A shrill cry echoed through the mist. Curiously, young Jessica craned her neck to look through the window and beg her eyes to see the cause. A moment later, the cry echoed again and this time she got to her feet and headed for the door. Once outside, she immediately regretted not wearing something heavier as the frigid air seemed to seep through her thin T- shirt and settle in her bones. With a heavy sigh she padded the worn footpath and hoped to the heavens that it wasn't her mother. She would have asked the gods or God himself but the holy omniscient presence seemed to be wary of her prayers these days.
The thick mist made it hard to see despite it being the middle of the afternoon. Suddenly, there was another cry and she knew in her heart that it was her mother. Briskly, she turned to the left and let her ears guide her towards their shamba. She was unsurprised, a moment later, to see her mother, kneeling by her brother's grave, clutching the earth desperately as she let out another cry. Taking a deep breath, she headed towards her, careful to keep her own tears at bay at the heartbreaking sight.
“Mama…Mama, please…” Jessica called to her mother as she knelt down beside her on the moist earth and put a comforting arm around her. She couldn't help but notice how her mother's spine bit into her arm. For a moment it seemed like her mother hadn't heard her, then as if something terrible had come over her, she shoved Jessica away. She fell back on her hands in the dirt as she watched her mother struggle to her feet, her once heavy chest, rising and falling rapidly.
“Get away from me and let me stay with my son!” Her mother, Shiro, cried in anguish.
“Please Mama, it's me Jessica, please,” Jessica begged her as she stayed where she was, afraid that if she made any sudden movement she would scare Shiro off.
At first, it seemed that Shiro was staring right through her with wide eyes laden with anger and hatred. Then as if a fog had cleared, she saw her only daughter on the ground below her and the anger decimated into unbridled grief as she whispered, “Jessica…” .Her eyes began to shine as her strength left her and she swayed on her feet. With what can only be described as cat-like reflexes, Jessica sprung up and caught her holding her up in her arms. Jessica couldn't help but notice how weightless her mother felt in her arms. Collapsing against her, Shiro broke down in tears for what didn't seem like the first time.
“He won't speak to me! I came here to talk to him and he didn't say a word. Njogu is still quiet, my sweet boy, why are you quiet! Why aren't…talk to me please! Njogu!” Shiro wailed inconsolably.
Jessica could only do what a daughter does in this situation, keep silent and hold her mother as she cries. She held on to her mother as she wailed and cried, blubbering and sputtering till finally she fell silent save for pathetic whimpers. By then, the mist had begun to dissipate and in its place a cold breeze swept over them. Jessica held on as if they didn't feel the cold. Silently, the daughter led mother back to their home.
Once inside, Jessica guided her mother to her bedroom. With painstaking care, she guided her to bed and tucked her in as if she were her mother instead of her daughter. She sat beside her mother patiently and watched over her till her breaths became even and smooth. She thought she would leave then but stayed on. As she looked over her mother, Jessica was abruptly filled with a wave of anger so savage she almost saw double. The sight of her frail mother would never reconcile with the memory of the imposing and strong woman that held her place. Where she had been large and supple, now she was thin and willowy. Six months ago, Shiro was a full head taller than Jessica but now she barely grazed her chin. Her once large and fat arms that promised a hearty punishment in Jessica's youth for childish misgivings, now gave way to skeleton-like features. Jessica touched her mother's forehead and face and was met with leathery skin that seemed far too old for her mother but yet there it was, on her mother's face. Under the heavy blankets, Shiro seemed gaunt and grotesque, too thin and too small for the big bed. Again the anger filled Jessica and it pounded in her veins and she had to take a calming breath as she struggled to her feet. With one last glance to her mother, she left her to her dreams.
Jessica all but marched to the living room and she had half a mind to break everything but stopped when she realised that would wake her mother. The realization nearly broke her and she sagged heavily on one of the worn leather seats. She had lost her brother, was losing her mother and couldn't even unleash her anger without consequence.
“I followed your way for so long, but you still abandoned me. Even now,” she whispered solemnly as she stared up at the ceiling trying to find an answer that would never come.
With another heavy sigh, she walked to her brother's bedroom. She came here in despair and lately her visits had become more frequent. As usual, she sat on Njogu's bed. Per her mother's insistence, his room had remained unchanged for the six months he had failed to grace it. Yet, her eyes tracked over every carelessly thrown shirt, empty cups and plates that had always been part of the decoŕ and the neatly arranged shoes on the shoe rack.
Njogu always loved his shoes. She thought and a sad smile tugged at her lips. She had every nook and cranny memorised but still looked at his room in wonder knowing that her brother would never grace the four walls with his presence. As usual she let her thoughts drift to a time that no longer existed.
Six months ago, life had been very different for them all. For starters, Njogu still walked amongst the living. A tall strapping young man with an easy smile. He had long shaggy hair that he refused to trim; a yin and yang tattoo on his left arm that he still kept secret from his mother and ears too large for his head, hence the long hair. His eyes however, were his most stunning feature. Seated below an appropriately sized forehead, they had the ability to draw you in. Unlike Shiro and Jessica, Njogu had large brown eyes that turned a shade lighter from the sun's rays. They were surrounded by bushy eyebrows paired with long eyelashes that fluttered when he flirted. Jessica could remember how often her friends would comment about Njogu's eyes. It had annoyed her profusely then how enamoured they all were. Being only two years his younger, Jessica and Njogu were thicker than thieves.
Njogu had big dreams. Being the only male in the household, he'd taken upon himself to think about his family's future often to their mother's delight. He'd dreamed of travelling the world, roaming the night markets in Thailand and feasting on exotic cuisine to running with the bulls in Spain to sailing across the Atlantic; that is if he ever got over his fear of large bodies of water. He wanted to do it all. Jessica had always worried he'd forget them his travels but their mother never did. Luckily, Njogu had been anything but an airhead, instead he was as bright as they come. Acing his classes with what appeared to be minimal effort. However, his teachers had always been dismayed at his tendency to attract trouble. Always surrounded by friends as he planned his next folly, he'd wreak havoc through ‘pranks’ that often got him sent to the principal's office. In hindsight, he was just as mischievous as his peers, just more popular.
It came as no surprise that he'd join university even though he'd still been unsure of what course he wanted to study. He'd settled on an Engineering course since he claimed it appealed to his mind and he could work with his hands. Jessica was close behind him in her final year of highschool. All had been well for this tight-knit family, who fared on well as a middle class family thanks to their mother's culinary business.
One year ago, two years into President Mali's administration,the country fell into a state of civil unrest which boiled over six months ago taking Njogu with it. Grumblings about corrupt leaders and crooked cops had been the norm. Quiet disquiet had become the norm as grumbles turned to mumbles which gradually turned into open rebukes though seldom were they taken seriously. The former president had been a yes man for the West and had often been seen as a spluttering fool by his citizens. It had been no wonder his own people had been quite happy to see him face early retirement after they'd filed a motion to impeach him. And since his betters had had no use for him any longer, he'd had to vacate the seat. This had left a vacuum of power and greedy fingers had all wanted a taste of the pie. It was no wonder that their current president had seemed Godsend at the time.
An ambitious senator who'd promised transparency in a bid to quell corruption, autonomy over Western interference as well as a detailed five year plan to boost the economy, among other mouth watering promises; Senator Mali had had the people eating out of his hands before his predecessor's seat got cold. A whirlwind of ambitious promises and pledges later, Senator Mali had won the election by a landslide and he became President Mali a few months later.Well, the beloved man changed policies, restructured the Cabinet and imposed his influence on private companies. To keep the public occupied however, he'd launch projects often, visit schools, markets and bus stations in a bid to be framed as a man of the people.
The first year of his leadership, there resulted in newer and higher taxes which led to an increase in the cost of goods and services; which in turn led to the first grumbles. However, President Mali was quick-witted, he assured the public that it was all in accordance with the plans he'd shared with them to make their country better. His confidence and assurances helped incapacitate the mutinous rumors. His second year however, his perfect image started to crumble. A popular and crucial sugar processing factory and company was shut down due to ‘mismanagement’ by higher-ups. This led to hundreds losing work and this revived the grumbles. President Mali promised he'd find a solution. Before the dust had even begun to settle, he started meddling with the constitution trying and later succeeding in increasing the presidential term. Civic education had always been a touchy subject for many and a large number of the population lacked it but for people like Njogu, they understood the implications.
No sooner had President Mali succeeded in his personal triumph, than a whistleblower came forth claiming that the President had issued a kill order for residents thought to still have allegiance to their former leader. Before the public could come to grips with the information, the whistleblower was silenced and his claims erased. Soon people forgot about him and dismissed him as a naysayer. In retrospect, this seemed to give President Mali the edge he'd been looking for and he got more brazen in his bid to satisfy his wanton thirst and greed.
In a few months, the education system was on the brink of collapse with numerous students being forced to drop out due to high fees. High tariffs were imposed on products and it became harder to import and export. Businesses large and small alike faced closure but some like Shiro's bowed to the pressure. By then the citizens were openly critical of President Mali's leadership and some called it his rule. Then a few weeks later, the disappearances began. One by one, those who'd criticised him began to go missing and those that reappeared did so at the bottom of lakes or in mysterious road accidents. Those that didn't, well…they could only speculate to their end.
Jessica had always known Njogu to fight for what he believed in and his increased interest in political justice terrified her. She prayed every night for God to stick by her brother's side and by day tried to understand Njogu's passion.
“It's about fighting for a better future. It's about you and I, Jessica, about us deserving a better future,” Njogu would tell her, smiling.
“But why does it have to be you fighting? There are so many others,” she'd complain.
“Yes there are, but we need all the help we can get.”
“Including you?”
“Especially me,” he'd say back proudly. Only then would Jessica know that no one could change his mind.
Events however reached their boiling point when popular vocal student leader, Malkia Shupavu went missing. She turned up a week later, a fat bloated figure riddled with broken bones floating near the coastal shores. This sparked outrage and many thought that this injustice had to be answered for. Someone had to take the blame. All over the country, citizens like Njogu went up in arms using their voices as weapons in a demand for justice. Njogu had always come home from university talking about how President Mali had betrayed them. His mother, Shiro had often warned him of such talk.
“But Mama, don't you see, we can't live like this,” Njogu complained to his mother.
“Njogu! I will not tell you again, stop saying those things or else you'll be next and I will not let that happen!” His mother often roared.
“But your shop… so many are homeless and poor and sick and tired of what's going on. Think about your business.”
“Mali said he has a plan for us. God chose him and you will listen Njogu!”
Often Njogu could never understand his mother's blind faith in the man but her religion had been a tight noose around her neck for a long time. It would never be easy to free her.
Fortunately for Njogu, there were others like him who shared his views. Who dared threaten the system, who dared demand change, who claimed they deserved better. Until one day, those like Njogu took to the streets, marching demanding, demanding, demanding. They would not go until they were heard, until there was a semblance of change, a sign that they weren't being raised to strengthen the cycle of poverty. The capital city was filled with thousands wanting accountability, an end to violence and an end to the system that okayed illiteracy and poverty. They had held placards filled with messages. They'd been armed with nothing but their fierce bravery and hope.
Then suddenly, the police had infiltrated the march. They'd been ordered to dispatch the crowd, to restore order and make everyone go home. The people would not relent. Each side waited with bated breath to see who would make the first move. Fortunately for them, they didn't have to wait long. Shots rang out and it sent the whole crowd into disarray. Everyone rushed to get away, it was no surprise when the stampede occurred. There was chaos and mayhem and the insurgency in the state was temporarily forgotten. When the dust settled all that was left behind was a tragedy. Hundreds had been trampled and left for dead, others had already parted from the living, crushed by rushing feet. Then there were those like Njogu, shot and left for dead. Forced martyrs in a game where they had been seen as pawns.
Jessica shook her head to shake herself out of her reverie. She couldn't bear to remember what she'd felt when she'd seen the news and seen her brother lying dead like a dog in the street. She touched her face and realised that she was crying and struggled to wipe the rivulets away but they just kept coming. She remembered what had happened after. She had had to be strong for her mother, Shiro, as she was forced to identify Njogu's cold corpse in the morgue. The constant barrage of friends, extended family and neighbours who had come to pay their respects and mourn with them till they'd lowered Njogu and his dreams six feet into the cold hard ground. Then they left and Jessica was left alone to care for her mother who was so taken with grief that she would barely eat. She would not accept that her only son had been ripped from her without even a final goodbye. Shiro would sit for hours by Njogu's grave, sometimes crying, sometimes shouting and other times silent. Jessica dreaded when she was quiet because those were the days her mother would be so lost in her grief that she'd say she was enjoying Njogu's company and that terrified her.
Her mother would not consent to see a therapist and even if she did, where would they get the money. Everyday she watched as her mother battled with grief and seemed to forget that she had a daughter. She saw her turn from a plump voluptuous woman to a frail husk of her former self. Sometimes Jessica hoped that those who had mourned with them would remember them, but who would when everyone still seemed to be fighting President Mali. She had prayed to any God that would hear her but it seemed that none ever did. She woke up and she was still alone, her mother was still among the living dead, Njogu was still rotting underground and no one had come to save them. Jessica put her head in her hands and wept.
~The End~