Chapter 3
"I'm sorry," she says ...
Silence.
"I care about you so much," she continues "And I wouldn't want to see you hurt."
"Cut right to the chase," my voice is angry but uncertain.
"I had to see a friend urgently. It was an emergency. I did not want to bother you."
"In the middle of the night?"
"It's a long story ..."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I love you. Please trust me. It doesn't concern you, but like you said you aren't going anywhere. At the right time, I will delve into details."
"I don't understand."
"I know, and you don't have to. It's a long complicated story. All you have to know is that I love you unconditionally."
Since my probing is leading nowhere, I yield halfheartedly. I take a shower. After getting dressed, I leave in a hurry. Leila is in the kitchen.
"I'm making breakfast."
"I'm not hungry"
"Someone's upset," she whispers and puffs her cheeks, peeping from the kitchen.
The journey to work seems long. My mind is filled with questions without answers. There must be something she is hiding from me. It's a shame. I think I am in love with her. Until last night, everything was perfectly well between us, however, the little incident has cast niggling suspicion in me. My plan was to introduce her to some of close acquaintances but I'm having misgivings about that. Maybe I should stop worrying until I hear her out. It's probably nothing. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's bound to give me sleepless nights. I will try not to think too much about it.
At work, an air of doubt lingers in my head all day. As usual, Masika, the receptionist, notices my disturbed look. The quizzical look on her face is apparent. She tries to cheer me up with some witty jokes. I capitulate since she will not stop until I give in. We exchange jokes. I even hit her with some shady pick up lines I used to fling around back in my day.
"Hey did you fart?"
"No, why?"
"Because you blew me away"
We laugh and talk for a while but when she leaves my mind drifts back to last night. In short, I have a long day work.
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| In love with two women |
It's 6 p.m. As I leave the office, a black Mercedes Benz parked in the office carport honks. I ignore. He hoots again so I turn. The car drives slowly towards me. A window rolls down. I see Leila in the back seat smiling sweetly. She beckons me to get in. She introduces the driver as Abdul. I'm surprised that she has come to pick me up at work. We drive steadily back to Leila's. Leila talks about her day and many other things but doesn't mention anything about last night. I also choose to ignore it and wait. It's probably nothing.
Since traffic is light, we take about twenty five minutes to get to Leila's. She assists me to take off my coat, loosen my tie and take off my shoes. She then runs me a warm bath. When I emerge from the bathroom, I jump into clean clothes. In the living room I find a glass of icecold juice on the coffee table. The aroma of fried chicken hovers in the evening air. My favourite meal.
On the news, a chilling story about an old couple who had been killed and dumped in a river shakes the entire nation, if the reactions of the petrified social media users is anything to go by. The vehicle was retrieved from the river earlier today, their badly decomposing bodies fastened to the driver's and passenger's seats.
The police vow to leave no stone unturned in a quest to unravel the callous murder. That's laughable since we live in a country of numerous unresolved murders. The police, the so called leaders and the rest of the country usually turn a blind eye until trouble comes knocking on their own front door. The politicians only speak when they see cameras but in the shadows they sit together and conspire on how to make their bloated pockets fatter. The government has over borrowed and has now heaped the burden on poor tax payers. The police service is ineffective and are only good at talking tough during press conferences. The government promises to help bury the deceased and reiterate that they will not rest until all the culprits are brought to book. Utter nonsense.
Dinner is ready. It's a sumptuous one indeed. Steamed rice and fried chicken, followed promptly by apple pie and ice cream for dessert. After dinner, Leila takes a shower and comes back to the living room looking and smelling like a freshly plucked rose flower. She is dressed in sexy, short nighties. Someone is clearly making an all-out effort to please me. She's easy on the eye without trying, so when she does it purposely then you are bound to go weak at the knees. The bedroom session is steamy. An hour and a half later, I hit the hay and turn into a pumpkin within seconds, cuddled up with Leila.
The next couple of days turn out to be crazy for me. At work, my plate is full most of the time and when I get home I'm so tired. Leila also seems busy with school and whatever else she does and comes home equally tired. We barely have anytime to talk and as soon as we hit the sack we're always fast asleep.
Today I happen to meet another one of Leila's friends. The only other one I know is Sasha. You might remember her. We first met at Pulp Night Club, on the same day I met Leila. Her name is Rukia. We meet her at The Gibson's. She looks beautiful in the subtle light. She is, however, distraught. I learn that she is mourning her late parents. We spend most of the evening trying to comfort her, while she struggles to fight back bitter tears. She sometimes sheds a tear, messing up her heavy make up in the process. She looks a little older than Leila and Sasha. She must be about twenty eight or maybe twenty seven. I notice that her attire is adorned with expensive looking jewellery. She acts in a mature, classy manner albeit having a dark cloud of sorrow hanging over her head. She must be really good friends with Leila. It seems like they are both grieving.
Saturday. I accompany Leila to Lang'ata cemetery where Rukia's parents are set to be interred. I am shell shocked and saddened to learn that the couple that was retrieved from a river a couple of weeks ago were Rukia's parents. It's a small ceremony. Very few people attend the solemn, short burial ceremony. The priest makes it a brief, precise exercise. After the burial, we drive back to Leila's in an Uber taxi, together with the two ladies. A bottle of wine struggles and almost succeeds to light up the rather sombre mood. Later that night, Rukia takes the guest room.
For the next couple of days, Rukia becomes a frequent visitor at Leila's. However, I don't get to learn much about her. She is reserved. It must be as a result of the trauma. It's understandable. After a few days, the story of the gruesome murder fades. No one talks about it. Normalcy returns. I get to see Rukia less often.
Later
Leila says she will come home late. I decide to while away with my friend Onyango, who I fondly refer to as Onyi. He calls Juma, the crazy one, to join us. Onyango has won some handsome cash betting on sports and has decided to spoil us. Since Leila won't come home till late, I decide to unwind with friends. Onyi is a profligate spender who throws cash around without a care in the world. As an unmarried man in my midtwenties, I spent a lot of time with these two. However, after I met Moraa and settled down with her, I tore myself away from them and maintained a quiet family man kind of lifestyle. Moraa heavily influenced that decision, much to the dismay of my two friends.Onyi and Juma live for the moment. They drink and gamble, and their thriftless generosity mostly benefits call girls around the city. They are popular with commercial sex workers. Who doesn't know these two? They are known everywhere from Nairobi,to Mlolongo,to Mtwapa and even Mombasa. Onyi is married with a happy family. He has managed to conceal his wild life from them. Juma on the other hand doesn't give a damn. He does whatever he pleases, whenever he pleases.
"Long time no see my brother," Onyi greets me "How is the fam?"
"Erm, they are fine ... I'm fine ... I'm fine ... How about you old friend?" I stutter.
"Fine, and getting better like wine."
"Where have you been hiding?" Juma asks, rather too loudly.
"Work related stuff ... and family." I lie, and try to hide it with an uneasy smile.
"Glenfiddich," turning to the bar tender who has just come to our table, Onyi orders scotch.
After an hour of drinking, Onyi offers me a lift home. He says that they have to pick up some package first. I comply. He drives steadily. It's a calm night. The streets are illuminated by the bright moonlight. The night is owned by drunkards, robbers, cops and call girls. We leave the main road and drive into a dark alley that is crawling with prostitutes. I am not bothered until Onyi pulls up. When he rolls down his window, I almost choke because the dank air reeks of urine and cigarettes.
"Excuse me? Why are we stopping here?" My voice is shaking.
"Tulia sonko, I told you we had to pick a package, remember?"
Soon the car is surrounded by skimpily dressed ladies. Skinny girls, fat ones, young, old, you name it.
"Pick whatever it is you came to pick already, and let us get up out here," I'm nervous.
"Goddamn lady, relax," Juma teases me.
I am far from relaxed.
From the group of money hungry solicitors, I pick up a face I seem to recognize. Hell no! My eyes must be playing a trick on me. I stare at her. She is dressed in a micro mini skirt. Her top does a terrible job of covering her body. Her bust is almost uncovered. When she catches me staring, she walks towards the vehicle smiling. My fears are confirmed. I am baffled. Shocked to the core. It's Rukia. Wait. Is she a prostitute? She stops suddenly. She must have recognized me. She turns and disappears into the darkness.
"Hey! Rukia!" I shout, flinging the car door open and running after her "Poor thing"
"Hakuna mtu anaitwa Rukia hapa, customer unadaije?"
I cannot trace where she disappeared to. The area is creepy. The women are smoking and drinking. Some are too inebriated to stand. I recoil back into the car, my mind buzzing with puzzling questions. We drive half way home before I realize that we've got company. So the package was actually one of the women. I am not surprised. My two friends enjoy a sordid, unchecked kind of life.
"Freedom is an innate human need." Juma's favourite saying "Do not imprison yourself. Kula raha, kifo chaja."
They drop me off at Leila's and speed off. 10 p.m. The lights in her apartment are still on. She must still be awake. I am dying to tell her about Rukia. Poor girl. She has resorted to drinking and ... I sigh. I'm still reeling in shock. The front door is not locked. Leila is watching TV. she stands up when I walk in.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"No ... well, I am but I'm a bit confused."
"Alright, please have a seat."
"It's about your friend ... erm, Rukia."
"What about her?"
"What does she do exactly?"
"What do you mean?" She's puzzled, "Oh, well, she's business woman."
"Business .... huh?"
"Mr. detective, you are so inquisitive today. Did you run into her?"
"As a matter of fact I did."
"How is she coping with everything?"
"Not so well, ostensibly,"
"How come?"
"Well long story ... I saw her near SJ ... the red-light district ... she was dressed like a ..."
"Ohhhhhhh ..." that shocks her but she fights to hide that feeling.
"Do you know anything about this?"
"No ... maybe ... I don't know"
I'm thrown deeper into turmoil.
Little did I know that I was the only one in the dark. I start discovering some well kept secrets. Leila is flawless. Does she also have skeletons in the closet. One thing is for sure though; she is a deeply secretive person.
Next day
I sit apprehensively, staring at the bottle of Whiskey standing firmly on the table in front of me. The DJ is playing Diamond Platnumz hit song "Sikomi". I don't even realize when my phone vibrates on the table. The caller is incessant. A deep male voice comes in from the second end.
"Wewe mzee wachana na msichana wa campus na urudie bibi yako," The man says rudely, "Watoto wako wanaumia nugu."
"Excuse me, who is this?" I ask.
"Wacha kizungu mingi nani, wachana na Leila"
"You need to mind your own business sir."
"Hii ndio business yangu fadhela. Nimekupea hadi kesho jioni ukue umerudisha matako kwako," He then adds some expletives to drive his point home.
"We fagia kwako bwana ..." I try to sound tough but deep down I'm shaking like a leaf.
"Si unaishi Mlimani phase 2. Bibi yako anaitwa Moraa. Uko na wajunior wawili. Pendo na Amani. Kama unadai familia yako ikue safe then kata story ya Leila kabisa."
An ominous cloud suddenly hangs over my head. You know the feeling, right? A worrisome discomfort in the stomach like something bad is going to happen. He broke me when he mentioned my family. I am more shocked than scared. I sit there for almost an hour without touching the liqour. Leila calls 5 times. I ignore. I am deeply disturbed. Did Moraa send some clown to frighten me? What is it exactly that Leila does? How does she manage to maintain a lavish lifestyle, effortlessly? Are her parents really rich? How come she never says anything about them let alone visit them? One of her closest friends is a commercial sex worker. What's that about?
I wake up the following morning with a throbbing headache. I struggle to open my eyes. It's almost noon. Holy cow! Leila is seated on a chair next to the bed watching me. I can barely move. My whole body aches. I feel pain in the joints.
"Were you trying to kill yourself?"
"What happened yesterday?"
"Yesterday? It's been 3 days since you passed out"
"Holy crap!"
"What is wrong with you?"
I won't tell her about the man that threatened me. I will try to find out the truth myself. I usually ignore such trivialities but the fact that the bugger knows my children by names and even where I stay has made me very worried. I try to call the person several times but the phone is switched off. Should I report the matter to the cops? Haha. That's stupid. The Kenyan cops will take my money alright, but they cannot protect a citizen to save their lives. Utumishi kwa wote my foot.
Things only get worse. Four day later, while at work, I receive an envelope mailed to me. Inside is a photo of my wife with our two kids. It seems like a recently taken photo. It's apparent that my family is in danger because of me. I have to act swiftly to avert any harm from befalling them. I'm thrown into a sea of turmoil. I'm not sure about what it is I should do. Maybe I should just obey the man and go back home. It might be Leila's boyfriend. Might he be the one bankrolling her expensive lifestyle? I would be mad if someone else reaped where I sowed. That makes sense. It might be a jilted lover itching to commit a crime of passion. What irks me is the fact that he's dragging my innocent kids into something they are not privy to. He ought to face me as a man and sought things out. Whoever it is, he is not joking. I love Leila so much. It is difficult to just break up all of a sudden. Will Moraa take me back?
I decide to book a hotel room and stay there for a while as I figure out the next course of action. I text Leila and tell her that I had gone to attend to my sick child. I ignore all her calls because I do not know what else to tell her. She sends numerous text messages about how much she loves and misses me. I stay here for only two days. enough is enough. I have to make up my mind. I decide to go back to Leila's.
As I walk into the gate, it strikes me. A black van that has been parked outside the gate for a few weeks now speeds off. That is strange. I use my spare key to let myself in. 15 minutes later, my phone rings. The faceless guy that threatens me. I am scared. i ignore the call. The phone screen lights up. An envelope dances indicating I have a text message. I am too shaken to read it. This man must have eyes in the sky. Is he stalking me?
Someone inserts a key into the front door keyhole. The door swings open gently. Leila's sweet fragrance fills the room as she walks in. The expression on her face shows that she's shocked to see me. She stands rooted at the door way looking a bit dazed. She looks a tad inebriated. My absence must have been difficult for her, I conclude. I'm surprised when a man bangs a car door shut outside and walks to the door. He stands behind Leila. A short, stocky man with a shiny balding head. It looks like Leila brought company and was not expecting to find me home. The man is drunk and impatient.
"You have to go!" Leila says sternly turning to the man, the look in her eyes venomous.
"Hey, what about the ..."
"GET OUT!" Leila screams.
"Well okay. I'm leaving. And besides, I'm not even in the house." he pauses, "And who's this clown."
"For the love of God stop talking and be on your way"
"I can't believe this!" The man leaves cursing and kicking things. He hits the flower vase outside Leila's house so hard that it topples over. The resulting pain makes him hop to his car. A sleek dark blue Audi. I am still reeling in a whirlwind of confusion. The man drives off.
Leila sobs heavily. I sit beside her and console her for close to half an hour. All hankies are soaking with tears so I offer her mine. Her beautiful eyes look red. Every time she tries to look at me she automatically turns on the waterworks.
"I don't deserve you," she says softly.
"Don't be foolish, what do you mean?" I ask.
"I have something to tell you and I'm afraid it might hurt you a lot."
"Well ..."
"I'm sorry ..." she starts sobbing uncontrollably.
I wait.
"I am not the person who you think I am. My parents are not rich. I was raised by a single mother and we lived a life of squalour -from hand to mouth. My dad walked away when I was only nine. It was the most painful thing that ever happened to me. My mother did all sorts of odd jobs to raise money for food and my school fees. More often than not she slept on an empty stomach. At one point, she even begged for money and food on the streets. I had to drop out of school in form two but luckily enough a local priest offered to sponsor me until I completed high school. He had even offered to pay for my university education. At least, life became better. However, we fell out when I was about to complete my first year in campus. The clergy man started soliciting sexual favours from me. I was utterly shocked. He threatened to stop paying my fees. I knew that would be the end of the road for me and the news would definitely send my ailing mother to her early grave. That be as it may, I couldn't accept his offer because I saw him as a father to me. So when I declined, he made good his threat and stopped paying fees for me. I was gutted. Life in Nairobi was terrible. I almost became suicidal. My mother couldn't know about this. Well my second year in campus was a walk through hell. I had to balance between menial jobs and school. My grades dipped. The pressure almost killed me. All along, mum knew my school fees was well taken care of. I started working as a part time house help and as a hair dresser at a Salon in Kahawa Sukari. At my work place, the man of the house always came home drunk. Every time he arrived all hell broke loose. He would be irrationally violent and vent his frustrations on anyone and anything in his wake. He would beat me mercilessly. He even attempted to rape me on several occasions. I quit. At the salon, things weren't any better. The woman who owned the salon also ran a brothel which was disguised as a massage parlour. She forced the girls who worked there to please the men who frequented her brothel and those who refused were dismissed without pay. When it became too much for me to bear, I left and walked into the dark world of uncertainties all alone with nowhere to go. My mother expected me to send her money every month for upkeep. She had decided to remarry. Now I had a small brother. My step dad was a deadbeat. All he did was sleep all day and wake up to demand for food. I had three extra mouths to feed."
Tears roll freely down her cheeks. She tries to talk but chokes, so she stops. After composing herself she continues.
"From the little savings I had, I opened a small salon. Business was very slow at first. I could hardly afford a meal a day. One day I met a lady from my village who seemed to be doing well. We hit it off and instantly became close friends. Her name is Cherop. I told my story. she promised to help. For weeks,or even months she helped me buy food, and even some stuff that I needed for my salon job. Every time I asked her where she worked, she laughed it off. One day she asked me to accompany her to meet her friend who turned out to be a man who seemed older than my mum. We met at some club in town. The geezer had a friend, about his age. Cherop asked me to keep him company. I was miffed, more than embarrassed. I hid my feelings with a smile through out the night. They offered me alcohol which I declined and chose to drink water instead. Although I was out of my element, I did not want to disappoint my friend, who it turns out was only trying to help me. I ate a lot that night. I could pass for a glutton. I was starving. At the end of the night the man tried to bring me back to his room but I declined. He was kind enough to book me into a separate room. Cherop had left with her "friend" minutes earlier. I decided to cut links with her after that mystifying experience and to struggle to make ends meet all by myself. The salon business was on it's knees but I fought to keep it alive as it was my sole source of livelihood. However, one day I received a phone call from that turned my life upside down. My mum was admitted in hospital dying and they wouldn't attend to her since she did not have any cash. They wanted a cash deposit of two hundred and fifty thousand Kenyan shillings. All I had was 400 bob. Barely enough bus fare to get me there. I did all I could to raise money, God knows I tried. I called Cherop and asked her to send me the geezer's number. He paid the hospital bill in full after I accepted to sleep with him. Since that day it was a downward spiral for me. I had the money and the luxuries but my heart was hollow like an empty tomb."
She pauses and takes a hard, long look at me. She sighs and says.
"I am an escort. I sleep with rich men for money"
Her eyes are dry, almost blood-shot and her voice is steady. Unwavering. She is breathing gently. My mind is numb. I don't know what to think.
"You have all the time to think about it. It's okay with me if you choose to walk out of my life right now," she says resolutely.
I look at her. She looks strikingly beautiful as usual. She is a frank, caring young woman who has been through a lot in her young life. It would be ridiculous if I chose to walk away. I love her sincerely. But what I just heard is overwhelming. I am angry. I am also so sympathetic. I feel like crying myself but I stay strong, because that's what a man is supposed to do.
"I choose to stay. But you have to spill all the beans. No more secrets from now on."
When I say that, she starts sobbing again. I hold her close to my chest. I really love this woman deeply.
"I work for an agency called Allure Models. It is a multimillion franchise. It is a large conglomerate that is run by powerful individuals with strong links to politicians, powerful individuals in the army and some wealthy businessmen. Since what we do is virtually illegal in this country the proceeds are usually laundered in legitimate businesses like boutiques, salons, spas, saunas among others."
"You should quit, shouldn't you?" I say.
"Well, it's a bit complicated. My friend Rukia also works for Allure. When she tried to quit, both her parents were murdered and dumped into a river."
"Really!" I'm astounded, "By who?"
"As I mentioned earlier, Allure is run by a very powerful cartel. There is only one way in, and no way out"
I'm really shaken. It dawns on me that the anonymous caller might be a hit man for hired by the cartel.
"Cherop was the first among my friends to try to quit. When she went AWOL, she was traced and found in Busia trying to sneak into Uganda. She was then brutally murdered. No one has ever been implicated for the murder. The cartel has links within the police force and the judiciary. It is like a government of some sort. They can get anything they want and they can get away with anything. The agency makes obscene amounts of cash. Look at my house. It's like a palace. But my soul feels dark and hollow."
I'm still trying to recover from the bombshell about how Cherop met her untimely demise.
"What about Rukia's parents. What went down?"
"Rukia managed to escape to Rwanda and being a sly girl she manged to cover all her tracks. When they failed to trace her, they went for her family. After she hearfd the news she came back. The damage was already done. The message had been delivered. Now we're trapped inside and we cannot quit."
"Have you ever thought of escaping?"
"Yes. You obviously remember the time I disappeared in the middle of the night, right? The boss had convened a meeting concerning Rukia's disappearance. He sounded a stern warning and wanted us to give any information we had about her whereabouts. Listen darling, ever since I met you, I have not been with any other man. My conscience wouldn't let me. It's been five months and you have been the only one.I love you. I have decided to quit for that reason. I can sustain the lifestyle I am accustomed to. I have various business here in town. They are all doing pretty well."
"Wait ... So do you think the killers will let you walk away Scot free?"
"We'll figure something out."
"Okay"
She must be crazy!
The next day at work something bizarre happens. Masika tells me that there is a young man asking for me. I almost bolted away through the back door. Paranoia. When she gives me the name and description of the guy, I relax since it is someone I know. Musa, the caretaker of the building in which Moraa and the kids live in. It's been almost five, six months before I set a foot there. I am surprised to see him. He is casually dressed in a black T-shirt, rugged jeans and a pair of sports shoes. He seems anxious to deliver a nagging message. I offer him coffee which he declines politely. We sit at the lobby. He gives me a critical look before speaking, slowly.
"It's been a while."
"I know. Life happens"
"Well, I have some news for you and I'm afraid it's far from good."
"I am all ears, what is it!" I fear for the worst, "Are they okay?Are my children fine?"
Musa is calm as ever. It's so upsetting, considering the situation.
"They sure are, but ..." he pauses, "Madam couldn't manage to pay the rent anymore and so she moved to a smaller house in Eastlands"
"Jesus Christ!"
"I helped her to search for the house and move," he says, "However, there are men that went there and roughed her up. She is really frightened. We reported to the cops but as we both know that's tantamount to talking to a rock. We suspect it's the usual Eastlando thugs. I just thought I should let you know."
They are not ordinary thugs. They are cold blooded killers. I know three people that they have murdered. My heart pounds furiously. I am angry at myself for putting my young family in harm's way. I am a powerless civil servant. I can't fight this battle and win under any circumstance. I capitulate. If you can't beat them join them. Or at least do what they say. I remember Leila's dispiriting story as a young, innocent girl. Her life was destroyed when her idiotic father chose to walk out on her. Here I am foolishly making the same mistake. My son and daughter may end up worse than she did. I decide to redress the errors I have made and to put everything back into it's rightful position. A man is not complete unless he is decisive.
I allow Musa to leave. He turns down the 1000 bob I offer him. He must think I'm the devil. You cannot blame him, can you?
I call Leila later that day. We speak at length. Finally, I have to tell her the truth. We must end our relationship. Just the thought, hurts me.
"Sweetie ..."
"You've changed your mind, haven't you?"
"No, it's not that it's just ... I'm sorry."
"It's okay, my love" she sobs.
"I'm really sorry."
Surprisingly, she takes it very calmly. However, she insists that we cannot end it over the phone. I take a cab straight to her house.
I find the enchanting Leila waiting. Looking like an angel. It's a shame that it has come to this. A sudden break up when we are both still madly in love with each other. I talk to her for thirty minutes and she sits there silently, listening carefully. Then she drops the mother of all bombshells.
"Honey, I'm pregnant."
To be continued ...
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