hARD place

HARD PLACES
It was some 24 years back when this little boy was born with his eyesight blurry till the third day when the mother noticed his gaze fixated to a poster of Kanda bongo man on the wall. She knew he could see and though lonesome happiness can overwhelm you, she put the baby in the coat and went to pee outside. That is what happiness does to lonely happy souls. Rumour has it that may be she did a dance under the moon. I highly doubt it because in those parts of former Eastern Uganda, only witches shake their bodies under the moon. They then take off to where their guiding ancestors lead them, but in most cases, this is usually characterized by seeping sand through a neighbours’ roof rail or loose window. The mother’s thought of that frightened the nerves out of her and she quickly got to her hut to prepare dry meat that was stored in a big black pot for months awaiting a celebration or visitation from a distant relative. She was tired of chicken for it had been offered to her when she bore the bull that had just flicked his eyes in recognition of life’s color in a picture.
Her husband, secondary school educated was away in a far off town working as a clerk for Barclays bank. He was the most educated man in the village and stories about him could be heard in the evenings when mothers were telling folks to the children at the fire place. Men never had their fire places anymore and preferred drinking their selves into the dark of night, only returning home when their coins were in the custody of the elderly woman at the village corner who sold the local brew. On such nights, they would not eat any vegetables and resorted to pounding their meek spouses for preparing goat leaves for them instead of getting fish from the market. Many wives saw this as a sign of love though, but others resolved to make their sons better men and took them to the parish school 3 kilometers away to be like son of Mwanga, who wore European clothes and shoes and only came home during the holidays. He was a generous man. When he made his regular visits, he often came with sugar and salt. On one occasion he brought his wife a sufuria (cooking pan/bowl) which his mother held on to because she is the one who had taken Evans to school. His wife could wait for the same from her sons. And so, the young wife always encouraged her children to read hard and finish school.
That is the legend of the past century. A story told to this young man on his graduation party that brought their now brighter village to a standstill. Nobert, the fourth son in the family had graduated with a degree of laws and would soon be sponsored by the University of Philadelphia for his masters’ studies. With all the wining and dining and merry making, Norbert was not at peace. He had spent more than six years in the city and therefore gotten used to the urban way of life. He had a phone and a tablet, his sister was using his laptop to listen to afro music. This time, he had not come home with his car, he had sold it to save for his stay in the United States. His father had wanted him to bring it home so the little children could wash it every Saturday and let it inspire their hard work in school for a future like the one Nobert was living. Still, he was not at peace. In the city, some girl had really worked up her mind.
When they first met, Nobert was interning at a corporate law firm which demanded of him to be in dark suits always. Adding to his athletic physique, girls his age would describe the ever chilled fellow as dashing. Polite in his mannerisms, Nobert would sweep away most girls by his fine charm. He had a few thousands monthly to spare for cheap dates and grooming of himself. Particularly, he loved one dark blue suit which though bought from downtown Nairobi, exposed the magnet that he was. It would march with his black oxford shoes on Monday’s when he had to walk up the street to file court documents for his supervisor. He met Alma on a hot Monday afternoon in the library. Apparently she was a new intern at a law firm that he was to serve on his way back to the office. They hit it off and as the adage goes, butterflies were in the air. One thing verily led to another and in a few months, the two would be labelled love birds. Their bosses never got wind of this though, it would jeopardize their future lives and they agreed to keep it out of work. They were in love, they were steady and everything seemed to be on the roll. Only Alma never knew what was in store for her.
Fast forward to the departure season. Alma believes in his Nobert as Nobert does as well. Only one thing though. Nobert had gone to the village once when her aunt Auma had died of a snake bite. All traditions observed, they had managed to send his aunt off in a peaceful manner and as is in most cases in the villages, such ceremonies bring so many people together. Aunts and cousins one never knew off, a neighbour from some far off town who had come in for the first time in many years. With sorrow and excitement in one place, people engage in activities that even the devil never knows off. Nobert had been lured to partake the local brew, which his uncle had carefully poured into a narrow water bottle and secretly handed him with instructions that he should find somewhere to sleep once the contents of the bottle are in his body. It was a new feeling however to Nobert. He got high, seduced her cousin and they had born a baby girl. It had remained a secret till now. Just when Nobert was about to leave for the land of opportunity.
Now Alma is pregnant, she is to join the advocates training programme in two months. Nobert has promised him his heart as he did to his cousin. Both want to be the last to hug him at the airport because his parents cannot make it for their old age. He is stuck, his world has forsaken him, yet he has to face his world – his dark past and present love. We can only wait for June 27th. That is the date on the plane ticket.