Kuosha Kwingi Pt.4

Everyone gets this kind of day. The kind of day that has you feeling doomed. On this day, you are sure your life will not amount to much. That your life is some kind of loop that you can never really break. No matter how many books you read or how many prayers you send to whatever deity, you will still amount to as much as fate had destined for you. On this kind of day, you feel powerless, out of control- like nothing you do will ever cleanse you from your past. A past marred with the effects of the mistakes of others. Especially if these things were done to you as a child, you feel alone and vulnerable. If the people initially tasked with your care did not feel that you were worthy of their love and concern- who else ever will. On such days, there will likely be tears.

These are the kind of tears that Martha cried on the 90th day of her employment. Things had started to look up. She had managed, together with her newfound family to move into a small one bedroom apartment. It had running water most of the month and they had their bathroom. It was such an upgrade.

Felix was doing well in his small job and his skin was almost all one color for the first time in a long time (Julia had commented). He was now selling popcorn besides the smokies and boiled eggs. They had not done the Sunday chapatis yet, but Martha remained hopeful that he would come around. She was a little hurt that he kept insisting that it would affect his female clientele. However, afraid of rocking a fragile but otherwise steady boat, she kept her sadness to herself. She kept waking up and going to work.
At this point, Malika had even recommended her to some of her friends. So when Malika did not have much work needing doing, Martha went to the other houses around. Needless to say, she was making enemies with other mama fuas who saw her as a parasite to be exterminated. The other ladies paid more, especially those who had her clean and cook for their bachelor sons. It was interesting to get in and out of these people’s homes unaffected by their drama. She was a mute and dumb spectator. Just a cog in the workings of their life.

It was not unusual now for Malika to leave the house during the day. With the extra help, she had started a small business selling dried mango and baobab seeds to clients on demand. She did not need the extra cash, but she had always wanted to venture out of the home in some way. She had even joined a women’s group and they had more parties than business discussions. Overall, both Martha’s and Malika’s lives had improved since they first met.
It was on such a Saturday when Malika was away that Shaban came home for lunch. He did that when he was not so busy at the shop. Perhaps he knew that Malika would be away, Martha was not sure. She did not have much time to think about that because she was suddenly under attack.
When Shaban drew close, she smelt the vodka in his breath. She knew he indulged, but wasn’t it too early? Perhaps it was because he needed the courage to execute what he did next.

He pulled off the lesso she was always required to wear and then lifted her dress. His pants were on the floor faster than she could catch her breath. Thankfully it was over quickly.

“Bring my food to the balcony.”

She was never allowed to do that, she was supposed to set it on the table and he would pick it himself or if Malika was around she would take it herself to her husband. It was one of the silly lines Malika had set to keep their worlds separate. So many lines had already been crossed in that instance. In a daze, she plated some rice and took it, fighting shameful tears with every step.
The table at the large balcony was low. She had to bend in front of him as she placed the food down. In hindsight, she should have crouched. but she was not thinking and neither was he when he reached out for her and his hand crept up her dress.

Then they heard a screechy scream.

Malik had just come in and was greeted by the shocking scene. Had this always been happening? How could she have been so naïve? How had she let her guard down so low that her home had gone to the dogs in this way?
It did not matter that Martha was crying and apologizing. A definite admission of guilt. Shaban seemed confused.

Martha knew for sure that this was the beginning of the end.