AN IDIOTIC LUST

AN

IDIOTIC

LUST.

SAMUEL SIMIYU MAKARI.

2021.

For my loving daughter Vivian Nasimiyu Makari.

Dear Reader,

Am glad I have written my second book after writing and self-publishing my first book, THE RECKLESS CHILD, on Amazon. A good number of my friends, some who are already established writers encouraged and motivated me to write more. This book, IDIOTIC LUST, was not easy especially when it came to creating characters to meet my desired audience and to pass across my desired message. However, with determination, I have made it. Am appealing to the general public and my desired audience at large that the characters I have used are all fictitious. If any name of a person coincides with those in this book, you should know that there were no ill intentions. I wish you all a nice reading.

Sincerely,

Samuel Simiyu Makari.

Introduction.

Nafula looked herself in the mirror. The wound on her face was still fresh. Her face was swollen all over. She tried tabbing it with a towel dipped in warm water mixed with salt. She winced in pain as she felt her hand tremble. She threw the towel down and started sobbing again. She had sobbed the whole night. She had not slept a wink. She asked God over and over again what she ever did wrong. She had been a good wife. A loyal wife. She did everything that her husband wanted. She had played and danced to his tune the short time they had been married. Was she really married? Was he really her husband? She hoped so. She had had her own reservations about their being together. Her husband had paid her people a visit as was expected of him. Not because he loved her and wanted to be with her. He had gone there together with his friends to introduce himself to her family. She remembered the day very well. They were very happy back then. He had promised to change. She kept the hope but unfortunately, it never came. She had kept the faith. She understood him. Or she thought she did. Anyway, that was a story for another day. She was nursing injuries. Nursing injuries for what? She never did anything wrong. She had only done what any other loyal wife could have done. She was human after all! But then, why all that? Why be battered like a wolf amongst a flock of sheep? What started as a small misunderstanding culminated into something big to an extent of her husband beating the hell out of her and leaving her for the dead.

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

“Where are you dear?” she asked her husband after calling his phone.

“Who are you please?” a female voice asked her. In the background, she could hear noises of people shouting and talking. There was also music being heard in the background and whoever was talking to her must have locked herself somewhere because she could hear the echo as they talked.

“Kindly give the owner of the phone his phone. I want to talk to him,” she implored the lady who had received her call.

“The owner is the one talking. Tell me what you wanted and please be quick. I don’t have the whole day!” the other lady told her.

“Kindly please. Am begging you,” she told her.

“Woman, I don’t know what you are talking about. Am the owner of this phone and...”

“I know and I understand. Am not in any way against you. I only want to talk to him please. I know he is there with you,” she calmly told her.

“Alright. Alright. Let me get him for you,” the lady said and did not hang up.

“Thank you very much,” she told the lady.

“Waswa, your wife is calling,” the lady said casually as she tossed the phone on his laps.

“My what? How did you know?” Waswa asked her.

“Because I just talked to her!” the lady said while crossing over to take her position at the table.

All this while, she had been listening. She listened as her husband exchanged words with the lady who had received her call. She practiced patience; the patience of one milking an ogre. She heard all that her husband had to say and after some few more minutes, her call was ended and the phone switched off. Yes, switched off! Her Waswa; her Bukusu darling just hanged up on her! She couldn’t believe it. She never believed it. It was not him. Something must have happened to him. He never behaved that way. She kept trying his number but it remained off the better part of the night. She did not remember how and when she slept. She just woke up with a start. Someone was at the door. Someone was banging on the door while calling her name. She woke up confused. She forgot where the door was and rushed to the bedroom. She had slept off on the couch and her mind did not register early enough for her to remember. She thought she was in the bedroom and was heading to the sitting room to go and open the door. The kicks and shouts from her husband were getting out of hand. He was obviously enraged. He always lacked patience whenever he came home late. Whether he used that to cover up for his being late, no one knew.

“What have you been doing?” her husband growled at her immediately she opened the door.

“Am sorry dear. Forgive me. I overslept,” she told him while trying to look as calm as possible. She was visibly not happy.

“Give me some food,” her husband said as he slumped onto the couch.

“I have not cooked anything tonight,” she told him.

“What do you mean? Why didn’t you call me?” he asked her.

“I did but...”

“But what? Oh! I just remembered. Was that the reason why you abused my friend on phone?” he asked her. She could easily sense a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

“I never abused anyone. I only asked her to give you your phone,” she calmly said.

“So she was lying to me? Rose can never lie to me. Never!” he shouted at her.

“My dear, I am your wife for God’s sake. You cannot compare me with your...”

“My what? Tell me, my what?” he asked her while getting up from the couch.

“This is unfair. You are being unfair to me. Assume you are the one who...”

“Get out of my house,” he whispered to no one in particular.

“What did you say?” she asked. She had not heard him well.

“Get out of my house you fool!” he shouted at her while slapping her across her face.

The slap came unexpectedly. It caught her off guard and she landed on the plastic chair near the door. She crushed down with it. Her husband was already on her. She struggled with him. His hands looked extraordinarily big that night. Her neck was too small for his hands. He was strangling her. She never knew how she did it but she gasped for fresh air immediately his grip came off her throat. Her husband fell on his back in a bucket of water in the house. He groaned in pain with his hands in between his legs. She must have kicked him in the groin.

She was completely out of control when enraged. Nothing could stop her! She charged at her husband while wailing.

“You will kill me tonight! You must kill me tonight and take my corpse to my people!” she wailed as she came crushing on the floor. She had slipped on the slippery floor next to where her husband was. The bucket her husband crushed into was having clothes soaked in soap. She slid all the way to the far end of their sitting room and only stopping when her legs hit on the television stand. The television fell on her, covering her from the chest to the head. At the same time, her husband, apparently after managing the pain between his legs, came for her again. She grabbed the television from her chest and threw it at him.

“Do you know the cost of that television! Useless bitch!” her husband shouted at her after dodging the television as if there was any useful bitch!

“Come and kill me! What are you waiting for? Come and kill me now!” Nafula shouted back while thumping her chest. She heaved in anger and within no time, husband and wife locked horns!

The banging on the door jostled him awake. He woke up with a start. The bright light in the room stung his eyes as he struggled to open them. He might have forgotten to switch off the lights before going to sleep. He lazily turned in bed and looked around. It had been a dream for he found himself alone. Kind of a nightmare that he wouldn’t wish to go through again in his entire life. His head was aching and he could hear the throbbing from a far. Where had the biting headache come from? He could not get the right answers. In fact, he never knew how he had reached the bed. All the same, he hoped that whoever was banging on the door goes away! As he turned to face the wall, the banging started again. Only that this time round, it was a bit heavy-heavy like when the police bang on a culprit’s door before they arrest him or her.

“Ah! What is it? What do you want?” he asked angrily.

“It is me. Please open the door,” a female voice told him from outside.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he asked.

“We are doctors and we want to talk to you,” a male voice addressed him.

“How many are you?” he asked absent mindedly.

“We are three doctors together with your mother,” the male voice replied.

“Then talk to yourselves,” he told them and kept quiet.

“Son, please open the door. I am your mother,” his mother called him out.

“I said go away!” he said and covered both his ears with two pillows.

There was silence for some time then the banging resumed again. He remained silent. He neither moved nor produced any sound. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted to be in solitude. He had told them before. He was tired of people dropping by in the name of encouraging him yet he could easily see it in their eyes. He never wanted their sympathies. He knew some of them were not sincere. He knew some despised him. They despised the remains of his miserable life. Miserable, did he say? Yes, miserable life that was wasting away very fast! When the banging persisted, he gave in and opened the door. At least, for the last time, he thought.

“Whatever you want, you better be quick!” he said as he flew the door open and barred the way. He lazily and tiredly looked at his visitors.

“Son, it is your doctor who wants to talk to you. He has come with his friends. They are also doctors and they are here to help you son,” she said.

“Doctors?” he asked nobody in particular, “I thought I said I don’t want to see anybody, doctor or not!” he said sharply without looking at his mother.

“No son. Don’t say that. We are all here to help you son,” his mother said.

“I don’t want your help! All of you!” he shouted.

“Oh! God! Remember my son God! He needs your help God. He is a good son God and...”

“Not again mum! Not again! ” he shouted at his mother who had started sobbing. She had sobbed all this while ever since she got information about her son fainting.

“Waswa, how are you doing today? ” a man in a dark suit asked him. Behind him were two ladies, both in suits

“What do you want? You think I don’t know you people? I am not going anywhere with you! In fact, get out of my house! Now!” he shouted at the man in a terribly shaking voice.

“Easy! Easy! We are not here to harm you. Neither are we here to take you anywhere. We are only here to help you. You are a good young man and we believe we can help you if you give us a chance,” the man said.

“No more hospitals!” he shouted at no one in particular.

“Agreed. No more hospitals. I am doctor Njoroge while the lady on my left is doctor Naomi, a nutritionist and on my right is doctor Agnes, a counselor,” the man said.

Waswa tried to calm down. He found it difficult to breath and speak at the same time. It had been a week ever since he sneaked out of hospital. He pitied the nurse who helped him escape. He had convinced her to give him back his clothes and immediately he gave her a tip of one thousand shillings, he tried his luck. He loathed the hospital environment. He hated the humming of the hospital machines. In fact, he hated everything in the hospital including the doctors and staff. He wondered why they were struggling with him. He had thrown in the towel. He had lost the battle. He never wished to fight anymore. He looked at the ever busy nurses running up and down the male ward. Do they really love their job? Do they have families? As in, they never seemed to stop working! He remembered Jessica. She was a nurse in one of the hospitals in Nairobi. She was a damsel! He however dumped her. Dumped her because she was a nurse! Imagine! What an excuse to dump somebody! Anyway, that was crime and reason enough for Waswa to dump Jessica.

Back at the hospital, Waswa kept on thinking on how he had found himself in a hospital bed. He never remembered walking or being driven to the hospital. He hardly visited the hospital. In fact, he hated hospitals ever since he was young. He hated those jabs the doctors gave him while still young though they earned him a bottle of Fanta Orange but the pain was excruciating on his small behind. He looked at the nurse on duty approaching his bed. The nurse, a short and slim lady with an afro hairstyle and with a don’t care attitude-an attitude that many learnt to adapt. Anyone who has ever been to a public hospital can attest to this. There are those nurses with an attitude, especially those in the maternity ward. They never seemed to be in a hurry. And the abuses! They excelled in abusing patients who fortunately for them, only cared about their unborn babies, their bundles of joy- told him how he had ended up at the hospital. He learnt that he had been unconscious when he was brought in. How he became unconscious was a not anywhere in his mind. He still felt weak but was glad because he had a good neighbour who kept him awake most of the time at night. The guy, a high school teacher, as he learnt from their conversation and suffering from hypertension and diabetes, was a very jovial man despite the visible pain he was going through. One morning, Waswa woke up and found an empty bed. When the nurse came around for their routine checkups, he inquired about his friend and was told casually that he had passed on at night. Just like that! No remorse! Not human at all! Or was it because these nurses worked in hospitals all their lives and had seen many succumb to their various illnesses that they lost the sense of being remorseful? Waswa could not understand! Such was life! A minute ago, you are talking to somebody and the next minute, he or she has passed on. Gone forever never to be seen again! That was it! Waswa never settled after the death of his newly found friend at the hospital. He tried to ask the doctors to discharge him but in vain. The doctors simply told him to stay a little bit longer. His underlying factors were overwhelming and he needed time for the doctors to bring the situation under control. However, all these were just stories to him. He had made up his mind. He had come up with his plan. To hell with the doctors and their procedures! To hell with their medical jargon that never made any sense to him! In fact, he never was sure whether they were helping him or not!

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

The siren blared in the hospital corridors. A patient had escaped! But how? How could a patient escape with all those guards? Something was amiss somewhere! But that aside, the hospital management was tasked with the duty of getting back the patient. He was declared insane and dangerous basing on how he had been behaving before his escape. Waswa’s home was traced. Medics and the hospital security personnel arrived immediately in an ambulance that had its siren blaring to anyone who cared to listen. As usual, it attracted attention in the village. An ambulance was feared like a man in the village known to spread bad news like announcing someone’s death. Any time villagers saw the man, they could not wait for the news. They could just start wailing and wait with abated breath to see the homestead he could enter. That was how the ambulance was treated. It spelled doom. So when villagers saw it enter Waswa’s home, they knew something was wrong. They quickly left everything they were doing and rushed there to go and see what was going on. Women tied their wrappers tightly around their waists and raced towards the homestead. Some had already started wailing. They knew someone had passed on. The men stood at a safe distance and only shook their heads. They wondered how the mother Earth could be such selfish and gullible! How could she swallow all these people and she seemed not ready to stop swallowing them! Waswa’s mother was in the kitchen preparing food to take to her son in hospital when she heard the siren. At first, she thought it was heading somewhere else. Death will surely finish all of us! She thought. She was however surprised when the siren blared right in her compound. The doctors were very clear and to the point. Lost? How? How could her son get lost? Where were the guards? Where were the doctors and nurses? She had very many questions and begged for answers but none was forthcoming. She raised her voice and wailed twice. She wailed again and before the people gathered in her compound knew it, she had already broken into a run.

“Go after her!” someone in the crowd said.

Some women followed her. By then, she was wailing freely. She was a bitter woman. She was a bitter mother! Her only son! No way! She raced towards her son’s cottage. Not knowing what to do, the rest of the crowd followed her at a distance. She reached the door before the two women who had been following her reached there. The door was locked from inside!

“My son is alive! My son is alive! He is not dead!” she shouted as people gathered around her son’s cottage.

How had he managed to come all the way from hospital and enter his cottage without being seen? Was he okay or he was still in pain? Why did he run away from the hospital? Many had questions but there were no answers. Those who managed to peep through the window confirmed that he was indeed in the house. The heaving of his chest was evidence enough of his being alive.