A Small-Town Girl

CHAPTER ONE

The pride of a woman is to get married.

Lucy Akinyi mulled over her grandma’s favourite statement as she plopped on her seat, fatigued after finishing her share of the morning chores.

My daughter, it is three months in this hell hole. You should get back to Nairobi. There aren’t any opportunities for you in this town. You are wasting your time here, her mother, Nyakisumo, walked into the house with an aluminium tea kettle in hand. She placed it on the table and sat down, the seat squeaking under her heavy weight.

Akinyi groaned inwards, dreading and hating this conversation in equal measure. It was like this every morning. Was home no longer a haven?

She’d returned home after everything in her life had fallen apart. David ended their six-year relationship on the day she thought he would finally propose to her. Pain radiated in her chest when she remembered the break-up.

Afterwards came the tragedy with Kadogo, and then Akinyi was sacked from her job. Misery came in pairs, indeed.

Hence, she’d escaped to her hometown to lick her wounds and patch her life together.

Breaking out of her trance, she found her mother glaring at her.

Mother, don’t even start. I am not leaving. I know that my aunts have filled up your head with nonsense. I will get married, eventually. Don’t worry so much about me, she countered.

Her mother and grandma had been hinting that she ought to find a man and get on with having babies. According to them, a woman’s office is in the husband’s kitchen. No matter how learned or successful a woman became in life, it was useless if she wasn’t married.

However, she wanted both a career and a loving marriage. As her thirtieth birthday approached, Akinyi understood her mother’s worries. Most graduates stayed in cities with plenty of opportunities. Then, after a few years, they returned, driving big cars and building mansions. Most of Akinyi’s local agemates were already married, with two or more children.

Nyakisumo was worried that she won’t get married since the town didn’t have eligible bachelors. The few good men doing meaningful work were primary and secondary school teachers. Furthermore, the natives of Rachuonyo couldn’t intermarry since Rachuonyo were believed to be related. Hence it was taboo.

Most of the young men in the area were elementary school dropouts. They spent all their time and meagre income on bhang, locally brewed busaa and chang’aa. They wreaked havoc, stealing property and livestock, spending the better part of the days at the Agawo centre playing simbi and plotting the night raids. They’d even renamed the place Agawo si Kenya.

As if to buttress her mother’s fears, outside the window, Daddy, one of the Agawo si Kenya lot, staggered past, singing loudly, drunkenly. Achienge, Achi Bella ooh you make… very sweet syrup and moisturising aka chwakramyacin.

Akinyi caught a glimpse of despair in Nyakisumo’s gaze as she shook her head and walked out of the house.

***

One of Akinyi’s young cousins of about twenty years was being married off. The husband had brought six heads of cow, and it was the talk of the small town.

My daughter, what are your plans for marriage? The young ones are leaving, but I have never seen you or heard gossip about your engagement with any man, Nyakisumo asked, looking at the faraway hills.

Akinyi giggled before asking, Do you have people spying on me?

Not really, but you know if something like that were to happen, it wouldn’t escape the watchful eyes and sharp ears of the people. Mother chuckled.

Mama, I haven’t found anybody whom I love enough to want to settle down with. I want a prince charming that will sweep me off my feet, and we would live happily ever after, she said, her eyes gaining a dreamy look.

Her mother pinched her on the cheek, bringing her back to reality.

What, Mama? Can’t a girl have dreams?

Some dreams are just impossible. You are talking about the kind of love found in romance novels and soap operas. It isn’t real, so wake up. The woman waved her off, a frown rumpling her face.

Thank you, Mama. It is a beautiful dream, and I’ll keep holding onto it. Akinyi sighed.

Your father and I weren’t full of passion or the wild love you talk about. We were introduced to each other by your uncle, Oluoch. She grinned, the fond memory lighting up her face. The first time I set my eyes on him, I knew that I had found the one, and I was right. We were different in the beginning, but as the years went by, we fell into a rhythm of our own.

You must miss him very much, don’t you?

I do, with every passing heartbeat. He was a responsible man and always made sure that we ate well and had a roof over our heads. I found myself loving him as time passed. He was my friend, companion, and the love of my life. Nyakisumo rubbed her hands up and down her arm as if the memory left coldness in its wake.

Akinyi could only visualize her father sitting under the mango tree with her mother. They had rarely talked. Her father had been a man of few words, but their silences had never been awkward. On the contrary, it had been full of peace and tranquillity that no conversation could suffice. People who didn’t know each other felt the need to blabber away to avoid a lull in the discussion, not them.

But I find it funny that I never even once saw you hold hands or kiss, Akinyi said.

Her mother smiled, exposing her mbanya, the gap between her two front teeth.

Like I said, our love wasn’t that wild. It wasn’t expressive in that way. He did his part, and I did mine with the housework like cooking for him, washing his clothes. For us, that was always enough.

It sounds so boring to me, I swear. I want someone spontaneous. Someone who can surprise me with flowers, hold my hand and go for evening walks, she gushed.

Her mother gave her a faraway look before saying, Then I bet I won’t be seeing my grandchildren soon. The men you have described are rare species if at all they exist, especially in these parts.

Mama, don’t worry so much about that. I will find that man, and you will have many grandchildren who can make up a football team. Just wait and see, Akinyi babbled, and her mother laughed.

Nyakisumo sometimes mentioned how lucky she’d been to have Akinyi. She classed her daughter as one of the best things that ever happened in her life, and she would have never traded her for a son either.

Akinyi’s smile wavered as her mind wandered to David.

He hadn’t called for four months now. This was unlike him. Was he serious about ending things between them? Had he moved on without her?

Her mind flashed to that hot afternoon he had told her he wanted out. It had been her twenty-ninth birthday party. She had invited close friends to her house in Kahawa Sukari to celebrate. David had strutted in with his friends, looking tall and handsome as always, his jeans snuggling to those thick thighs, his white t-shirt moulding to his broad chest. Her very own man in uniform, with the army hair cut to match. His chocolate brown skin glowing. Every time he had smiled at her, her heart raced. She had been ready to be his wife.

He'd kept pushing up their engagement because he’d claimed that he wanted to pay fees first for his siblings. Orphaned when they were young, the responsibility rested squarely on him. Akinyi had understood and waited. But, six years down the line, he hadn’t yet popped the question. His brothers had finished school, and she’d hoped that he would finally move things along.

When the last guest had left, he closed the distance between them, his eyes trained on her. Her breath caught. This is the day.

There’s something I want to tell you. He took her hand and led her to the couch.

Once seated, he played with the button to her dress, regarding her closely.

What is it, David? she asked, nerves coiling at the pit of her stomach. Nobody would surely break your heart on your birthday, right?

I can’t go on with this relationship. I am sorry. He deadpanned, leaning back on his seat.

Laughing shakily, she scooted close to him. You’re kidding, right?

He shook his head. No, Akinyi. We’re different. I want different.

She didn’t understand his vague statement, and she pushed him to expound.

You are tough headed. You can’t be a submissive wife. You are too independent. His lips spewed words that hurt her to her core, breaking her heart into tiny pieces and trampling on it.

She covered her ears with her hands, migraine setting in. Six years, and all for what?

She remembered closing the door behind him and the tears she had been trying to hold onto washing her face. The memories of the rest of that day were blurry at best, Ephy consoling her, trying to make sense of everything.

CHAPTER TWO

Akinyi and Adhiambo boarded a matatu that only had two passengers after shopping for food at Oyugis Market.

Outside the waiting minibus waiting to fill up, traders haggled with their customers in loud voices. The place bustled with activity, the crowd milling, cars and boda-bodas honking with impatient drivers and motorists. Eventually, the vehicle was packed with passengers, even given sambaza, and they set off.

She alighted with her friend at the Bongu stage, and they began their walk home on the dusty murram road. The hot afternoon sun made their clothes stick to their bodies.

Akinyi, have you heard of the young man who has just landed in the village with a Prado? Adhiambo asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Akinyi smiled and wondered if there was any news that escaped her friend’s inquisitive ears. She was meant to be a newscaster.

No. What about him? Akinyi asked.

I have never seen such a handsome man in my whole life. But that is maybe because I have never gone beyond the Nyanza region. But still, he is a rare kind. Imagine me at my age standing by the roadside admiring a man. Adhiambo grinned like a bewitched woman, making Akinyi laugh. Her friend continued her tale. The area girls are parading at his compound in the hope of ensnaring him. Maybe we should join them, or we will die old spinsters. Yesterday my younger sister called my mother, explaining her plans to bring her husband. Can you imagine that?

Anxiety marring her face before she mimicked her grandmother’s high-pitched voice. If by next year you don’t get married, my granddaughter, you may never get a husband because your beauty is fading.

They burst into laughter, high-fiving each other.

You are just 24 years old, yet you are complaining. What should I do then? Wail? Marriage is here to stay. Don’t rush just because you are pressured. Do it at your own pace, Akinyi said for the umpteenth time.

Everyone seemed keen on dropping hints about her biological clock ticking at twenty-nine years old, but she wasn’t shaken. She had her plans, and right now, marriage was not a priority, not after what David did to her. It was slowly dawning on her that David had been serious about ending things. He still hadn’t called, and he didn’t pick up her calls when she called him.

She felt very empty inside. So used to his late-night calls, now she tossed and turned, staring at her phone expectantly. It was like she was a walking cocoon. She had come home to lick her wounds by working her ass off and forgetting everything. But she had been telling herself a lie. Finally, the truth had caught up with her at lightning speed.

She could not just forget everything and pretend it never happened. It had. But it was still very painful, very raw. She did not know what would assuage the pain, the hurt.

Akinyi was still lost in her thoughts when Adhiambo pinched her back to the present.

That’s his car approaching, she said gleefully. When Akinyi stared at her in confusion, she said impatiently, stomping her feet on the ground, The new guy I just told you about.

They turned in the direction of the approaching sleek, black car.

Adhiambo waved ceaselessly at it, smiling broadly.

Akinyi suppressed the urge to slap her hard across the face. The man would think they were some naïve girls who had never seen a handsome man behind the wheels.

She retreated as the car halted beside them, and the window rolled down. She froze, her feet rooted to the ground.

Adhiambo had been right about the man being handsome, but handsome did not even begin to describe him.

He was bald, had a strong jawline, and sported a beard. For some reason, Akinyi loved it because it gave him a dangerous appearance. His smoky-brown eyes stared at her in unabashed admiration. His mouth curved into a grin, making her stomach churn.

She quickly licked her suddenly dry lips and looked away.

Hello, ladies. Can I give you a lift? he asked, getting out of the car.

That would be lovely. Thanks, Adhiambo quickly answered, already jumping into the backseat.

Akinyi stood her ground as she looked at the man in his full glory. He was very tall, over six feet if she wasn’t wrong, his skin chocolate-dark. And the body. Ooh, my God. Nobody had the right to look that good—the broad chest, muscular arms, and thick thighs.

Her knees weakened as her pulse pounded in her ears.

Akinyi, let’s go! Adhiambo called impatiently, throwing her hands up in the air.

No. I don’t board strangers’ cars. Maybe he will kidnap us, Akinyi spoke while gazing straight into the aforementioned stranger’s sexy eyes.

The man grinned, shaking his head as his hot gaze scalded her body. Nothing subtle about his ogling, as if he didn’t want her to have any doubt about his intention.

Her toes curled in her shoes as she tried to act calm and nonchalant.

Come on. I am not a kidnapper, he said hoarsely.

We cannot be so sure about that, can we? What’s your name? she asked.

Adhiambo rolled her eyes. Akinyi!

Akinyi ignored her, folding her arms across her chest.

I am Adams Okal. I am building my ranch just next to Achego Catholic church. What’s your name? he asked, leaning his hip against the vehicle and crossing his ankles.

If you have ears, I believe you have heard my friend mention my name. Furthermore, I am harmless. I can’t kidnap you even if I had that in mind. Akinyi looked him over, from his brown safari boots, the thigh-hugging jeans, through to his fitted blue shirt.

Finally, her gaze landed on his, and she winked. His eyes widened in surprise.

Akinyi climbed into the open car, and he closed the door for her, the corner of his mouth turning up in a mysterious smile. He was a gentleman too. What was not to love about this man? There was a companionable silence as he drove along the dusty untarred road. He dropped Adhiambo at her doorstep, and she bade them goodbye.

Akinyi hesitated briefly, wanting to get out and walk the rest of the way. Was she scared of being alone with the man? Silence ensued as they continued with the