Mulama Series- PART I
I’m seated in Java, at the Kisumu International Airport, slowly sipping this hot cup of cappuccino; staring at the sun sinking in the horizon.
Mulama is coming to pick me up; in a while.
I can picture his face; dark-brown complexion and rough. I can see the cheek bones well-proportioned right below the gorgeous brown eyes with beautiful full black lashes. I can see his clear shaven head and a beautiful low cut beard with a mustache just below the Roman nose. Since it is a week day and he told me he was wrapping things up in the hospital, I can imagine him arriving in a well-tailored Hugo Boss suit on his athletic body standing at six feet. Most likely the coat will be off and the tie too.
The yellow sun is now reddening up, down the airport horizon, giving my eyes a blinding effect, from my position at the coffee shop with overlooking glass walls and large windows. There’s low activity at the airport with low human traffic. It’s been about 10 minutes since I landed and the first thing I did was take off my black leather jacket. Kisumu is freaking hot, who wouldn’t?
“Pam, I’ve arrived in Kisumu.” I say to my girlfriend once the phone is answered.
“Wow! That’s nice Nafula.”
“I’m excited, but kind of nervous. What if I can’t recognize him? You know... What if he’s put on kilos of flesh with a big round potbelly?”
“Nafula, you’ll love him anyway!”
I laugh out loudly, attracting stares from other clientele in the coffee shop, to which Pam roars on the other end of the line, in with an even heartier laughter, tears now exiting from the corners of my eyes, quickly cascading down my cheeks.
“Anyway I want you to keep me company until he arrives. Girl I need you, what would I do without you? Give me survival tips for the weekend.”
“Yeah right. What would you do? That’s why I’m here hun. Look, don’t blow this one off this time round.”
“What do you mean ‘don’t blow this one’?”
“You heard me clearly. Be nice. I’m sure Mulama will take you out to nice places, try and enjoy yourself. Don’t be a party pooper, please. Make him feel special, because he is to you anyway. We all know that. Give him affection and….” Pause, “and be honest with him. I think this is your one true chance to straighten it out with him. Leave him with absolutely no doubts. Please! Please! Please!”
I interject her as the ‘pleases’ become way too many. “Ok, I’ll deal with that. Anyway, places! Places! Places! You know Kisumu better than me, where should we go?”
“At the Lake Victoria beach, game parks or just in a quiet hotel with a pool. Mulama has class, I suggest you sit back and wait for him to spoil you. You may even take an out of town weekend you know.” She pauses a little, “I’m optimistic about you guys. You are the only hope I have of ever finding true love...” She pauses a little bit, “I hope you carried those lingeries you send me via Whatsapp.”
“You can bet on that.”
“Good girl. Wear one tonight. The red one. Have fun. And yes, once you get to Meru on Tuesday, I’d like to hear all about it. Details. Details. Details.”
The evening darkness is slowly dethroning the light of day. We are cruising along the Kisumu-Busia Highway towards the city.
The palm trees on each side of the highway sway from side to side; giving in to the evening breeze. The ground underneath is this extensive greening fields proceeding to until ‘god knows where’. I look on, at the beautiful landscape, admiring it and wishing every place was as beautiful as this. It is a sight to behold.
My eyes are glued to the window, part of me still in disbelief. I turn to Mulama for a bit, then back outside. Mulama is on the wheel of this posh air-conditioned Toyota Prado VX while I am on the passenger seat.
I want to save the best for last. All the words I have in me, all the speeches and conversations I’ve been rehearsing and tears and laughter that may come about. All that can wait. This moment, the blissful silence is too good to waste it on premature talks. To my advantage, he equally is quiet. During the times I gaze outside, I catch him at the corner of my eye throwing me a glimpse, smiling, in the exact same manner he used to look at me before.
It all looks like a fantasy, except that it’s not; we both have been planning and looking forward to this day for months.
_____________
The push and pulls on who would go where had been a subject of contention, until I gave in. Several hypotheses had been fronted until they ensued in me having to go to Kisumu. One option would have been to meet in Nairobi, another one would have been for him to have him come to Meru or for me to go to Kisumu.
So yes, I agreed, I would be the one to go to Kisumu, or wherever he would be. I couldn’t wait. But now here I was.
In his car all the way to the hotel, sounds of Pavarotti’s violin and voice were in a low volume the car’s radio.
Minutes later, we arrived at the Imperial Hotel; to which we retreated to the bar. The interior of the bar was well lit; not so dim and not so bright either. We took the corner seats and sank into them; beautiful brown leather seats with our backs facing the super large grand glass windows overlooking the well-manicured green gardens outside ―gardens well lit with the hotel’s floodlights. We ordered a bottle of red wine as we ran our fingers through the menu.
The night was young.
We sat there catching up on how the last two years had been; both of us seemingly cautious on when or how to break the silence that was getting way too comfortable.
Mulama looked at his phone with a tinge of nervousness before deciding to finally switch it off.
“I can’t believe you would do this for me” he finally said after the first sip; pausing a little to breathe and appreciate the wine, “cheers Nafula!”
“Cheers too!” then we both went quiet.
“What do you mean though?” I continued.
“Come all this way for me. I’m still in a state of disbelief,” he said before switching his phone altogether and placing it on the ottoman. I felt the same way; disbelief, but pure bliss nonetheless.
He went on and on about the coward he’d been in the past, and onto the fact that he was now ready to straighten out things and correct his mistakes if I would allow him. I looked at him, admiring him. He had not changed a single bit. His voice was still the same deep voice that used to whisper sweet nothings to me years ago. Same same. He had morphed into an even more desirable man in his mid-thirties, more mature and our conversations flowed seamlessly. Time seemed to be still. The warm Kisumu weather felt just right for my caramel brown sleeveless knee length silk dress and black high heels.
Was this why we had been separated by fate before? So that we could morph separately, into the two mature people seated across each other on the table in this fine hotel? Was this the reason we just couldn’t in the past? Just so we could get here? I could not wait for the unfolding of our love story this time round.
Shortly after, a petite honey-fair complexion walked in. her hair was pushed and tied at the back in a tight note and on her, was a long flowing blue dress. The place was sparsely populated with probably three or four other tables occupied. The closer she came, the more apparent her belly became. I was the one looking at her come because Mulama besides being shortsighted, whose spectacles do little to rectify the effect, had his right side towards the entrance.
Before I knew it, she screamed “Mulama!” put her left hand on his head, turned it towards her and gave him a slap.
“I knew you were meeting up with this slut.” She went on, pointing her fingers at me. “She is the one you’ve been cheating on me with, am I right?”
I looked on, still seated, perplexed. Part of me completely in disbelief as to what was happening and why some woman I did not know was calling me ‘this slut’. The both of them argued back and forth with the woman claiming that she had followed him all the way from the hospital to the airport and now to the hotel. She again and again threatened to kill herself if he was to ever leave her, just like she had done last year.
But who was she; one of Mulama’s jilted lovers? How come a woman I did not know at all was calling me ‘this slut’? My adrenaline could not just sit pretty after having been completely stirred. I rose from the seat.
Looking at Mulama directly I commanded, “Mulama, do you care to explain what’s going on?”
“You husband snatcher!” she interjected landing a slap on my left cheek. I slapped her right back leading her to start shaking me up rigorously.
“Evelyn, stop!” Mulama screamed. She couldn’t. There was no way she could stop. It felt like her temper was on steroids. She attacked me viciously like a maniac, pulling my dreadlocks and shaking me and moaning in anger calling me a bitch and husband snatcher over and over again.
A small crowd of onlookers was already in place, not caring to separate us as if they were used to these kinds of spectacles every day.
She was now breathing more intensely now, strangling me as she cursed. All my efforts to disentangle from her were now futile; all I could do was scream for her to leave me alone.
I don’t know how long the fight went on; maybe two minutes, maybe five or even ten. Whatever! But it felt like an eternity.
Then suddenly the floor below us became wet. At what point I couldn’t tell. She screamed, “The baby was coming”.
Mulama scooped her in his athletic arms as he screamed to the waiters and the other onlookers to get out of the way.
I followed in equal pace; my heels and handbag in my hands; wanting to disappear. Trust me. I wanted to be out of there, gone! Phweeew! I picked my bag from the VX. And I did, just as he placed the now almost passing out pregnant woman or Evelyn or whatever on the back seat.
“Nafula I can explain this! This is a complete misunderstanding, believe me. Please, I can explain everything.” He said, voice shaking and all, as I looked on, saying nothing.
To be continued......
Catherine Amayi is a Scientist, an author and fiction Writer
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The above piece is entirely a work of fiction. the names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are a work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.