Tim Swindler

 

February 2022.

She laid on bed eyes glued to the ceiling, with her two arms across the back of her head. Her left leg dangling over the right one. The light was dim and the house chilled. Just a low volume afro pop from the radio at the farthest end of her small house. She hears it straight in the middle of her head, its soothing. 

Thoughts are waltzing in her head. Like many other young people, she wants to make life better in this trying world. She tries, she want to do her stuff and make them count. She doesn’t want to just pop out filthy rich one Friday morning, with high end vehicles and a throng of apartments somewhere in kileleshwa.  They say the streets do not favour genuine people but that too has a limit.

There is a notification pop up on her phone; she doesn’t bother because she’s thinking of how she will make her deliveries tomorrow. How she wants to reach all her clients before noon. There is another notification and it causes her vexation. She reaches for her phone and pulls it like she regrets having it; the first notification was a WhatsApp text from her friend with a laughing emoji. It was not a convenient time for her to engage in the laughing ceremony. She felt somewhat morose. Just gloomy for no outward reason. The second notification was an Mpesa message from a queer source. 

As she was still trying to be certain of her Mpesa balance, she received a call.  Her very close cousin. They got along well. Like a house on fire.

‘Hi nanii, kuna pesa umetumiwa hapo?’

‘Yes, why my number?’

‘Aah, it was an urgent deal na Mpesa yangu had issues’

‘Since when have you had urgent deals from abroad nanii?’ she asked clumsily

‘We ntakushow, fanya hivi send me that money to this number I’ll call you tomorrow and explain’

Well, it was about to be her first night with close to three hundred thousand shillings under her name. She scrolled her sim toolkit, pasted his number and clicked send. She watched standing awkwardly as the lump- sum vanished from her phone making it feel much lighter. So money has mass, huh! He never called the next day, not even the next week and not the next month either. She did not bother anyway. She had her things to do, she did her deliveries and attended her classes for the short course. She prioritises her studies. She loves schooling, it's an insurance for her future. 

June 2022

Its Wednesday mid-morning hours, she’s from her morning class and that lesson knew no good relations. It was not an inch friendly. One of those where a bird chipping miles away is more audible than the lecturer at arm’s length. She receives a phone call - on the other end is a strange male voice ordering her to return the money that she received on certain date in February. The voice is vibrating austerely on her ear drums. Sounds like a voice of a mammoth figure in the dark, wearing a black hoodie and huge boots. She could hear the rage in his voice that sent a chill in her nerves. 

Her palms are moist and slippery, her shaky hands are trying to find her cousins contact but her eyes can’t see properly. She’s partly where she is and partly serving thirty years in jail for conning some white man. The phone rings and rings and rings again. The next time she attempts calling the number is out of use. Multiple times the strange number called threating to take action. 

Few days later, she calls and finds him. His voice is calm, but when you listen carefully, you locate the panic. You think he was sorry? Not on a Friday noon. He tells her to just ignore the calls because he has things under control. Huh, the audacity!

Later in the day she calls her mum, then her dad. In case she gets arrested so they know. The next morning she resolves to cross the rubicon and reports to the DCI, she provides all the evidence including her Mpesa statements, WhatsApp conversations and recorded calls. She wanted to clear her name. She was thoughtful enough to record the calls. The authorities insists she has to be held because she’s the only evidence they have. She has to exchange her freedom with her cousin. She calls him. She tells him he’s needed at the DCI in Kayole but he says he is far away in the village and will report when he gets back. When he is traced, his location shows Kasarani area. She calls him again and he creates up some cock and bull story. She can’t stand the insolence. The harangue from the officers is awful and intimidating. She can't hold her tears any longer. They were literally stinging her eyes. The decision she thought was the wisest turned out to be the poorest she’s ever made.

She can only be released on a hundred thousand cash bail. She calls her big brother who took a few minutes to arrive but the wait felt like forever. She tells the officers she can only afford forty thousand Ks. They never say no to a peny. Do they ? Were it me, I would have said I only have thao. If they insist kabisaa I say Thao mbili with a bad face like I'm almost ringing the blues.

She withdraws the money from the nearby agent. The cash was tied in two bundles of twenty thousand each. She had done good deliveries in the recent weeks. She holds the bundles of cash with her shaking hands and gives them to the officer. Without confirming the amount of cash, he pulls out one a thousand note and goes outside only to return  with  packets of milk from the canteen. He then confidently puts the balance in his breasts pocket. Tightens the button and slaps it to ensure its safe inside. Like he doesn't even fear being haunted by someone's hard earned money. Some people's father's though !! All she wanted right then was a well loaded gun. Just for her personal use. 

In a few days the two parties reported back to the DCI as arranged. Lets tag ‘the cousin’ Tim.  Tim’s dad was her mom’s immediate brother. Tim was the closest cousin she had. The previous night Tim’s dad overheard a chary phone call, he didn’t suspect anything odd. Just a mother trying to get her son out of shit. Like all mothers would do. Over the phone, she claimed that things had gone all a - bumble.

On the DCI desk when the chat between Tim and his mother was displayed, even the devil couldn’t have believed.  All the cash was squandered between February and June. Like all, all! With nothing to show for it. Mother and son affair. Poor man of the house was in total darkness all time long. Daughter of Jezebel  couldn't speak, it was like her mouth was slowly getting paralysed - trying to open her mouth but not a single word could come out. It was like the scene in Fight Club where Edward Norton's character flashes back and realizes he and Brad Pitt have never been in the same room with Helena Bonham Carter at the same time. He realizes he's been punching himself the entire time. He’s Tyler Durden. There was a sudden hoopla in the room. Everyone was looking at Tim’s mother with that ‘what do you mean?’ eyes.

She couldn’t let her cross eyes get off the officer who robbed her all her money the other day just to pull a note and buy milk. I thought bails are refundable by the way, ama not in Kenya? 

After the dust had settled, they left with an appointment to report two weeks later with all the cash. I don’t want to imagine how they went back to the same house. The silence that engulfed the dining table that night. How they walked past each other along the corridors like vehicles on the highway. How they were going to sleep under the same blanket. Was she even sorry? Tim had disappeared and blocked everyone except his mum. Where was he? What was going through his mind? Did he even feel guilty or was Tim just Tim?

July 2022

After a fortnight, two families showed up at the DCI’s - her father with an envelope with their share of cash. He is a man who would lose everything for his daughter. Tim’s family came with empty hands. Not a penny. The man was yet to recover from the shudder, it was written all over his face. He looked utterly beaten. The burden was heavy. Tim’s mom was manacled and put behind bars. It was once again upon the man to do what a man does.  

Who takes the blame, Son or mother?

Or should we yet again accuse the devil?