Roses and Lies

Roses and Lies

  ©2016 Dora Achieng’ Okeyo

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  About the Author

  Allan knew two things as he lay on the bed; he had sinned and he was not the only one. He could see the headlines at dawn. He could see his colleagues lining up to praise him. He could also see his constituents sneer at the heaps of praises he received. There was a time he could read his wife’s expressions, how she smiled or frowned when she wanted to dispute something he said. She would be seated wearing sunglasses to hide her tears. He would wonder if she missed him, but his children would. Henry was only ten and yet he knew more about what was right and less about what was wrong. Jacinter was eight, named after his mother, the first woman to look him in the eye and say she couldn’t recognize him beneath all his skin of lies. He had wept that day. Mercy was only five and even then he knew she was the sun that lit his world. He was always Daddy to Mercy. She would jump on his lap and fill his face with kisses whenever he came home. She would use her mother’s phone to call and say how much she missed him. She lived in a world he once believed in. He would take a bow as ‘Mheshimiwa,’ but even then he knew in reality, there was nothing honorable or respectable about his life. The best thing he had done was to ensure his family never lacked for anything. Mercy would be the Nurse she wanted to be, without his wife-Pamela, worrying about a single cent, but even then, he took from everyone to provide for them. If that was not a curse, then he would surely be sipping red wine in Heaven.

  I

  You could see tiny yellow lights in every home in Micheni that night. He walked from one home to another to visit and wish them well; after all he was their son. They saw him attend Micheni Primary School. They contributed to his fee when he was called to The Maseno School. He received their letters and warnings with equal measure. Their ‘work hard,’ phrases accompanied him to every prep session for four years until he finally graduated. When the K.C.S.E results were announced and he had made it among the top ten in his school, every hand that could shake his or pat him on the back in Micheni did not hesitate. He would be an Engineer. He would be the first of many Engineers that Micheni had produced; finally, Mzee Kizito’s son had done them proud. “I always knew that boy would make it, did I not tell you? Now, see, eh, he is in the newspaper. See, Allan Mwetu.”

  “Now, we should tell our children to work hard, if little Allan could do it, why not them?”

  “We need big people! Doctors, Nurses, Lawyers to fight for our land! Look, look at all these names in the paper, have you ever appeared in the paper?”

  “You! Leave those goats alone, and go to school. Go and read and go to Maseno like Allan.”

  His name rolled off the tongues of his people like the saliva they needed to utter words. He received a full scholarship to study at The University of Nairobi, only if he would take up Law. “What about Engineering? You were supposed to build a road leading to Micheni!” His Father fumed and cursed the education system, but his mother did not flinch. Every time her husband cursed the system, she would roll her eyes and say, “how would you know what’s best when you cannot even finish saying your a-ba-cha-da?”

  Her husband would shout, “Woman! Have you slept hungry since you came to my house? Have you lacked clothes? Now, be quiet and let me speak!”

  “My husband, I know you have always provided for us. Allan is a good boy and he will study and make us proud, do you remember what happened to your friend down the valley? What was his name?”

  “Which one?”

  “The one who planted pineapples the size of two heads combined.”

  “Morris! Ei, alcohol does not kill a man; it is another man who does…ei! And why do you speak of him, ei! What they did to Morris, only God knows!”

  “Morris did not have anyone to defend him, but if Allan works hard, he may be there for any of us in the future. Let him go to Nairobi, and ‘Boyi!’ (Allan would finally look into his Mother’s eyes and see what he knew would always guide him-her support) when you go to the city, do not get into bad things like drinking and going to the disco. Do not break girls’ hearts and forget your books. I think you are the best my Son, so go and work hard and do what is right and let God reward you as He Punishes those who go against him. Eh?”

  “Yes, Mama.” His Father would only say, “Be a better man than this one talking to you.” His first day in Nairobi was received by stares and giggles as he made his way to his dorm room. He was wearing the pair of trousers Mama Luka gave him and sandals his Father had bought. He had three shirts, a piece of cloth to dry himself and a bar of Toyo. It was the biggest piece of soap he had ever owned, but it was nothing compared to the five blue biro pens his Uncle had given him and books. He found his cubicle and set his leather bag on it and sat on the bed. His Father had managed to sell their brown cow, Ida, to raise his pocket money for the year and also buy two goats. Everyone in Micheni escorted him to the bus and they sang and clapped running alongside the road wishing their son all the best in Nairobi. He saw the children run even long after the Driver increased speed and leave behind a pile of red dust enough to consume a village. They believed in him and he had to believe in himself. He wanted to live in a brick house like Father Dominic did. He wanted his Father to drive a Peugeot or a Datsun. He had dreams, but mostly he wanted people to rise in awe when he walked into a room. He wanted his Sisters to wear new clothes and for Tabitha to never miss school every month when the ghost of women visited.

  II

  His dreams haunted his every move until his graduation. The Chief of Micheni made it to his graduation and presented him with his first bicycle, a black Mamba. His Father looked at him and wept, his shoulders shook and mucus flowed from nostrils as he finally saw him. Unlike his father, his mother danced and sang praises of her first born son. The first fruit of her womb had made it and would soon be addressed as a Lawyer. They sat on the lesso his sisters had spread and ate the food their mother had prepared. The beef stew was warm but it was full of the love he knew flowed from his mother. Everyone had questions about his stay in the city except his Father. Once in a while he would catch him staring at him. He would also cough in between bites and this unnerved him, but no one would talk about it. Their Father spoke with his body, while their mother would use an endless stream of words to drive a point home. They ate and danced and talked way into the evening. They spent the night at his Uncle’s house in Kayole. His parents and sisters returned home that afternoon wishing him well in the hands of his Uncle. He attended the Kenya School of Law immediately after his internship at Gakuo & Sons Law Firm and thus cemented his credibility and expertise as an Advocate of the High Court of Kenya. The people of Micheni followed his life like they followed The Bold and the Beautiful. He took his first paycheck to the Chief and made sure each home received some sugar and Kimbo from the money. They sang praises of him all night and more boys were urged to work hard like Boyi! Their Boyi was now an Advocate and he could even get people to like big Criminals like Mulwa who killed his wife’s lover. Otieno who stole from the Central Bank of Kenya and Patel who invested that money in big hotels and secondary schools in Nairobi. He spoke on behalf of these people on TV. They saw him and would marvel at how the boy who wore no shoes and shirt would later on speak before a nation and be heard.

  A year into his practice, Allan built his parents the brick house he had always dreamed of and installed electricity. He made sure that Kenya Power supplied electricity to the small area that was Micheni and even constructed water tanks for the community. He built his home soon after and waited for the right time
to introduce his wife to his family. She was a Legal Secretary at one of the law firms in Nairobi. A beautiful black woman with slender waist, a surplus of hips and lips that reminded him of God’s promise in Genesis 2:24. She held her ground when she spoke. In her voice you could discern wrath or submission, but all he heard was the call to make her his own. He now had a Toyota and a good reputation along the corridors of court. He was a member of the Nairobi Club and the Railways Golf Club. He never missed a Church service and some women who sprung and blossomed the city life past 7pm could attest to his prowess as a man. Her name was Pamela Akinyi, a beautiful lady from the lakeside with an attitude that made men wonder whether she pissed while standing. He heard of her before he met her and so the bets were on. His colleagues told him to get a chit. He needed someone tall and light skinned who could look good beside him. He was the man. She would look at him and spit him like he was the devil. They laughed but he took his time and talked to his mother about her. She would call from the callbox at home and ask how much progress he had made and he would spill his guts like she was the priest and he the confessor. One day his mother told him, “go and get her before someone else does,” and so he approached her that afternoon.