Click here if you didn’t read Part One
‘Get some strong sticks’ Carl requested
‘Strong…? Are those not strong?’
‘Strong enough to burrow the soil’
‘Okay’ Liz responded as she bent plucking and picking the fallen rods of firewood. She was humming her favorite song.
Carl was digging the graves of their two sons, Greg and Colly. They had only noticed by the lockets on their necks they had bought during birthdays. Liz was busy fetching sticks to excavate the soil. They were no ‘jembes’ or ‘pangas’ around.
After some hours the grave was ready. It was just a minimal trench that would fit the remains of the two sons. As they carried the sooty-grotesque bodies, tears from Liz eyes dripped.
‘Hold the lower part of the limbs as I hold this upper side.’ Carl said as he held the fluffy part of the head.
As they reached the grave like structure, Carl positioned the head down slowly and gazed at Liz.
‘Put it down slowly’
They buried their sons in the island. They pushed the soil back to the grave. They lay wild flowers which Liz had plucked from a certain bush. She sat on a certain granitic rock and stared at Carl. She remembered of her huge house in Washington D.C. where there were teeming city streets, glass skyscrapers, glitters and glitz and also the luxurious landscapes.
‘Was life made to be like this? We have lost our sons. They are barely 16yrs. What a life?’ Liz questioned as she gazed above.
‘Problems come in life Liz. This one was unexpected. You should even thank God for saving your life. You are alive and kicking.’ Carl responded
‘Its…’Liz was cut short
‘That doesn’t mean am not sobbing the death of our sons. I’m also grieving their loss’ he said as he squatted on the grassy area.
‘Carl, why aren’t you sad, I see you smiling; no sad face; is there something you are keeping behind my ass? Liz asked.
‘Honey, men are always jovial; by the way do you see men crying in burial?’
‘To some extent, I don’t. But don’t you feel pain for your own flesh and blood? Did their demise mean anything to you?’ Liz questioned holding her chin.
‘As a man, I feel it in my heart, but I can’t bear showing it physically like you do. Just don’t be angst-ridden.’ He responded
The Hombres in Negro Veils
The time was 10am.
I was seated silently at my favorite corner inside the library. My long A4 books and fancy notebook together with those rare fancy biros you receive when you attend a conference at the likes of Kempinski Hotels; were just in front of me on top of the table. I was strategically placed such that I would view every corner of the entire huge library. I was the kind of person who got easily distracted when someone got up from their seats or when they started walking around the library. I kept peeping on them.
The structure of the library was big. It was 6 stories. I was in the Biology department which was situated in the 4th floor. Mind you, it was a spacious hall. As a biology body, it had various artifacts that made it wonderful and beautiful. The hall had an aquarium where different kind of fish swum, there were two huge man-made human skeletons on the sides and also some enclosed algae plantations still inside the library. The hall had in addition, 360 rotating executive seats. The long windows and numerous fans made the massive hall conducive for learning activities despite the large number of readers who were seated doing their et cetera. At the very entrance, long alternating shelves lined up the walls of the entrance showcasing the numerous books in store for us at the library, forming some kind of an aisle that led inside the 4th floor.
part one : HERE
part two : HERE
this is part three of the story.↓↓
‘What do you really want with me?’ she asked again. She cried painfully as she gazed at his merciless face. Every time she raised her head to look at him, frothy blood-like saliva would flow from the left side of her mouth to the dirty floor. She directed her eyes on the grimy bathroom floor as she pretended not be looking at the knife in his socks. She wore a pitiful look like a forlorn whose beloved had scorned her and departed with another. She had a feeling that this guy would be contended and satisfied after making a meal out of her. She was sure about this guy killing her. She had never come in terms with such a ruthless man before in her life.
This bandit did not show any sign of coming into a consensus with Sherry. He got close to her and held her hair pulling her towards the bathroom window. As she grabbed her hair into a knot and pulled her entire body weight, she screamed so hard that it necessitated the collector to give her a facial blow that made her lay unconscious on the tied up chair. She laid her head on the side as blood trickled ceaselessly from her mouth. Her deep cuts on the face and bleeding abrasions could not hide her damaged face anymore. Why could a man do such things to a lady?
I ironically laugh when I hear Kenyans saying that we attained full independence over 50yrs ago. When you ask one of them why they are happy, they responds by saying, ‘don’t you see we got Madaraka Day celebrations yearly?’ did we really get full independence or is it just a feigned process that hides itself in the annual celebrations?
You will hear the village men saying, ‘we fought for our country and it’s our own who are ruling us and we are happy because of that’ Not knowing that the white settlers estimated the recourses they were using and saw there were a lot of extravagance; most of them refrained back in their country so that they could