Mūihíti na mwana...... Translation: Don't think your kid is different

It was bittersweet at the very least. I can’t bear watching one of the videos caught by an on-looker at the site where he finally kicked his share of the bucket. Sitting still, my eyes steadily became watery. His thought tore me down as I composed his eulogy ready to read it in his burial. The contrast of how things turned out broke every part of me. Multiple questions lingered in my mind. Could it have turned otherwise had I sought after him further? Was there anything that I could really have done to alter the turn of events?
The day had turned out as one of the boring Fridays that everyone keeps looking at their watch in anxiety. Joy, my personal assistant, had earlier strolled into my office wearing a less concealing skirt to lure me into taking her out. Her red skirt and shoes were a perfect match for a Friday night, albeit for a party goer. I looked at her thighs as she deliberately bent to pick up a file that had ‘accidentally’ fallen on the floor. Her brown curvaceous body bore bold letters calling me up, which I incidentally did. As she stood upright, her revealing dress played its Friday-night come-get-me role. As common with every man, the eyes are perfect X-ray machines that help rid off those unwanted clothes. I saw her in the bathroom scrubbing and wiping those chichis and working on those sit-downs. I saw the lip gloss kiss her, the lotion massage her face, and the roll-on run up and down the beautifully shaven underarms.

The world became smaller, my eyes popped out, a tiny sweat penetrated my spine. Whatever she had done, it was playing out perfect. So, I finally made up my mind. “She wanted this, so imma give it to her.” I reached my left hand and took out my ring, stuffed it in the drawer, and made the most significant step in my professional endeavors. I stood up, walked towards her, and alas! Three, four, five, six, seven loud bangs shook the office. We took cover in different directions. Had I been much closer to her, she’d have taken cover under me; thus, completing the fairytale of a married man with his curvaceous personal assistant. Save that for another day! I drew the curtains and packed my suitcase. It was already 6pm so no one EXCEPT my personal assistant and I were in the office. I bade her goodbye and walked out of the banking hall. Then that is when all hell broke loose!

A small crowd of on-lookers had started to gather around the scene. Police tried to push the people away but everyone seemed adamant to take a selfie and some pictures to hashtag them in social media. I walked past the crowd and made for my car. A police officer shot in the air. I took cover as the crowd ran helter skelter. Everything looked topsy-turvy at the moment. Confusion filled the air. An instant stampede had formed. Young children wailed for their mothers. Women called out for their husbands. Amidst the confusion, my eyes were caught by a man lying in a pool of blood. His body was still moving and writhing in pain. Next to him was a Beretta M9 pistol with several rounds of ammunition. The cartridges from his shoot out with the police was evidence of the events that preceded his fall. Finally, I said to myself, someone had done something about the increased cases of gun robberies in the neighborhood. I rejoiced at the work the police had done. I looked the dying man in the eye, something was familiar about him. His scarred face and eyes told of a person who had undergone a series of torture and hardships in life. He raised his left arm and called for help. No! I must have been dreaming!
In his left arm, he wore a bracelet that resembled the one on my left. Only one person could have that kind of a bracelet, and it certainly was not him. Jimmy was my bosom friend back in the village. He was one year older than me. His came from a middle-class family. His father was the village pastor and his mother was a popular teacher. Jimmy was the most popular boy in the village. He had taken up religion at a very tender age. He was everyone’s darling in the village. The perfect child. On the contrary, I was the hopeless boy in the village. No parent wanted me near their children. Jimmy would often get a scathing tongue lashing from his mother whenever she got word that we accompanied each other back home after school. My mother openly slammed me and distanced herself from my behavior. In reality, I was the undisputed black sheep in the village.

In high school, Jimmy became the CU leader. He received accolade after accolade for his exemplary mature biblical teachings. Teachers and parents, alike, loved him. All this while, I continued my legacy of being a bad boy. I smoke weed, took alcohol, got into fights with teachers and students, and received numerous suspensions. Jimmy always intervened for me and promised the principal that I would change with time. And time I got. Nothing changed… until Maryjane joined the school.
Maryjane was also a CU member. She was brown with popping eyes. She had an illuminating smile that often exposed her milk-white teeth. Whenever she walked past me, my nose lengthened to capture her sweet scent. Her booty was every man’s heaven. There’s no shame in accepting the fact that she always left me with a difficult time to deal with under the desk. Her beauty lingered in my mind every day (Let’s just say that I haven’t been able to deal with her memories just yet). She became my classmate and sat next to Jimmy. I would exile Jimmy from his desk just to talk to Maryjane. Nonetheless, I was hitting a glass ceiling because of the contrasting behaviors between her and I. I was disappointed at the thought of not cracking the whip on her. So I joined the CU and became ‘born again.’
My behavior changed, I started attending classes early and staying up late just to watch her. She was my obsession. The very drug that I was looking for. Weed lost meaning, alcohol gave up its staggering effect, and Maryjane took over. She was all I could think of each day. Nevertheless, things turned out rather ugly. She had friend zoned me and shared feelings for my friend, Jimmy. Out of respect for him, I gave up my pursuit and settled for another not-so-good looking lass. Little did I know that Jimmy shared my obsession for Maryjane. He became carried away by her and lost the way. He would stay up late in the intercessory room with her to pray. They prayed for hours silently. The only audible voices were reminiscent of a video I caught my brother watching over the internet on his laptop (he shut the lid before I could see the stars in the movie though).
Jimmy soon dropped out of school and moved in the city with Maryjane. The two had shared a unique obsession that swayed them from the light. As I pursued my Christian life and education, Jimmy was posting all sorts of pictures with Maryjane in clubs and pool parties. Life must have been good to them. I could not understand why life was so unfair for me. I stopped smoking and drinking to impress her but she ends up doing the exact same things? My greatest regret was ever getting saved in school trying to impress her. The pressure to perform in school increased when I was named the CU chairman owing to my recent transformations. The rest, as they say, is history.
So, Jimmy tried to maintain the beautiful wife in the city. Her lavish life and the dismal income Jimmy made were parallel. She threatened to leave him because he was unable to provide for mascara and other girly girly stuffs (I married a village girl after that, she only needs Arimis by the way so I might not know what girls need for makeover). Jimmy succumbed to the pressure and joined a local gang. He was a fast learner and within one month, he had successfully completed high value heists. His life turned around. He resumed his lavish lifestyles. The greed to have more occupied his mind, Maryjane’s thighs occupied his pants, and his obsession for her took over his heart. His rap sheet filled up, the police were agitated, the locals called for blood. Jimmy became the face of news, he was the most wanted man! My obsession for my personal assistant had taken away most of my evenings. I was not following up news all this time when I was looking at her hips across the office. I stayed in office late just to see her before leaving the bank.

Amid the scuffle, I trudged and walked towards the man lying on the crossroads. He tried to talk aloud but he was losing a lot of blood and his lungs were collapsing due to the gunshot wounds. I could not believe my eyes when I saw a scar in his left arm, one that I drew on him using a mathematical set compass back in class six. It was him! Shame filled my heart, I felt guilty for ignoring his calls last night. Maybe he wanted to repent and change his life. I had failed him, I gave up on him. Memories of how he defended me engulfed my heart. I failed my best friend. Tears drooled down my cheeks helplessly. I picked up my phone, dialed 999 but I remembered the same police I was calling had shot him several times. He was fighting a losing battle. His fate was sealed!.. as breath left him, he opened his mouth and stammered, “Tell…m…my….pare…parents, I’m s…s…s” He eyes shut as he took his final gasp of air.
His death is a bittersweet story. To the public, it was one more thug downed by the good work of the police… to his family and friends, it was one good person (After Adam) dropped by the devil and a beautiful woman.

muthiti na mee ana?

wirute guthoma. This is a national language

Good read on a lazy Sunday

Truly good read. Mui huwa mwema.

by the way muhiti ni mpita njia,sio?

I have said Mūihíti, meaning the one who swears.
The one who swears that their kid cannot do evils done by others do not have kids of their own.

ooh,i ger it.

A good way to finish a lazy sunday