PIECES OF NONSENSE: MEGAPOWER: (PART 1)

PIECES OF NONSENSE: MEGAPOWER: (PART 1): Megapower they used to call him and ' Mtanitambua ' he used to tell them. He harboured a look only a south chick would. He had...

MEGAPOWER: (PART 1)

Megapower they used to call him and 'Mtanitambua' he used to tell them. He harboured a look only a south chick would. He had a sonorous voice perfect for posing threats on people. It was rumoured that it scared himself too and while asleep, it made him wake up. He had just boarded a matatu which to its reaction it had slightly shrunk on his 'mega' weight. He was going to Obi town. His trip to Obi was known to everyone in the village. Everybody he met on the way he had to tell, 'mtanitambua nikitoka Obi!' That was his nature and Dundu his real name. In his early thirties and not yet married, people wondered why his folks decided to give him such a name. Dundu, a container for storing liquids, made popular as was used for carrying the famous local coconut wine - mnazi to the nearby town of Swere. Not like it had an effect on him but the resemblance was just too obvious. Dundu was a man who breathed fear to many a people. He was the definition of fear itself!

‘Mgalla muuwe ila haki yake mpe’ is a famous saying for the people in Megapower's village. Despite his fearsome demeanor, Megapower was quite a hardworking man.He worked tirelessly everyday. Nobody had the slightest idea what time he actually woke up. Rumour had it that he only slept for one hour. Fact was; at cock's crow when the ladies in the village were going down the stream to fetch water , barrels in their hands that's when they would see Megapower returning from Swere with his bicycle and empty tuns. Afraid the ladies would all jump into the bush and let him pass lest they had to 'mtambua' him in the brink of day.

He had no friends and it was whispered that since he had no brothers, he never learnt to communicate and interact with people except when selling mnazi to the Achuzis at Swere. All he wanted was for anyone and everyone to listen to what he had to say when he had to.

                 *    *    *    *    *    *    *

His birth had been a weird case. As it lay on its baby cot made of neem tree wood and jute, it never stopped ululating. Its cries engulfed the whole homestead and inflicted a frenzied emotion amongst the kin. Some of the neighbours who had come to see for themselves the little visitor who would never stop crying, could be seen murmuring to each other. Some even whispering loudly, believing the baby was a curse! Mulungu must have decided to teach the homestead a lesson.

Chembe, the father to the new born son of the homestead had no other son apart from this baby. All he had ever had were girls from all his past three marriages. Now on the fourth one, in which he had married the daughter of his long time friend mtumia Mwachidziwe had he had this son. Sitting under a large mango tree in the middle of the homestead, he kept wondering whether this was a real baby or Mulungu had decided to punish him with a chijego. He had kept asking himself why, why and why? Had he not been pouring libation every morning after the mjema brought the masa everyday? Had he not been offering sacrifices at the sacred muyu tree at the corner of his farm? Had he not been praying for a son? And now when Mulungu, he who gives had finally decided to give him one it turned out to be a chijego?! All these questions criss-crossed his mind.

On the fourteenth day however, Dundu, as Chembe had decided to call his son stopped crying and everyone was relieved. The fear this new born child had inflicted was not only felt in the homestead but the entire village as a whole. And now over thirty years later people still feared him. Not only for his gruffy voice but for the vestige memories of his childhood drama. All this added with his unwavering fearsome demeanor. That was Dundu alias Megapower’s story.

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The matatu swerved from one side of the road to another. The loud music that was blaring from the matatu’s Phillips stereo together with the noises made by chicken made the atmosphere polluted with sounds of all manner. The bumping of the matatu due to lots of potholes on the murram road led to a lot of dust particles being thrown in to the windowless vehicle.  This topped up with Megapowers' unending stories of how Obi town was going to recognize his existence and be glad he went there in the first place just made the situation in the matatu worse. His bulky weight not only made the matatu to shrink but also the person sitted next to him found himself pinned to the window as Megapower almost occupied the whole space meant for two with no apologies. Had he the power, he would have drove the matatu himself. As he kept shouting to the driver now and then asking what was wrong with him as they were taking too long to get to Obi. Not like the rest of the passengers entertained his stories but no one was a lion enough to dare shut him down.

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Obi town was not much to be called a town except for a few apartment buildings mostly occupied by the civil servants in the town. A couple of bars, a mosque, hospital and few independent churches was all it could brag of. It had a number of streets all linked together forming a network of  roads. It’s busiest street was the one that harbored  the district commissioners office building that stood overlooking the Obi police station. This was known as the Mekatilili street.

Megapower had never set foot to Obi before since that one time he had come applying for an identity card. And he had not gone there alone, they had been around twenty of them all who feared him.  So even then he had felt on top but that was over twelve years ago. Today. Obi town had changed. A few more vehicles than it used to be back then. However crossing the road was not much of a problem it still shook Megapowers heart from inside.

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He had lodged in one of the guest houses located in the end of Kakonewa street. A street that boomed in the business of bars and lodgings, leave alone all the promiscuity and immoral acts one could think of. It was the darkest part of the town. But Megapower feared nothing and this was where he would launch his endeavour in Obi.

That night he went to a bar and ordered the expensive of alcohol drinks that some he could not even pronounce their names. He wanted them to know who he was. Megapower that’s what the people back home called him. And that is what he wanted people to call him here at Obi too. ‘Lazima watanitambua!’ he said to himself. But this was just different a place. Folks here minded their own business not caring who was what. Everyone who came into the bar did not seem to notice Megapower even though he was seated at the counter. A lot of beer bottles stood in front of him. People drank, laughed and went about their conversation without even casting a single glance at him. This angered him more. Not even the girls who were in the bar seemed to bother about him. This was unlike what he had anticipated. All his life he had grown to learn that once you had money in Obi, all the girls would flock to you. But where were they now? Where were the girls who flocked to rich men? He yearned for attention but none was forthcoming. He could not help wondering why he was so much like nothing when back home, folks feared and respected him. Had it been back home, people would have known he was around and how many beers he had bought leave alone downing them. No! Enough is enough! He had to do something. ‘Lazima wanitambue!’  he did not even realize that this last thought had actually come out aloud.There and then the whole bar went into an about turn. All the people looked at him.

The music that was playing seemed far fetched. He could hear his own breathing. Megapower mode activated. His exhales were those that spread fear in the vicinity. Were he to be in a tunnel at that very moment, believe you me his exhales would have put off the light at the end of the tunnel itself! Like a dragon felt he. Not exactly sure what to do next, he turned to face his beer bottles and knew that a sip was the next thing he had to take to psyche himself up before those loonies could know the real Megapower  alias Dundu son of Chembe! It did not end up to be just a sip, he poured all the bottle that was almost three quarters full in to his mouth and down his throat. He then threw the bottle into the ceiling of the bar. The bottle hit the rotating multicoloured bulb at the centre of the bar. The lighting immediately went off and the room became dark as fragments of the beer bottle came crushing down on people’s heads. This resulted in a stampede as all the people in the bar scrambled to where the exit was. Each and  everyone struggling to save their neck from this unknown villain. The waitresses as well had to run too as others who were too afraid to move had to take refuge under the tables in the bar.

Seeing the reaction he had caused, Mega felt a smile curve across his distorted lips. He felt like a winner already against who no one could tell. ‘Watanitambua hata hapa Obi!’ Little did he know that he was going to be the one to actually ‘tambua’ Obi. In Obi there is a saying which says, “obi hapalali mgeni” Not because Obi never liked visitors rather a visitor had to be accepted by the people. Made to be one of them before he could understand the ways of the town. The owner of the bar who normally stayed in an adjacent room with a half-glass half-wooden door connecting to the bar, in a flash saw the dimming of the lights and heard the people running out. He did not exactly realize what was happening . The only thing he remembered was a crash and then followed by a darkness that led to his customers running out. To him, some robbers must have invaded his business and so 911 was the answer.

Megapower felt like a winner. Seeing all the people fleeing the bar due to his fury made him feel happy and for a second, amid his fuming and angriness, he managed yet another smile. A smile that only the darkness witnessed. He felt some sort of satisfaction down his spine. At this same time, the owner of the bar was also making a call to the boys in blue.

“..enhe, Inspector Chullo speaking. How can i help you?”

“Hello inspector…I am Bomba, owner of Biro bar here in Obi’s Kakonewa street….er some robbers have…have…”

“Hey mr. Bomba, we will be right there…”

The phone hung up. Bomba was still kneeling under his office table when he heard the bang on the door. ‘Mtanitambua pia nyinyi,’ yelled Megapower. Apparently he had heard him talking on phone and he thought there might be a number of them still in the room. He wanted everyone to know him.


..............to be continued.







Appreciation
Emmanuel Ndeje(for the grand idea)
Cedri Lee(for believing)
James Wambua(my comp wiz)
Wright, Pancras, Ohms Charlie,Willy Kay, and all for the moral support.

PIECES OF NONSENSE: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MJANJA

PIECES OF NONSENSE: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MJANJA: The owner of four Simcards, two Facebook accounts, a dormant Twitter handle. He is in Instagram though not conversant with it. He prou...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MJANJA

The owner of four Simcards, two Facebook accounts, a dormant Twitter handle. He is in Instagram though not conversant with it. He prouds himself  of being in Whatsapp with the phone he borrows from a friend. But we can forgive him because he has grown to own two 'Kabambes' of which all rights he reserves. And by the way he has two identity cards; National and School ID. He is a king in his own kingdom, so call him a king he might buy you a drink.                                        

So painful yet so funny, so true yet she heard it like a rumour. So normal but again wildly rejoiced. The woman sat beside the baby, people congratulating her without her recognition. Just like the messiah's birth, his too was just  like any other. Maybe  worse than the place where Jesus of nazareth was born. We do not care, they did not care too. They just welcomed the baby warmly. He cried like any other baby, ironically his rather sharp innocent cry did not scare them. Infact, it made them sing more and more happy birthday songs. He was a prince among many. 

And now that you have grown to buy your own alcohol may you grow to marry a good wife and produce bright babies like yourself. Happy new year the November man- Emmanuel Nyungu Ndeje!

    *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *

To be born or to live? To live; for what choice has he that is brought to the world without choice? But chooses he to live who has life. And life is not about living rather its living FREELY!
They say people do not choose to be born but choose to live. Yet some choose to love. And some, only some choose to be free.
Free is what you are today brother! For when no one knew what you would become when you were born, as they celebrated your birth as you let that sharp cry... that moment you chose to be free. And now i am saying, heey Happy Strong Earthday to you 'King'! Saying this with the hope of that free drink ;-):-$ May you have many many more!

PS. Learn to use Instagram and Twitter. About those two Facebook accounts...no comment. For your two 'Kabambes' thats an achievement! As for Whatsapp...need i say?
‪
#‎justapieceofnonsense‬


A piece I wrote together with a friend for his birthday. Emmanuel "Mjanja" Ndeje you are a lot more than just a counsel. Happy birthday my brother in nonsense. A true kin of mine!!

PIECES OF NONSENSE: IT'S A LETTER

PIECES OF NONSENSE: IT'S A LETTER: It’s a letter am writing, still, it could be a song am singing. Yet you might see these as words wrote, with an almost fading ink and ...

PIECES OF NONSENSE: TOO LITTLE, TOO SOON.

PIECES OF NONSENSE: TOO LITTLE, TOO SOON.: TJ had grown to be a handsome two-year old boy. His little round eyes, bushy eyebrows, broad sharp nose and the big lips, all resemble...

IT'S A LETTER

It’s a letter am writing,
still, it could be a song am singing.
Yet you might see these as words wrote,
with an almost fading ink and small font.
But my desire is to speak my heart,
of the love inside me that hurts.

Days and nights I spend alone;
sometimes in bed or out in the lawn
(counting stars and gazing at the moon,
the things we used to do while listening to our favorite tunes)
I miss you;
you, who my heart calls true
you, who with joy laughed at my jokes
you, who i will forever cherish!

Days seem too long in your absence;
nights are even worse losing its essence.
Distance is just but a 'word'
although the pain it has brought is bad.
I know pain you also are enduring,
but the more we are apart the deeper our love is growing.
Only with faith do i say-
until u come I will chastely stay,
until in my arms u return again!
I love you...

TOO LITTLE, TOO SOON.

TJ had grown to be a handsome two-year old boy. His little round eyes, bushy eyebrows, broad sharp nose and the big lips, all resembled his father. He was a perfect replica of his dad, thought his mother who was watching him. As TJ kept on struggling with a toy car trying to fix a wheel that had come out while playing with it, his mother was drifting in thoughts. Drifting back to when he had met Taheem. A young handsome and charming guy. Very ambitious and who seemed to know so much about art and music and who had ventured in a career of business.

They had met at a friend’s birthday party. She, Moriah, had been invited by Tanya. Tanya was the birthday guy’s girlfriend. Tanya and Moriah had been roommates at college. And even though they had been doing different courses and now were in different lines of work, they were still the best of friends. Taheem on the other hand had just accompanied his brother Jamal who was a friend to the birthday guy. The night had been full of fun. What with the cracking of jokes, food of all types that the guys could order and yes, not forgetting the drinks! There had been around thirty of them, friends and mutual friends. It was during the cutting of cake that Moriah had noticed Taheem stealing glances at her. At first she had had ignored him, but when she caught him staring at her again Moriah knew that the ‘stranger’ was interested in her. He had smiled at her making his already large lips to seem like a gibbous moon. She had smiled back at him.

Later that night when the music was on and people were dancing, Moriah noticed that Taheem was still seated in his chair. A bottle of Tusker in his left hand and his right hand rested on his lap tapping his fingers trying to follow the music beats. It was her turn to steal glances at him. She wanted to go over to him, and talk to him…..talk about what? Anything. Anything she could think of. Her eyes were glued to him. Moriah was fantasizing about how she would have held this guy, dancing to her favorite tune as everyone at the party watched them with envy. It was while she was lost in her thoughts, ‘their thoughts’ when Taheem saw that she was alone and decided to go over to her. She did not notice him coming.

“Hi..,” Moriah was cut off from her reverie and surprised to see her night’s crush standing next to her. She did not know what to say. She thought she had heard him utter something but could not make out what exactly it was that he’d said. She felt embarrassed.

“I hope I did not scare you.” Taheem had said.

“No. Not at all” She had answered.

“I’m Taheem,” he said while stretching his right hand to her, “but friends call me T.”

“Moriah. Nice to meet you T.” she replied with a smile while shaking his hand.

The room was by then thrown into a frenzy. People were dancing and shouting happily in drunk voices. Taheem then had asked her if she would love to go outside for a breath of fresh air and she had jumped to the idea. He went over to the makeshift bar and opened another bottle of Tusker for himself and a bottle of Smirnoff black ice for her.(He had seen her drinking that before and he did not have to ask) How observant thought Moriah as Taheem came back to where she was seated and together they had slipped outside. It had been a bit dark outside but after a while the moon came into view and the stars twinkled with excitement. They walked in silence taking in the fresh night’s air and finally sat down on the grass just a few metres from the apartment building. They sipped their beers in silence and the he had broken the silence. “It is beautiful. The sky is beautiful!” he said. She could not agree less. The moon was not yet full but it shone brightly and the stars looked dazzling. ‘So romantic’ she wanted to say that aloud but opted not to and “indeed.” Was all she could answer.

They talked about lots of things that night. Art, music, movies, religion, politics, education and even how hard it was getting an apartment in Nairobi. All this but Taheem had seemed to love talking about art and music. He had spoken so passionately about art and how powerful a tool it was to communicate what one could not express with words. ‘Art is a language of the heart’ he had said. Moriah listened to this guy who at first had seem so quiet a person but now kept on talking and talking like it was his last day. And she had listened taking in everything he had to say. They talked about their jobs too. Taheem as Moriah came to know was a marketing manager with a fashion magazine in Nairobi. The magazine was in the process of opening a branch office in both Mombasa and Kisumu and that meant he was doing a lot of travelling. Moriah realized that that’s where his love and fascination for art sprung from.  On her part, Moriah was in medicine. She had just finished her internship at the Kenyatta National Hospital and was waiting for posting from the ministry of health. Taheem had seem curious about her job, he had asked her a lot of questions about how she managed to do all that work. She felt happy that someone was interested in what she did. And not just anyone but this ‘someone’ was Taheem! It was a night to remember. They had exchanged phone numbers and promised to keep in touch. They returned to the house to find most of their friends passed out on the sofa some on the floor. Yet others were still swaying to the beats in their drunken selves. Jamal, Taheem’s brother was waiting for him. Taheem had hugged her and promised to call before leaving with his brother.

That night she had not slept but kept thinking of this handsome hunk she had had the privilege of meeting. And it was her friend Tanya who woke her up the next day not knowing when she had eventually slept. It was noon.

She had waited for him to call everyday and every night, but the call never came and she was hurting. She never talked about it to anyone even her friend Tanya who had noticed her friend to be somehow troubled. One Saturday evening as she was coming home from town, she saw someone standing close to her doorstep but with his back to her. Her heart leaped and she knew it was him! “Taheem!” she had called out loud even before reaching to where he was. He turned and Moriah could not help running into his arms. They had hugged for about three minutes each one not ready to let the other go. And finally when they did she invited him inside and they talked for a while, hugging once again. It was then that she learned of Taheem’s transfer to the coast as she put the flowers he had bought her in the flower vase. He was going to be the new branch manager in the new office opened down there. It was a bitter sweet moment. It was bitter because they were going to be away from each other at a time when they really should be seeing each other more often. But this was a promotion to him and she was happy for him. To add on top Taheem was going to be near his family as he came from the coast, a town called Kilifi which was just fifty kilometers from Mombasa. At that time Moriah was not sure where the ministry was going to post her. She really wished they took her to Mombasa to be near his love.

Taheem took her out for dinner that night before going back with her to his place in Ngong. It happened. She did not even second guess her actions as she went to his bed with him. It had happened so fast yet she felt like they had known each other for a long time. He had made love to her so gently and so passionately. The way he had rocked her body was like he’d spent all his entire life learning how to please her. ’This guy is a rare gem’ she had thought. And they had done it again and again until morning.

He had been given a one week leave before commencing on his new job in Mombasa. And the whole week he spent it with her. They stayed at both houses switching from his to hers and vice versa. She was happy. Actually she had never felt that happy since her twelfth birthday when her late mother had bought her the first mobile phone she owned. And during that week with Taheem, everything had seemed perfect in her life! The movies they watched together, the flowers he bought her, the meals they cooked together; it was all she had ever dreamed of. Finally it was over and Taheem moved to Mombasa to start on his new job. Distance did not matter that much as they kept on communicating via phone, emails and skype. And once in a while during weekends, Taheem would come to Nairobi or she would go down to Mombasa and they would spend the weekends together. She even went ahead and sent a letter to the ministry of health requesting to be posted in Mombasa. However, when the appointment letter finally came she found out that she had been retained at the Kenyatta National Hospital. Still they had kept on with their love.

Moriah was visiting Tanya one Saturday when she finally realized. Actually it was Tanya who noticed the bulge and increased weight in her friend that she asked. Apparently, Moriah had been too busy loving and working to notice that she was pregnant. And when she took the test, she realized that she was three months into being pregnant. She was happy but unsure how Taheem would react to it. But Taheem was even more happy than she’d imagined on receiving the news. After that events happened so fast. Taheem had taken her to his parents and introduced her to his family. They had loved her and she felt really welcomed. Taheem started coming to Nairobi every weekend to be with her and they spent the weekends together watching movies, playing scrabble, reading fashion magazines that Taheem would have carried with him and sometimes they would drive out of town for picnics. They were happy together. Taheem then sent her young sister who had just finished college to be with Moriah in Nairobi as she was now in her last month of pregnancy and needed assistance.

It had been on a Monday afternoon around three o’clock when she started feeling labour. Naima, Taheem’s sister drove her to the hospital where she had been admitted. Naima then called his brother and informed him on his wife’s condition. Anxious and wanting to be by his wife’s side when she delivered, Taheem hurried to the airport in time to catch the four o’clock plane to Nairobi from Mombasa. Forty five minutes later he was in a taxi to the hospital. God answered his prayers; he managed to reach the hospital before Moriah had delivered. The baby finally arrived at twenty six minutes past six o’clock after almost three hours of labour. It was a baby boy and Taheem decided to go against his family traditions and named his son after himself, Taheem Chicco Jr.

They had been discharged two hours later and Taheem drove his wife, son and sister back to the house. On reaching home, they called their families and friends and shared the good news with them.  He had stayed with them for a week before leaving for Mombasa. He had asked her to stay another week or so in Nairobi until the baby was fit to travel before they could join him in Mombasa. This time Taheem was returning to Mombasa by bus. That evening, Taheem had held his baby and kissed him before kissing his wife, hugged her sister and left for the bus station.

That was the last time they had all seen him alive.

The phone call came early in the morning. The bus in which Taheem was travelling had been involved in an accident with a trailer at a place called Mariakani. Taheem had succumbed to the accident. She had not believed it. She felt like she was in a dream and had pinched herself severally to wake herself up from the nightmare, but that was it. Taheem was gone.

Two years later and still she could not believe he was gone. She kept on thinking she would see him standing at the door every time she heard a knock on her door. Only memories remained, and the bundle of joy that God had blessed them with- Taheem Chicco Jr- or simply TJ, was all she had.

Moriah watched her son as he threw away the toy car after he could not mend it and started crying. She went over to him, plucked him from the floor and held him to his arms. “Do not cry my TJ; I am going to buy you another car. Okay? Okay Hun?” she consoled him as she wiped the tear tracks on her son’s face.