Off course

 

Yet another Tuesday, of a father and a son. After working your ass off in high school, the government sponsors you to the university. A few years ago, he stepped into the college gates with his father. His mother is disabled so she didn’t travel to the city. The city is a busy place, it’s hectic to move around with a disabled person. She was amputated because she had cancer. He was a young lad then, barely 19.

Fresh from the village, with no life experience in the city. He just lived by the tales he heard. You remember how people used to tell you that in Nairobi you can’t make a call in town? That the phones just vanish like there are ghosts in town? Or someone just come and tell you to give them your phone and you give them without a word in the broad day light. They demand your charger and because of your fear you ask them if they could take the earphone too just be left in one piece. As if that’s not enough you’re forced to give them a push and tell them to have a fruitful day ahead. That’s what he thought the city is, isn’t it?

At college he was to study Criminology. He wanted to study a business course but someone  told him business courses are crowded. So, he settled for criminology. From his village, not very many people made it to the university. It goes without saying therefore that his going to campus put him on a pedestal. Typical of any African village, the news spread fast; faster than the yenta village women could chant it over their fences. Often, you would hear old men in their evening drinking sprees talking about the son of mzee– the third person from the village to make it to Mbalariany (university)

The first one was about ten years ago, he graduated and got a good job only to bring home a white  55 year old woman who was clearly battling senility. He claimed he loved her. Love can be blind yes; but this blind ? Aah Noo!! This elicited mixed reactions towards education. Some people were expecting him to succeed so they can make an example out of him while others were waiting for his failure to illustrate the futility of education to their sons. Such an undesirable position he found himself in especially in a village set up. 

His affairs now became community affairs and privacy became a luxury he couldn’t afford. Once in a while he would bump on some old geezer who would narrate how he and his grandfather were circumcised together, making them brothers and apparently a grandfather to him too. Of course, he had seen the prospects of a bountiful future in this lad and wanted to be remembered when the time came. As he stepped into campus he was filled with enthusiasm, vigor and curiosity- peculiar to all young adults- not to mention the ardent urge to succeed. However, the task to navigate the murky waters of unforgiving town life was at bay. 

It's been 10 years now. Under the thick foliage of aredha, an old man is sitting on a stool taking shelter from the scorching heat of the mid-day sun. He is staring blankly at the distant hills but sees nothing beyond his brush fence. His vision is blurred by the tears that are gathering in the corners of his eyes. On this day a decade ago he had taken his son to college. Its been five years since he heard from him and six since he saw him. Previously, he had sent his brothers to look for his son but they had returned with not even a clue of his whereabouts.  It was unknown whether he had finished his studies or not. 

Death is tragic but disappearance is detrimental. If one dies they are buried or cremated; whichever and sooner or later they are forgotten. Disappearance however, leaves one clinging to their misery for far too long. It leaves you with too many questions and often victims have been pushed over the edge to their deaths. Such was the predicament this old man had found himself in. Having a son is okay but having one that you haven’t seen or heard anything from in over five years... Tormenting! Isn't it?  A  father figure would go looking, thought you should know.  

5 a.m. An old man on a mission is at the bus stop, defying the stinging cold and hoping to catch the first bus to the city. Clutched tightly in his right arm is a briefcase full of clothes and wads of cash, a reminder of the emaciated menopausal cow apala he had sold to fund his expedition. Later, as he sat in the bus he started reflecting on the events of the past few years. He had gone against the societal norms and married a single wife and had persevered the constant vilification from the elders. 

The wife had managed to sire him only a single child much to the disappointment of his mother who kept pushing him to spawn her more grandchildren. However, he didn’t falter and kept his little family. Now his wife had succumbed to cancer and his only child had disappeared without trace. Conceivably he was wrong all along to marry only one wife and have only one child. He had put all of his eggs in one basket and now it had fallen and he didn’t know whether to pick it up and see whether there is anything to salvage or to just walk away and forget about it. You don't wanna be in his situation, right?

Its dusk in the city and the old man is looking frantically for a room to spend the night. He recalls a hotel he had spent the night back in the years. The city is much different from how it was a decade ago but somehow, he finds his way through. He is skeptical and keeps throwing his head back imagining some dark figures are lurking behind him waiting to strike. 

On the last dark alley adjacent to the hotel, he hears footsteps approaching him fast from behind and he stealthily slides his hands into his briefcase. A blow lands squarely on his brow. He draws a simi from his case, stabs one of the two dark figures silhouetted against the street lights and whacks another on the face. The burstad is bleeding. Another blow followed by a stinging pain in his lower abdomen. Darkness! 

He heard hushed sounds as he was resuscitated by the pain in his abdomen. He has a screwdriver sticking out from his belly as he's thrown on a wooden chair. And a stinking sack covering his head. But why are these goons in the city so heartless?  Swoosh. The sack covering his head was removed suddenly. This man looks familiar. 

Glaring at him fiercely, his assailant or perhaps I should say; his son. His dearest son. This was his gang. Bad day at work! That's how he's been making a life in the city. What a way to reunite.  Loud silence, confusion ! His father is hurting and bleeding, money on the floor and neither of the parties are interested. Tears drop, because in such a scenario you wouldn't  want to see no tears.

A.Major 

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