Word had spread like wild-fire. Like a rumour does. Only that it was not. Everyone had known she had been a rare kind. The kind that every dude on campus had a crush on and had hit on. When I say rare I mean VW Beetle rare kind. The kind that dudes wondered how they still existed, if God really still made them. If I say she was beautiful that would be an understatement. She was drop dead gorgeous just like Dave would describe her whenever he talked about her. Dave unlike other friends of mine who secretly harboured feelings of desire for her did not shy away but declared his interest. But he was a fraud and he could not have a girl like her. Dave was a braggart and talked so passionately about her you would think he had worn her over.
She was somewhere between six and seven with a big booty that every dude wanted to get a share of. If you hail from Wagallo then this is no news. I mean all the chicks from those parts of the world have asses like Nicki. She had fairly big eyes, proportionate eyelids and an oval face. Her protruding forehead made her whole facial caricature look weirdly attractive. Looking at her, I would always conclude that weird is the new beautiful.
Let me digress a little bit. Friday 1st April was the last day I ever saw Molly happy. She had been a happy soul, always laughing with friends and strangers a like. She easily got into conversations with people she barely knew and charted you up as if you had been pals from way back. She loved people and people loved her. On this very day she was in a queue waiting for her turn to cast her vote. She was a crusader of positive change and actively took part in the activities that would bring the change she so much had a passion for. She was a feminist by her own right. Hold up. Wait a minute. She was not your kind of Nairobi ‘feminists’ who run around preaching the ’empowerment’ of the girl child shit at the expense of the boy child. Molly believed in equality. She had not run for any of the elective positions in the campus politics despite having been asked severally by fellow students to do the same. They had even agreed to code her full support, both moral and financial. In response she said what she had always said, “you do not need political leadership to influence change.”
While her friends had run home not participating in the student elections, Molly remained back at school to put into practice her Constitutional right. She believed that her single vote however insignificant counted and could make a difference. What made me fume with rage was the manner in which the election process was chaotic and nauseating. Remember that guy who had a local popular club’s jersey on?! That guy who yelled and pulled and pushed people without care. Yes the one who violently pushed you Molly and said you were at the wrong place. That that was no place for women. I wish he knew better. I am glad though that the situation was brought to control before it got out of hand.
The elections were over and done with and the result, we ended up in the fields engaging the blue uniformed Nkaisserry boys in running battles…hide and seek sounds more descent huh!!!-the infamous field days. Kelvin, the guy who later came to call himself foot soldier thought the field days were not bad for the comrades. That they were good for their health except for the smoke that made them cough uncontrollably and even shed tears. Yes the smoke comrades later learnt came from those cheap hawkers with little little eyes. And oh some comrades for fear of what God knows refused to join in the field day events remaining in the hostel rooms from where they were picked and hurled in trucks. I hear they had a very cold night. I also had the guy who harassed you was among them. Sad!!!
After convening a senate committee meeting and thoroughly consulting, the administration thought that comrades needed a few days rest after the field activities. And that is how we ended up home for the one month. Some comrades whom the administration thought had over indulged in the field activities were served letters of either suspension or expulsion.
Back to Molly. She remembers the day like it was yesterday. She sobs and cries at the thought of the darkest day in her life. Have you ever sin a beautiful girl shed tears??!!. Yeah like literally shed tears. Men it was a horrible scene. Damn I thought I felt my emotions roll up my throat with a terrible burn. I felt pain in my underbelly as she narrated her ordeal.
After the indefinite closure of the school she decided to travel back home while waiting for the official communications on the re-opening of the school. Unlike some of her friends she immediately travelled back home to help with the farm work knowing that it was planting season. She bought a few goodies for her oldies and siblings with her little savings and boarded the next bus, Easy Coach back home. The experience was rather profound. She loved the experience being her first time to travel at night. She loved the comfort and the services despite having to dig deep into her pockets. She had planned to sleep all through the journey if not for the guy on the immediate opposite seat who charted her up till late.
On the fateful day she woke up feeling rather heavy and weak. It had rained all through the previous night and this meant early morning work in the farm would barely be possible. She was relieved because she would have to go to the farm a little late, meaning she could still have a few more rounds of sleep. She dragged herself out of bed, took her panga and headed to the shamba. She removed the cone remains that had been washed down by rain to the shamba the previous night. She uprooted weeds upon weeds around the farm leaving it looking so clear and admirable. She picked a few leaves of kale for the evening meal and finally decided to go downstream to collect water before finally heading home since it was getting late.
Being alone she remembered her mother having warned her against going downstream during late hours in the evening for fear of wild animals and people who would have wished to hurt her. But Molly thought she heard a group of people talk from down the stream. She immediately identified one of the voices which made her feel safe. It was that guy Clemmo who stayed a few metres from their home and his crew of three other guys who together engaged in sand harvesting and selling. Molly said hi which was met with cold response and a loud laughter enough to blow out the eardrums. She thought she smelt something like a burning purple flower. This partly explained why they laughed so hysterically yet so annoyingly. They opened they mouth so wide like a group of hyenas ready to pounce on a block of rotten meat. Molly ignored and filled her water bucket then began to walk slowly up the valley.
One of them coughed maybe to signal the others that it was time. Olweny, the guy with the scar right below his right eye-socket went and blocked her way. Soon another guy was violently grabbing and shaking her to let go of the water bucket she had magically set upon her head. Molly tried to scream but was gagged and pinned down on the almost dark ground. She kicked and threw jabs, kicked again and threw another jab to set herself free from these beasts of people whom she had known at the moment that were not for any good. She felt a tear drop on her left temple and knew she had made a mistake. She felt weak and defeated as they took turns in taking away from Molly the one thing she had kept as a special gift to the future father of her kids. After the odious act they left her for dead and disappeared in the still darkness. Molly passed out only to wake up the following morning in a hospital bed nursing wounds that would remind her of the ordeal forever.