It had
been quite a long time since the two met. He had visited with his expectations
riding high. As he entered into his sleek black BMW 318i he could not help but
curse again and again. He held his car door open for a while, one leg inside
the car while his right leg still outside, he looked at the window on the third
floor with a scorn on his face. He snapped back to his senses when he realised
his 7000 shillings black Italian leather shoe was in a little poodle of dirty
water. He cursed some more and almost banged his car door before realising this
and smoothly shutting it as he sunk in his seat, adjusted the steering wheel,
put on some music, checked himself in the rear-view mirror and smoothly eased
his way onto the road and drove off. It had been a disappointing visit, but at
the moment he had more pressing matters to attend to. He lightly nodded his
head to Musa Juma’s music as thoughts of a car wash and cleaning his shoes or
maybe even getting a new pair took over. He stopped at the junction joining the
Thika Superhighway, looked at the man in the Toyota Vitz next to him and
disgustedly shook his head as he joined the highway and sped off towards the
city centre, the smooth modern road coupled with his perfectly maintained
engine making it more of a glide.
Back at
the third floor apartment, Jackie was left standing by the window cursing at
Tom inwardly, with some sense of dislike for herself too. When he drove off she
turned from the window and wiped tears from her eyes. It was a two bedroom
apartment with sky blue walls. She was in the room that served as her sitting
room. Two two-seater sofas with a small coffee table and two stools made up what
was her furniture. There was a 14 inch television set, an LG DVD player and a
Sayona sub-woofer system orderly placed on a T.V trolley. On the wall there was
nothing more than a wall clock, a calendar and a large picture of a white
palatial home with a well manicured lawn. On the picture it was encrypted, ‘A home is much more than the structure of
stone.’ Covering the red cement floor was a checked black and white plastic
carpet. The other room, the bedroom, had precisely that, a small 3.5 by 6ft
bed. An addition was a wooden rack for hanging clothes. Typical of Mathare, the
washroom facilities were shared among the residents of each floor. It was a
pathetic life by Tom’s standards and that is why she actually disliked herself
for she could not stop herself from feeling a little more love for him due to
the fact that he had actually sacrificed his time and pride and visited her in
these conditions. There was a knock on the door and she dried her tears,
adjusted her kanga and went to answer it, “Mama Muthoni no, that is not the
President’s son…” It was her nosy neighbour who was definitely there to inquire
about the man in the ‘big’ car.
The two
were the conclusive proof of Karl Marx’s analysis of the society. The best
example of how in Kenya there is a clear divide in social class. Tom was a
high-ender, the have, belonging to the rich, the bourgeoisie. Jackie was a
complete contrast, born and brought up on the wrong side of the economic line,
the have-not, a true epitome of Marx’s proletariats. Her life story was short
and simple. She was born to struggling parents in Mathare, had her not so
promising education disrupted in her second year of high school because after
the death of her father, she had to join her mother in breadwinning for her five
younger siblings. She had tried her hands at everything, from her mother’s
vegetable business to tailoring apprenticeship, to a children day care
attendant, to what seemingly was the better of them all, hairdressing. It was
her hair salon exploits that exposed her and enabled her to atleast move out of
her mother’s house into her own. However, the two houses were not more than
five hundred meters away from each other. At 22 years of age, she had been
through too much life hurdles to ever be surprised. She had not known love for
anything or anyone but her family, she did not know how to handle what she was
feeling at the moment.
Tom was a
young promising lawyer, born to a banker mother and his father was a long
serving Court of Appeal justice. The hardest of challenges he had faced in life
might as well have been when he had to choose whether to go for a school trip
to Egypt with his classmates or join his parents on vacation in London. He was
12 years old, the decision was based on the Pharaoh stories he had read earlier
in his life. He attended prestigious private schools right from kindergarten to
high school. The only time he had been in a public institution was during his
law school days at the University of Nairobi, because his father, an alma mater,
like other pioneer legal brains in the country with all due naivety thought the
best legal minds only came from that institution. It would be unfair to link
his achievements to his parents’ connections only for Tom was also very bright,
he had always been a performer. One of his driving factors was that as much as
he had no problem spending and enjoying the fruits of his parents’ success, he
also did not want to be thought unable to fend for himself. As much as he
seemed to always have his way due to the money and the influence from his
parents, he was a smart smooth talker who could charm his way to where his hard
work and papers could not.
These two
had met in circumstances very unlikely. Who would have thought their two
separate worlds could be brought together. They had grown to love each other
much more than any of them actually expected, each breathing a breath of fresh
air in the other’s life. The fact that this new found comfort and love that
they shared was under threat was scary to them. None of them knew how to handle
the threat and this lead to every attempt towards tackling the problem end up
in arguments, just like it had earlier happened. Jackie felt undermined and
construed Tom’s gestures as fuelled by sympathy for her background and current
situation. On the other hand Tom felt like his genuine offers for assistance
were misunderstood to mean that he was trying to buy his way out of every fix.
These two were both victims of their backgrounds and societal placement, vices
that now challenged what had managed to breach all odds and brought them
together…love.
To be continued…
reminds me of days in high school i would go without sleep just to unravel the mystery in a Danielle Steele novel.
ReplyDeleteNice one!
Glad it gives you literally delight. thank you
ReplyDeletePure talent there... Can't wait for the next episode :-)
ReplyDeleteehehehhe nys bro... Ujaluo itakuua...hehehhe
ReplyDelete