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Two knives one night

It was a Sunday- the day when all family members always remained home; away from the other errands of the family that scattered them to different destinations of garden, grazing fields, and for the father, to the usual local drinking area in the afternoons. Mayi this day had the same activities of a girl of her age.  In her 16th year, whose birthday she had just celebrated three weeks back, the girl always knew what to do every morning, and being a Sunday, breakfast was to be taken earlier than any other day.  So, even if she was not the one on duty for preparing breakfast, Mayi could not remain in bed beyond 7am.

Singing was an enjoyment to the 16-year-old Mayi. On Sundays, Mayi had a tendence of singing praise songs. No one knew how she organized and kept herself to this schedule. She never sang another song on Sunday. It always captivated every living thing in the home. There always appeared unusual calmness and joy whenever she raised her voice and sang.

That Sunday, Mayi had picked a song that all members liked most- Gwe weka (you alone), but no one joined her like it had always been. Everybody was stack to their tasks. That did not stop her. She went on telling Jesus how he alone was Lord in the song. She had always told her family members how life was the most important thing. Covid 19 had killed many. Many had lost businesses and loved ones, but they were still alive. Even what worried her mother most- schools closure was just a matter of time. Soon or later, she would be back to school and study well. She would continue working for her best position among girls in Situmi Primary school. She would do Primary seven and proceed to secondary and to university. She was determination itself. The family seemed not to have understood that. They were so pathetic. She would surprise them in their own pessimism. She swore that morning as she went about her morning tasks.

That memory about her schooling sprang a new feeling in her. She did not only sing. She danced and jumped and sang louder that she did not realise she had completed the task of sweeping the compound so early. As she moved to help her mother wash the young bamboo shoots meant for that day’s sauce, her voice was still high- gwe weka Yesu, gwe weka, gwe weka, Yesu gwe weka. She stopped suddenly. She thought she had seen her mother wipe away tears from her eyes. Mayi could not understand what was happening. Her young brother was only 15, but she wondered why he too was so somber. He could not take on the joy of a child on a day like Sunday? Why could everybody be so serious like this? She tried to search the song on her lips again in vain. The song had also got somber. Something was not right. She decided to ask her mother what was wrong, but before Khalayi, her mother would reply, they heard a voice at the front of the main building. She was running to see the visitor when she heard her father speak from the same direction, “Karibu mzee.”

So, the Sunday was starting with visitors. A blessing from God, she thought. She remembered that on such days, she could be at church, not welcoming visitors here at home, but covid19 had left everything closed including worship centers.

Having made the usual dramatic circle of kneeling and greeting the first three male and one female visitors, Mayi encountered the devil for the first time; the last visitor needed more than simply kneeling and greeting in a soft voice, she thought to herself. He had held and seemingly innocently, continued talking to the elders of the home while Mayi’s small hand still played captive in his gigantic palms. Mayi could not pull her hand as it would traditionally be disrespect. She wondered why people would even be forcing others to shake hands yet the president and WHO had been clear about shaking hands during this time of the pandemic. Since she did not want to sound offensive, she thought she would pretend to be enjoying the conversation among the elders. She took the opportunity to look clearly the man in the face. Mayi thought the visitor, who she heard one of the other visitors refer to as Wabilyo, was her father’s exact age and she would bet on that. His teeth had some stains- the ones that are always expected of smokers and drunkards. Wabilyo had very big hands and his fingers made a complete circle around Mayi’s tinny hand.

By the time Wabilyo concentrated back to Mayi, she was irritated. She wondered why her father was so comfortable as such was taking place. Wabilyo looked straight in Mayi’s eyes and told her, “I knew you would be such beautiful and your father wouldn’t disappoint me.” She was even more confused that she wanted to ask what he meant, but her mother interrupted, asking Mayi to go with her back to the kitchen and have something for the visitors.

Wabilyo’s words kept ringing in Mayi’s mind as she prepared the meal. She was not the one who served. She could not take on another humiliation. She accepted to be rebellious only once. Her mother and brother, Masayi did the work of serving till the end. But would the end be any better? The devil was real and was coming back to her in another form. Mayi’s mother called. This time asking her to bath and dress up. Every time such a statement was heard so emphatic like that day, they were either going to church or it was Christmas day. Some clothes were only for days such as 25th December of every year. What was happening was not clear to her, but she never wanted to disappoint her mother. Kalayi herself looked so weary that day and so needed an obedient child. In 30 minutes’ time, she was ready and seated among the visitors and her parents. Mayi’s father was the first to speak from the time she entered the room. His voice when empathizing something was always scary just as it was that time.

“Mayi, you must be knowing what your name means.” Wakooli started. Mayi wondered what story her father was about to tell them that links to the meaning of her name.

“Mother. Yes, that is the meaning of your name.” He continued.

“I had always wanted you to study and become a modern mayi. Mmm…that is not possible now. We doo know even when schools wulu open again.” He had just remembered that his daughter knew English and so he decided to switch to some English.

By this time, Mayi was uneasy. Kakayi had both her hands around her chin as though saying the meaning of her daughter’s name was a curse. Wabilyo’s smiles were so devilish, but he enjoyed smiling. The rest of the visitors were so calm and looked so expectant like a child waiting for Christmas day.

Wakooli continued, “At the moment, I want a future that is better for you. Many girls have got to marriage on their own because school is no more. You remember Karsh, Deborah and Monica. They were your friends.” He paused as if to ensure Mayi recalled all these friends of hers. Yes, she did remember that they were all married. They were all 14, 13 and 15 respectively; they were in the same primary 7 class, but she knew they were not her. She was waiting for schools to resume and go back. That explained why she always read books as though she had an exam the following morning. So, what was the problem. Her heart was filled with bitterness. The discussion was fishy.

 

Her father continued, “You may have known or met Mr Wabilyo here. He is your classmate’s father- Joseph. Right?” Mayi affirmed with a simple nodding of the head upon which her father continued in a much serious speed. “He is going with you. We cannot continue to waste time waiting for schools to open. You have grown. You are now 16. Look at your chest. It is not like that of a child. It is now a well-endowed chest with all the features of a woman. I hope you get me. You are Mayi- mother. Go.. go and make me a grandfather.”

Mayi was choking by this time. She had always heard stories of girls who dropped out of school as a result of their parents, but she knew her parents could never do such to her. She had had her classmates drop out, she had always advised them and many had gone back. Her own parents had always called her canceller. She was great at advising young ones. She would change the world in future. And yet that day. That Sunday, that hour was her time. She knew she had no control over her father’s decision, but she could not accept the offer yet. She would resist.

“Mother, why? Dady, what have I done? What is it that I have done? What crime, dad what crime?” Mayi lamented. She knew this was not a dream. It was real. She said her time was not yet and so she would go to the organizations that fight for children’s rights at the district. That was when the lion in her father came out.

“What? You will go and report your father for making a future for you? You will put your father in prison and then cook food and take it there, there in prison for him to eat. You, Mayi would go and tell the Human rights committee that I Wakooli told you to go for the future that is brighter. I thought you knew Mr Wabilyo. One of the richest men in Buketera village; a man who would give you the best. Mayi….”

He was interrupted by Mr Wabilyo, “Don’t lament my friend. I love Mayi. You have decided. Are you going to bargain with her over that? The woman who has been handling those crimes was transferred to Mbale district a month ago. I trust the one who replaced her. Let her go and report.” Wabilyo’s statement pushed Mayi more miles deeper into the ditch she had already fallen into. Her mother too seemed to follow her helplessly.

It was not long and Mayi had to go with Wabilyo and the rest of the visitors. She knew what she would do. She would not give up. She knew well imprisoning her father was a curse, but she would not give up. She would make a journey to the district the following day. A Monday is good for people who need help form government offices. That day would be judgment day.

She didn’t sleep the whole night. Wabilyo too did not disturb the new wife. A wife or a granddaughter? He spent the night at the third wife’s place. He would give her two days to grow and then would organize a party to welcome her officially as her fourth wife. Mayi would have been the youngest yet the rest of the three were got at an earlier age than that of Mayi. That night Mayi spent it exploring ‘her’ house. One bedroom and a siting room. Two holes that explained the age of the iron sheets of the house were typically located in the roof of the bedroom. She was sure they were the passage for leaks once it rained.

Monday came and Mayi had gone to the district. Ushered into the office of the honorable responsible for fighting for children’s rights. She had sat for 6 hours when the secretary came and told her the honorable would not be coming for two weeks. She had just called in at the office and so all appointments should be postponed. The secretary looked miserable and piteous as she conveyed the message to Mayi. That was suggestive.  The secretary had met the Honourable and explained the matter to her. The honourable on the other hand had examined the matter and seen that she did not see how she benefited from the case. She had other important matters where a wife wanted to separate with her husband and have the possessions shared. There she was assured of some cash. This Mayi’s business was a dead business. Mayi knew the ball game had changed in favour of Wabilyo. She had walked ‘home’ a bird with broken wings, but knew she would still not give up. She alone knew what next, but while at home, she looked at the rest of the wives of Wabilyo; they had been her agreements at the time they joined marriage. She knew what she was going to do. She would accept her fate. She would give in. She could not manage it any more.

That too seemed to had been the same feeling with Wabilyo. He had been determined to face his new wife that third day and be a man. He had paid everything to the family, and they were expecting more other from him. His was not a business of losses.

So, after his usual activity of drinking, he made for home. On his way, he fell so hard as he tried to dodge a stump of formerly an avocado tree. That had never happened to him. He wondered if he had taken in too much that day. As if in response to his question, he shouted, “I am not drunk. She will tell me today.”

The fooling day was Thursday. All Wabilyo’s family members would be in the garden by 7:00 am. They always dug as a family and all knew well what activity was to be done a day before. The rest of the family waited for the head in vain. The eldest wife advised the second and third to be calm. If he had spent the night with the newest wife, that is possibly normal. He would just come to prune the matooke and cut some firewood. Before she could finish her conciliation, an owl came and perched on the tree just in front of them. It did not take long before it hooted severally. All efforts to send it away by throwing stones at it were to no avail. It was a neighbour who came with a panga, a stump of live fire and performed the usual traditions of throwing the fire at the owl as one spoke cursing words that managed the situation.

That did not leave the family the same. Some coldness took them captive. Speeches were less henceforth. It was the oldest child of Wabilyo, also the classmate of Mayi that broke the silence when he asked his mothers if it was true that owls were pets in some countries. Before an answer came, a man none of them knew came panting.

“Stop digging. Come home. There.. there is trouble. Wabilyo is dead.” Neighbors had forced the door open after asking the children at home if their father had gone to the garden and the answer was negative. “Dad did not go. He is still sleeping. We are calling him to pick for us these mangoes but he is not responding.” The children had explained anxiously pointing at the mangoes.

The neighbours knew he would not have taken the new wife to the garden as yet. And Wabulyo was not such a lazy bone. He could not sleep up to 10 o’clock. The door was surely locked form inside. They agreed to break it not only to find out about him but also about the wife. Why could she not open the door? Upon entering, they had been welcomed by blood that had oozed from the bedroom. Wabilyo was on the bed. A knife half into his chest and a half outside as though the stabber wanted to be merciful to whoever would want to pull it out not to suffer. He was lifeless. Mayi was not seen anywhere. The mob was angry and were just moving to Wakooli’s home when a woman screamed, “She is there. Just look. That seems to be hair over there. The other side of the bed”

Mayi’s was a different bit. She had eaten her piece while sitting and leaning against the bed. Both her hands held a knife which was three quarters into her left breast. She too, was luckily lifeless.