by Margaret Muthee Download pdf ~ epub ~ mobi
Howdid this happen? My life has been reduced to eating, reading,
sleeping, hours with a shrink and some god damn music therapy
session. I lie on a slim bed staring at the high white ceiling that
seems to echo my screams every time I exhale. This usually is most of
the time, knowing that I am locked up in this place instead of being
home with my Gracey, at work with my friends, or out somewhere in the
country sipping a Tusker and taking in the fresh breath of the
outskirts of Nairobi.
On
a weekend like this it would be party after party with John, Elsa,
Mark and Marto, and sometimes, just sometimes, Gracey. Where are
they? Do they even know I am here? Ouch! That hurts! Arrgh! This room
is too small, I cannot pace around without knocking my foot on this
metallic bed or on this drawer that serves no purpose. Who told them
I need juice and fruits? I hit it again, this time intentionally and
even though it hurts I savor the pain and collapse on the bed, back
to staring at the walls and ceiling.
a weekend like this it would be party after party with John, Elsa,
Mark and Marto, and sometimes, just sometimes, Gracey. Where are
they? Do they even know I am here? Ouch! That hurts! Arrgh! This room
is too small, I cannot pace around without knocking my foot on this
metallic bed or on this drawer that serves no purpose. Who told them
I need juice and fruits? I hit it again, this time intentionally and
even though it hurts I savor the pain and collapse on the bed, back
to staring at the walls and ceiling.
My
eyes dart around the room. On one side blue curtains flutter letting
in the light, the gush of wind, and the fresh scent of roses coupled
with other flowers I cannot name. On another side is a painting of a
butterfly. The splashy display of vibrant colors defines the efforts
that went into it. My eyes rest on a board pinned to the wall. I
repeatedly go through it, noting the different activities for each
day of the week. Today being Wednesday, it reads Music Therapy.
eyes dart around the room. On one side blue curtains flutter letting
in the light, the gush of wind, and the fresh scent of roses coupled
with other flowers I cannot name. On another side is a painting of a
butterfly. The splashy display of vibrant colors defines the efforts
that went into it. My eyes rest on a board pinned to the wall. I
repeatedly go through it, noting the different activities for each
day of the week. Today being Wednesday, it reads Music Therapy.
The
few times I’ve gone for this thing, I did not like. I am used to
the beat of reggae, raga, hip hop, and Nigerian music that we dance
to at the club. Here, there is none of that. The music guts you to
sleep. When performed it is even worse. The dance lessons are more
upbeat but I still do not like it when someone is looking over me,
testing my performance.
few times I’ve gone for this thing, I did not like. I am used to
the beat of reggae, raga, hip hop, and Nigerian music that we dance
to at the club. Here, there is none of that. The music guts you to
sleep. When performed it is even worse. The dance lessons are more
upbeat but I still do not like it when someone is looking over me,
testing my performance.
Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Argh! I drag myself out of bed knowing that if I do not, some damned
nurse will come for me. If only they were younger, I would wait for
one to get me out of bed. I would even pretend to be sick, real
sickness, not this one that they are imposing on me. Human weakness
is the reason I am here.
Argh! I drag myself out of bed knowing that if I do not, some damned
nurse will come for me. If only they were younger, I would wait for
one to get me out of bed. I would even pretend to be sick, real
sickness, not this one that they are imposing on me. Human weakness
is the reason I am here.
Mrs.
Arao is assigned to me this week. Man, I do oathe that mama. She will
make me take my pill in a second no doubt about that. I really do not
like to anger her. Something about her reminds me of my mother. I
cannot dare play around with her.
Arao is assigned to me this week. Man, I do oathe that mama. She will
make me take my pill in a second no doubt about that. I really do not
like to anger her. Something about her reminds me of my mother. I
cannot dare play around with her.
I
shuffle my feet towards the corridor, where I meet the last person I
would have wanted to see today. Mutua. This old man has really gone
nuts. Yesterday he almost beat me up over some stupid scrabble game.
He would not agree on the spelling of treasure.
shuffle my feet towards the corridor, where I meet the last person I
would have wanted to see today. Mutua. This old man has really gone
nuts. Yesterday he almost beat me up over some stupid scrabble game.
He would not agree on the spelling of treasure.
“That’s
the spelling.”
the spelling.”
“No.
There is no word like that.”
There is no word like that.”
“Ask
everyone here.” I had insisted.
everyone here.” I had insisted.
“You
think I did not go to school, fool?” he had said casting me a blow.
think I did not go to school, fool?” he had said casting me a blow.
Fred,
a janitor who never speaks half the time I see him, saved my life. He
literally had to drag me out of the hall.
a janitor who never speaks half the time I see him, saved my life. He
literally had to drag me out of the hall.
Shaking
off this memory, I turn around to see Mrs. Arao walking towards me.
She waves at me. I walk faster towards her, a thing that only happens
when I am in trouble. Mutua raises his head, which has hitherto been
bowed, his eyes are glowing, they burn me like a flame.
off this memory, I turn around to see Mrs. Arao walking towards me.
She waves at me. I walk faster towards her, a thing that only happens
when I am in trouble. Mutua raises his head, which has hitherto been
bowed, his eyes are glowing, they burn me like a flame.
“Hi,”
he says, his face twisted in a smile that I cannot exactly interpret.
he says, his face twisted in a smile that I cannot exactly interpret.
“Feeling
better?” I ask, looking at the sores on his face. I did give him a
scratch.
better?” I ask, looking at the sores on his face. I did give him a
scratch.
I
walk on past the reception, where Linda is seated like a toad, past
that banner that says ‘recovery is our first priority,’ and into
the music therapy room. What am I recovering from?
walk on past the reception, where Linda is seated like a toad, past
that banner that says ‘recovery is our first priority,’ and into
the music therapy room. What am I recovering from?
I
know too well that I am not sick!
know too well that I am not sick!
I
am one of the first people. I walk to the furthest corner and lean
over a window that overlooks the hills, a field, and a flower garden.
This scene takes me back to the town park, where I first saw Gracey.
My heart aches for her especially now, and my mind goes on a trip to
the night before I got here.
am one of the first people. I walk to the furthest corner and lean
over a window that overlooks the hills, a field, and a flower garden.
This scene takes me back to the town park, where I first saw Gracey.
My heart aches for her especially now, and my mind goes on a trip to
the night before I got here.
~~
It
starts with Gracey. She has turned my huge heart into a small drum
that beats with love. It is dark when I walk into the house and
instead of the usual kiss, she welcomes me with news.
starts with Gracey. She has turned my huge heart into a small drum
that beats with love. It is dark when I walk into the house and
instead of the usual kiss, she welcomes me with news.
“I
am pregnant.”
am pregnant.”
“Eee?
By who?” I ask.
By who?” I ask.
Not
that I do not want to be a father. I am just not ready, not with my
crazy service job and a car loan. I need more time. And a feeling of
anger and disappointment seethes through me and turns me into
something, something I would rather not talk about.
that I do not want to be a father. I am just not ready, not with my
crazy service job and a car loan. I need more time. And a feeling of
anger and disappointment seethes through me and turns me into
something, something I would rather not talk about.
“It
can’t be my child,” I say.
can’t be my child,” I say.
“You
are denying your child?” she says.
are denying your child?” she says.
“How
can I be sure?”
can I be sure?”
“I
never want to see you again,” she says.
never want to see you again,” she says.
I
step out into the night, thinking, my steps sinking into the sand,
writing a story.
step out into the night, thinking, my steps sinking into the sand,
writing a story.
~~
Mrs
Arao storms in, interrupting my thoughts. She is our music therapist
today. I am certain she is going to sing Amazing Grace, and people,
especially Dida, the old man with a crooked face always crouched at
the corner, will cheer even though she sings only this song and never
any other. Is it the only song she knows?
Arao storms in, interrupting my thoughts. She is our music therapist
today. I am certain she is going to sing Amazing Grace, and people,
especially Dida, the old man with a crooked face always crouched at
the corner, will cheer even though she sings only this song and never
any other. Is it the only song she knows?
We
sit in a circle to share positive energy. Normally, Mutua sits next
to me, but today I cannot stand him. Not after what he did to me. So
I pause at a corner, waiting to see if he will come, and if he does I
will move to another seat.
sit in a circle to share positive energy. Normally, Mutua sits next
to me, but today I cannot stand him. Not after what he did to me. So
I pause at a corner, waiting to see if he will come, and if he does I
will move to another seat.
When
the music starts, he shuffles across the room, stands midway, and
then turns back. He sits next to Sheila, a chic who will not utter a
word. Now that is real sickness. I hear she killed her boyfriend. I
have no idea whether this is true or not. When I asked Nina, the
other nurse , Mrs. Arao over heard it and before Nina could answer,
she came over.
the music starts, he shuffles across the room, stands midway, and
then turns back. He sits next to Sheila, a chic who will not utter a
word. Now that is real sickness. I hear she killed her boyfriend. I
have no idea whether this is true or not. When I asked Nina, the
other nurse , Mrs. Arao over heard it and before Nina could answer,
she came over.
“It
is not written on her face,” Mrs Arao said, and then walked away.
is not written on her face,” Mrs Arao said, and then walked away.
Sheila
does not seem like a killer. If she did kill her boyfriend, the
bastard must have deserved it. Watching her, she seems so calm. Mrs
Arao walks in and I realize the only empty chair is the one next to
me. Mutua should not have gone. She walks over, pats my back, and
sits.
does not seem like a killer. If she did kill her boyfriend, the
bastard must have deserved it. Watching her, she seems so calm. Mrs
Arao walks in and I realize the only empty chair is the one next to
me. Mutua should not have gone. She walks over, pats my back, and
sits.
“Lead
us in prayer, Mutua.” She says.
us in prayer, Mutua.” She says.
“Not
him!” I whisper, remembering the forgiveness principle and the fact
that he will bring out the previous day’s story in the prayer.
him!” I whisper, remembering the forgiveness principle and the fact
that he will bring out the previous day’s story in the prayer.
After
the prayer, Mrs. Arao bursts into Amazing Grace. Her voice is like a
tornado about to break the house.
the prayer, Mrs. Arao bursts into Amazing Grace. Her voice is like a
tornado about to break the house.
~~
The
moment I walk into Club Nomad, I see Leila seated on a high stool,
sipping on a Tusker Lite. I love her confident pose, the way she
shows off her body and twists her long neck. There is something about
the way she moves it, her earrings dance, brushing her soft skin as
her eyes dart across the room. She is higher than everyone, closer to
the heavens. Then there is that short chiffon dress she is wearing
and the pearls around her elongated neck. The black trench coat and a
pair of black boots complete the look, hiding her swaying hips as she
walks to the dance floor. I join her.
moment I walk into Club Nomad, I see Leila seated on a high stool,
sipping on a Tusker Lite. I love her confident pose, the way she
shows off her body and twists her long neck. There is something about
the way she moves it, her earrings dance, brushing her soft skin as
her eyes dart across the room. She is higher than everyone, closer to
the heavens. Then there is that short chiffon dress she is wearing
and the pearls around her elongated neck. The black trench coat and a
pair of black boots complete the look, hiding her swaying hips as she
walks to the dance floor. I join her.
She
does not resist when I draw closer, invading her private space,
brushing my skin against hers, and finally holding her. She turns her
back towards me, and stretches her arms. I fumble for a moment,
wondering what she is doing, and then I figure it. I take off her
coat, hung it on my seat, and so we dance, her arms in mine, her body
clinging to mine. I am conscious I do not want to annoy her, this
light that I have found on this dark night. I loosely hold her. But
she leans closer, her face bowed on my shoulder, her cheek slightly
touching my face, her heavy breasts heaving, resting on my chest. I
stop breathing for a moment.
does not resist when I draw closer, invading her private space,
brushing my skin against hers, and finally holding her. She turns her
back towards me, and stretches her arms. I fumble for a moment,
wondering what she is doing, and then I figure it. I take off her
coat, hung it on my seat, and so we dance, her arms in mine, her body
clinging to mine. I am conscious I do not want to annoy her, this
light that I have found on this dark night. I loosely hold her. But
she leans closer, her face bowed on my shoulder, her cheek slightly
touching my face, her heavy breasts heaving, resting on my chest. I
stop breathing for a moment.
“Let’s
get a drink,” I say.
get a drink,” I say.
And
she follows, her hand in mine, past men whose eyes are fixed on
soccer on the TV, past the chatty wild ladies, and to her high table.
Our voices compete with the booming music. The DJ is on a high
tonight.
she follows, her hand in mine, past men whose eyes are fixed on
soccer on the TV, past the chatty wild ladies, and to her high table.
Our voices compete with the booming music. The DJ is on a high
tonight.
“So
what’s a lady like you doing out here alone?” I ask.
what’s a lady like you doing out here alone?” I ask.
“Cant
those without men enjoy a night out?” she responds, sipping on a
Tusker Lite, and looking me straight in the eye. I beckon the waiter.
those without men enjoy a night out?” she responds, sipping on a
Tusker Lite, and looking me straight in the eye. I beckon the waiter.
“Another
round,” I say.
round,” I say.
He
asks her to pay the previous bill.
asks her to pay the previous bill.
“I’ll
pay,” I say.
pay,” I say.
The
music is drowning, and so are the drinks, and lights, and everything.
All I remember is our arms round each other, walking down the stairs,
before I black out.
music is drowning, and so are the drinks, and lights, and everything.
All I remember is our arms round each other, walking down the stairs,
before I black out.
I
wake up in a strange house, a house without my Gracey. I look around
the room. I do not recognize the tall brown cabinets standing side by
side like cousins, nor the paintings or the portraits that seat
around the wall, glaring at me. I force myself out of bed and I’m
searching for my clothes when she walks in, draped in a short towel
that hardly covers her breasts.
wake up in a strange house, a house without my Gracey. I look around
the room. I do not recognize the tall brown cabinets standing side by
side like cousins, nor the paintings or the portraits that seat
around the wall, glaring at me. I force myself out of bed and I’m
searching for my clothes when she walks in, draped in a short towel
that hardly covers her breasts.
“Slept
well?”
well?”
“What
time did we leave the club?”
time did we leave the club?”
“A
few minutes past midnight.”
few minutes past midnight.”
Different
thoughts race through my mind. I never get drunk that fast. She must
have put something in my drink. She leans over and kisses my lips. I
cannot resist her.
thoughts race through my mind. I never get drunk that fast. She must
have put something in my drink. She leans over and kisses my lips. I
cannot resist her.
“How
did we get here?”
did we get here?”
“Your
car. You picked it up from the garage. I tried to stop you.”
car. You picked it up from the garage. I tried to stop you.”
She’s
now all over me, kissing me, breathing another life into me. She
feels warm on my skin. She takes me to another place. I toss her on
the bed and take her into my arms. It feels nice to hear her explode
in pleasure.
now all over me, kissing me, breathing another life into me. She
feels warm on my skin. She takes me to another place. I toss her on
the bed and take her into my arms. It feels nice to hear her explode
in pleasure.
~~
“Peter,
how are you fairing?”
how are you fairing?”
I
want to kill the person who just got me out of that stupor. Mrs. Arao
nods her head, urging me to continue. It’s that time when people
share about their week. What is nice about being in prison? I do not
say this aloud. I am still staring at the linoleum floor when Mrs.
Arao repeats the question. She moves to the center of the room and
stares directly at me, as if she is watching, waiting to catch a
falling star.
want to kill the person who just got me out of that stupor. Mrs. Arao
nods her head, urging me to continue. It’s that time when people
share about their week. What is nice about being in prison? I do not
say this aloud. I am still staring at the linoleum floor when Mrs.
Arao repeats the question. She moves to the center of the room and
stares directly at me, as if she is watching, waiting to catch a
falling star.
“Eh,
week hasn’t been bad,” I start.
week hasn’t been bad,” I start.
“What
stood out for you?” she prods.
stood out for you?” she prods.
Twenty
pairs of staring eyes make me so uneasy, reminds me of the time in
primary school when I got a question wrong and everyone laughed at
me. For a moment I try to make sense of my surrounding, to read
everything, anything at all, that might have gone on in the last few
minutes.
pairs of staring eyes make me so uneasy, reminds me of the time in
primary school when I got a question wrong and everyone laughed at
me. For a moment I try to make sense of my surrounding, to read
everything, anything at all, that might have gone on in the last few
minutes.
“I
have learned to live a day at a time and to make the best out of my
time here.”
have learned to live a day at a time and to make the best out of my
time here.”
“That
is a wise decision….” She goes on and on expounding my point. It
is as if that one point is one piece of glass that has been broken
down into different fragments which can be picked and still function
as the original. I pay attention for a while before I fade out.
is a wise decision….” She goes on and on expounding my point. It
is as if that one point is one piece of glass that has been broken
down into different fragments which can be picked and still function
as the original. I pay attention for a while before I fade out.
Half
an hour later, Mrs. Arao is still yapping about how we should be
positive about life. Linda swings into the room and interrupts her,
whispering into her ear. Mrs. Arao then summons me to follow Linda
out.
an hour later, Mrs. Arao is still yapping about how we should be
positive about life. Linda swings into the room and interrupts her,
whispering into her ear. Mrs. Arao then summons me to follow Linda
out.
“Your
second wife is here to see you,” Linda says, showing me the door.
second wife is here to see you,” Linda says, showing me the door.
I
can almost touch the sarcasm in that rusty voice. I can almost tell
that she hates me for letting Leila into my life. Who said I have a
second wife? Gracey is the only person I want to see. She is the only
person who can truly understand what I am going through. Not these
vagabonds who laugh about everything. I watch them as I walk out.
Mutua is falling off his seat. Whatever is wrong in his head, I do
not know.
can almost touch the sarcasm in that rusty voice. I can almost tell
that she hates me for letting Leila into my life. Who said I have a
second wife? Gracey is the only person I want to see. She is the only
person who can truly understand what I am going through. Not these
vagabonds who laugh about everything. I watch them as I walk out.
Mutua is falling off his seat. Whatever is wrong in his head, I do
not know.
“Did
you find Gracey?” I ask.
you find Gracey?” I ask.
“Leila
is the one who is here. You got her pregnant, remember?”
is the one who is here. You got her pregnant, remember?”
“She
trapped me!”
trapped me!”
Linda
seems confused. We are already at the reception where Leila is
waiting. She walks towards me, arms outstretched as if she is a bird
ready to fly. I hate how she always tries to embrace me when she
visits. Lately, she has been coming twice a week. The last time she
visited, she found me playing chess with Fred.
seems confused. We are already at the reception where Leila is
waiting. She walks towards me, arms outstretched as if she is a bird
ready to fly. I hate how she always tries to embrace me when she
visits. Lately, she has been coming twice a week. The last time she
visited, she found me playing chess with Fred.
You
see, I have decided that Fred is the only person I will spend time
with in this place. First, he is not like those god damn fools, and
second I have vested interests in him. He knows every exit in this
place and keeps the extra set of keys.
see, I have decided that Fred is the only person I will spend time
with in this place. First, he is not like those god damn fools, and
second I have vested interests in him. He knows every exit in this
place and keeps the extra set of keys.
Linda
leads us to the visitor’s room and walks away, shutting the door
behind her. Leila sits and asks me to join her. My mind is a
whirlwind of thoughts about the life I had before I met her, the life
that I had hoped to lead. I pace around the room, combing my hair
with my fingers.
leads us to the visitor’s room and walks away, shutting the door
behind her. Leila sits and asks me to join her. My mind is a
whirlwind of thoughts about the life I had before I met her, the life
that I had hoped to lead. I pace around the room, combing my hair
with my fingers.
“What
do you want?” I ask, breaking the silence.
do you want?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“I
have instructed them to send your salary to my account.”
have instructed them to send your salary to my account.”
“You
are sick!” I say, my voice fading off.
are sick!” I say, my voice fading off.
“Who
is in a mental institution?” The words sting. They ring in mind
like a bell.
is in a mental institution?” The words sting. They ring in mind
like a bell.
“Wait
until Gracey finds out what is happening.”
until Gracey finds out what is happening.”
“Gracey
is never coming back.”
is never coming back.”
“Get
out!” I shout, pushing her towards the door, tears welling up in my
eyes. I sit against the wall, pulling my shirt to wipe my pain away.
Linda and Fred watch me from a distance.
out!” I shout, pushing her towards the door, tears welling up in my
eyes. I sit against the wall, pulling my shirt to wipe my pain away.
Linda and Fred watch me from a distance.
~~
The
night has fallen and there is a light shower of rainfall quenching
the earth. We are in the play room, Fred and I, engaged in a game of
chess. Dida and Mutua were here too, playing draughts and telling
stories of their younger days. As usual Mutua is dominant in both
conversation and game. I watch them throw hands into the air and at
each other until Dida passes by us on his way to his bed. He is
talking to himself. Mutua follows, dragging his plastic sandals on
the floor as if this shuffling would bring back the peace.
night has fallen and there is a light shower of rainfall quenching
the earth. We are in the play room, Fred and I, engaged in a game of
chess. Dida and Mutua were here too, playing draughts and telling
stories of their younger days. As usual Mutua is dominant in both
conversation and game. I watch them throw hands into the air and at
each other until Dida passes by us on his way to his bed. He is
talking to himself. Mutua follows, dragging his plastic sandals on
the floor as if this shuffling would bring back the peace.
“Can
I get you a drink?” I ask Fred.
I get you a drink?” I ask Fred.
“Sure.”
I
have waited for this day for a long time. I go into the kitchen and
draw the weeks’ pills from my pocket. I mix them into the coffee
and stir in two teaspoons of sugar. I return just in time for the
next move.
have waited for this day for a long time. I go into the kitchen and
draw the weeks’ pills from my pocket. I mix them into the coffee
and stir in two teaspoons of sugar. I return just in time for the
next move.
“Your
turn,” he says, a wide smile on his radiant face.
turn,” he says, a wide smile on his radiant face.
I
pass him the coffee and look out the window as he takes his first
sip, then the second, then the third. The rain is washing away all
the dirt in the gutters. I can smell the dust oozing out. I can feel
the fresh air as I unlock the door and walk into the rain. I stretch
my arms and let it embrace me too.
pass him the coffee and look out the window as he takes his first
sip, then the second, then the third. The rain is washing away all
the dirt in the gutters. I can smell the dust oozing out. I can feel
the fresh air as I unlock the door and walk into the rain. I stretch
my arms and let it embrace me too.
~~
Download pdf ~ epub ~ mobi
~~
Margaret
Muthee is a trained journalist and Freelance writer living in
Nairobi, Kenya. She is keen on developing her creative writing
skills. Her first short story, Escape, was written during the 2015
Writivism Programme with the assistance of mentor Richard Ali, and is
published in http://www.onethrone.com/
Muthee is a trained journalist and Freelance writer living in
Nairobi, Kenya. She is keen on developing her creative writing
skills. Her first short story, Escape, was written during the 2015
Writivism Programme with the assistance of mentor Richard Ali, and is
published in http://www.onethrone.com/
~~
Also in This Issue
Short Stories
Poetry
