Jack and I got on very well. We had developed a habit of meeting everyday after work. The driver would drop me off at a pre-arranged place and Jack would pick me up. We would spend the better part of two hours together, then he would either take me home or ask one of his friends, who owned a fleet of taxis, to do it. On weekends, he would take me out of town to a place of my choice, or to a place that he felt I should visit.
The more I saw him, the more I felt the need to be close to him all the time. I had developed an appetite for his company and though I was with him often, I still felt there was something missing; I just couldn't get enough of him. I also suspected something else: that I was reaching a point where all that mattered to me was to be with him; learning from him; drinking in his knowledge of things that seemed unending. I wanted him for myself, to the exclusion of everyone else.
Wednesdays had become my significant days. It was a Wednesday that I first met
Jack; on a Wednesday when I got a job with East African Airways and also on*a Wednesday that I got a written promotion. On this particular Wednesday, mom let me know that she needed to talk to me, and from the look on her face, I knew that it must be a serious matter. It was my day off, and I waited for her to initiate the discussion, which she did at around midday. She called me to the room where she sold beer.
"Nyambiu," she called and then fell silent as if waiting for me to continue. I hated that moment, like all moments when my mom showed uneasiness. She continued:
"I have something to discuss with you and I do not know where to start from…" She stopped to look at me and seeing how I tensed to hear her talk that way, she added in a hurry: "I am sorry, dear, I don't intend to frighten you at all. It is not a bad thing. Do not think I do not know how good you are to me, but at times we have to talk. There is a young man who has been coming here for a drink and I have good reason to believe that you know him. I do not know whether he came to me before you had talked. If you had, it is alright with me. He was here last week, the day I met him with his friend in your room. He had come to request permission to marry you. I want to know from you whether you have knowledge of it."
Well, that was a hot one. If was hard to discuss this matter straight with my mom, but I was glad Jack had taken the initiative. It meant very much to me. I tried hard to face her but I couldn't and as she was waiting for my answer, I knew I had to say something. With my eyes focuss-ed on the floor, I said: "Yes, Mother, I know about it."
"Thank you, that is what I wanted to know." Again she was silent for a few minutes, then she got up, went to the store and came out with two bottles of beer. She opened one and started drinking. I could see from her face that the idea of me leaving her was not a pleasant one, but she had known too well that sooner or later this would happen. There was nothing I could do about it. Even though it was still too early to make concrete plans, like naming dates, Jack and I longed for nothing more than the day we would finally begin living together as man and wife. Oh, to have Jack all to myself !
"Nyambiu," she called again. "Do you love this man? Are you sure he is the right man for you?" she asked, sadly. I could understand why she was sad.
"Yes I do, Mother."
"For how long have you known him?"
"Since I was in school." Surprise registered on her face. She certainly had not expected such an answer.
"Well …1 must admit that I am surprised. I do not know what to make of it. I do not know what I can tell you, because you know too well that I did not expect you to have gone that far while you were still in school. You must then have been very lucky to have…"
I knew I had to talk now. I hated to hear her drawing wrong conclusions and unless I told her the truth, there was no way she would get the correct picture. I thought of what she meant when she said that "I must have been very lucky to have…" It could only mean that I was lucky to have completed school before becoming pregnant. That was not only bad, it was also an insult to Jack, who would never have tempted me into having sex with him. It hurt me to know that mom didn't know that I was still as clean as I was before Jack came to my life. I was emotional when I tried to explain.
"Please, Mother, there are some things I cannot enjoy talking with you. I'd hate to think that after all, you have failed to trust me. Mom, I do not know how I can put it to you … but try to understand that I am the same as I was when I wasn't going out. I am the same, Mom. Nothing has happened to change me."
I hoped she would understand what I meant. I didn't know how to tell her that I
was still a virgin, or better still that Jack would never ask me for sex, and that he respected my purity. I wished she knew that the man whose integrity she was trying to question had actually guarded my virtue and without his protection I would have sunk long ago.
I knew I would have to choose my words carefully, as
I needed to be both courageous and respectful. She looked at me straight in the eyes for a few seconds and it was as if she was trying to detect evidence of my lying. Finding none, she addressed me: "Nyambiu, there is only one thing I would like to tell you. Your father was very nice to me before we got married. You'll probably find it difficult to believe. But take it from me, that he catered for my every need and wish. He was a sweet darling who never drank and would always be at home whenever he was not on duty. Now see what became of him and I. We are no longer together, no longer calling each other honey, sweetheart, handsome, beautiful, and all the other loving names. Those who knew of our love don't believe that we are now divorced. But, I also…"
"Please, Mom, please don't hurt my…" "No, let me tell you," she interrupted me authoritatively. "You must know that I have more experience in life than you do, dear. I was telling you that I also know that all men are not the same. There are so many people who are happily married and if they had watched those whose marriages have failed they would never have married. I have no right whatsoever to make the choice of a husband for you, but I have every right, as a mother, to advise you, and no matter how badly I put my advice, you must not get hurt. You mean very much to me and until I am sure you are in the right hands after leaving me, I'll never rest. I was only shocked to learn that you have been friends with this boy since you were in school. But when you later told me you are the same as you were before you began going out, I understood. This tells me that your friend is serious about you. But let him prove his seriousness by arranging a wedding by which the world will know that you two are one. Nyambiu, do that as the last favour for me."
I promised her that I would. It was so small a favour to ask that I didn't feel Jack even needed to be persuaded about it.
I moved to Jack's home about four months after the discussion with mom. When I later thought of her advice, I saw clearly that she had meant well. She was trying to make sure that I wouldn't blame her if things between Jack and I didn't work out and if I was forced to go back to her with children.
We were now living together, not married, but with mom's blessings, until we were ready for a wedding. She had personally told Jack that she would never forgive us if we failed to have a formal wedding, and he had assured her that it would be the first thing we would do when we had saved enough. That was all the assurance she had need-ed„ and I moved in with Jack.
Jack had a very nice and spacious place in Eastleigh. We packed my things in a suitcase he bought me. He proposed that I leave some of my clothes at home so that mom wouldn't feel I had left her altogether. I agreed with him and so I didn't pack everything.
My heart was racing like a horse as Jack opened the door to his house. He stood aside to let me enter the home which was to be mine from then till "death did us part". I felt different. I felt I now belonged to someone other than mom or dad. I felt owned, and completely belonging to Jack. I felt a different responsibility for this home from what I had in mom's home. I started imagining raising my children here in the company of Jack as their father. I was so overwhelmed I couldn't talk. I walked to the window, staring outside where the car was parked, our car. He walk ed over and touched me and I turned round to face him.
"Are you regretting being with me now? Aren't you happy any longer?"
"Don't be silly, Jack," I said as I fell into his arms. "I have never been so happy. Please take me somewhere to rest. Please hurry."
He lifted me up as if I were a two-month-old baby, carried me through to the bedroom and laid me on the bed. For the first time in my life, I was lying on a man's bed. And it was Jack and I, all by ourselves, locked in the privacy of this room. I felt his right hand reach for my breast. I thought that at that juncture my heart had given in; I thought that it had ceased its functions. The whole of my body became wet. I felt my breasts moving up and down as his soft hands went all over me. Then I felt something else; lips seeking mine. I was now breathing so heavily that anyone in the living room could surely hear. But there was no one to hear and I wouldn't have cared, had there been anyone. By the time our lips met, I was no longer in this world, I had gone out, slowly but surely.
I woke up at around nine o'clock the following morning. I had slept heavily, not because of the comfort of the bed, but because this was a new experience. I had never shared a bed with anyone, since I was eleven and the fact that this time I had shared it with a man was quite an experience. And, of course, that man was Jack.
Jack was fast asleep. I supported myself on one elbow and looked down at his sleeping face, he was breathing gently, his lips closed tight. I felt the temptation to kiss him and I found myself doing it. He opened his eyes and looked up at me, smiling. Suddenly, he grabbed me gently on the back of the neck and squeezed my lips against his. His hand started caressing me and I felt hot all over. I knew what would happen next, so I pushed him away
from me, but very gently, and sat up. I looked at myself and wondered how on earth I had come to the state I was in — naked, with not even a brassier, and I
couldn't remember undressing. Then memories of the previous night flooded back. The last thing I remembered was our lips coming together, then darkness. I must have fainted under his light weight. I looked at him and he stared back, smiling, as if nothing had happened.
"Did you have to do that Jack?" I asked him. "Do what? I hope nothing wrong." Instead of a direct answer, I looked at my nude body then at him. He understood. "Well, that was the best I could do. That's why you slept so heavily." "Ooh, did I?"
"Yes, like a babe in its mother's arms." "That makes you a hypocrite, doesn't it?" "Well, it would depend on what you mean by hypocrite. " "I didn't know we slept before three o'clock this morning. Maybe I was dreaming." "Drowning in River Tana?" "No, sleeping between the mattress and you." "That wasn't a bad dream. I didn't hear any screams, anyway."
"I didn't say it was a bad one, Mr. Hypocrite." "I don't think I like that name. It sounds bad." "Neither do I, so kill it by stopping the pretence." "I have stopped, but I hope you are alright." "More than that, Jack, more than you can guess. I have been longing to have you all to myself, alone in a place like this and my dreams have come true." He kissed me and I jumped out of the bed.
I took a towel and wrapped myself in it. I went to the
There was a bookshelf half-filled with books which I hadn't seen the previous night. Neither had I noticed the pictures on the wall and the colour of the sofa set, nor a coffee table set and a small chest of drawers next to the door through which I had entered. I was seeing all these for the first time, which went to show how much I had been preoccupied with him to have paid any attention to the surroundings.
I took a bath and went into the kitchen. In the sink there were six mugs, a good number of tea spoons, two kettles, and about six small sufurias, all dirty. He had used them and when they had all got dirty, he gave up cooking. It was clear that he never cooked anything else but tea. I pitied him, but then I remembered that was the reason I was here — I was to do his housekeeping. Odd as this may sound, I was happy that he needed me, that I could be of use to him.
On the way back to the bedroom a calendar on the wall attracted my attention. I went closer and looked at it, not for anything in particular but for the date. It was the 24th of August, a Thursday. This alone told me something: that the previous night had been a Wednesday. I looked around and saw my image in a mirror on the dresser. I didn't know what drove me to do it, but I looked closer, and the image in the mirror announced something to me. It was talking, telling me I was no longer a virgin. I didn't know whether to be happy or sad; to cry or laugh. But since I had lost my virginity to Jack, everything was all right.
"Where is my suitcase? Did you remember to bring it in from the car?" I had just remembered about it because I wanted to put on a fresh dress. I wished then I had looked for it before asking him. He jumped out of the bed,
32
his face showing fear of some kind. He didn't even cover himself, but rushed straight to the window. I could see that the car wasn't broken into. He went back into the bedroom and put on some clothes. He then went to the sink and washed his face. After combing his hair, I saw him take a bunch of keys and go out. He brought the suitcase in and then addressed me:
"I must take this car back to the showroom. I'll be back in fifteen minutes' time." He took off, the wheels protesting against the high take-off speed.
On Thursday afternoon I picked up the telephone and called Jack's office. I felt there was something wrong, because he hadn't come home the previous night. It was the first time in the six months that we had lived together that he had spent a night out. I was greatly worried, as I had spent the whole morning trying to call him with no success. I got through to the office at around 3.30 p.m. Jack wasn't in and whoever was answering the phone was either very drunk or very sick in the head. He must have been mad. He wanted to give me a date, inviting me for a drink. He was telling me to name the place I would meet him within an hour, or at my convenience. I was so worried about Jack that instead of hanging up I put up with the foolishness, hoping that as we talked on he would be good and give me an idea as to where my man could be.
There was something that was puzzling me: every time I called this office I would hear the same music. This time it was even worse; there was so much noise that the man I was talking to was shouting, which also forced me to do the same, so that he could hear me. I was eager to know what had happened to Jack, and this made me restless. When I insisted on being told whether they were expecting him back, whoever was talking told me that this was not Jack's office, and "….if he told you it was, then he lied to you. You sound young and ignorant and for this, I might volunteer an advice. Jack is a dangerous man and if I were you, I would forget about him. He has so many women that he wouldn't care whether you called or not. But I must caution you never to mention to him what I have told you. We both might live to regret it."
That speech really threw me into confusion. I hung up and a mist of thoughts clouded my mind. I could barely see what was in front of me. I tried typing and soon realized I wasn't succeeding. I realized too that I was about to break down and make a spectacle of myself in front of my colleagues. So I did the most sensible thing: I locked my drawers, picked up my handbag and called it a day. I took a taxi and was driven straight home.
The curtains were drawn and without doubt, I knew Jack was home. Although I
was angry at his failure to call me, knowing how worried I would be, I was also excited that at least he was back home. I ran the short distance from the gate to our door. I wanted to see him, to make sure he was all right, to ascertain that he did not have any injuries on his face. The man I had spoken to on the phone had insulted him. He had insulted me too, by calling my husband dangerous. I had a feeling that whoever he was, he hated Jack and would probably have hurt him, beaten him up because, as far as I knew, Jack was one man who wouldn't fight a man or hurt any living thing, not even a louse, if it bit him.
The door to the living room was not locked, so I went straight in, ready to hold him and hug him and explain to him what had forced me to come home early and in a taxi. It was the first time for me to hire a taxi alone.
As I entered I was surprised to be met by five faces, four of which I didn't know. When they saw me, the faces of these four visitors were filled with fear. I saw one get up and grab a small bag which was on the coffee table and hold it between his legs. A second one snatched an object which was on the table and hid it behind him on the seat. They all turned their faces to stare at me; none of them talked. When they were satisfied that I was harmless they turned to look at their host.
"This is my wife," Jack said and turned to me, "I brought visitors home today. How come you are so early? Is there anything wrong?"
"Everything is quite okay, I'll explain later," I told him as I walked towards where they were seated.
Although these visitors were expensively and smartly suited, I felt ill at ease with their presence here in our home. They did not fit into any class of the people I knew. They had mannerisms of policemen, but when you observed them closely, they seemed a bit too expensive for ordinary police officers. Even in those expensive clothes they did not look like dignitaries. They didn't look like they had ever gone to school, yet they were not illiterate. They lacked personality but I could detect ruthlessness in their faces.
As I shook hands with them, I saw what the bag contained. It was filled with new currency notes. I did not betray my shock. I went into the bedroom to keep my handbag and it was when I was there that I overheard a conversation.
"What do you say, Master, should we continue?" one of them asked.
"Of course, she is alright. You can go ahead." That was the voice of my man, the one I claimed to know very well, but who I now discovered was known by others as "Master"
I hadn't expected Jack to have a nickname.
I did not know what to make out of all that. I peeped through the keyhole and saw them sharing the money between themselves. Something inside me told me that the money was not clean. There was no doubt about that.
In ten minutes I had made tea and served them. They had finished their work and the table was now cleared of the bundles of money. I looked at Jack and saw that he was uneasy, but he did not want to show it. From the way the boys were talking to him, I understood that they respected him. They were all happy and quite at home in our place now.
Whatever was happening I was only too aware that this was the first time we had ever received visitors here. I made up my mind to make the most of this rarity and I enjoyed entertaining them. I wanted them to stay till supper time, and I would make something special. Somehow I felt that they were Jack's protection, especially against the man who had talked to me on the phone. This thought alone made me warm towards them. They had faces which announced danger yet were not dangerous. They were people who looked like they could put up a fight, if someone provoked them.
I got up and Jack followed me into the bedroom. He held me from the back as I opened the wardrobe.
"What is all that hurry for! Are you going out?"
I think he said that to announce his presence in the room or just for the sake of saying something because I was in no hurry at all, nor had I shown signs of going out. I turned and faced him. The face that I saw this time was not the same face that I had seen when I first entered the house. This one was bright and happy; the face I was used to; the one I loved. The smile on this face told me that my company was what he was missing.
"Is there something wrong with you, Milly?" he asked as he took my hand.
"Not at all that much. Do I look different from my usual self?"
"Yes, as if you are not pleased to see me. I am wondering why."
"There is nothing which pleases me more than having you around, Jack. I was worried when you failed to come last night. When I called your office, you were not there, and no one seemed to know where you were."
"What were you told when you called?"
"Oh, forget it, dear, it was bad news. The person I talked to was either very drunk or mad but most likely both."
The knowledge that I did not know my man well enough surfaced again. I had never seen him angry, so I did not know how he looked like in that state. During the time we had been together I never gave myself time to think along those lines. There hadn't been reason to. What I knew of him was that he was an innocent man, who cared not what the world looked like or thought of him; a self-sufficient person who had long known the secret of contentment.
Had I not been so blind in my love, I wouldn't have been taken by surprise. The telephone conversation earlier in the day with the man I had thought insane came back to my mind. He had said Jack was dangerous and now I suspected he must have been right. The moment I mentioned my disappointment, Jack's face contorted, exposing such danger that I could have sworn he had swallowed a live bee. A vein protruded on his temple, threatening to burst. Words failed his open mouth, and he stared at me with such fury that I said a silent prayer. What I was now seeing scared me so much that I knew if I were to talk,
he would do me harm. He looked like he could commit murder and think nothing of it. After several moments of searching for words, he finally put them together, insisting that I tell him what the man on the phone had said. "Milly, tell me the exact words he used." "Well, he told me you had many women and I shouldn't rely on you. That you are a dangerous man and…" I stopped, seeing that he was almost bursting with anger. "And what else? Please go ahead and tell me." "That if you had told me the number I called was for your office, you were lying." I gave him the whole story. "Is that so!" he asked, more to himself than to me. I didn't answer. I only watched him as he left and joined his° friends in the living room. "You know what, gentlemen?" I heard him say. "That Kagondo man has lost one game. The first and last he will ever lose." Silence followed. Seconds later I heard their shocked voices, voices which clearly said that there was trouble ahead.
"What has he done?" one of the four asked. "Imagine him trying to give my wife a date on the phone, when she called and also telling her that I had other women and I wouldn't care whether she called or not. He called me dangerous and told her that she should not take me seriously. If he doesn't spend three months in the hospital after I am through with him, then he'll no doubt live to see the end of the world. One thing I'll never do on this earth is to give anybody a warning. You wrong me once and I come after you. I'll never waste my time negotiating with an enemy, because in doing so I'll be encouraging him." He excused himself and went out of the room.
"That Kagondo must be mad. How dare he try a thing like that? He has picked on the wrong person this time," said one of the visitors.
"I think there could be a mistake somewhere. Maybe someone else took the phone. Kagondo is one man who could not play about with Master. -He knows it would be suicidal. You don't go talking about Jack, unless you want to buy a new set of teeth."
They fell silent when they heard him coming. This surprised me as well. Here I was, worrying myself almost to death that my husband could be in trouble with that man I talked to on the telephone, yet the husband I believed harmless was now being talked of as a terror.
I pretended not to have heard anything as I collected the cups and took them back to the kitchen. I wanted to talk to the "terror" before he left. I was afraid he would get himself into trouble if he went out in that mood and I wanted to stop him, if possible. There was no doubt in me now about him being a terror. No one who talked the way he did could be classified as being peaceful. But terror or not, I was not afraid of him. He was still my good old loving husband.
"Mother of the young one," one of them addressed me, "have this envelope. Whatever is inside is for our supper. When next we come, we will spend a night here." I hesitated, but before I could get the right words to reject the offer, he had literally put the envelope in my hands. I took it reluctantly.
"Jack," I called as they reached the door, "I want to have a word with you before you go."
"I am sorry, Milly, it's getting late, not now please."
"Please, Jack, please." He looked at me and forced a smile, then came back.
I held him round the waist and pressed him against me. I made sure he came into contact with my breasts. I knew
he was annoyed because somebody had offended me and he was now going out to seek revenge. But I was also determined to change his mind. If only he would listen to me! "Jack," I started, after kissing him lightly on the lips. "I was worried when you did not come home last night. I was worried when you failed to come in the morning; I was also worried when I called your office and no one seemed to know where you were. Please do not do anything to make me worried again."
"What is your worry this time, dear? I am with you." "But you are going out for a fight. I am worried about what is going to happen between you and the telephone man. You might get hurt, dear. Please don't go."
"Milly," he called. His face now was somewhere between a grin and a smile, "I rarely get hurt. Do I have any scars on me? But I at times hurt those who offend me. I hate anyone who takes me for granted."
"But dear, you must learn to forgive and forget. The telephone man did not know who he was talking to. Maybe he meant to be good to me."
"What is wrong, then, in letting him know who he was talking to? You are the only valuable thing in my life, Milly, and anyone playing about with you might as well be committing suicide. You know."
"Please, Jack, please. Learn to forgive and forget." "That is one mistake I'll never make." "Which one? To go out fighting? I am glad, Jack". He smiled back at me.
"No! Not that one. To forgive, and worst of all, to forget. That is the worst thing I can do in my life. But for your sake, I promise not to hurt him. We won't fight."
I cannot trust you, Jack and I am sorry to tell you this. You look like nothing in this world could stop you if you came face to face with that man."
"In that case, dear, I can't help it if you fail to trust me. How many times have I come to you limping?"
"How many times have I persuaded you not to go out?"
"Milly, when it comes to giving a question for an answer I am never amused. That won't get us anywhere."
"Jack…" I kissed him on the cheek before I continued, "do not leave me. I want you to stick around here until tomorrow. Please don't go."
The door opened and one of the visitors' face appeared. Seeing how we were engrossed in talk, he hid his face and called from behind the door.
"It is getting late, Master, and the Nyika is still here. What do you suggest?"
"I looked at Jack with pleading eyes. I tightened my hold on his waist and rested my head on his chest. Looking.at his face I saw him smile and I knew then that he would not go.
"Okay, boys. Let's meet tomorrow, but take care that you don't cross bridges before you reach them. The market is hot right now." He lifted me up and carried me over to the sofa.
"I hated doing things you don't like, Milly. I hate offending you. Please, I beg you not to be so strict in future. You might stop my heart from functioning and the result might not please you."
"I am sorry. I only felt you shouldn't go to town in that mood, you…"
"Forget about it dear. You have won, because you are nice to me."
"Thank you," I said and rested my head on his chest. His hands started their caressing work, and I knew that if I was receptive, we would sleep hungry. I jumped from his arms and made for the kitchen to clean the dishes before I prepared supper.
"Milly," Jack called me from the living room. It was heading to 7.30 p.m. and supper was almost ready. I stopped what I was doing and went out to attend him. It was rare for him to call me while I was in the kitchen. I had now known why he never cooked anything, other than a cup of tea, when he was staying alone. Jack didn't know much about cooking. His style of making tea was laughable; he didn't like it hot and so all he did was to heat water, pour in the milk and when it suited his liking, he mixed it with tea leaves and drank it that way. It was tasteless, but he liked it. Another reason was that he never gave himself enough time to sit and eat. It was as if eating was time-wasting. But by now I had made him get used to sitting down for meals and he was enjoying it.
"Hello, dear. What's up?" I asked when I got to him. I was surprised to see that he had put on his coat and shoes, which he had earlier on taken off.
"Have you changed your mind, dear? Are you going out, after all?" "Have you become a chatterbox, Milly? Who said I am going out?"
"A question for an answer. Have you forgotten what you just told me?" I reminded him.
"I am sorry, I do not have cigarettes. I want to go for some."
"I'll escort you, and then we'll come back and sit for supper; it is ready. Is that okay with you?"
"Not a bad idea, honey. I hope you'll say the same about sitting with me in a bar. I feel like taking a bottle of beer before anything else." He knew I wouldn't go in a bar and I knew this was a shake off.
"Why don't we take my small bag and fetch the beer? You can take it here."
"That would cost us a lot. If I sat alone here, I could easily drink two cases of beer without getting drunk.*'
"And in the bar?"
"Six bottles, at the most, and I would be through with it."
"And how many bottles do we have in one case, if I may ask?"
"Twenty five, fifty in two cases."
I burst out laughing. The difference was unthinkable and yet he looked serious!
"You know, Milly. we men prefer places filled with cacophony; discordant places if you know what I mean. The clattering of glasses as they fall from the tables and from the hands of drunkards; people screaming out at each other and at times fists flying and bottles thrown; calling the waiters by whistling and at times insulting and pushing them about as if we've married them. I assure you in a bar when one is on his sixth bottle he is drowning. See what I mean? Now make your choice."
From what you have just told me, dear, and I take you seriously, I'd rather have you drowned by the two cases in my presence than have you risk your head colliding with a flying bottle."
'But you seem to forget one very important thing, dear."
"And what is that?"
"Ninety-nine per cent of me has spent his life in such places, that is, long before we met." I knew when I was beaten.
"How long will six bottles take you?"
"Give each bottle ten minutes and an extra allowance of thirty minutes at the end."
"That makes it one and a half hours. I grant you two, at the most."
"Thank you. That's a deal. I'll avoid places where there are women, I hate them."
"That is your funeral. Now, can you please go, you are boring me."
"I was just about to tell you the same thing. What a bore!" He went out.
He knocked on the door as the 9.00 p.m. news had just started. I let him in, took his hand and led him to a seat. Not that he was staggering, but I had to show concern. I switched off the radio, but I remembered clearly that just before I did, I had caught a news headline: Five armed gangsters raided a Nakuru bank today morning… Such news never interested me, but for some reason, this particular piece registered in my mind…
We took our tea-break at 10.30 a.m. Most of our staff took the opportunity to look at the newspapers then. I joined my friends at a corner when they were reading the Daily Nation. I wondered what was so interesting in the news, because almost everyone was busy reading. I saw that they were reading about the same robbery that had been broadcast over the radio the previous night. Not to look out of place I joined in the meaningless fun. Some surprised me
when they expressed admiration for the robbers. " These
people tried. With that kind of money (Ksh. 215,000) the five can start a business and give up theft…" For something to do while we slowly took our tea, I too read the item. I got interested as I continued, but my insterest was different from that of the others: something was telling me I knew more about this than what I was reading. I studied the descriptions given by the eye-witnesses and slowly the picture came into focus: it fitted the five people I had served tea at home the previous night. Although it was almost incredible, I became more and more certain that this was a reality rather than a coincidence.
I took my tea in a hurry after the realization that my suspicion could be proven right. I felt certain that my friends' eyes were on my back, though when I turned to look at them I found them engaged in their own things. Still, I felt as if they knew what I really knew, as if they could sense I had seen the money being shared out and had got a share as well. I excused myself and left.
Back at my desk, my mind now focussed on what I had witnessed the previous night. Things I seemed to have ignored or dismissed in the past now started to come back to me in sharp perspective. It became clear to me now that I must have known what Jack was all along, but ignored it because I didn't want anything to destroy our relationship. The unquestioning acceptance that Jack worked at DT Dobie, for example, and the telephone number that could have been anywhere else but in an office, didn't surprise me now. I only felt hurt that he saw my innocent faith in him and deliberately led me on.
My mind went back to the day we had first met. I remembered the innocence On his face; his soft manner of speaking; the self confidence; patience, and best of all, his doubtless good advice. I found it hard to believe that he wasn't real. But hadn't the questions lingered in my subconscious all along? If it was true that Jack didn't work for DT Dobie, then where did those different cars he drove come from? He said they were company cars; which company? Then this telephone number I had been calling…there was always music in the background, at times quite close: sometimes there is so much noise that I have
to shout. And why did Jack always sound drunk when I talked to him on the phone? He even slipped once and told me that his office was a crazy place, when I mentioned the music.
Could he be working in a bar? Of all things I am sure Jack could not be a barman or waiter, cashier, or whatever other ranks there were in bars. So the only explanation there had to be was that he had given me the telephone number of the bar he frequented. But Jesus this could
not be true. If he doesn't have an office and probably isn't employed, what else could he be? He has money alright and yet he doesn't have the qualities of a businessman! And if he was a businessman, why had he never let me know?
Businessmen like to talk about their work, so why hadn't Jack told me about his? Or maybe he didn't trust me?
My thoughts took me back to the day I first entered his house and we had left the suitcase with my clothes in the car. When I reminded him of the suitcase, he had jumped out of bed and rushed to the window. At that time I had thought that he was worried that the suitcase might have been stolen, or the company car had been broken into. But later, it occurred to me that he had almost panicked. He had dashed out and sped off in the car and had come back within minutes. I remembered wondering how he had managed to reach town, hand over the car and come home within such a short time; it was as if he had driven only two streets away.
Back in the office, I took the newspaper again and read it carefully. The description given of the gangsters fitted the visitors I had served on the day of the bank robbery. I was now sure that they were the robbers. I had caught them sharing the money and they were frightened. I had walked in on something that was certainly not meant for my eyes.
I read on: armed with pistols and simis. Well, that object that had been hidden must have been one of the guns. There was no doubt about the whole thing now. If Jack wasn't working with DT Dobie, then he was a robber.
I put the newspaper aside and took the telephone directory. I wanted to make sure that I was not accusing him falsely. I looked for DT Dobie and found it. There was no number corresponding with the one he had given me. I then remembered the name he had mentioned to his friends when he said that the man had missed a game. He had called him the 'Kagondo. man'. I looked up 'Kagon-do' in the directory and was surprised to find the name Kagondo Bar, and the number was the same as the one he had given me!
The realization that the man I loved so much had lied to me shocked me. I loved him not for his money or the cars he drove, or even where he worked, but for himself. His simple self. I had felt right deep inside that he would mean a lot in my life. But I certainly was not thinking about sharing his criminal life. There was no doubt that what the Kagondo man had said was true. The only mistake he had made was to try to date me. I now understood why he had cautioned me against telling Jack what he had told me. Yet I had, ignorantly, put him in trouble. I pitied him, but there was nothing I could do about it now. After all, I concluded, he shouldn't have had such a loose tongue.
The knowledge of my husband's occupation had suddenly changed my life.
I stood up as if I had suddenly realized that I was sitting on acid. I found myself locking the drawers, taking my handbag and walking out of the office, without informing anyone. I came back to my senses when I came face
to face with the boss.
"Excuse me, sir. I was coming to your office. I have just received a message that I am required at home immediately. I … I … do not know what …"
"It is okay, Miriam, you can go and see what it is. Just call, if you need any help." The boss was white and very understanding. But I had lied to him, I was stammering because that was my first time to tell a lie. I felt guilty and annoyed with Jack. Had he told me the truth from the beginning this, I was sure, would not have happened and I would still have loved him.
I took a taxi and went straight home. I needed time to think and this called for privacy. Jack had made a liar of me, he had made me a party to his loathsome deeds. Yes, I was in trouble. I could not leave him and go back to mom. I still loved him. My love for him told me that he would need my help, or just my presence, badly and so the thought of leaving him was out of the question.
I thought I would attempt to persuade him to try and stop being what he already was: a violent robber. But before I talked things over with him, I decided I would play dumb for a while. I wanted to make sure whether I was still in love with him or not and whether I would go on loving him even if he changed for the worse. For who knew what lay ahead for me? He could change and become wild, spending nights out; he could also become violent, or other such evil. Could I go on living with him if he was all these on top of being a robber?
He was home when I arrived. He opened the curtains when the taxi stopped outside our home and I thought I saw him smile at me. He met me at the door. His welcome this day was somewhat unusual. He came to me with open arms and encircled me. He kissed me on the cheek, released me and took the jacket I was carrying. I, of course, forgot
all my prior thoughts and the only thing that mattered right then was to be in his arms. He carried me to the sofa, but I was already on him, giving him the hottest kiss he had ever known. We held each other, kissing deeply as if our lives depended on it.
'You know what makes you so nice?" he asked me when we got a break.
"I don't, tell me please, Jack."
"You come into my life just when I need you badly. You are always punctual in my life, always turning up on schedule."
"And what else? Tell me something else. Anything else to make me feel I am all yours."
"Yes, there is another very important thing which I think I have told you before. I mean…there is no need of repeating, is there?'
"Tell me again, even a hundred times. I'll want to hear it…"
"You came into my life when I needed you badly. God meant you to be a gift… His gift to me, a gift I'll never let go, and believe me, Milly, nothing will take you away from me, I won't allow it."
"I am overjoyed to hear that, Jack. You have never spoken such sweet words before. I don't know what I can say about it."
I had started stammering. In fact whenever I was face to face with this man I
never got words to express my real feelings. The things I had decided to tell him vanished. All I could see now was the man I had known when I was in school: the innocent Jack Zollo, who couldn't hurt even a fly. Right at that moment I didn't care what he was. Robber or no robber: a salesman or not; he was mine and the only one I would live to an old age with.