Akinyi stretched on her bed the following morning, her eyes puffy and bloodshot since she got little sleep last night. Her mind had been in turmoil.
She’d thought about David, and instead of pain and desperation, hatred shook her body with its force. Who did he think he was, hurting her at the drop of a hat? She deserved better.
He’d claimed that she wasn’t a ‘wife material’ when all she ever did was love him and take care of him when she visited him at his house within the Kahawa Army Barracks. Waiting on him for six years and all for nothing!
Tossing and turning, she berated herself for being the fool. It was men like him that turned good women into cold-hearted bitches. He could go to Hell for all she cared.
As the morning light filtered through the vents, her resolve hardened. Never again would she engage with a man in uniform. She rolled out of bed, finished her chores and left for Grandma’s.
“Good morning, Nyakwara,” her grandma greeted when Akinyi arrived at the shamba.
Grandma was wrinkled with white hair peeped from the scarf tied over her head. Despite being eighty-five years old, her eyes were still bright and sparkled with wisdom. She walked firmly and did her own chores. According to her, she was strong because she did not overeat Mzungu food.
“Good morning, Grandma,” Akinyi answered, digging up the yams from the farm.
“How is your mother? I haven’t seen her for a while,” the old woman asked and continued working.
“She is fine, just upset that I want to pursue justice for Awino.” Remembering the conversation with her mother, anger flared, and she threw the yam she’d dug out on the ground.
“Stop throwing the yams with much vigour!” Grandma warned, glancing at her.
“Why is that?” she retorted.
“They will become bitter when they are cooked.”
“I don’t believe you. Is that even possible?” It sounded ridiculous.
Her grandmother straightened. “Of course, my mother told me, and it was passed down to her by her mother.”
She sighed. “Sorry, Grandma.”
“It’s alright. This is what you get for spending so much time in town and watching too much TV that you don’t even know our beliefs,” Grandma said, collecting the yams and putting them in the otheru.
Akinyi smiled as she carried the otheru and followed her to the house. They entered the well-lit mud-walled house, which smelled of soot, dry firewood, and yams. The smell was so familiar and homely, as it had always smelled since she was a little girl. The earthen floor had been swept clean, and the walls had various pictures of her grandparents in black and white.
Grandma had been a beauty in her younger years. Also, Grandpa had been quite handsome, probably why he’d won himself eight wives. In most photos, her grandmother was in short skirts and her grandfather in bell-bottom trousers and sporting thoroughly coiffed big hair.
On the wooden table, there was a jug full of porridge. Grandma poured them each a mug of the sweet and sour porridge. “Your mother doesn’t want you to pursue justice for Awino, huh?”
She shook her head, and the old lady didn’t speak for a long time.
“What are you thinking about, Grandma?” she asked when the silence stretched too long.
“I think your mother is right. Ocholla’s sons are hell. They will harm you. Let the matter rest.”
“But I want to help her since nobody wants to,” Akinyi said stubbornly. Her mind flashed to Kadogo’s letter. She shivered as the memory seeped cold deep into her bones.
“You know that you might eat a mango, but it’s your children’s teeth that decay.” Grandma sipped her porridge.
“Meaning?” Akinyi asked. The old lady sometimes spoke in riddles and proverbs which eluded her.
“It means that if Ocholla is not punished for his deed right now, his children or grandchildren will pay for his mistakes.”
“So, we should just wait for God to do His work?” Akinyi raised her brows.
“Exactly.”
“No way, Grandma, I won’t let that happen.”
Grandma shook her head, humming to herself. “But our God of today is not like that of the olden days where people had to wait for ages to get punishment for their evil deeds.” Looking skywards. “Our God back then used to wear robes which might have hindered his pace, but the God of today wears boxers, so the punishment comes faster than expected.”
Akinyi laughed before saying, “I don’t think such serious matters should be left in the hands of Fate. I will try my best to help her.”
“Be careful, Nyakwara. I want to see my great-grandchildren before God calls me home.”
“I will, Grandma. Let me go to the Abururu springs and fetch drinking water for you.”
“Thank you, Nyakwara. God bless you.”
***
Akinyi boarded a boda-boda that dropped her at the rusty Oyugis police station gate. She’d left home early in the morning after finishing her housework without informing her mother about her plans because she would object.
She knew that the locals would see her as an enemy of the people, but she didn’t care. She had to act fast and save Awino lest she…She shook her head, dislodging the horror that her mind painted. Sometimes, when pushed to the wall, with no escape, people harm themselves, just like Kadogo. It wouldn’t happen again under her watch. Not if she could help it.
Strolling to the old brick building with a rusty brown roof, doubt overwhelmed. An old woman walked out, mumbling to herself, and counting her fingers. What was her story? Straightening her back, she climbed the stairs leading to the reporting office.
“Madam, how can I help you?” asked the police officer at the reception desk. He was a tall man who yawned, stretched, and seemed disinterested in his work.
Akinyi almost turned away but knew that she had to do this. Backing out was no longer an option.
“I want to report a defilement case,” she said finally.
“Msichana, you are too old to be defiled,” Mr Bored told her, surveying her from head to toes.
“It’s not me who has been defiled but a thirteen-year-old girl in my area,” you stupid moron, she wanted to add but held her tongue at the man’s misogyny. She had to keep the objective in mind. Getting justice for Awino.
“And what is your relationship with this girl?” he asked.
“She is my neighbour,” she answered, hating Mr Bored by the minute.
“So you are one of those nosy neighbours who put their noses where they don’t belong. How does she being defiled affect you? Is the man your husband?” he asked, sneering. The officer was missing some screws in his head, or his brain was upside down.
“Afande, come see this post,” Mr Bored beckoned to his colleague, raising his phone. His colleague, a short man with a protruding stomach, rushed to his side, his belly wobbling. They watched whatever was on the screen, laughing, scrolling to more posts, and their laughter filled the room.
Akinyi glared at them, anger roiling inside her. The nerve of these officers. Twenty minutes later, Mr Bored looked up, scowling when he found her still rooted to the spot.
“Madam, did you say that the man is your husband?” Putting the phone in his pocket.
Akinyi’s shoulders slumped as tears threatened to fill her eyes. It was just too much. She quickly walked out of the reporting room, leaving Mr Bored staring at her. Once outside, she sat on the bench, wondering what to do next. She had promised to help, and a promise was a debt.
She glanced back towards the station. One of the doors with OCS inscribed on it opened. An idea occurred to her, and she hurried towards it. She knocked, and the fat man behind the desk urged her to get in. She sat down after greeting him.
“How can I help you, madam? Have you been helped at the reporting office?” he asked.
“Not yet. I was trying to give my statement, but the officer was not interested in hearing anything I said,” she explained.
Frowning, he stood from his desk and asked her to follow him to the reporting office. Mr Bored stood to attention at once and saluted his superior.
“Why have you refused to record this lady’s statement?” OCS asked.
Mr Bored’s eyes flew to Akinyi’s accusingly. She just shrugged and smiled.
“I did not refuse, afande,” he answered, almost stammering.
Akinyi almost shouted in jubilation. Who was laughing now?
“Record her statement now!” OCS ordered.
Mr Bored fumbled with his pen and recorded everything that Akinyi told him. When he was through, OCS walked with her back to his office.
“That’s so brave of you. It’s rare to find people who possess your courage. Most people keep such acts private, and in the end, the victim is not served justice while the perpetrator walks the streets a free man. You need to come with the defiled girl and the mother so that they can also record their statement,” he said, swinging on his chair.
“I will do that. Thank you very much. I’m just trying to send a message to the perpetrators that they cannot do such things and get off the hook easily. It should also serve as a warning to others planning to do such,” Akinyi said.
The OCS nodded in agreement. Akinyi stood up and left, feeling light-hearted.