, and if not, she would wait for me outside, and if not, I would always leave the door open. Today I have left it closed, maybe because my instincts are telling me that I am no longer a young girl, but a soon to be mother. As a soon to be mother, I no longer need to have someone protect me; I am the protector.
“You must be mixing me up with someone else. Why would I ever do that?”
“Yes, maybe I am. So what’s going on?”
“Well, you had mentioned that you would like to help me find a good company to take me in for the internship. Is the offer still open, or, I'm I too late?”
“About that…you didn’t give me an answer in time and right now, all the places I know of are already flooded. I would love to help, and I'll still try my best, but I can't promise you anything.”
“Is it because I’m pregnant?” I ask him. He is definitely feeding me these lame excuses because he is not man enough to tell me that I may not meet the standards of the deal he has promised the directors of these companies. He doesn't link up students with internships in good companies out of selflessness but because out of every deal, he gains the admiration of the student and, he opens up links for these employers to lecture part-time in the university so that when the right time comes, they return the favour by voting him in top management of their nationwide media associations. Aside from this, he gets to introduce young pretty girls to his male friends whom they use to flatter themselves that they are still desirable.
“Pregnant? Of course not! What does pregnancy have to do with this?" He pauses for a few seconds before continuing,
"You are smart enough to understand that a lot of companies are a bit hesitant in hiring pregnant women. Take your time; relax and concentrate on your new life. I'm sure that something good will present itself as soon as you are ready.”
He has just categorised me among the pregnant women. I am a pregnant girl, not a pregnant woman!
“So you choose to not help me despite I being your best and most capable student, because I'm pregnant?”
I get off the wooden seat which had already starting getting my butt numb and head for the door. He seems apologetic, but doesn't say so, only adds that he will do all that he can but cannot guarantee anything. Maybe he's sorry that he can't help, but I still can't comprehend what having a mere baby bump and uncontrollable hormones has to do with getting an internship.
In his attempt to get from his chair and see me out, his trouser's falls off. He immediately jumps back on to his seat which may have led him to hurt his girlfriend who had been hiding under the desk all along. She releases a weak, sharp moan.
He embarrassingly looks up at me, but I choose to leave before he can apologise or claim that it's not what it looks like.
The left side of my brain is telling me that I should relax, take things easy, accept the things I cannot change, and let nature take its course. My right side though thinks otherwise. It does not want to be wifed by a man it barely knows, a man who is already in love with another woman, and a man who is only interested in becoming a father.
Sera paid me a visit this mid-morning and shared with me the latest on Caro’s life, and what everyone else is talking about behind my back. Her solution to the big mess I am in with my family, friends, enemies and my future can all be done with if I give Dru an ultimatum. She suggests that I should make him marry me.
I have no idea what ‘MAKE HIM’ means but her take is that I can start by giving him the warning signs; stop picking his calls or
talking to him, accepting his money and, regularly opting to sleep at a friend's house instead of sleeping in his home. If he isn't able to deduce that, I should literally interpret it for him. If he tries to play dumb, I should threaten to take my life. In case that also fails, then, she will have come up with yet another miraculous suggestion.
"Isn't he desperate? Then there's no way he is going to dismiss your request, or demand for that matter." She tells me.
I tell her that I cannot accept a permanent punishment to serve as a solution to my one time mistake. She however adds that we can always divorce, and after the divorce, I will end up getting so much more from the settlement.
"God hates divorce." I tell her.
"Yes He does. But if He hates divorce that much, I wonder what He thinks of pre-marital sex and pregnancies."
“So you want me to get married and then turn my marriage into some kind of an investment?”
“I didn't say that! Why do you always make the worst of my genius ideas?"
“Because that’s exactly what they are. Stupid! They are wrong!”
“Did you just call me stupid?”
I laugh it off. She is trying to pull off a childish tiff girls like pulling on their boyfriends whenever they are on the wrong and don't want to admit it or be the ones to apologise. This kind of an argument could last forever. Out of fear that I may lose my only remaining friend, I let her have her way.
“OK, I’m sorry. But there is no way I am marrying that man. He is already married. Not legally, but, isn't five years of cohabitation the same as being married?”
“You won't be marrying him, he’ll be marrying you.”
“What’s the difference?”
She sighs.
“It doesn't matter whether there's a difference or not. What matters is the difference between being just a clande and his legal wife."
We hang out for a little longer, watch a movie, eat and exchange class notes before she says that she needs to get going.
“On a serious note, you need to think about what we've talked about. You don't want that miserable life you were used to to come back knocking."