words let to fly

[appeared in the malawi news of 11 january, 2014 entitled 'horror' and the weekend nation of 18 january. 2014] 

They eyed each other like offended Cobras. Their breathing was hard, deep and loud. The clash over a piece of land which Andisen had quickened to purchase fully knowing Asilo was about to buy was not the first one. They had clashed many times before, in which Asilo had mostly played second fiddle. They had clashed over a position in the ruling party, which Andisen shrewdly got at the expense of Asilo. They had even clashed over prostitutes. But all in all they had maintained mutual friendliness, although they were not friends, as all gentlemen do. But this time Asilo had enough. This day’s exchange was brutal but brief. And Asilo was not compromising.

“I’ll deal with you. I’ll hit you where it’ll pain the most!” he out of sorts threatened before the ears of people before furiously driving away.  

**********

“You whore!” he screamed at her. She stood shivering at the other end of the bed.

“You cheat!” he yelled again and slammed the bedroom door and trudged outside. The door crashed loudly against the doorpost. He marched across a rain covered car park, almost slipping.

He never minded. With consuming pain eating his everything, all he wanted was to get away from her, to avoid something worse happening. He reached his car, opened the door, climbed inside and sat down with a thud. Later for the second time that day Asilo was furiously driving away again. He saw her standing in the doorway. He wound down the window and scowled at her through a kaleidoscope of tears; tears of fury that had started welling in his eyes. He pressed hard on the accelerator. Tyres screeched as the car wormed through the muddy road outside his compound.

Having been outwitted by Andisen this was not the thing Asilo would wish to welcome him home. He stopped after some distance, pulled up the brake and left the car idling. He realized he was shaking. He gawked blankly up the road, tears still framing his eyes and continued rolling in jerks down his cheeks, carrying their saltiness to his mouth.

‘Love, please make it quick. Can’t wait to have you again in my arms’.

A new wave of tears came and he shuddered as he sniffed, silently as the text message repeated in his mind. He had not suspected she was having an affair. The signs, he had read or heard, were there though; late nights at work, frequently showering as soon as she got home, being defensive about disclosing information she used to give without hesitation, suddenly, becoming more interested in his schedules. He had chosen to ignore them. Why not? After all her lies were convincing.

When he had just entered their bedroom he heard her phone beep with a text message while she was in the shower. He had picked it up to check without even thinking about it, expecting it to be just one of those usual messages, especially from her female workmates. After all she had told him she would go to a female get-together at work when he was leaving the house some twenty minutes ago, before the clash with Andisen forced him home earlier. But the message was from Lino, his best friend. What would he want? He read it. Alas! The love message had obscenely screamed at him.

He stared with some focus now. He watched the outside that had started to drizzle; soft drops slowly dropping down, each resting among their sisters to be lost in the vastness of mud that surrounded him.

He wiped his face with a tissue as he tried to fix it as he studied himself in the mirror. He mopped up the leftovers of his tears. He was pleased he had controlled the devil in him and that he had driven away from his cheating wife. Otherwise, heaven only knows! He was sure of that. Moments later he was driving again.

It was well at nightfall when he drove back and reached the busy junction of the boulevard to Manase Township, his neighborhood, a locality almost one kilometer away. His heart skipped as thoughts about his wife came rushing back into his mind. He found losing focus. He suddenly stopped the car, sighing heavily. It would be a protracted battle before he was back to his normal self. He was so engrossed that he did not notice the young man, bag in hand, who had friendlily waved him down and had assumed he had stopped for him. He knocked on the passenger window.

The knock startled Asilo. His foot, already coasting over the accelerator, jammed it down hard in reaction. The car violently jerked forward. The young man had been leaning in toward the window and the abrupt movement caused him to ram the wing mirror. He fell heavily, his head smashing a stone. He was dead before his back fell out from his hand.

Asilo in horror watched Mahamudu hit the ground. He was Andisen’s only child, an undergraduate, presumably on holiday. In no time people had gathered, one of them Andisen. Witnesses tried to speak at once with everything boiling down to Asilo had deliberately knocked Mahamudu down as a way of hitting Andisen where it would pain him the most as he threatened hours ago. Asilo tried to explain but a stone smashing his car made him choke on his words.

the hit man

Mahamudu marched towards Spot 7 bar in the partially cloudy full moon night. He avoided shouting drunkards guzzling words from their ‘drinkitionary’. They ignored him, and, if any noticed his presence, soon forgot about it. Suddenly, a cloudburst began. First, heavy winds that turned the patchily cloudy sky gloomy and sullen, then firing tears followed.

“Damn,” Mahamudu bitterly cursed under his breath, as he scattered for shelter.

He did not want even the slightest disturbance. He desperately wanted to do the assignment the soonest. He looked a financial crisis right in the face. Many folks had perforated his field. Just two years ago Mahamudu swam in well-paying assignments. The gunning down of the Inspector General three years ago, the termination of the Chief of the Anti-Corruption Commission two years before, plus many disappearances, all was his handiwork. But not now! Even his usual clients could afford to leave him aside in the shooting of the budget controller that year. 

Abruptly, the rains stopped, their strength exhausted. Mahamudu rejoiced and stepped out. But it was too early. He heard whirling thundery arms of drops, fully roaring in Nkhwangwazazizila hill 15 kilometers away; and they were screaming by the time they besieged the area. The howling heavy drops tumbled in sheets; mass after mass trooping. But swearwords about to fly out got massacred in his throat. His attentive eyes spotted Asilo, his target, retreating into Spot 7. 

Mahamudu was surprised. He was told Asilo was home. His mind warned him to be careful. Then the beast crawled back, shaking its wet fists as it died down. And out of nowhere the skies cleared and the moon immensely smiled down. Mahamudu lurked in the shadows, waiting for his target. 

He ran through his plan, engraved in his head, making quick important modifications and ironed out possible problems. He had planned to execute his mission in the target’s house. Asilo lived alone in a detached house, which reduced the prospect of getting noticed. He decided to keep it that way for the time being; at least for some minutes. But plan B was not ruled out. Asilo could decide to sleep out or might not leave the place altogether, or might try to escape. Sometimes targets did things out of their schedule the day they were to be eliminated. Possibly it was their senses trying to warn them with a fading alarm system. 

Twenty minutes later a relieved Mahamudu tactically followed his prey that was leaving the bar alone. He sized him up. Asilo was tall, slim, and attractive. He radiated confidence, his strides long and even, his head held high. He totaled up to a complete athlete he was. He showed the new real undisputed athlete in the country he was, who took everyone by storming surprise. Within the shortest period Asilo had won many trophies and accolades. Mahamudu did not care about Asilo’s looks or accolades. He had done his many assignments without the slightest feeling about his targets; at times getting rid of people who seemed harmless but marked for death by his bosses for esoteric reasons, or for reasons he did not know altogether. However, that day he was privileged to know that Asilo’s exploits had sent the marauding gamblers scrambling for his services. Asilo had refused. The gambling generals were unpleased. They marked him for death! 

Mahamudu quickened his steps as Asilo neared some Mango trees. He reached the shadows of the trees but Asilo was nowhere nearby, but meters away, tearing away. Mahamudu shivered. It was now time for plan B as the case of facing a set-up hit his mind more strongly. His eyes quickly combed his surroundings. Satisfied of his safety he started to sprint, drawing out his pistol.

Bang! The gun fired leaving a drumming noise in Asilo’s ears. His body rocked forward. He heard the faint noise of a gun go off again. Under intense pressure to impress he ignored it. He ran even harder to try and put more distance. He heard the thumping noise of his legs. He wondered if any ground was being gained on him. He heard people screaming and saw them pointing behind him. Were they telling him to go faster? It could be, and he did just that. His chest burned. But he could see the salvation up ahead. He knew it was now or never. With his last scraps of energy he sprinted and crushed across the finish line of the national 100-meters championship. Only then Asilo realized he had run on a false start. He collapsed to the ground, his mind in turmoil.  

******

His confused mind struggled to focus. He painfully thought of all he had struggled to build. He regretted accepting to work for the people three weeks ago. He still felt raw pain where the stick had smashed him in the shadows of the Mango trees as he chased Asilo his bet already on a lucrative sponsorship deal with the gamblers. And upon his capture he was plainly told he was in for terminating a brother of one of the gambling Mafias.

But the radio broadcast from one of his guards made him smile a bit. For minutes, or hours, or even days the gamblers attention would be on Asilo who had made their monies go down the drain.

the naughty smile

[appeared in the weekend nation of 28 december, 2013]

Andisen hurried like a man possessed to the outskirts of the Boma. The path was rutted and dusty but all he noticed was smoothness on a very beautiful evening; the splendor in everything he saw. With particular interest he watched jovial twittering birds hopping grandly in swaying hanging tropical foliage. 

He almost ran now. The birds reminded him of similar past lovely evenings of his relationship with Beatrice, his wife. Her head romantically resting on his lap and with the Tropics birds chirping like, they would romantically watch the charming Shire River gigantically meandering; its waters dazzlingly sparkling like pieces of diamond in late evening fiestas of the pinked ball of the Sun as it slowly and dramatically sank beyond distant hazy hills.

                                                                                             

“What a time that was?” Andisen warmly reflected.      

   

He longingly jogged now. He smiled handsomely that he was running. It had been long since he had jogged with love passion overflowing. With overwhelming desire he used to exemplarily rush home to adore Beatrice and make her feel loved. Andisen even used to assist in taking care of the kids and help in household chores in those days.  

Anger started to develop at the thought that such lovingly moments were dead and buried for reasons he failed to trace. He squarely blamed everything on Beatrice though for losing her appeal.

“You aren’t serious; are you?” Andisen recalled Asilo, his best friend, taking him to task over his reason for leaving his bedroom cold.       

“Even you prejudicially think this isn’t reason enough?”   

                              

“What ‘reason enough’…?” Asilo laughed.        

                                             

“That Beatrice is no longer appealing and that she’s driving me away from home,” Andisen had irritably snapped before storming away.

And away to the outskirts Andisen hurried on, fighting heaven and earth that the building anger building should not spoil his fabulous evening.

“She had her time,” he retaliated.

The time now belonged to Linda, Beatrice’s best friend. Andisen even recalled how Asilo was all over him when he knew his intentions of going for Linda.

“Andisen you’re sick. You seriously need Divine intervention.”

“Gosh, there you go again,” Andisen had barked. “Can’t you for once understand that the situation is beyond redemption? Can’t you realize that I no longer see a stunning face that glowed with salmon-colored effulgence, and a body, captivating? Can’t you see Beatrice is dead ember who has turned my home stone-cold? Can’t you…?”

“Go and rediscover it because for me you’re the one who has lost it.” 

Go to hell with your theory of rediscovery. Andisen almost shouted. If discoveries are to be on things already discovered there would be confusion in this world. Volumes of history would collapse. The Richard Rickie’s and the Amerigo Vespucci’s of this world would shrink to nothing. I’ve already discovered everything there is to be discovered in Beatrice. Nothing, believe me, nothing remains and I’m never going back. He shrugged before walking away.

*******         

                                                

“I told you I can’t do that to Beatrice and my husband. I just can’t. I also told you it’s your mind just playing tricks with you. Beatrice hasn’t changed.” Linda suggested. She had been rebuffing Andisen’s desperate advances for over three weeks now. This day, however, Linda’s voice betrayed a desire of acceptance. Andisen pressed on:

                                                                                                                  

“I know my mind isn’t playing tricks now, but played me years ago.”

“Meaning…?”

“It tricked me into seeing non-existing beauty.”

“How do you know it isn’t tricking you now?”

“I feel it in my veins.”

“Okay, if you insist.” Linda said, smiling mischievously, moving away before thrilled Andisen could vomit a word.   

                                            

*******       

                                                                                   

Andisen continued to hurry towards the bushes of the Boma’s outskirts where he had agreed to meet Linda, feeling transformed; his libido totally on fire again. He felt the air warm and succulent, and for the first time in years, he romantically noticed fluffy clouds floating high in the bright blue evening sky, and the evening sunshine glittering off houses in the distance. 

Darkness ruled when he finally reached the rendezvous. His heart cruised now, subdued with joy. He quickly perused his vicinity and his lusting eyes spotted her standing like a sacrificial lamb at the exact spot he told her to be. She even wore a wrapper, a top and a headscarf as he had instructed her. What if coincidentally another woman stood on the spot?

What an attractive body she has. Andisen lustily thought, swallowing hard with lust. Zero thought on everything but her, he had lunged forward and went into instant action, his hands allover her body. He felt on his lower section a crushing appreciating swelling.

“Oh, what a sweet body you have,” Andisen moaned: “I never knew juicy and sumptuous women still existed. This is real hot stuff, not the creature occupying my bed. Thank you, Linda, for making me a man again.”

Suddenly, Andisen felt something like a hammer had hit him at the back of his head. He neared collapsed. His head spun. His heart raced. Embarrassment and pain overcame him. He cursed for being made to learn the hard way to appreciate what he had and to leave other people’s wives in peace.  Andisen was tricked. He was fondling Beatrice, his wife, and not Linda! He could not miss that scar on Beatrice’s thigh. 

Linda you’re wicked. Andisen swore, taking to his heels, remembering her naughty smile the day she accepted.