“I can’t believe it! A ‘sup’ once again?” Mutiso bang the wall in annoyance and frustration. He once again failed his exam on one of his final courses. It was his final year in university and things did not seem to go well for him. This was his third supplementary. He contemplated what his parents would say of him. His father, a staunch enthusiast of politics and mother, a strong believer of religion.
Mutiso lived in the city, away from home, back in the interior of interiors. He sat down outside the gate of the university, thinking about life; an uncertain today and possibly an empty tomorrow. It was not until Jenny arrived that he drifted away from his thoughts.
“What is cooking? By the way what have you scored?” Jenny queried him.
Mutiso, embarrassed, shows her his mark while looking at the other side.He asked her what she had scored and is surprised to find that she got a clean, sparkling A.
“How is that possible? You borrowed my ‘mwakenya’!” Mutiso exclaimed angrily.
Jenny tried to console him but the moment was interrupted when the watchman informed Jenny that she was being called by Professor Bukhokhe, the lecturer in charge of the course Mutiso failed.
Jenny left Mutiso and headed to the lecturer’s office. Life looked bleak, empty and disenchanting to Mutiso. What would he tell his father, who always wanted him to be someone ‘big’ in the future_ a politician or his mother, who always wanted him to follow God’s ways even if it meant suffering or better yet tasting the bitter cup of demise? In short, his parents wanted him to be an honest politician.
Mutiso felt sorry for himself. No! He felt guilty for what he had done. He cheated in exams. Although he was desperate for good grades, he acknowledged that cheating was not the final solution to getting an A. All in all, the water was already spilt and a star could forever be marked on his transcript showing that he got his dismal grade through faulty means. Moreover, he was to be summoned by the university’s board any time to be answerable for his vice then later, his parents would be called to inform them that their beloved first born son was to go for a suspension for a whole academic year.
The young lad was frustrated. He was the first born among eight siblings. Furthermore, he grew up in a peasant household and was funded by the village to go to school in the hope that he would later bring back the hand. Mr. Waliaula, his father squandered all his coins on bottles of waragi and eventually all the household’s money was used up in his rehabilitation. He was the village’s only hope. His siblings looked up to him especially Sangura, the fourth born, who had just completed her primary school and did exemplary well in her national exams but had to be patient to join high school due to lack of funds. He bit his lips in bitterness and resentment. What was he going to do?
Meanwhile, Jenny already arrived in Professor Bukhokhe’s office. She pat the door gently and entered when she heard a calm ‘come in’ from inside.
“I was told that you called for me”
“Yes, Janet, please have a seat,” Mr. Bukhokhe started, “I have been going through your paper on the last exam that was done and I have noticed something quite peculiar. Cheating, Miss Munyole? You know, cheating is a very serious misconduct in this institution. I know your dad, he is the deputy principal of some high school, right? Wouldn’t it be a disgrace when he finds out that his trustworthy daughter whom he showers a lot of praises committed such a felony?”
Jenny was confused but at the same time, nervous. She was not penalized for cheating but there she was, being questioned and interrogated. Her father would ‘axe’ her alive if he found out.
“Wouldn’t it be a shame when your father, the so called disciplinarian, comes to know that such a beautiful, elegant and smart young lady is these days up to no good?”
“I’m sorry for what I did. I promise it will never happen again,” Jenny pleaded.
Mr. Bukhokhe, standing and advancing to Jenny slowly by slowly in sinister, just like how and eagle reaches an abandoned chick in a bare field said,
“Again?” he laughed bossily, “who said that there will be an ‘again’? This is your only chance, my flower. Save yourself! I am the only one to help you out through this one!”
Jenny had already read through the lines. A relationship with one of the university staff would be risky. If she would get caught, she would definitely go for an expulsion, but on the other hand, it was the only way of saving her from facing the wrath of her father.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I cannot do to your bidding,” Jenny spoke soberly with a rare authoritative voice packed with finality.
“It seems like you surely take after your dad. Well, in that, case, it wouldn’t hurt you if I called your mother, a cervical cancer victim and tell her that she would need to save double for her daughter’s admission to a new school. I know your mother struggles to raise ‘peanuts’ for her chemotherapy, why would you burden her even more? I am the answer to all your troubles. I will pay for all your mother’s treatment in a qualified hospital in London, just say yes!”
Jenny was now even more confused. She did not know what to do. She asked him why he made Mutiso fail and he assured her that he would also be cleared. He told her to meet him the following day to give him her response. Jenny was in a quandary. If she accepted the offer, she would be cleared of all her problems but at the same time adding more qualms. On the other hand, if she turned down the offer, she would possibly be dead by the end of the week. Several thoughts drifted her mind but was interrupted when she bumped into Mutiso.
“Oh, hello… Jenny!” he stammered.
It seemed like he was tipsy.
“Reeking beer, in front of Bar Point (a popular pub in the area), like father like son,” Jenny muttered to herself.
“I’m fine, Mutiso.” she retorted, “Guess what? I’ve cleared your case!”
Mutiso jerked himself and responded, “Thank you Jenny… that’s why I love and want to spend the rest of my life with you! I… love you… Jenny.”
Jenny was dumbfounded. She waited for this day with much anticipation but it now came in a wrong timing. To make matters worse, Mutiso requested her to travel with him the following day to meet his parents. Jenny could not let the ‘opportunity’ go that easily for meeting her lover’s parents. She previously insisted that she wanted to meet them but Mutiso always said that he was waiting for the right time. On the following morning, they set off for Namanga Village.
Mr. Bukhokhe waited eagerly for Jenny.
“What nincompoop would turn down my offer?” he kept on encouraging himself.
After waiting for several hours, he became impatient and inquired of Jenny’s whereabouts from his son, who was her course-mate, who luckily did the course after performing dismally in his secondary national examinations, but managed to secure a spot since he was admitted by the popular saying, “Money speaks louder than words.” He told his father that she travelled to Mutiso’s village for marriage stuff here and there.
Mr. Bukhokhe knew that enough was enough. He already despised Mutiso since he defeated his son for a seat in the annual elections in the university. He wouldn’t let him win easily this time. He made sure that he would mete the chap till he knew who was boss.
At Namanga, Mutiso proudly introduced Jenny to his parents. Jenny seemed to be in a hurry and left unjustifiably telling Namarome, Mutiso’s young sister to send her sincere apologies. No sooner did she leave that Mr. Walaiula received a call from the university. He came back telling Mutiso that he was to report to the university as soon as possible together with his wife and son for a reason he did not know yet. Mutiso knew that he was already cleared through Jenny, but he had not yet confirmed that. He thought that he did not get her clearly since he was drunk. Why did he drink the previous night? He rushed things yet he still had not patched up his holes. What if he was not cleared? What would his parents think of him? His father was a rehabilitated alcoholic but he knew very well that he took some bottles once in a while. What if he suffers from stroke?
Mutiso’s mother looked at an album by the table. She was fond of doing this whenever she was nostalgic. She looked at her beloved first born son’s photos, showing him every moment that transpired in the past and how much she thanks the Lord for granting her such a blessing of a son. Mutiso was short, sandy haired and chubby, in his mid-twenties, with a florid, slack face, possibly from ill health or drinking, and an expression that veered in these photos, from boredom to a visible, subservient fear. He was diagnosed with depression a few months ago when he was admitted in hospital after being found in the streets when he was drunk together with some of his fellow revelers. He always took down some shots whenever he had a problem. He thought it was the only way to calm himself down and whenever he tried to grow out of the habit, he found himself drinking again and reasoned that it was a case of genetics.
The reasoning of his mother made him be overburdened with guilt. He tried to conceal the grim feelings and feigned composure. He was blighted by memories of the day in his second year of campus during one of the strikes when he was almost arraigned in court for alleged arson. Hundreds of policemen cordoned the scene and lobbed teargas canisters at the rebellious students. A stampede ensued as the mob engaged the police in running battles. Hundreds got injured in the melee. It came to his realization that he was an unfair soul, an unfair son. He suddenly felt weak and unable to think straight. He held the side of the wall tightly and dragged his leaden feet. He remembered his father’s hard work when he was still young and energetic that made him change status from a pauper man to an affluent business man till one day, the ‘devil’ struck. He swore to change his family’s life. He muttered a short prayer and sought for God’s intervention so he could not face such a tasteless revelation.
Jenny went on to Mr. Bukhokhe’s office. No sooner had she entered the office that she heard him arranging for the board meeting. She was lost of words. Mr. Bukhokhe told her to accept his offer or else he would call her parents, just like what he did for Mutiso’s.
Jenny tied to show her consternation but at the same time took caution not to say anything careless lest she stirred the hornet’s nest. She did not want to betray Mutiso since she knew that infidelity alters the significance of love and turns into a kind of chastisement.
“No,” was Jenny’s final answer.
Mr. Bukhokhe erupted into a rage and spewed out what was burning inside of him.
“You could have everything you would ever wish for! Everything!”
Mutiso and his parents were just preparing to leave their humble abode when the police arrived and seized him. They came together with some university officials handing to his father Mutiso’s expulsion letter.
“This institution no longer requires your services,” the harsh letter read in part.
“This is impossible! My son would never do such!” Mr. Waliaula exclaimed. The mother who spoke no evil, heard no evil and did no evil was also astonished. How could her beloved son of God commit such transgression?
“Mutiso, you are under arrest for the missing of Janet Munyole, incitement for strikes and an attempted upstage theft, anything you say or do can or will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to remain silent,” one of the officers said. The family was left in reel. His father stared placidly at his ‘politician to be’. How could he?
“This is conspiracy! Jenny was here a few hours ago and now she is mysteriously missing? I presume it is meant to be a lawful arrest if she is missing for more than twenty four hours!” Mr. Waliula shouted in defense for his son. He tried shouting for help from the villagers but was given a well calculated whack by one of the officers.
“Do not try to teach me my job, Mzee. Your son is a criminal! Why don’t you ask him! Kijana, did you or did you not take part in the strike two years ago?”
Mutiso kept mum like water in an earthen pot. The brief uproar caused some degree of aggy-baggy commotion which sent the neighbors crowding the place.
“See the terrorist you are raising?” the cynical officer said with a flat, cold disdain.
Mutiso dared not mutter a word but was aware of what the officers were capable of doing. He for a fact knew that he had been set up with the whole missing issue but was guilty for the latter. Yes! He also engaged himself in robbery here and there but was once busted by the police when almost committing it for the sixth or seventh time. Mr. Waliaula could not take it any longer. He had a stroke, collapsed and fell, dead.
“See what you’ve done? My ‘fren’, you will sing, if talking is hard!” the officer threatened as he cuffed Mutiso and put him in the ‘Black Maria’.
On the day of the hearing, Mutiso had no member of Namanga who showed up. The sequence of events that continued to replay themselves inside his head with a vivid, cruel authenticity when he least expected it. The tantalizing, appealing black pit of gloom into which it was so east to descend, a place he knew already, a dark haven that beckoned him, in a wallowing morass of despair. Inside he felt dead, utterly detached from anything that happened around him. Snatches of that last dark day assaulted him with a cruel alacrity that had not yet diminished with time.
Jenny was dead. Her body was found dumped in a construction site. This left a chasm in his own existence.
“Guilty!” the judge passed the verdict.
Tear cascaded his cheeks full of regret for what he did, what he failed to do. Was he going to survive behind bars?
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