THE BOY WHO LIVED

BY ANTONY MAINA

My teenage libido almost caused my demise. I had an insatiable thirst for slipping in and out of the wetness of village babe’s wells. One fateful high school holiday, my babe and I agreed that I was going to sneak her out of her home for our usual night of pleasure in my thingira.

My babe had a mother who slept, and her life depended on sleeping. Once she was asleep, even if you vigorously shook her, and screamed in her ears, you were never waking her up. She was a heavy sleeper. The only sound her sleep respected was the crowing of the roasters in the morning.

Sarah, as usual, texted me that her mother was asleep. I braved the darkness to pick her. Not only that, my village was going through an unprecedented insecurity time. There was a spate of home break-ins targeting people’s cattle. The area chief had warned everyone to stay indoors past 10 PM to aid the police in nabbing the criminals.

On the stroke of 10 PM, Sarah texted me that it was time to pick her up for the strokes. I whistled my way to her home. Sarah’s home sat on a two-acre piece of land. If you were raised in the village, you will agree with me that village people love having large compounds. Sarah slept in a grass-thatched house, one hundred meters from the gate. Her house was sandwiched between her parent’s home, and her brother’s cubical. On the other end of the compound was a cowshed with around ten cows.

I made my way into the home, boldly, and stealthily walked toward Sarah’s house. I had done this multiple times with success. On that day, Lady Luck abandoned me. When I was in the middle of the compound, a woman screamed, “muici, muici!” She screamed that her home had been invaded by thieves.

Suddenly, four young men vroomed from the cowshed at an alarming speed. They sneaked through the gate and disappeared into the yonder darkness. All the while, I was still unsure of what was happening. I was confused and unsure of the next course of action. I was not prepared for what was happening.

People stormed out of their homes and houses and stormed into their homestead. I was grounded, trembling and scared. My legs were heavy. Everything was happening so quickly. One second, I was carrying an erection heading to smash a babe, the next second, people were running towards me while carrying clubs to smash me.

“Who are you?” They cornered me.

Before I announced that I was the grandson of kingori wa thuita and wanja wa kingori, somebody slapped me. I was beaten to a pulp. I was beaten indiscriminately by the angry mob. I was accused of having been among the thieves who had attempted to steal the cows from the homestead.

They did not allow me to speak. Then my savior appeared. Sarah could not stand it anymore. She walked into the center of the group and asked them to stop assaulting me. “He was not part of the thieves,” she said.

Her elder brother shoved her away. He claimed that her antics were inspired by mercy. She forced her way back into the center, pulled out her phone, and showed them our texts. Still, they did not want to believe her. They were planning to fetch paraffin and an old car tire when I reached into my pocket and pulled out a packet of condoms.

Sarah was mad that her brother was assaulting me the hardest. She picked up the packet of condoms from my hands, held it high, and said, “You see, he was here to pick me for a night of lungula. I will not watch you kill my boyfriend while you have left the real thieves to disappear into the thickness of the darkness.” I felt proud watching her stand up for me. All I was thinking at that was to take her home and have my club disappear into the thickness of her thighs.

I was saved by Sarah’s boldness. My life was protected by the presence of the condoms in my pocket.