2007

Life for Muna became fairly normal after Kavinya’s family started helping her. All the energy she had previously used to worry, she now directed it to studying. With time, she stopped feeling awkward about Kavinya footing her bills, especially because Kavinya saved her the trouble of asking. She, Kavinya would make two similar purchases, and instead of giving Muna cash, she would send it through the phone. 

Every Saturday, the two worked at Kavinya’s mother’s shop. Over the holidays, they worked full-time. She, Muna, would live with Kavinya at home to save on transport costs to and from Thika.  Unbeknownst to Kavinya, it was the perfect excuse for Muna not to be near her mother. 

Kavinya’s home was in the upper middle-class neighbourhood on Kiambu Road, a mansion with green lawns, flowers and high security walls. It took a while for Muna to get used to the comfort that included having her own room and an open kitchen. The thought of her near-starving brothers, however, kept her from enjoying food as much as she wanted to. 

The pay helped, but still nowhere close to what she needed to meet her family’s needs. 

When she went to her brothers’ school to negotiate paying half the school fees, she was informed that there was no balance. 

“Oh yes. I forgot to tell you that Mom sorted that.” Kavinya answered dismissively when Muna asked about it. Muna then remembered when Kavinya had been particularly curious about Muna’s brothers, their names and where they went to school.

"How will I ever pay you back?”

“You will not, but when you get a good job and loads of money, you can pay it forward.”

Initially, Muna sent upkeep money to her mother, who then gambled or bought alcohol with most of it. Shopkeepers in the neighbourhood started calling Muna, demanding that she pay for stuff she had no idea her mother had not paid for. She started sending money directly to the shops.

Medical school needs were increasing with each semester and Muna started considering quitting in the middle of her second year. “Do you think your mom could give me a permanent job? I could work for a year, save, then return to college.” Muna asked Kavinya. 

Then she met Wesonga.

The first time Muna saw him, she hated him on sight. 

Muna, Kavinya and two other female medical students were having lunch at the canteen. Muna was multi-tasking - eating, trying to listen to Kavinya and the girls - and reading a particularly interesting novel. 

A few tables from theirs sat three loud men. 

“Those dudes are too handsome for their own good!” Kavinya declared amidst girlish giggles. The other two girls followed with, “I know!” But Muna looked at them passively, unbothered about their looks but hugely bothered by what she considered their annoying demeanour. 

She noticed the obviousness of their confidence. Only to herself did   Muna admit that she was jealous of people who laughed so freely like they had no troubles. Sometimes, she was even jealous of Kavinya. 

Muna had long forgotten if she laughed loudly and hard before death, but she knew that she had not heard her own unbridled laughter after death. 

When one of the young men looked up towards their table, he found Muna in the middle of a frown. She could not tell if he noticed her frown, the same way she could not tell if it was her he winked and smiled at before turning his attention back to his friends. 

“OMG!” Kavinya giggled. “He winked! He winked!”

“Only we don’t know who he winked at.” One of the other girls said, giggling some more. 

“He probably winked at us all! I hear he is not choosy!”

Save for Muna, the rest laughed nearly as loudly as the boys, making the boys turn to look in their direction. Muna frowned harder before turning away to check herself on the undeserved resentment she felt towards happy strangers.  

But they, like any happy person, reminded her of the people who surrounded her life before death, people who took opulence for granted. Before death, privileges were her right. After death, her instinct in spotting what she no longer had, wealth, had sharpened. And it often filled her with bile.

The two groups did not speak that day.

***

“Who is this Wesonga and what is so special about him?” Muna asked with amusement after Kavinya narrated how a fight had broken out in a club because of Wesonga.

“Grrrl! Under which rock do you live? Two years in college and you still do not know the hottest student, who happens to be a medical student as well?” Muna shook her head, looking more confused. “Okay…Remember the guy who winked at us at the cafeteria?”

“Oh.”

“That one! He comes from a super wealthy family that has political connections.”

“Good for him,” Muna answered unenthusiastically with a yawn. 

“Anyway,” Kavinya continued, ignoring Muna's attitude. “He lives in some fancy Kilimani duplex and apparently, every girl he takes there wants to move it. As if living in Kilimani as a student is not enough, he drives a Range Rover. Add that to the fact that he is very handsome.”

“Good for him,” Muna said with an eyeroll.

“Also, I think he likes you.”

Muna burst into laughter. “Don’t be silly! Why would someone who does not even know me, like me?” The question was asked in genuine horror that made her look up from her novel. 

Kavinya, who, before she learned about Muna's family situation, had often wondered how someone who looked like Muna could have such low self-esteem, shook her head slowly and repeatedly. 

“I don’t know… perhaps because you are drop-dead gorgeous, and likely because you are not interested in him.” Kavinya finally answered. 

“You are drop-dead gorgeous and are not interested in him.”

“Who said I am not interested in him? He is lucky that I am a proper lady and could never make the first move but trust me, if he asked me out, I would say yes. Just one date with him, then I would break his heart before he breaks mine.” 

“I don't believe you,” Muna said with a smile. “Anyway, how do you know he likes me?” 

“His friend told me.”

“When? You never told me.”

“I am telling you now, aren’t I? Anyway, don’t worry, I told him you like girls.”

“Kavinya! Why would you say that?”

“Oh, so you like him?”

“No! But I don’t want people confusing my sexuality.”

“Relax. I didn’t tell him that. But I might have told him you want to be a doctor-nun.”

The second time was, as if fate was having a joke at her expense, also the day Muna quit college at the beginning of her third year. Unlike the norm when Muna walked to and from all classes with Kavinya, that day she walked alone, dragging her feet through Chiromo Campus corridors.

Muna had just walked out of an anatomy dissection session. For minutes on end, she had stared at the cadaver and instead of getting involved like her classmates, she had spent the time trying to fill the gaps of the dead man’s life, wondering why he was unclaimed.

It had taken her all ten minutes to realise that her soul had already left medical school.

She literally sneaked out, on tiptoes.

Then she bumped into him, literally. In her defence, she was lost in thought, eyes on the ground in front of her. 

“Excuse me…,” she muttered softly without looking up, continuing with her walk.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and she put up her hand to indicate she was okay, without turning.

“Muna?” She stopped, then turned, then hated herself for a moment because she recognised him even though she had only seen him once, months ago.

Wesonga smiled and walked towards her with a stretched arm. 

“Sorry, do we know each other?” It was a strangely satisfying feeling when she spotted a hint of disappointment, but he recovered fast. 

“My name is Wesonga. I am a medical student - way ahead of you though.”

“Nice to meet you.” 

There was an awkward pause after the handshake. Typically, Muna would already have looked away - after death, she had never eyeballed anyone, but there she was, aware that nothing was ever going to be as scary as quitting college. 

“You do not look well.”

“From a medical point?” 

He chuckled as he put his hands in the pocket. “Maybe.”

“I have a bit of a headache.”

“Sorry about that.” Another awkward silence as Wesonga studied her as she studied her feet. “Make sure you take something for that.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she said with a smile. “I have to go.”

“See you around.”

Muna did not look back but if she had, she would have seen Wesonga standing on the same spot, looking at her. He only walked away when she turned a corner.

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Read Part 3 of Empress Ciku Kimani-Mwaniki's A Cocktail of a Phoenix on booksinafrica.ekitabu.com next week.

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