Pushed Off A Cliff
My mouth tastes like something metallic. My hands, tied up tightly, are numb and so are my feet. At the same time, it feels like my joints were broken apart and pieced together with tape.
Something that feels like clamps are stuck on my ankles.
I want to open my eyes, but somehow they are heavier than usual. I struggle to open them simultaneously with every inhalation. Streaks of light make way into my eyes and for the first time in my life, it hurts to see light. Like a veil slowly being removed from my face, my eyelids drape up.
My head is hanging on my neck like a stalk of bananas on a weak branch. Breathing has never been this hard. My chest feels like it had been in the way of an incoming train. I was drooling what I realised wasn’t saliva. Having my mouth open was less painful than having it closed but at the expense of bearing with hot air that burned my mouth wounds whenever I inhaled.
There is too much light in the room than was necessary. A room that later upon the return of my comprehension, I realised had one small window. Spotlights, that would have better use in a prison compound were mounted to shine toward me. They brought about an unbearable heat in the room. I am sweating like a dog in a wild hare chase.
The agony is richer than the memories that explain the reason for my detention. Perhaps that’s what happens when a block of brick is smashed on to your head causing an immediate blackout. Rather what you’d otherwise call a dark trip in a train to hades. Just when you’re about to knock the gates of the underworld and a blood thirsty creature with a pointy tail, a forked spear on one limb and rage on the other, walking on hind legs only – shows up to open – you’re quickly teleported back to the physical world. That’s when you wake up from the blackout like I am right now.
No one else is in the room as far as I can see. My entire body is docile, no different from a carcass that has been run over twice by a jeep. But all that is about to change when suddenly, my body is invaded by an excruciating electric shock!
A rhythm of high voltage designed to fry my nerves but ends up stabbing my mind and letting it bleed off slowly until all defense walls fall down inundated like the walls of Jericho to the sound of trumpets.
My body is jerked up as a result like electricity forced into a dormant engine. My previously sleeping systems are forced up mercilessly. And then, the memories come flooding like an angry river. All these is why the self proclaimed arm of justice who’s face I haven’t seen yet has gone this far to extract this intel from me through confession. I have heard people talk about this highly dreaded avenger. Tasked by her excellency, The Universe, to render justice in form of vengeance to all and sparing none. They have a name for her. But I forget.
The shocking stops.
Taste Your Filthy Soup!
I’m forcefully dragged down memory lane no different like a surrendered pig on the way to the butcher. I’m dropped off slightly unconscious at the door step of my old house that is just next to the bedroom window. I hear a voice inside. It sounds familiar. One of the voices that is already permanently engraved in my mind. It’s her voice. Followed by a cheeky cartoonish laughter. It’s sequential.
There is a deeper voice in the background that seems to be the reason why she is laughing. I cannot unravel the exact words being said by the deeper voice. But her voice, being more pitchy, I could register some words like an elongated ‘Babe’ and ‘Ghai. Ni mimi unaambia hivo?’ The deep voice would rumble for a while and she’d burst out laughing again sounding like a happy child.
This deep voice sure sounds like my voice.
It’s night time. They are in the bedroom. Meaning they most probably had already had supper. A sumptuous dish detailed with ugali, steamed kales and omelette, his favourite. Her hands, trained well by her mother – know how to do just about everything right with a Midas’ touch.
It will precede a sensual pulling of sheets and tag of love that in another arena would be tag of war.
He is not the type that would turn to the other side and sleep just after a deep dive into cloud nine. He loves to hold the woman, probably his woman, as she lays her head at the valley between his chest and shoulder. He loves to caress her hair and it’d seem to her no different than her man gently pulling the strings of a harp to produce a heavenly after shag melody. Like the outro song of Kamasutra.
They would engrave their secrets, desires and wildest dreams on their pillows. Women crave for closure after a shag. Especially when it was just not a one night stand for them but something more than that.
He listened to all the things she wanted to do and be. A boss lady was the pinnacle of it all. Of course a boss lady who adored the place of a man in her life. That man, according to her, was lying next to him. Busy trying to caress her nerves to calm down after a storm in their paradise. And it seemed to do more than just that. She confessed a lot. Probably more than she should have in the long run. Among them was her undying love for him.
Mjango would not be as silent as a rock either. He spoke his heart out. Or rather what he thought was his heart. He admired her like the only star in his sky. He would tell her how she merits his checklist in every winch way. How her personality married his. She did everything right. There was absolutely nothing in her that seemed like a red flag that would short circuit what he had for her.
The Green Tomato
Their friends already knew about them. What some didn’t say out loud however was that they couldn’t join the dots leading to their almost sudden union. But who can question love? They’d ask and smile to them whenever they met coincidentally on the way to class or their digs.
Some thought he was too good for her. That she was more than lucky to have him. At the same time, they thought he had made a shoddy choice. Like someone who picked a green tomato just because he couldn’t see a red one. They thought perhaps that it’s not that he didn’t see red tomatoes. He knows where they are but he perhaps just didn’t want to look in that direction. Like he suddenly grew an appetite for a green tomato in a world where everyone is dying to have a red tomato.
A red tomato is one that gets everyone with or without an appetite looking in its direction whenever it crosses the street. A red tomato can be smelt from a far. Probably smells like stew or something. That is enough to get their appetites over the top even when they know they have left an even bigger tomato back in their house.
It doesn’t shout that it’s a red tomato. And well, however extremely appetizing it may be to first, the eyes, then the mouth, it doesn’t easily let itself be eaten especially by just any mjango. It knows it’s a red tomato and that’s why it will make you go through shit to get it. Unlike other fruits, a red tomato is not desperate to be eaten but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t want to be eaten.
These people who felt like she was not good enough for him secretly thought they themselves were the red tomatoes he deserved.
It had been a month since they agreed to tie the obvious knots between them. He remembers how whenever they went to places and she met people she knew, she would introduce him as her boyfriend. Doesn’t sound like a big deal? But you know that when a girl says it, it carries her whole world in it.
So it was all merry and goals up until the river of love in him began to run dry. He didn’t want to believe it at first. Just like everyone else in a relationship would think, he dismissed their radical fights as normal hurdles. All they needed to do was just jump together and the hurdle would be behind them, so he thought. He began to develop an eye for what he silently regarded as insufficiencies in her.
That yes, she supported all he did like a good woman would but she didn’t share interests with him. Compatibility for him meant having many things in common.
That she did not have careful hands. Small things broke in her arms and that irritated him.
Not long after, he started to realise that it didn’t taste like a red tomato and worse, didn’t look like a red tomato. But he couldn’t seem to figure out why for sometime it did look and taste like a red tomato. Green tomatoes can go red but can red tomatoes go green?
He craved for a level of attention, actions and personaliy that all of a sudden she didn’t seem to meet. He felt that their bed was no longer a place to come and tangle but to cum and go!
She started to realise that he seemed to resent her presence but was insecure at the same time. He was not the type to throw random fits before her but for some reason, it had become the norm. She would be the one to call or text him and even plan for meet ups. She was shooting and it took sometime for her to realise that she was shooting in thin air.
If we were to talk about red flags again, he should have sought for red flags in himself. He had not slain all the demons of his past that were now haunting him in his present.
“Make it stop! Please! I’ll tell you all you want to know just make it stop!”
The loud music immediately went off and so did the harsh lights. Silence took over the room like rebel militia would a small village in West Africa – and even I had to stop breathing heavily in respect.
A small bulb above me lit. What sounds like a door swings far behind me and shuts. Foot steps. They sound like the footsteps of someone in heels. Slowly and firmly they approach me. They stop not so far behind me. A strong cologne filled the air but I don’t like it. It seems to burn my nostrils whenever I breathe in. But it smells so familiar. It takes me some time to realise that it smells of vengeance!
Fear is still reigning in my members. I am at my breaking point. I am not sure what the one with a bad cologne behind me wants to do. Maybe slit my throat or tear my trachea out with their nails.
I Lost My Ruby
“Are you ready to talk?” A female voice asks. She sounds just like a demigod.
“I will tell you everything. Just please, enough of the torture.”
A few more strides towards me.
“Then you better start.”
“I didn’t mean to…”
One more stride. I could feel her just an arm’s reach behind me.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her. I liked her. I…
I’m not sure I loved her. Okay I thought I did. I swear I’m not lying. She is a good soul. A lovely one. But it was my mistake to arouse the love in her only to realise later that I had no intentions of keeping it.
I was sure I knew she was the one I wanted. Unfortunately, she ended up being a victim of my own pain. Pain I didn’t know I had. Rather, I thought I was over it.
I had loved someone just before so deeply. In my mind, I used to call her perfect, because she…”
“She was just the exact definition of the woman fit for me. We fell in love while talking. I love to talk. And I loved to talk to her just as I felt she loved to talk to me. Everything we used to talk about came to life every time we met.
Like the second time we met after we tied our knots is probably one of the best memories I hold of us.
We went to her best friend’s place. Her best friend called She – was older than her and even older than me by what, four years? A very nice one bedroom house in Ruiru. I sat on the couch nicely like the visitor I was.
She, her best friend, dismissed herself back to the kitchen probably to prepare a love concoction to steepen the affection in us, the two young love birds. How could she? You might ask. She had been in a relationship with one mjango for three years by then.
You still want to ask? You son of a gun standing like a scarecrow behind me?”
“Okay okay! Mine, who I nicknamed Ruby, took the bedroom’s direction. The bedroom door’s hinges whined softly a few minutes later and she walked out damn right not the same as she went in. A black top and black trouser had turned into a grey pencil dress that kissed the top of her knees revealing curves I didn’t know she had. My jaw dropped and I said to myself, “Look at just how she knows that I love tight fitting dresses in a woman, my woman!”
“That story was chopped by the head eight months since we tied things. How it was beheaded? I don’t really know. But I bet she knows who led it to the slaughter house.
Two to three months later after that bloody affair, I knew I had moved on. I knew I was ready for life again. It felt like it. Whoever you are standing behind my back, that was how I was confident to tie things up again with another girl. The girl whose case you’re holding me captive here about.
There, you now have what you asked for. Now let me go!”
Slapped With A Thorn Branch!
The strides move toward my right and past me. She stands before me. Holy cow! I’d say. But no cow has a perfect figure like whoever this is has. Her hair, red in colour, run from her head to the lower part of her bulbous butt cheeks. Her face, ravishing and stern at the same time. Her body clad with a shinny, black, leather corset clinching her torso tightly. Running from her thighs to her feet is a fish net stocking. And finally the platform black high heels on her feet with silver spikes around their surface.
In her hand is a rubber whip.
“So was that or was that not a rebound?” She asks sternly.
“I didn’t know it was a re…”
“Wrong answer! Was that or was that not a rebound!” She roars.
My body is writhing in pain.
“Fine! It was a freaking rebound!”
She chuckled as she wrapped the whip in her hand again. “That you were too stupid to know until it was too late!”
She then walked out. I could hear her strides fading in the background. The door opened. Strides stop.
“By the way, the call me Karma!”
I blackout. Again.