top of page
Writer's pictureAidi Owala

The Sky is Orange


She stood in her kitchen, looking without seeing. Her eyes were clouded with tears, tears that she had been fighting since the previous night, tears that now threatened to spill over. She reminded herself hopelessly for the umpteenth time that she shouldn't cry, that she is a strong woman, but most importantly, that he was not worth the tears. Her kitchen was cluttered. The sufurias were all over as if they had been literally thrown into the kitchen after being washed. Dirty dishes of the previous night were yet to be washed. Normally, her kitchen was spic and span. Normally, she was an organized person. But there was nothing normal about these times she was living in. So she continued looking without seeing.


Some music filtered into the kitchen, into her ears. It was the angelic voice of the female Benga Maestro, Linet Aluoch Pamba. Boy, that woman could sing. She wondered whether Aluoch Pamba had had her in mind when she was composing her songs. 'Katedo katedo katedo...weche ng'eny' her voice goes (There are so many problems in marriage). She wonders whether this was a particular message from Aluoch to her, for this song seemed to be narrating her story for her, a story that each time she visited, her throat choked with tears.


They had met in campus. It was a joyous and fruitful meeting. They found happiness in each other. it was the kind of happiness that could not be described in words, so they described it in songs. "You are my beautiful monster", he would tell her. Just like Luther Vandross says, you are my endless love", he would continue. She would look at him smiling from ear to ear. How could he resist him? He was charming, and warm, and poetic, and funny and everything she had ever imagined in a man.

Eight years down the line and two children to show for it, everything had changed. No, he had changed. He was no longer the man she loved. He was not the charming and warm and poetic and funny man he had fallen in love with. Somewhere along the line, something had changed. Something so unforgivable that sent him away forever. Yes, his skeletal was still roaming these streets. But his body and soul were gone. Gone with the wind, as someone famous once said.


It all started when she gave birth to their firstborn. That cute tiny bundle of joy brought immense joy to their heart, and cemented their union- or so she thought. From the very first day, the little girl was bursting forth with love. Staring at those deep tiny eyes made her feel like there was nothing she couldn't do. She had been given wings to fly. She had been set free, just like the pastor usually said while giving the Benedictus, "Now go forth into the world and shine the light". She was going to be a beacon of hope not only to this tiny angel, but to humanity at large.


Until one day he uttered out of nowhere, "You are fat. I don't like the fact that you are fat". "Honey, you must be joking, right?" she answered. When her eyes met his, she was shocked to realize that it was not a joke. He was dead serious. But how could he not understand that the body changes during pregnancy to accommodate the foetus? How could he not understand that there are women who can't lose weight while breastfeeding no matter how hard they try, simply because their genes were wired that way? Did this beautiful baby who was supposed to be their source of joy turn out to be something else? Then he started coming home late, but that did not raise an eyebrow. After all, bars are mostly open at night, and she knew his drinking buddies.


"Hey, we've had an only child for a long time, don't you think it is time for another one?" Another shocker from yours truly. Yes, she would be the one to carry the pregnancy to term, and that was not the problem. What if she gets fat again? "Okay darling. This time, I hope it is a boy". Nine months came. The labour pains begun one morning when he had left for work. She reached for her phone.

"Hello, please come and take me to the hospital. I think the baby is coming".

"Didn't I tell you in advance to look for your sister or someone else who can take you to the hospital when the time comes? I am busy".


The surprise of his words evaporated in the wake of the labour pains. She dragged herself into the bedroom, got dressed and went out. Maybe a neighbor would be around to help. They had all gone to work. She was like John the Baptist in the wilderness, surrounded by empty houses which now looked like trees. Where there is a will there is a way. She got to the hospital. "Hey, the doctors want me to sign some papers, something to do with CS delivery. I'm not in my right mind, so I think you should be the one signing it". He came fuming, signed the paper in a split second, and left as fast as he had come. He did not even read the content. Ten minutes later, their son was born.

"Your baby is very tired because some of the amniotic fluid went into his lungs. We suppose you took too long before coming into the hospital". A bolt of thunder ran through her body.

"Is he gonna be alright?" she asked.

"We are doing the best we can"


Nine days later and an ordeal she will never forget, her second bundle of joy came home. She gave him all her attention, because of the circumstances of his birth. Seven months later, "You are fat. I don't like this body. Do something about it because it is a turnoff for me". Things took turn from bad to worse. Now it was not all about coming home late, rather, he was spending the night out. Sometimes a couple of nights. He would come home with no explanation, no nothing. Just a deafening silence that spoke better than words. Then she found out about the other woman. She was much younger. Her body had not carried other human beings for eighteen months. Her hips were perfect. Most importantly, she had a flat tummy and she was slim.


The porridge in the jiko started boiling and some spilled on her neck, bringing her to the present moment. Linet Aluoch Pamba was finishing her song..."Nyithiwa awuoro katedo dinene ber kigoye kogno, mabayo bende ng'eny to gin mana kare kinono mos" (There ought to be a rule that a trial and error marriage happens first, before people commit to the real marriage!)

5 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


Post: Blog2 Post
bottom of page