TWO WORLDS IN ONE

There is a terror gang that terrorizes villagers and are feared by all Kenyans. They go by the name MUNGIKI. They kill, steal, and terrorize everyone on their path. This story was inspired after they killed 29 people in a village and displayed their bodie

                          

TWO WORLDS IN ONE

It was a wonderful evening for a stroll. The day had taken its toll on me. It had started with a fight with my boyfriend...or should I know say, my ex boyfriend. And then I had to spend the rest of the day passing them all over at school, him and his new flame. I had told myself it would never affect me, I guess I am weaker than I initially thought. I decided to bury myself in my books and that didn't exactly work out for me, but it was better than going around brooding or getting drunk. So finally, it was six pm. She had thirty more minutes before dinner and with nothing else to do, I decided on the stroll.

 

The clouds were getting darker and heavier. It was definitely going to rain soon. It had been raining every evening for the last couple of days, but most of the time the rain started at around seven. I knew I wasn't going to walk far; I didn't want to be rained on. I was having a bad enough day without my wet self to deal with. But there was another reason as to why I couldn't go far. The roads were almost empty. It felt like there was some unannounced curfew and everyone had locked themselves up in their homes. I needed the solitude, but the creepy part of it I couldn't deal with.

 

My thoughts still stuck on Michael and the relationship that was, I didn't realize how fast time had flown until I turned and realized I couldn't see the school. I was just about to panic. The rains seemed like they would come down at any time now. I noticed the group of people coming towards me. Mostly women and children. They had bundles and luggage of all sizes like they were moving. The whole picture could have been normal...but it was the deathly silence around them that caught my attention. They were all quiet, like they were sneaking out. And it didn't seem like just one family....there were almost 15 women and their children. My curiosity awakened, I waited for them to reach me so I could at least inquire if they were OK. Not that there was much I could have done, really, but they at least had to know there luggage would be soaking wet in a few minutes. As if it was an answer to my prayers, a big lorry appeared behind them. It was big enough to give them a lift, I thought as I prepared to stop the lorry. The women and children were just a foot from me when the disaster that was about to happen hit me. The lorry didn't slow down, in fact, it increased its speed. Most of the screams were muffled by the sudden impact it had with most of the people on the road. Instinctively, I jumped and fell in the bushes nearby, missing the lorry's wrath by a whisker. Stunned, I turned to the sound of screaming. Stuck on the lorry wheel compartment was a kid, about seven years old at most. His face filled with blood as he tried to free himself from the deathly grip. I saw a hand fall off.....then the lorry swerved....once...twice.....the screaming stopped with a deathly thud as the body landed about a mile from the rest, and the lorry sped away.

 

This was a dream, I told myself as I got to my feet. The hand lying on the road seemed to tell me otherwise. I turned and finally noticed the Gothic picture all the trashed bodies painted on the tarmac road. Was it just a hit and run? I asked myself as I forced my legs to move towards the bodies....some were still breathing...but losing a lot of blood...fast. I bent next to a woman who seemed to be conscious. The hospital wasn't far away....I thought....if I could just get one of them there.....

“Ngwethe,” She whispered with difficulty. Clutching the body of her dead infant to her chest. I shook my head. I didn't understand the local language. I would have given my life to understand it at that time. “Ngwethe,” she whispered again...harshly this time.

“Nati...English...” It was difficult trying to have a conversation with the various hearts beating their last around me. But I needed to know what she was saying....I needed to understand what had just happened.

“Go....NOW! They....coming....kill...us....kill...you!”

“What....who?” She wasn't making any sense. Who was coming? Was the lorry coming back? With lots of effort she lifted her hand and tried pushing me away from her.

“GO!” Her spine was fine. I thought to myself as I tried to comprehend what she was saying. If she could just get to the hospital, she could have a chance.

“Can you walk?” I asked, trying to figure out how I would get her there. I didn't know how many around me had a chance, but I was sure she did. And I wasn't going to let that chance go to waste. She uttered a string of words that sounded like curses in her local language the repeated.

“GO! Kill....you....please.” I looked into her pleading eyes, trying to understand. Was someone coming to kill me?

 

The raindrops came down with vengeance. I looked around, trying to see if there was anything I could cover her with. I couldn't just leave, yet it seemed like it was what she wanted.

“You should leave.....now.” A clear voice came from the bushes. I turned; I hadn't known there was anyone there. He stood up, a man about 18 years. He seemed older though, but you could tell from his face he was not. “They are going to come, finish them off. You have to go?”

“What? I don't understand. Finish...what are… you....”
“You can't understand. You don't have to understand! All you have to do is run! Run now before they get here.....or they will find you and kill you.” Now I was really scared. There had been rumors in the media that a local gang was ganging up to kill villagers, but that was all it had been, a rumor. So far, I had seen Lorries loaded with cops emptied in the towns. Surely, they were there to make sure nothing happened.

“What about the police? We could call them.....” the smile on his face was deathly, scary.

“There are no police....go...NOW!”

“But where?” I couldn't run back to school. I could barely see a metre ahead of me in the rain.

“Cross the road....run back to school on the other side. Hear anything, you hide. Get to school and pack up....go home....tomorrow. This is not your fight. You will never understand.” He was right, I would never understand. But did I want to? It was hard trying to think and listen to his logic at the same time. The rain wasn't being merciful on my head either. I knelt back down and squeezed the lady's hand. She seemed not to be breathing anymore. A lump caught in my throat. I jerked back and stumbled on a kids body. I took two deep breaths, recognizing the warm streams flowing down my cheeks to be tears. Then I started to cross the road and stopped.

“What about you?” Wasn't he in danger too?

“Shhh!” He admonished harshly. “They can't harm me.....go...now...and be quiet!” That said, I turned and ran. I couldn't see where I was going, couldn't hear anything. It was difficult trying to keep my breathing quiet with the heavy heart that I had. The rain beat on my mercilessly as my tears freely flowed. What was going on? What in heaven's name was going on? Shouldn't we have seen anything about it in the news...or even heard about it from the locals. Now, the self imposed curfew made sense. That was why no one had been on the road before......but what about the women...the children....the child with no arm? Had they been trying to run? Were we even safe in the school? SCHOOL! Finally the cries reached my ears. There were lots of screaming and shouting for help going on ahead of me. SCHOOL! They had attacked the school! I stopped. My breathing more strained from the running. The screams seemed to get louder. Was it the wind....or.....OH GOD! People were running. And they were running towards ME! I cursed and turned and started running again, blindly. I increased my running as I felt the screams getting nearer. Home. I wanted to go home. I missed my dad. We had a big fight the last time I was home and hadn't talked since then.

“I love you daddy,” I whispered as I ran. I needed to tell him that, to tell him that I was sorry. And yet it seemed like I would not even see the new day.

 

I could not hear the screams no more. I slowed down and finally stopped. I had taken a couple of turns blindly; I wasn't sure where I was anymore. The silence should have been welcomed, but the darkness was scary. The rains had gone down to a drizzle and the breeze had my teeth shattering. I hugged my soaking sweater around me and tried to look around. Trees. Too many trees. I started walking, soaking my shoes further in the muddy puddles. I noticed the bushes ahead of me.....a sign of a compound. There was a God after all. I quickened my steps then halted just before I got to the gate. What if I was going directly into danger? I saw a sign written on a broken piece of wood and walked towards it.

“BLESSING CHILDREN'S HOME” it said in flowery letters. That ought to be safe? I thought as I hugged myself harder and tried to fight my clattering teeth. I was still trying to figure out how safe it was to stumble to the huts and knock when a piercing sound filled the air. It was a whistle. My already alive nerves rose a notch further. Suddenly I saw the door of the huts open and a group of children run out into the bushes. The was a woman ushering them out in whispers. I watched in awe as the kids scrambled for the nearby bushes and started lying under them. Making sure they were well covered. Then the woman followed and did the same. Unable to think of a better thing to do, I rushed to the bush nearest to me and scrambled under it and landed in a puddle. There could be a snake in here, I thought as my already damaged hair hit another puddle as I lay my head down. But at the time, a snake seemed a lesser threat to me. I lifted my head around looking for drier ground. As I did this, I noticed two men with brandished machete walking just a foot from where the kids had hidden. My breath caught in my throat. Not another death, please, I silently prayed. I heaved a sigh of relief as I saw them walk off. Finding my drier ground, I laid my head down and tried hard to think of a tomorrow that I would probably never see!

 

My eyes opened slowly, trying to catch my bearing. I wasn't on my bed, that was for sure. And the sun was already up. Why didn't my alarm go off? Like a bursting dam the events of the night rushed back to me. I quickly sat up and noticed a group of people around me.

This is it, I am dead. I thought as I tried adjusting to the sunlight in order to see the faces of my captors.

“Are you OK?” some one asked. I had to turn to see who it was and a pain shot through my entire body. I winced and let out a low moan. Immediately the people started speaking at once. Locals, I reasoned as I heard the dialect. I felt two people start lifting me up. I wanted to scream out, what good was it to die a silent death?

“It's OK now! You are safe.” Someone said in English. Safe! That was a welcoming word. A word I had thought I would never hear again.

 

An hour later I was cleaned up. Dressed up in one of the orphans clothing that seemed too small, but was better than nothing. The events of last night, I am told, were just a dream. A bad dream. I have to forget about everything and just go home. I thought it was a big joke, at first. That is what it had sounded like when the three adults in the home had suggested it. But it was no joke. It was all but a dream.

“Someone has to know. They can't cover up everything! Can they? How will they explain the college?” They had looked at me sadly. Then one of them glanced at her watch then went out. She came back with a small portable radio. Together, we silently listened to the news.

There had been a strike in the school, it said. Some of the male students had started it, complaining about some of the lecturers. The students had turned on each other, hacking each other to death.. Police had gotten there just in time to calm the boiling situation, but some students had already lost their lives. The remaining students had been sent home, while others had been arrested for the murders.

 

I glanced around the silent room, taking in the tired faces of the women. Surely, nobody would buy that story, would they? There would be an investigation, people would talk....someone would come out and say the truth. They were quick to point out, the investigation would be carried out by the police. The police who had been dropped in the village to protect the people. The same people I had just seen get killed mercilessly and living in fear in their own town. Did I see anything coming out of that?

There was no mention of the bodies I had left lying on the road. No mention of a car accident. Nothing. They took care of it, am told. They always take care of it.

“But why? Why did they decide to run then? Why not early in the morning...or some other time when the streets are not so deserted?”

“Because one never knows just who is watching.....or who is following. Its safer for some at night...especially with the rains. Some do make it.”

“And never tell about it?”

“Never.....for they will come for you. Think about it, they have the whole police force in their hand, the whole government, seems like the media is in it too....who will believe you? And would they let you live that long to convince someone?” Logic! Why did logic sometime make no sense?

“So you remain prisoners. Here....or outside there....you are forever a prisoner.” Logic was supposed to make sense, wasn't it?

 

The home would be fine, they had said. It couldn't go on for long....the killing. Two maybe three weeks more weeks. Like the full moon, it will disappear at once. And people will try to forget, or bury these night deep in their conscious, until the next time they were hit again.

 

“We will be fine! You need to get home!” Those had been her final words to me. And I had no choice but to believe her. I walked away from the home, clutching the money for my bus fare in my hands. “Act casual.” they had said, so I did. I could feel myself failing miserably. I get to the small bus stop ten minutes later, and manage to get into the bus with no trouble. Nobody seems to be in a hurry to leave the place. The bus takes forever to fill. I look at the faces of women selling their wares, children running around, traders talking business. Everything seems so normal. One has to look deep into them to see the hurt they experience every night. But that is for the night to deal with. Right now, they have the whole day ahead of them. I look at my watch, 10:40 am, it says. Yeah, they still have a few more ours to be normal.

 

Finally the bus is full, and the journey to the big city starts. My eyes are glued to the window as I watch the scenes roll by. We pass by the place. Where the lorry had killed all those innocent people. No blood in sight. They clean up pretty well, I tell myself as I turn away from the window and glance ahead, disgusted. What world am I living in?

“It's like living in two worlds,” the women had said. “During the day its peaceful and normal. The night comes with nightmares and horrors. But you survive through it, knowing the peaceful and normal awaits you.” I shake my head in disgust. Am supposed to believe this? Believe that someone could live like this? I close my eyes with the hopes of clearing my head, but scenes from last night come streaming in. I open my eyes quickly and my heart stops. I hold his gaze for a whole minute, the boy from last night. The one who helped me escape. He turns and stares ahead. He is seated two seats before me. My heart doesn't slow down. had he been helping me escape.....or had he been leading me to a better alibi for my death?

“They always follow people. They take care of their own.” The words ring in my head. My heart beats faster as the bus comes to a stop thirty minutes later. He stands, turns and gives me one final look, then nods and alights. The bus starts on its journey again. Heading home, to my home, to safety. Only am not so sure it is safety that am heading to anymore, or a prison of my own.

“I love you daddy, and I am so sorry.” I whisper. At least I will have a chance to say that.

 

Last evening as I walked out of class, beating myself up for the love I had lost, while trying to convince myself that I was better off without him, I had come to one conclusion. I needed to find my purpose in life. I was done getting my heart broken, getting one disappointment after another all my life. I needed a purpose. Something to work on and achieve and be proud of. Last evening, I never knew what that was.

Today, I do.

As the bus winds down to my home, my hand itches for a pen, or a computer. I don't know how long I will have, or who will believe me. But I do know I have a purpose. My purpose is to tell the world of the lives of those people in that little town that live in two worlds.

“God, give me the strength to change the things that I can change...”

Author's Note

I would love to hear the honest opinions. Any corrections will be taken seriously.

Reviews

[petah]

Blackhart, This story is arousing and creative. I like the way you are substituting different tenses; for example how you make the main character say the day had taken toll on her, the way it had started and the current state of affairs in the next line. "His new flame" is also creative as I guess it means "his new girlfriend". Keep it up, pal