The Other Life

By Anthony Muchoki , originally published 2005.

Every step forward she made was a renewal of her life. A long time ago she had stopped to dream.  Her hopes had been massacred to eternal hell.

She walked on, with forced strides her eyes fixed straight ahead down the road. Without blinking she could see the road was clear. Now she was alive, not really but resurrected.  She thought sweetly that she could not die again. No, never! But she could not help seeing her past, her death.

Dry tears were streaming out of her once beautiful face, now full of wounds.  She felt an unbearably hot potato in her throat. It was burning her whole system.  She opened her mouth fully and with all the energy left in her weakened body she wailed. No voice came out.  She was too weak.

Walking on, there was no end or beginning to life. She had seen, lived and escaped from hell. She had died and come back to life.  As she fainted, just a few metres before reaching Odinga road in Randiera City, she was shouting in her heart: Life is beautiful, I will never die again.

Mwisho was driving at a high speed to go and pick up his girlfriend who was waiting for him at Green Corner Hotel along the same road.   He saw a figure stagger and trip up from an off-road.

The afternoon sun was burning hot. As he passed by he felt pity for the person who had tumbled. He slowed down and reversed the vehicle. He drove back up to where the fallen person was. He stopped the car, got out and rushed to the scene, which was just half a metre from where he had parked.

“Oh no!” he shouted on seeing the disfigured face of a girl, with wounds and marks of torture all over her body.  She was almost naked wearing torn clothes. He felt her pulse. It was beating.  He was so relieved.  His heart started beating fast.

He resolved to do everything he could to help the girl.

As he carried her to the vehicle, he could not help shedding tears. He felt his body and soul feel the pain the girl had undergone. As he examined her, he cursed those who had harmed her. Her body was full of wounds. Every part of her body had been tortured; her skin had been peeled off in some places, with some parts of her body burnt.

 As Mwisho drove her to Agha Khan Hospital, he realized that he had never felt so helpless in all his life. What kind of a beast would torture such a young girl like that? Why? Why? He found himself shouting as he honked to have the hospital gate opened.

He stopped the car near the Casualty entrance and immediately a stretcher was brought out. The girl was taken to the casualty ward. Doctors and other hospital staff started reviving her. They were horrified at seeing the hideous wounds that anyone could tell were the result of murderous torture.

After signing the necessary documents on behalf of the girl for hospitalization, Mwisho went to a nearby police post and reported the matter. He was asked to write a statement. One policeman accompanied him to the hospital to see the sick girl.

By the time he had finished all this, it was almost six o’clock in the evening. His mind was swelling with the pain the girl was feeling. He imagined   the suffering she had borne. A lump of pain in his heart gave way to a stream of tears. He had forgotten all about his girlfriend. He drove on, lost in thoughts, to Green Corner Hotel.

He was resolute that he was going to ensure with all that he had that the life of the girl would be saved. He had never felt such pity for anyone. He had never cried before. When his father and mother died in a ghastly road accident he had rushed to the scene. As he saw their mangled butchered bodies being removed from the wrecked vehicle, he had just felt a deep sense of loss and great sorrow but never cried. He had wanted to. Tears refused to come out of his eyes. Even when they were being lowered into the grave he did not shed any tear. Not that he never loved or cared for them.

By nature and the way his father had trained him, he was a pragmatic person who took everything in his stride. He was ever in control, a real man, with a very high rank in their secret service organization.

That girl had touched a raw fibre in his heart, which left a burning sensation that refused to let go. He was now seeing her wounded face, as he stopped the car outside Green Corner Hotel. He did not get out. The girl’s face was crystal clear in his mind.  The wounds disappeared. Her body healed. She was so beautiful.  Like an angel. She was the most striking image he had ever seen in his entire life.

The girl was smiling at him. Tears were freely falling down his cheeks. He wanted this girl so much; he felt tenderness and a love he had never known before. The face of the girl was so much like his mother’s.

“O my beloved mama,” he sighed.

He thought he heard his mama tell him this was the girl he should marry.

Mwisho’s girlfriend, Pendo had seen him park the car outside the hotel. She was fuming with rage for having been kept waiting for more than five hours. She didn’t know what had happened to her fiancée, who was always time conscious and very courteous. If anything were the matter he would have called, that was his nature.

She had called his cellphone endlessly but there was no response. She was very worried and furious at the same time. Mwisho stayed inside the car for ten minutes. She felt a burning rage rise in her heart. She was so incensed she felt her heart would burst. In two weeks time, they would go and climb the altar. They would say to each other “I do.”  She felt that this was not the way a soon to-be-husband should treat a wife-to-be.

When he did not come out of the car after twenty minutes her rage receded. Worry once more settled in. She paid her bill and walked to where his car was parked. She got the shock of her life. Her lion man was crying profusely but silently. There was nothing, which she knew under the sun that could make him cry. Not death, sickness, disaster, betrayal or hurt…. No, no, she couldn’t think of anything.

She joined him inside the car. This was a unique situation. She had no idea how to handle it. She just held him, and tried to wipe away his tears. He looked so haggard and miserable. Whatever was the case it must be deadly serious. Silently, they swapped seats and she went to the driver’s side. She drove him home. No words were exchanged on the way.

When the watchman opened the gate of his bungalow in Mbezi Beach, Pendo sent him away immediately. She sent him to buy fruits in a nearby shop. He closed the gate and left. She didn’t want him to see the cadaverous condition Mwisho was in.

Pendo took the house keys and opened the Mahogany door to the living room. She locked it after they got inside. They sat down.

Mwisho, tears still streaming down his eyes, told Upendo:

 “I have seen God, life, death and hell today. Plus I have talked to mama too. It was too much for me.  After a shower and cup of coffee I will be all right.”

She did not understand him.

She prepared a hot shower for him. While he was bathing she was busy preparing coffee for him. Suddenly his cellphone rang and she rushed the gadget to him.

“Take the message for me, please,” he told her.

“This is Aga Khan Hospital, tell Mr Mwisho to come here immediately.  His patient needs urgent surgery,” Upendo heard a voice talk in the phone. She relayed the message to Mwisho as he was coming out of the bathroom. His reaction portrayed a deep undeniable passionate concern. It was written all over his face. Some instinct immediately impressed on her that she had to forget the wedding in two weeks time unless the issue at hand was resolved.

She resolved there and then that nothing was going to stop her marriage to the man of her dreams.  She was not going to let go of Mwisho, whether it meant killing this new patient, or going to a powerful witchdoctor.

She would never let go of Mwisho. She was going to get married to him. Yes, she shouted. No one, not even Mwisho was going to stop the marriage, she vowed.

“No one!” she screamed.

******

Upendo Williams was a jolly girl. She was endowed with natural beauty such that it was impossible not to notice her presence as she passed. She was of average size. Her brown complexion and full body was what every African woman dreams for. Not thin or plump, her body was fully proportional. But what was most striking about her was the bounty of her chest.

She was clad in a coloured silk blouse, showcasing her calling chock-a-block breasts.  They were tender and oval shaped, piercing the blouse as if ready to erupt like a volcanic mountain. Her chest radiated power and awe. Maybe it’s because of the way she carried herself.  When walking, her feet seemed as if they were commanding the earth to her steps. With confident and quick strides, looking at her walk along, people just gave her way. And she was so strikingly attractive, with penetrating and calling eyes. When she smiled, her dimples swelled like a full moon and they could melt any a man’s heart.

Naturally, very many men had sought her hand in marriage. She had lost count. But at 29, she had never loved any man. She had rejected all the men who had sought her hand. She was now reminiscing about her past, clearly looking at their faces. When she was working in parliament, as a clerk more than 20 government ministers had wanted her. She had vehemently rejected them as well as hundreds of others. None of them pierced her heart with love.

One of the richest Arabs in the world had seen her when she had gone to Dubai to shop for a car. He had wanted to marry her there and then. He was willing to part with anything including any amount of money she would mention, just to persuade her to marry him or at least sleep with him. She had disdainfully rejected the offer and flown back to Randiera City.

Upendo had never strongly felt attracted to any man. Not as a lover, that is, until she met Mwisho. It was love at first sight. Violent love. When she saw the tall, lanky, black man sipping coffee at Landmark Hotel, her heart momentarily stopped beating for no apparent reason. She looked at him for such a long time, and forgot that she was having a dinner with Prudence.

The men who were seated with Mwisho noted how the girl was so enthralled and they tipped him. He looked at her but did not show any interest. She felt like flying and landing in his arms. She wanted him with all her heart and might. That very moment, she decided she had found the man of her dreams for life or death. She was going to get married to him. She had never felt such a longing in her life. The feelings of love were so real. She felt them all over her body and mind.

She became wet now. Her body was emanating sweat like a thousand little streams. Just looking at him, she had never been so thrilled in her life. She wanted to go and touch him. No, no, she wanted to grab and hold him forever in her arms.  

“He belongs to me!” she found herself piffling and realized she was in her house. Those were just memories.

She took two sleeping pills. Stretched out in bed, she silently prayed for sleep to come and soothe her. Wapi! All she saw were images of Mwisho. He was all over her mind. He was growing larger and larger occupying her whole head. She was labouring to breathe well, as her head was full. It was throbbing madly. She sighed silently.

They were still at Landmark Hotel. She took the most important step of her life. Without a care in the world, she walked to where Mwisho’s table was. She was carrying the weight of the whole universe, the few steps to where he was seated. All that she needed was to get his details and the marriage would be sealed.

 Her tantalizing beauty shook everyone in sight inside the hotel but Mwisho. She had excused herself for her interruption politely and then introduced herself. When she heard his name was Mwisho, and touched his hand in greeting, she could have been on the moon or in heaven. That moment she felt the universe was hers. She would always be happy. This man was her life, her whole world. Nothing else mattered. Only Mwisho. He was her universe.  She was never going to let him go. She requested his business card, and left hers.

She could not finish her dinner and she had to go home. She lied to her friend Prudence that she was not feeling well. She left her and walked to the parking bay where her driver was waiting. She was driven straight home.

She wrote the man’s contact address and other details from the card in her diary. In her bedroom, she kissed the card so lovingly. Now it was Mwisho’s hand she was kissing. She was with him. She held him tightly. He belonged to her. He was in her hands. Nothing could separate them. Nothing. She was in heaven. There could be no other higher joy higher than what she was feeling at that time. She was wet. She came to and exploded. She screamed in pangs of joy. She swallowed the card and realized Mwisho was not with her. No. No. But he could never belong to somebody else. Never. Never.

She came to again and realized she had to change her pyjamas. She jumped out of bed and removed the gown. Naked she opened the bathroom and jumped inside the bathtub. She put on hot water and started washing her body. Inside the water, she was with Mwisho. They were in the Indian Ocean swimming as kings of love.

She was so happy. Mwisho was so loving and considerate. He was so sweet, such an angel.  His smile was the voice of earth; she thought he was the embodiment of all goodness and happiness.  There could not be any other. She proposed marriage to him.

“I want you to marry me. You have not proposed to me, what should I do?” she asked him. Smiling, Mwisho was so happy, “I was just about to ask you to marry me. Now I know you have agreed.” They were so happy. She had all that she wanted most- on earth and in heaven.  Mwisho.  And she came to once more and screamed.

Hell, she left the bathtub without even caring to dry herself.   She threw her body in the large 8 by 8 bed. The sleeping pills were still lying there and she took two more tablets. It was almost 4 am. Mwisho had not even communicated to convey what had transpired in the hospital. Upendo hated Mwisho’s wonder girl – sick or not she had disrupted their plans.

Her phone rang. It was Mwisho calling. She was so apprehensive. She took her time before poking the on button. She was sweating profusely.  Her heart was beating very fast. She felt so powerless for the first time in her life.

“Dear, the situation is so critical. The girl needs a kidney transplant,” was what Mwisho told her finally when she pricked the phone on button. She could not believe it. She wanted to sink to death when Mwisho told her, “There is no known next of kin to her. She is still in a coma. The only good news is that my kidney matches hers. The doctors have done the necessary tests. I am all set to donate one kidney to her.   I am taking the risk.  I am going to the operating theatre now. I must save her life.”

Upendo Williams saw her whole world turn upside down. It could not be. Never. She wailed. Bitter torrents of tears swept her eyes. She begged him at least to wait for her, before going to the theatre.

“No,” he said firmly.

“Come and I will meet you in an hour’s time after my kidney has been removed.”  He had banged the phone and Upendo felt her heart sink.

Upendo was not going to allow another woman to take one of Mwisho’s kidney. She moved out and rushed to her Prado. She almost ran over the watchman, as he tried to tell her something.

“Mama, no clothes,” he told her.  Yes, she was stark naked. She went back to the house. She dressed hurriedly. The journey from Kenyatta Estate to Agha Khan Hospital was like travelling around the earth. Her car was almost flying. Thank God, it was the dead of night and the road was clear. In about five minutes, she was at the hospital gate. This girl was not going to take her sweet Mwisho’s kidney, she swore.

******

When Mwisho came out of the theatre he was a changed man. He was less one kidney. He was also sure the unknown girl, he had risked his life for, was going to be his wife. He had never felt so satisfied in his life.

He was wheeled to a clean, spacious ward, where he would rest for some days as he recuperated. The doctors told him, the sick girl was being fitted with his kidney, and this made him smile and grin widely.

Life was so beautiful; he was experiencing a kind of joy that was washing over his whole body inside and out leaving a sweet serenity he had not felt before.  He wanted this to go on forever. Happily, he slipped into the unknown world of sleep as he thought he would give the girl even his remaining kidney, if it would make him experience that joy for some more minutes. He would gladly give his life for her to embrace that joy.  It was so wonderful. He felt so happy and satisfied.

As Mwisho slept peacefully with a wide smile on his face Upendo Williams was raving mad. She was in Upanga Police station cell. She had gone to the hospital and when she was told Mwisho was already in the theatre, she became so violent. She had tried to force her way to the theatre. She was not going to wait and see Mwisho donate his kidney to a spineless stranger. No, Mwisho belonged to her. He was her man. She would never share him with anyone. Never.

“He is my love and life,” she whispered in the air.

Four big-bodied guards were unable to handle her. Only a passing police patrol car saved the situation. Now it was early morning. She was crying. She had never felt so helpless.  Bitter blankets of rage had formed in her heart. All that she could see now was Mwisho not marrying her. In the whole of her life she had never thought that she would spend an hour in a police cell or jail. She was tired. She was sure that she was going to commit murder.  She stopped crying.

She was calm. When a policeman came to check on her, as she had been locked alone for being very violent, she was a changed woman. The policeman could not believe it. The lady was so beautiful. And she passionately apologized for misbehaving the previous night. She lied that she had taken one too many alcoholic drinks. She smiled at him, with her tantalizing pose that made men forget themselves. She was going to get out of this place; she would use all her charms.

*****

Mwisho, was waking up slowly. He was reflecting on the events of the last 24 hours. So much had happened. Suddenly, he remembered his girlfriend. Upendo Williams. Where was she? He rang a bell and a nurse came in his room immediately. He inquired whether a lady called Upendo had been to see him.

The nurse was afraid, and hesitated. She did not want to lie, so she gently told him, how she had come to hospital and behaved so badly that they had to call the police, who took her away. He did not feel any pinch of pain in his heart. He looked at a wall clock that was in the room. The nurse was happy.  She hoped against all odds the news would not shock him, as it would complicate his medical condition.

Mwisho adamantly looked at the nurse. When need be he was iron willed. He told her insistently, “If within the next hour, Upendo Williams, is not in this room, I am very sorry I will have to leave and look for her. It’s now six in the morning. Every minute counts.” 

He closed his eyes.

*****

By the time the policeman was leaving Upendo’s cell, he was ready to risk his job by releasing her. He had told her that he would ensure that within the next half an hour he would have done what was necessary to get her out of the nook. Upendo promised to award him what she had never given to any man so far: Sex. The policeman was beside himself in ecstasy.

Just as he was entering the OCS’ office to pick up the necessary release documents and forge his signature, the man moved in. He called him and told him, that together they would take the girl to the hospital to see a patient who was close to her.

The policeman felt like sinking in the ground. He wanted to shoot the OCS. But then he thought that if he did it, he would never get a chance to sleep with Upendo. He stopped. He was going to kill him on their way back to the cell from hospital, and he would run away with the girl. She was going to be his forever.

When they reached the hospital, administrators insisted the policemen had to be there in the ward as Upendo communicated with Mwisho. Mwisho refused, and they were left alone. Upendo was so happy to see her sweet Mwisho. She wanted to make love to him there and then. She loved him so much.

“Mwisho…” she cried.

“I want you so much. You are mine. Mine forever. Nobody will ever take you away from me. Never.” She held him tightly.

Together they travelled the moments they had shared. Their proposed marriage…the happiness they had thought they would share. Mwisho, was holding her right hand. He was looking at her in the eyes.

“Pleeease, I beg you to take this,” he told her.

“I am not the same man. I have changed in the last 24 hours.”

Upendo, wanted to die.

“We cannot marry. I’d never be happy if I married you. I have another destiny.”

Hot tears streamed out of her eyes. Like torrential rains they wouldn’t stop. She had no words apart from Mwisho, Mwisho… the end.  Mwisho was still holding her, drying her tears. And now she was caressing him. For the first time in her life, she touched a man’s manhood: Mwisho’s.

She would never have it. Never. Mwisho, took her hand away. She started caressing his chest. No. They would live together forever. She was happy. She took her hand to his neck. She kissed his face. He was so handsome. She was dead sure she would never allow any woman to take Mwisho away from her. She was still holding his neck lovingly.

 “Accept my wish,” Mwisho told her. And she nodded in tears.

Then it happened. Mwisho died.

It did not take more than a minute. Just a few seconds. Before he could even raise his voice in protest, Upendo had strangled him. His protesting body lay on the floor lifeless and expired. The policemen and nurses outside heard the crash as his body gave up on life. They forced the door open.  Upendo was all over, crying and holding her dear beloved one.

“Mwisho, I love you….”

Upendo just powerlessly cried out.

“Mwisho, my Mwisho…”

*****

Devota, was her name. She was coming to slowly. She has been in hospital for one year. But she wouldn’t know it. She had been in a deep coma. One long year.

Her mama was holding her hand. This girl was so beautiful. Today it was her 22^nd birthday. This was a good day. Anxiously her parents had waited for this moment. When she would become conscious again.

She opened her eyes. Papa, she called out. Her father was so happy. His feelings overcame him. He embraced his daughter. He cried. They were so happy. The whole family was gathered in her hospital room. Life was so beautiful once more.

The wounds inflicted on her body had healed completely as she lay in the coma. Her skin was back to normal. Even the scars had disappeared. She was full of beautiful countenance, her smile radiated warmth and liveliness. She looked so immaculate and saintly.

“A miracle, A miracle,” her mama was jumping up and down shouting and thanking the power of providence.  She was happy smiling and laughing. What more could a mother ask for in life?

Devota at first thought she was at home. Its only when a doctor came to examine her that she realized she was in hospital. Her mother explained to her that she had fallen sick but now everything was all right. At midnight, her family members were forced to leave the hospital by the management.

Devota was recollecting her childhood memories. She tried to remember what brought her to hospital. Her mind was blank on that. She couldn’t even remember the murderous torture meted out to her one year ago. 

The doctor on duty telephoned a psychotherapist to come to her ward and reveal truth about the condition she had been in. He wanted her to know the truth to avoid shocking her just in case she got the information from unscrupulous sources.

Devota slipped back to sleep.  She had so many sweet dreams but could not remember any in the morning when she woke up. The bell rang. The door was opened. Two nurses carrying her breakfast got in. They were used to feeding her with a tube that was inserted in her nose. Today it would be different.

She greeted them happily. She was given a cup of porridge. They were excited to hear her talk. Hurry Devota… Devota…. Judy wanted to shout. She had been given some extra money to nurse Devota. She had come to love her as her own daughter.

She had been following her case with motherly concern. She had always been touched and impressed by Mwisho, the man, who like Jesus Christ, lost his life because of another.  Judy wondered what could happen, when Devota learnt the one who gave her a kidney to live on, was brutally murdered for that action?

Then she remembered the previous day was the judgment day for Upendo William’s murder case. It was about seven o’clock in the morning. There was a TV in this hospital ward. Judy switched it on. A newscaster was reading the day’s news in Channel 5. There were images of Upendo Williams and the newscaster said she had been sentenced to death by hanging.

Devota pitied her. Poor girl. Then the newscaster started giving the history of the case. Judy switched off the TV. Devota was a sweet girl. But when need be, she could be firm. She was authoritative, and her voice carried lots of weight.

She ordered the TV to be switched on. Judy with trembling hands switched it on. There the whole story was bared to her. Every detail. All that Mwisho had done for her and how she had been fighting for her life, the last year, in hospital unconscious.

She was numb. Now she was in the forest. The four thugs were driving needles into her body. They were raping her. They were burning her toes.

“If your father does not step down from that parliamentary seat, we will send a portion of your body to him every day by mail!” a huge man, with a scary scar was vomiting words.  Somebody was twisting her hand backward. She was screaming in pain.

For four days, she had woken up to this kind of torture. Every part of her body had been tortured and wounded. She was thinking. There is no death if I am not dead now. I cannot die. And they were inflicting more pain. She was not aware of what they were doing to her now.

All she felt was that they were roasting her in boiling water. That is when one of the thugs received a phone call that her father had tendered his resignation letter to the speaker of the National Assembly. He was no longer a Member of Parliament.

They were now celebrating the good news. Four men were burning her in various parts of the body, with cigarette butts.  She was past feeling pain. Then one of them was telling her to rise up.

“Run for your life!” one of the thugs shouted.

 She was running away. They were laughing. Hideous laughter. She was screaming and sweating in pain and fear.

Judy was holding her. She was crying. Three doctors had immediately come to her ward. Her body was convulsing. Her eyes were getting whiter as she slipped into a coma once more. Her mama entered the room, just as the doctor confirmed that she was in a coma again.

When she learnt what had happened a cry of anguish rent the air. 

“O no, no, not again.”

Devota was her only daughter. Her husband had given up his political career to save her. And after that they had shot him anyway. One bullet was still lodged in his stomach.  This African Mafia! They had kidnapped Devota and caused all this. She would stay with her only child, Devota. She was not going to leave her again. She would never leave her. She wanted her whole again so much. She was all that she had left.

She refused to leave her in the ward when the nighttime came. No she would never. For six months her daughter’s hospital ward was their home. Then it happened. She woke up. Her mama was there. She was smiling. Heaven came down. There was so much joy in that room.

Mother and daughter spoke freely. They discussed the whole saga with tears. But they would be there for one another. Her father had died while she was in the second coma. Sorrow and affliction sent him to his grave at only 50 years old.  Then there was Mwisho. He had died for her. No, he was alive. She had his kidney. That is why she was alive.

Devota was in love with Mwisho. She was seeing his image on the TV. He was so handsome. She was holding him. She was crying. Thank you for saving my life. She was telling him. She would love him,in this life and hereafter.

She knelt down. Holding a rosary, she prayed for the soul of Mwisho. This would be her life. Now and forever. She would join a seminary and become a catholic sister. And she was sure Mwisho would be with her forever.

“Mwisho, Mwisho,” she whispered to him.

“I’ll pray for your soul ten times everyday. That will be my life with you.”

She was sure Mwisho was listening.

“Mwisho,” she whispered again, “I love you forever.”