DON'T GET CAUGHT

EPISODE ONE Gangster life is good when the cash flows in, the bills are paid and everybody gets their cut. That was my life for a long time until things went rogue. My name is Beast and this is my story..... Life in the country side had not been any easy. I am the firstborn in a family of six and I had to drop out of college in third year since my parents could no longer afford to pay for my school fees. My father worked in the military before retirement and the bitter truth is that he came home broke than he left. He tried to give us a better education and gave us the best life he could when he was still able to and things were good only until he married a second and third wife. My mum was not happy with my dad's decision but she had no say because after me, she only gave birth to girls. My dad needed more children and according to him they had to be boys since he considered girls worthless because at the end of the day they would get married and leave. My grandfather hated my sister's. He called them all sort of names and warned my dad severally and made it clear that if his wife could not give birth to more boys then he had to marry as many wives as possible till he got children. I wondered what I was since I was overlooked most of the times. when I finished my O levels, dad had very much wanted me to join the military and so once in a while he would train me on how to handle a gun, not only how to shoot a flying bird in the air but how to dismantle and fix all the pieces, I also had to know the right bullets for each gun and as a result I developed an interest in handling guns, not because I wanted to join the military but because I wanted to shoot my grandfather in his sleep. I hated him. I hated him for calling my sister's all sorts of names. I hated him for making my mother have sleepless nights and cry herself to sleep. I hated him for taking all the money my dad sent to mum for our upkeep and use it on alcohol. He always told mum that she had no right to use any money my dad sent home because she did not participate in educating their son. I was mad. How could a man be so wicked? Did he ever think of us? No money got into my mother's hands and so many are the times we would go hungry and am not talking about skipping lunch then having dinner kind of hunger, it was intense. Sometimes the food would be too little that I had to make of letting my younger siblings eat as mum and I slept hungry. Mum had to look for ways to make sure there was food on the table even if it meant having just one meal. She worked in people's farms to get the little money just to try and make ends meet and many are the times people insulted her, how could a wife to a military officer be roaming around the village looking for farms to work on? My mum, may God bless that woman. She never gave up on us and she didn't care what other people said. She took in all the shame and blame and she even put up with her co wives just to make sure there was peace. My dad sent his two wives money for upkeep but my mum had to hustle her way out of the situation we were in. Dad said mum being the oldest of the wives she could at least get creative and weave baskets or curve pots and sell at the market and get money for our upkeep. A year later my grandfather died a few months after my dad came home. I had come back home from Nairobi because I could no longer afford to be in college and in Nairobi if you have no job or a source of income, no one would volunteer to house you. No one wanted to take responsibility of a grown man. I'm not a lazy man so don't get me wrong, I tried odd jobs, pulling carts for market women and carrying their stocks for them, I hawked ladies dresses but the teargas and the city council would give me a run for my money, sometimes I would be selling to customers then all over sudden the other hawkers would engage the police in running battles and some customers would run off with both the money and the dresses and all these hustle still couldn't rent me a decent single room, put food on my table or even pay my school fees and It was frustrating so I decided to go back home and relax my mind a bit before I thought of the way forward. Back to my grandfather, I had been around for a while and the news of his death found me seated by my mother's side talking as we made dinner outside. During those days, we couldn't afford to buy paraffin for the lamp and buy food at the same time so we would prepare food early then eat as early as six thirty pm then go to bed later. When villagers heard of his death, everyone wailed and cried and for a moment I thought they were exaggerating he was just a dead man like any other, okay that could be insensitive but my grandfather never gave me a reason to like him. He never spent time with me or taught me stuff grandfathers taught their grandsons all he did was come home drunk and hurl insults at everyone and anything that moved. What was really traumatic about his death? I never left where I was seated and for me that was the happiest day of my life. My urge to shoot him in his sleep had died when I had gone to the city for my studies so the few weeks I was home, we never saw eye to eye as I had decided to stay away from him and his house. I would only go to see my grandma when he was not around. Before we knew about his death, he had gone missing the previous night and grandma assumed that he had gone to see a woman he had inherited after the death of his husband. Apparently that was not the case. He had gone on a drinking spree and was was found floating in the river after an attempt to cross while he was dead drunk. it wasn't a pleasant sight but that didn't mean I couldn't dance on his grave. In the Africa especially in the village, when people die, alot of people stream in to condone with the ones who have lost their loved ones and its normally tears and wailing and shouting until the dead rest six feet under. That was the case with my grandfather's funeral. The funeral arrangements lasted for a week and all his sons and daughters came home to bury their dad, now let's talk about his sons and daughters shortly. These are men and women who live good lives, drive big cars and come home with accents from whichever countries they have been in yet they left their father and mother to suffer. The one thing I hate about being many in a house hold is the competition and the I don’t care attitude. Everyone thought that somebody else would take responsibility and at the end of the day, everyone was busy that none of them thought of looking after the parents except for aunt Melissa who would send money to grandma once in a while. Melisa wasn't rich, she was married to a primary school teacher something her other well off siblings looked down on her for but she was happy. Even though my grandfather was an arrogant man, his funeral attracted so many people and amongst them politicians, the area chief and his fellow drunk men who caused a scene by fighting for the bull's head to go and s*******r and I sat there thinking of how a wasted community that was. I didn't want to end up like my grandfather neither did I want to follow into my father's footsteps as I had learned that alcohol and women is a bad combination. My dad was now a frustrated drunkard. he had spent all his money on women and alcohol and right now he could not afford a dime he kept asking me for money and when I told him I didn't have, it was all insults and many are the times I heard from him how useless I was, he told me there was no difference between me and my sisters and I should have been born a girl instead. See in the Africa setting, if your wife does not give birth to a son then she has not given birth at all and so my father comparing me to my sisters was an insult. My father had started sharing the same views with his late father so I didn't know if it was a family thing or it was just the alcohol talking. When I didn't have a dime to give him he ran errands for people in the countryside so that he could get money for alcohol... Not to feed the family but to buy alcohol and in the evening I would go collecting him from whatever bush he had ended up sleeping in because he would be too drunk to get home... I hated his life style and tried to talk him out of it, when he was sober he would really listen and tell me how right I was and how he was proud to be my dad, that was only until he got drunk and the insults started again. At times he would tell me that I would never understand what he is going through until the day I will have my family and have mouths to feed and bills to pay, only then will I be fit to stand in a place where men were called. I couldn't tell if those were wise words or insults. I hated the way he had no faith in me, I wanted to be that man he would recognize among men but I just didn't know how. The home no longer became conducive as there were fights every day. The women could not get along. Sometimes two of them would gang up on one and most of the time my dad would not be around so being the eldest in the family I would have to intervene. It wasn't an easy task because many are the times I would try to come in between to separate them then they would end up pushing me to the wall and working on me thoroughly. I couldn't beat up the women, not just because they were women but they were my mother's as much as I didn't like it. One night as mum was cooking outside I sat with her to keep her company as I felt that she was so lonely most of the time and she had so much buried deep inside her. I made sure I put everything she needed in place so that she couldn't keep sending me every second for salt, fire wood, water and etc. that's very typical of an African mum. When I was done I sat down roasted some maize as we talked. Mum: my son, what is your plan now that we can no longer afford to pay for your fees? Me: I have been thinking of going back to Nairobi to look for another job apart from Hawking. Mum: do you know anyone in Nairobi who can house you till you get something to do? Me: it shouldn't be hard once I get there. Mum: I want you to prepare your things and get ready. I will look for some money then you can leave tomorrow. I don't want to see your life get wasted like this. You are very intelligent and I know when you get to Nairobi you will find a job and go back to school. I could see the pain in her eyes as she spoke. It made me want to cry but I couldn't. I am a man. Men are not supposed to cry, that's what my dad told me all the time. I had to go to the city, I had to find a job not to make my life better but I had to do it for my mum. Three of my sister's ran off and got married as soon as they hit 18. I felt like they were still too young for marriage but do I blame them? This wasn't a home anymore. Had I been there, I would have stopped them but by the look of things this was more of survival for the fittest. If they had found a way to survive out there, have food on a daily basis and not hear insults all the time that was good enough for me. Two days later I got to the city of cause with my mum's blessings. I didn't have a phone, it must have fallen during one of the running battles with the city council and so I decided to show up at one of my friends’ door. He was my buddy in college and we shared a lot before he dropped out saying he had found a job and would come back to school later after saving enough for his fees. We were close and so I thought he would help me out as I figured it all out. I knocked on his door and after a few seconds the door was opened by a lady. She was in a towel and the first thing I noticed was how beautiful she was. She was dark in complexion and when she smiled her white teeth and dimpled cheeks got my attention. Her: excuse me, can I help you? Me: yes, am actually looking for kevin. He still lives here right? Her: (not answering me) Kevin! Someone is looking for you. The people in the city have no manners at all. Can’t someone just invite you in or better still ask for a name? I thought to myself as I stepped back and waited impatiently for Kevin to show up and few minutes later he did in a short and a vest. Kevin: hey dude, what brings you here this early? Me: I needed to see you. I couldn't call because I don't have a phone. Mine got stolen in the streets of Nairobi. Kevin: come in please. I followed him in and sat on a plastic chair next to the door. He sat on the bed ready to listen to my story. I told him about my situation and how I had decided to come back to look for a job and I didn't forget to mention the fact that I was looking for a place to stay even after seeing how small the bed sitter was. Kevin: am so sorry about your situation man I really am, I can't promise you a place to stay but I can help you look for a job. I know of a guy who owns a car wash. I can talk to him and see if he can find you something to do. That was a relief; I knew Kevin was a good man. He said he couldn't let me stay because he was living with his girlfriend and trust me I understood his fear because the temptation to hit on a brothers girl would get real than it was a few minutes ago. He asked me to wait for him to get dressed so that we could go to the car wash together. I did as his girlfriend served me a cup of tea and a few slices of bread.. it felt good to finally have something land in my stomach...