CHAPTER ELEVEN - A Cocktail of Double Life

If I ever needed you I need you now

There is nothing in my life I have been more sure of

Since I have fallen into your love

And I promise I’ll make up for all the hurt somehow

I need one more chance to prove

If I ever needed you I need you now

           Julio Iglesias

Kamaria and Shani managed to get an afternoon flight to Mombasa the following day. Neither had slept well. After their lunch, Kamaria had been frantic when she realized none of her swimwear fit anymore and had dragged Shani to the nearest mall. “Why can’t you just buy at the hotel…” Shani had protested. “Because I like to shop here, not there…” Kamaria had been unwilling to admit she had not thought of it.   

They had then returned to their respective homes, only to hook up two hours later to eat dinner, then proceeded to a nightclub. Kamaria had, for the whole evening, experienced de ja vu; this, before Ruaka, was what her life had been like. Shopping, eating out and going to nightclubs. They had left a night club at one AM and they both had packed their holiday clothes before catching not more than three hours of sleep. Kamaria was up at eight AM, made a call to her Personal Assistant to book whatever flight was available to Mombasa the same day. Tickets had been booked in an hour. She had then spent the rest of the morning playing the guitar.

Shani had spent the morning at Dee’s Salon. The first twenty minutes had been spent arguing her case on why she wanted to cut her hair, that it was her hair and she could do whatever she wanted to do with it. Eventually, Diana had agreed to cut it, on condition that Shani would buy a weave for emergency purposes. “You just never know when you might miss your hair,” Diana had said in resignation.

When Kamaria and Fumo picked Shani up on the way to the airport, Kamaria laughed until her ribs ached.

“You look ridiculous….” Kamaria declared, wiping tears from one eye.

“Look who is talking…the queen of ridiculous.” Shani answered, hauling her suitcase at the back of the pick-up. “Now, take me away from this big bad city before anyone recognizes me and takes a photo of me – I feel like a fraud.” She said, entering the backseat of the car and wearing a baseball cap.

“Have you brought any weaves with you?”

“I did not want to, but it was the only way I could get Diana to cut my hair. I am not hiding anymore…not from myself.”

“…says the woman who just wore a baseball cap…” Kamaria quipped.

Three hours later, they checked into their hotel in Diani. Another two hours later they met at the bar, and the drinking started. The following day, they both woke up late and spent the better part of the day nursing hangovers. Brunch followed before going to the mainland for shopping and sightseeing.

“I don’t know why every time we come to Mombasa we have to come to this place…” Shani complained as they paid for their tickets to enter Fort Jesus. “As if there is a chance we missed something during the last fifty seven visits.”

“That’s because it is a good excuse to come to Old Town and eat biryani.” And eat they did, stuffing the surplus in their handbags because they served too much food in Old Town. They returned to the hotel in the afternoon and waited for the sun to go down before going to the beach. They swam and basked. They drank some more and woke up the following day with hangovers worse than the previous day. This cycle, more or less went on for three days, adding to dancing at night.

“Is it me or are you not taking photos?” Kamaria asked her friend as they walked on the beach. Kamaria was wearing a black one piece swimming costume and a tiny pair of shorts. Shani wore a white dera.

Shani laughed. “It’s weird, right? I have not signed on social media since we came here. Who would have thought it is possible to breathe without updating everybody on your whereabouts…”

“I am not on social media. I am breathing.”

“Well, you are weird so you don’t count. Seriously though, this feels good. I know I will not keep off social media forever because I get a lot of work from it, but it is good to know I can breathe without it…”

“I bet your followers miss you…”

Shani shrugged, bending to pick sand and squeezing it. “They will survive. I am getting very many texts. People want to know if I am okay…”

“That’s good though…”

“Yeah…but this is better.”

Every other day, Kamaria spoke to Jamba and the children, every time she did, she wallowed in guilt for the lies.

“I do not know how to come out though. I am thinking the best course of action is to change my phone number and never talk to them again…” She lamented to Shani as they lazed by the pool.

“Coward.” Shani accused, a little inebriated. “You are a coward. Just walk to him, tell him you are rich beyond imagination, but you still love him…”

“If only it was so easy…”

“It’s easy, but your cowardice makes it very hard. What’s the worst that he can do?”

“Fall out of love?”

“And hiding will keep him in love? Come on girl, woman up…”

Shani made sense, but she was still lacking guts.

“I spoke to Mariam earlier. She told me that Jamba has been asking questions…”

“What sort of questions?”

“Like, how often does my aunt come back home? Do I have a twin sister…”

Shani sat up with a start, pouring some of the cocktail on her thighs. “Why would he ask about a twin sister? Has he seen you somewhere?”

“He must have. I cannot imagine where.”

“Sweetheart, Nairobi is smaller than you can imagine and it is impossible to hide. He may not have see you, but someone you both know did. Anyway, is Mariam holding up the lies?”

“I hope so. I feel bad, putting her in such a situation…”

“Well, just compensate her. Money can buy a lot of things, including eternal silence…but I still think you should talk to this Jamba, candidly.”

“I will, just not yet. In the meantime, when we get back to Nairobi, I am changing my phone number…”

“I don’t understand why you insist on doing that.”

“So he doesn’t reach me, for now…”

“Foolish girl. You are lucky I am drunk and I don’t want to talk much…but, this conversation continues tomorrow, if my hangover allows….gosh, I thought I was coming to Mombasa to relax, look at me. A right drunk…”

Kamaria laughed. “Is Jalani still calling?” Jalani had been calling Shani for up to five times a day. She ignored every call.

“Yeah. He will get over it, eventually. I think I hurt his pride by breaking up…”

“Or, maybe not. Perhaps he really does miss you, like he says in the texts…”

“I don’t care, for now. Let him suffer. If I ever see him again, I will have lost weight. Let’s see if he would like a Shani without a huge bottom…”

The girls giggled. “So much for losing weight. I think we have collectively added ten kilos in five days…”

“That’s okay, I have faith in you and Mariam. We shall lose the kilos together….”

“You really are serious about losing weight? I cannot imagine you without the huge bottom.”

“Did I not cut my hair?”

“Yes you did…”

"Have I not survived for days without a weave?"

"Yes you have."

“Then trust me, I am serious. What is that they say…be weary of a woman when she changes her hair style. I think they forgot to add that you should even be more aware of a woman who wants to lose her bottom, especially if it is the one thing that draws people to her.”

__________________

Three weeks had passed since Kamaria left to carry an assignment for her imaginary aunt, and things were getting very hot for Mariam in Ruaka. A week ago, the heat had gone up a degree when Kamaria switched off her regular line. “I am not happy. What if she is in trouble?” Jamba had asked Mariam.  He had looked so miserable, Mariam had, for a second, considered sharing the new number with him.

 Jamba had confided, absent mindedly, that he did not know what to tell his children anymore. Every day they returned from school, they expected to find Serah. Their little faces would drop when they didn’t see her and Christine would spend the whole evening clutching on her doll, Atoti. He was sure both his children were blaming him for Kamaria's disappearance. He was blaming himself, although he did not know exactly why.

Mariam self-cooked in guilt. A malicious streak set off by anger towards Kamaria hoped Kamaria was experiencing worse guilt than she was. The children were hurting. What was it she was trying to do with this family? In the three weeks she had been here, she had no doubt that Jamba was in love with Kamaria. The children loved her as well. Of course, they did not know she was a rich girl. The children kept telling her that their daddy would one day marry Kamaria, whom they called Serah.

“Then you can continue working for us, and cook for us. Your food is better than Serah’s…” Christian was still at it.

Mariam hoped that her boss would marry Jamba. She had been around Kamaria long enough to know that she had never maintained a relationship with a man. Mariam had never liked any of the men Kamaria had dated. This one seemed like a nice man. But she could only watch from the periphery, cross her fingers when she was not chewing them. These rich people were strange, she decided.

Jamba had called her earlier in the day to ask her to wait up for him. “I need to talk to you,” he had said. That call had been playing havoc on her nerves. She did not have much faith in her promise to Kamaria not to tell on her whereabouts, especially if put under direct scrutiny. She was loyal to her boss, but her conscience was eating her up.  

At eight PM, a tense and tired looking Jamba found her in the kitchen. She was leaning on the kitchen counter, looking as nervous as she was feeling, only her nerves were making her chew her nails. From the doorway, Jamba studied her, tying to guess the source of her nerves. It was possible, he thought, she was having jitters that people had when summoned by their bosses. Only one way to find out.

“How are you, Mariam?” He asked, leaning on the door frame.

“Fine.” She refused to look at him. She was now twiddling her fingers.

“The kids?”

“Fine.”

“Did they ask about Serah?”

She still had to get used to that name. She nodded.

He walked to the kitchen table and took a seat. “Come on, sit down. I need to talk to you…”

“Food?” Mariam was trying to buy time.

“I will eat later. Sit down.”

Mariam did, focusing on the table instead of on Jamba, who sat opposite her.

“Where is she?” He demanded.

Mariam shrugged.

“The shrug, does it mean you do not know or you will not tell me?” He knew he was harsher than he wanted to be, but he was missing Serah too much and life was ugly without her.

“I don’t know…”

“I don’t believe you…”

“I really don’t know. I tried calling her yesterday, but her number was off…”

He looked at her for a while. “You need to help me find her, please.” His tone had changed to pleading. “You need to talk to your former employer, who must talk to her aunt…she could be in trouble…”

Mariam felt horrible and only stopped short of telling him that Kamaria was fine.

“I will, tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He stood up slowly. “Okay, thank you. You can warm the food for me, I will come serve myself after I take a shower.” And Jamba was off. He could have asked Mariam those questions on the phone, but he had wanted to see her reaction as she answered. He was still none the wiser.

Mariam warmed the food then went to her bedroom. She dialled Kamaria’s number.

“Kamaria, now Jamba wants me to talk to your aunt and find out if you are okay…what do I do?”

 “Just tell him my aunt said I am fine…” Weak, she knew.

“He will ask me to get your aunt’s number…please, what am I going to do? He was so upset, he is afraid you might be in trouble…”

Kamaria sighed, putting down the guitar and walking to her balcony. .

“Don’t worry Mariam, I will take care of it.” She meant it.

________________

The morning after.

Jamba, on dropping Christine and Christian to school, drove to Kamaria’s flats and parked by the road and then walked to the security gate. His conversation with Mariam the night before had left him with more questions than answers, something that kept happening to him where Serah was concerned. He thought himself a good people reader, and he believed Mariam knew more than she had told him. He was going to start some investigations that were long overdue.

“Habari mzee…” It was a friendly guard.

“Habari gani. Have you seen me before?”

“Of course. You come to pick up that madam of second floor…”

Finally, he knew her floor.

“Good. I am looking for her. Is she around?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I have not seen her all day, but sometimes she stays indoors all day, or goes away.”

“When did you last see her?”

“I was on leave and I only returned today.”

“Could you please go to her door and knock – see if she answers…”

“Is there a problem?”

Jamba shrugged and shook his head. “I hope not. I have been trying to reach her for some days but her phone is off. I just need to know if she is alright…”

The guard went for five minutes. When he returned, he said there did not seem to be anyone inside. “Perhaps you come back in the evening and talk to the night guard?”

“Ah, okay. Would you please tell him I will pass by later?” He shook the guard’s hand with a folded note, hoping it would keep his memory active. The guard smiled and thanked him, slid the money in the pocked without looking at it.

***

If he didn’t have important court appearances, if he didn’t have to wait for six PM for the change of guard, Jamba would have gone back home and just sat – perhaps get drunk.

Damn, I miss that woman, he thought as he navigated Nairobi traffic. He had just parked at the office parking lot and getting ready to step out of the car when his phone rang. It was a new number.

“Hello…”

“Am I speaking to Jamba…” The caller asked. Getting calls from unrecognized numbers was nothing new to him. He got such calls all the time from potential clients who had been referred to him.

“You are indeed. What can I do for you?”

“My name is Josephine.” Shani was trying her best to sound like an older woman. Kamaria was standing beside her. “I just spoke to Mariam who told me you are concerned about Kam…Serah…”

“Where is Serah…”

“Still in Mombasa…”

“Why is her phone off?”

“She dropped her phone in the ocean and she hasn’t bought another one. She should do that soon…anyway, I wanted to let you know that she is fine.”

“How can I reach her?”

“I have no idea. I called her aunt and she didn’t give me the number to the hotel…”

“I thought she was supposed to be back!” He protested in exasperation.

“Look, young man,” The more Shani tried to sound official, older and casual, the more she wanted to giggle. Kamaria was already giggling, using her hands to stifle the sounds. “I was told you were worried, I called around. We know Kam…Serah is fine. That is the best I can do for you, young man. Bye…”

Jamba felt his blood boil in anger. Something was going on, and he needed to find out what. There were too many strange happenings and he was sure he was not imagining things. He scrolled photos on his phone, stopping on the one Kamaria had sent from the beach. If there was a name of the hotel, he would have flown to Mombasa. Looking at the photo of her dressed in a black swimsuit and a black sarong that barely covered her thighs made him ache for her, then he wondered who the photographer was.

At six thirty PM, he was back at the flats in Ruaka.

“Oh yes, my colleague told me you would come…is that madam really your friend?” The guard asked, looking at him with what felt like suspicion to Jamba.

“Well, yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Because, if she was your friend, you would know she moved out…”

“What!” Jamba shouted in disbelief, lifting his hands. “She moved out?”

“Yes sir…”

“So, her aunt came?”

“Which aunt?” The guard looked at him with fresh suspicion.

Jamba adjusted his attitude because he could smell a story, a story he would not be able to get if the guard distrusted him further. But he would be damned if he left this place without having answers. He reached into his pocket, removed his wallet, made sure the guard could see how loaded it was as he sorted notes. He removed two thousand shillings, handing them to the guard. He was used to buying information and this was like just another day at work.

“There is more where that came from, but only if you tell me what I want to know…” He had no intention of beating around the bush. There was no time. When he saw the guard licking own lips, he knew he would sing the information if asked to. “Listen, this girl, I really like her, but she is very mysterious. She disappeared without telling me, and I just want to know if she is fine. So, does she live with the aunt?”

The guard shook his head confidently. “No. She moved in alone…in fact, I was on duty the day she came to look for a house, and I was on duty the day she moved in. She was brought by a man driving a big black car. I thought it was one of those dirty old men who keep young girls, but I don’t think so…”

Jamba took a step closer and asked carefully, “Mh…why don’t you think so anymore?”

“Well, because now I know that man is a driver, but he refuses to say where he works. He is the only one who ever goes to her house. She does not have any visitors, men or women. Often she is not there when the driver goes in, and he picks things, and drops things…”

“What things?”

“I once asked him and he told me it is laundry, and he brings her ready cooked food…the same man also drops her home a lot.”

“Uh…huh…what else can you tell me?” He was struggling to remain calm.

“Well, we discuss her with my colleagues and we decided she is probably an undercover cop….”

“What?” He took two steps back.

The guard, who was getting excited about selling his theory, assumed a dramatic pose. “Think about it. She works as a waitress, but lives in these houses, alone. They are too expensive, these houses.” He pointed at the houses, glancing at them briefly. “Also, you should see the stuff she had in her house, I was there when she moved in, remember. That is very expensive stuff….” By the time the guard was done presenting his case, even Jamba believed that Serah was an undercover cop. “In fact,” he added for good measure. “We think the driver is a policeman too. He is very secretive and apart from telling us he is a driver, and that he delivers food and laundry, he will not say anything else. Whenever we ask him who she is, he says it is none of our business…”

Twenty minutes later, Jamba parted with two more thousand shillings and carefully walked to his car on shaky feet. Could she be a cop? Her life certainly seemed like an undercover story. What would she be investigating? But is she was not a cop, what was she? The only other option of somebody who fit the description by the guard was a criminal? “Perish the thought!” He muttered to himself.

Who was she? Where was she?

Undercover or not, criminal or cop, he needed her with him. He needed her in his life, desperately, because since her absence, he had been unable to function like a normal human being. He never looked forward to mornings,  which he thought weird because he slept worse at night since she left, and he has never been a good sleeper.

Every turn of his body was consumed by her thoughts, and the turnings and tossing were caused by thoughts of her. It was a vicious cycle, and it made him ache, inside and outside. He felt deprived in every way possible; off peace, love, sleep, even his children now gave him suspicious looks. How, he wondered in self disappointment, could a thirty six year old man be so love struck? Were these not things he was supposed to have finished doing in his youth?

Thinking about it, he had never felt like that. Not even with his wife, a woman he loved and respected even in her death. He, with a slice of guilt, remembered his days of courtship with his Julia. She was beautiful, inside and outside. There was nothing to hate or doubt about her purity. She never wanted to wrong anyone, something that served as both her best and worst attribute. On his down days, Jamba would find that character slightly irritating because instead of arguing her points, she would agree with the aggressor, just to end a potential argument. In their five year old marriage, they never had a fight, not once.

They did have their moments of quiet, but they would sit the quiet until it ran out of steam. Sometimes he would want to shout at her, say something nasty just to get her to react, but he knew that would have left him feeling very guilty.

For any parent with a boy child, he reckoned, she was the perfect wife. The thought of her made him slightly guilty, but that feeling passed quickly enough and Serah took over.

Jamba was fascinated by Serah. She was feisty, she spoke her mind, she was not afraid of fights, even looked for fights, at least with him. She was mysterious. And the mysterious bit was now his constant thorn in the flesh.

After speaking to the guard, he went to R&R with one purpose, to dig on Serah. Malik had to know something about her, something he did not know himself. He was however craving for a cold beer by the time he got in so he went straight to his seat and ordered for a beer.

“Boss, good to see you. How is Serah?” Wanjala asked jovially, but what he got was a mumble for an answer. Wanjala shrugged as he opened the beer for Jamba and watched him down half of it in one go.

Jamba carried the rest of the beer to Malik’s office. As usual, Malik was fumbling with papers but even in his state, Jamba noticed they were much less than usual. He looked up when the door opened.

“Jamba my man, hi! This is a bad time, can you give me five minutes?”

Jamba sat down. “No. I don’t have five minutes. I want to talk now…”

“Oh, oooh…what’s up?” Malik readjusted his glasses, sitting back and looking at his friend. “You look like hell…”

“I feel worse. Has Serah been in touch?”

“What do you mean? I thought she lived with you…”

“She did…” Jamba vigorously rubbed his eyes.

“…Until?”

“About three weeks ago. She asked to go off…” And in great detail, up to his conversation with the guards, he narrated the events to Malik, whose facial expressions could be material for silent comedy.

“Salaaalaaa…tsk tsk tsk…” He whistled also. “My, my, my…”

“I don’t know what to do. First, I am worried – is she okay? The woman who called, she was not very convincing and she has not been picking my calls since…”

“I have a feeling Serah is alright wherever she is.” Malik finally found his words.

Jamba looked up hopefully. “What do you mean? Has she been in touch with you?”

Malik shook his head and sighed. He stretched, got off the seat, opened a cabinet, searched, removed a file and gave it to Jamba. “That is Serah’s CV. But before you read it, let me just warn you. She may not be whom she claims to be. I know her real names, but I cannot claim to know her more than you do…”

Jamba just stared at Malik, wondering how long he had known that fact.

“I know, I know. I should have told you, I didn’t. I didn’t think it was my business. I have always thought there was something strange about her… I never quite got it, but she has a dignity you do not see often. She really could be a cop, or something… now, read.”

Jamba did. The CV was only two pages long. It did not show any work experience, just academic qualifications. But one thing caught his eye. “Kamaria? Her name is not Serah?”

“I am afraid not…”

“Why was she using Serah?”

“According to her, the name Kamaria would have encouraged too many questions. It made sense, but I doubt that was the real reason…”

“Oh. My. God!” Jamba suddenly shot up, alarming Malik who got up half way.

“What?”

“This is crazy…this is just so, so crazy!” Jamba was frantically searching for Sudi’s number. “Sudi, do you remember the name of the girl you thought looked like Serah?” Sudi did not. “Could it have been Kamaria?”

“Yes!” Sudi shouted enough for Malik to hear. “That is the name. I have never heard that name before, no wonder I could not remember…what’s happening?”

Jamba ignored the question. “Can you take me to the office where you saw her, tomorrow?”

Sudi could.

“What’s going on?” Malik demanded when Jamba finished with the call.

“I don’t know man. But if it is what I think it is…wow, this is too, too crazy.” Then he told him about Sudi’s encounter.

“I wouldn’t be surprised…”

“On top of that, I saw her. I wasn’t sure then, but after all this, I am sure now. I saw her in Kileleshwa, when she was supposed to be in Mombasa. I saw her driving a Mobius. The same car that dropped her home once. She did not see me during these two occasions.”

“But if it is her, why would she be working as a waitress, or a nanny?”

“Only one way to find out. Tomorrow had better come quick.”

The revelations in the last few hours had given Jamba both peace and fear. He had no doubt that Serah and Kamaria were one and the same person and if he had not been so blinded by his love for her, he should have known she was not who she always claimed to be. Deliberately or accidentally, she left clues for him everywhere since the day they met.

For the first time in three weeks, he smiled. He felt his body surge and relax with hope. He sipped on the rest of the beer slowly and quietly watched Malik sort his papers.

His life was just about to take a major shock turn, and he was looking forward to it.

***

                Tomorrow was taking too long in Jamba’s world. If the other nights he managed two hours of sleep per night, this night he would get no more than half an hour, spread through the night. He turned, he tossed. He paced. He drank alcohol. He walked outside at night. He smoked too much.

                Serah? Kamaria? Thinking about it, he was the fool of some sort. He should have read the signs all over, but his love and fascination of her had turned him blind.  She was too together to be struggling. She was too educated and smart not to have a job if she had really wanted one. She had too much dignity. She had too many expensive clothes and bags. How could he forget her phone? How she never worried about spending money, too much money. She was too secretive. Most of all, her manner and attitude should have dropped the coin for him. She had an attitude of someone who had the world at her feet.

                But he worried, for obvious reasons. He worried about her disappearance. He worried about the possible reasons for the disappearance. What if it was because she didn’t like him much? What if, if indeed she was a rich girl, and he had no doubt she was, it was because she thought a relationship with him would not work? Power women could be hard to please. He was not a struggling man, but he was not a CEO of a blue chip company.

                Morning finally crawled in as he finished searching information available online about Kamaria. When he read she was an orphan, he breathed in relief – at least she had been truthful about something. She was an only child; another truth. She was the only heir. It was not much. Even the photos available were old ones and showed a bigger sized Kamaria wearing a weave, or a wig. But he had no doubt that Kamaria and Serah were one and the same person.

                Ten AM, he was at a parking lot with Sudi, debating on whether to go in, or try waylaying her at the parking lot.

                “This is too cool…” Sudi said, laughing and hitting his own thigh.

                “I am glad someone is finding this funny…”

                “Well, you should. This, my friend, is the stuff of Hollywood movies. Do you even know how much this company of hers is worth?”

                “I don’t care…”

                “Well, you should. She could buy your company five times man. Five. Times. And she would be left with some change…”

                “You are not helping, you know…”

                “I am though. I am trying to be pragmatic. You do realize the dynamics change from now on. She is so going to be the boss of you…”

                “Truth be told, I was never the boss of her. She always managed to twist me…”

                “This is going to be worse… if I were you, I would forget this girl. She is going to turn you into some lap dog…”

                “I am starting to wonder why I dragged you here…”

                “I am here for reality, man. Rich women are very hard to deal with. No way would I let my woman have more money than me. I would sabotage any possibility…”

                “Only weak men get intimidated by strong women…”

                “You say that now. Wait until she starts giving the orders. Look, I am really happy that you are in love, but be careful my friend. You could be jumping right into hell…”

                “Thanks for the caution…man, she is taking too long. Perhaps we should go inside…”

                “And say what?”

                “That we want to see her.”

                “You are on your own. I will wait for you here. I am chasing a major contract with Sassi and I cannot risk being seen with a lovesick grownup.”

                Jamba’s deliberate stride took him all the way to eighth floor where Kamaria’s office was. To the reception he walked with more courage than he felt.

                “Hi. Is Kamaria in?” He had decided to just get straight to the point.

                “No sir, she is not…” The receptionist was looking at him suspiciously. Not many people asked for her boss, because she was hardly there.

                “What time is she going to be in?”

                “I don’t know. She doesn’t come often, and when she does, she doesn’t say…”

                That made sense. No wonder she was able to work at R&R, and for him.

                “…Sir?’

                “Sorry, what was that?”

                “I asked, do you have an appointment?”

                “No I do not. I am an old friend and I thought she might be in.”

                “You want to book an appointment? I can connect you to her PA.”

                He shook his head. “No, that’s fine. I know where to find her. Thank you very much…”

                As he walked out, as he got into the lift, he was surprised people did not give him strange looks as they wondered why his heart was beating so hard. Why he was shaking.

                Now what? Even as he wondered, he knew there was only one thing to do. He was happy he knew who she was, what she was, where she worked, but he was unwilling to wait until one of her impromptu appearances. He needed to know where she lived, and what she did with herself now that she was no longer working for him. The thought that she may have already be working for somebody else made him shiver. What if this was what she did – getting men to fall in love with her then disappearing on them? His line of work meant he had several private investigators on quick dial. He knew just the one to use.

                _______________________

               

At seven thirty AM the following day, a middle aged man was trying hard not to get noticed. From many years of experience in his field, he knew how to blend into crowds, how not to stand out. He knew how to set his body to look average, to forgettable settings. Never too confident to leave an impression but confident enough to get the information. Never too timid to be remembered but timid enough for people to do him favours.

Twenty years ago when he started his private investigator trade, things were a lot easier. There were no CCTV cameras in public places; now, he had to worry about being noticed by the naked eye, and the unseen technicians working the cameras. 

He was crafty, something that had helped him avoid trouble. He had an eye for detail that helped him not spend too much time studying something of interest. He had a good nose for trouble and could spot a cop, or any potential trouble, that could hinder his success. His specialty was to follow suspected criminals, mostly fraudsters. He followed men and women whose partners suspected them of cheating. The number of times he had caught spouses cheating had ensured that he was still single, and loving it.

He was never one to sit or stand alone. He looked like majority of men who navigated the busy streets of Nairobi; not tall, not short, not thin, not fat, not light, not dark, no beard, no goatee, no identifying marks, hair only about five centimeters long. Depending on where he was working, he would wear a black/grey suit, or jeans and tee shirt and a hat. The one constant clothe item of trade were the sunglasses – they helped him study places and people without having to meet their gazes.

Because Kamaria’s office was in Westlands along hundreds of other blue chip companies, a suit was going to have to do. It was a cheap, dark blue suit, a light blue shirt and a cheap nylon tie. He found the outfit hideous, but reminded himself it was not a fashion show, neither was it a mating dance. It was work, and because he needed to look like a driver, what he had would have to do, until the job was done.

When Jamba had called him with the assignment, he had started his preparations immediately. First, he had to find out which companies were residents in the building. How big they were. The bigger, the better, and he had settled on one that seemed to have a lot of bosses which meant there were a lot of drivers. If anyone was to question him about his constant presence in the parking lot, he would name the company. He even had a ‘boss’. One of his employees who had the body of an average Kenyan boss with his protruding stomach, would be dressing, for as long as possible, in expensive suits and sitting at the back left of the car as they drove into the building.

Mnaa, as he was commonly referred to, found a strategic parking slot that faced the main building entrance. With precision, he studied every car that drove in, but gave particular interest to dark, luxury four by fours. He had never seen a Mobius, had never heard of it, but he had searched in online the night before. It looked like a good car, he loved  how menacing it looked, and he was already considering buying one once he checked the specifications. He was also looking out for double cabin pick-ups as she was supposed to own one as well. 

If there was something good, apart from the money of course, he had derived from this job, it was the revelation that it was possible to sit and watch grass grow, or watch paint dry. That, in essence, was what investigators did a lot of times. They sat, they watched, they waited. They were not allowed to blink. His boredom gene had long been eliminated.

He already knew what she looked like from a photo he had had blown up. A photo he had got form Jamba where she posed in a black swimsuit with a beach background. For four days, morning to evening, he sat, and watched. Sat and watched. On the fourth day, which was a Friday, he started getting a little agitated. It was alright to sit and watch, but it was another thing to sit and watch nothing – where was the target? He yawned, and closed his eyes for a few seconds in frustration. When he opened the eyes again, his heart skipped a bit. He sat up so fast, his head hit the dashboard.

Was it? Several times during the week, he had raised his hope whenever he spotted a big, dark car, only to throw back his head in frustration when it wasn’t whom he hoped it was. Not this time – a man was driving the car, he parked it very close to the entrance, got out of the car and opened the back left door. Mnaa saw the long legs first, and that was what had jolted him out of the car. It took massive effort not to run out of the car.

Standing far enough not to be captured by random cameras, but close enough to take in the details, he watched cautiously at first but soon realized he did not have to worry about being victimized for watching. Everybody seemed to be watching. No one really stopped to watch, but passersby passed as they looked, drivers looking for parking slots drove slowly as they looked. People standing at random spots stood as they looked. She was like a magnet to any breathing being within fifty meters radius.

Mnaa’ eyes and brain were synchronised to work in harmony, and fast. He had a photographic memory that got sharper with every job he took. Because part of his invisible tool of trade was to not get noticed, his first task was to always take all details of his subjects within five seconds of spotting them.

Five seconds were enough to note that Kamaria was, as he had worked out from the photo, tall. By his estimation she was five foot nine or ten. She wore a pair of four inch heels and for her troubles she towered above everyone around her. She wore a black skirt that ended just above her knees. Her chiffon top was purple with black polka dots. He didn’t see any jewellery, apart from a pair of African themed earrings, black with a hint of purple. He noted her baby locks. She wore sun glasses, some shiny lip gloss, and on her hand dangled a huge black leather bag. On her other hand was a phone.

That image, like possibly thousands of others, would remain with him until the day he died, or the day he lost his memory. As she deliberately sauntered towards the building, her path seemed to clear, like somebody was using some sort of super power to clear it. She tackled the stairs to the main entrance in a way that reminded Mnaa of Kenya’s second president, Daniel Arap Moi – two at a time, fast and swift, without missing a beat.

Who was she? Why was he even following her? It was usual for his clients not to give details of subjects, he never bothered to ask. The only thing he needed to be told was whether or not his life was in danger, like, was the subject armed, or likely to run into armed people? He didn’t think Kamaria was dangerous but as he watched her disappear into the building, he found himself hoping that she was not involved in some fishy business.

Her disappearance into the building seemed to return normalcy to everyone, and it signalled him to return to the car and make a call to Jamba and somebody from his office who would replace him. But before the call, he made sure he made note of where her driver had parked the car

Let the chase begin.

***

The first sighting followed another week of no activity.  Kamaria turned up at work every morning and would go on to spend the whole morning in the office. Two of the five days she went out for lunch with the same girl. She would leave the office at four thirty PM and would be driven to a gym; spend two hours there and then head straight home.

Mnaa or someone else from his office was on her trail for twenty four hours. He kept wondering how long the chase would go for, but Jamba only wanted to know when she went to a crowded social place. Mnaa was starting to wonder if that would every happen.

He avoided getting emotionally involved with any client, and many times there had been cause to. He didn’t know much about Kamaria to get emotional about anything, but her beauty and composure fascinated him so much that several times he had had to slap himself out of day dreaming about being with her. Any man, he consoled himself, would have to be crazy not to be pulled by such a woman; power and beauty seemed to blend perfectly on her.

But why was she of interest? Was it a divorce case and the husband may have been trying to catch her cheating? Jamba gave him a lot of such cases. Was she a criminal and they were trying to catch her exchanging something illegal? He hoped not. It would be a shame if such a woman ended up in jail. Literally, Mnaa scratched his head in puzzlement. If her beauty was not so much fun to watch, he would have died of boredom because she never seemed to do anything interesting. She never seemed to go out, even for dinner, she never went visiting anyone. If anyone visited her, he never did see the person.

He had Googled her again. The results only served to tell him that he knew more about her than Google. Google confirmed her name. Google knew that she was the head of Sassi Developers and Estate Agents. Google knew she had inherited the company when her parents died in an accident when she was barely eighteen. Google also knew that she liked to keep a low profile and hardly got involved in the company management. At least that explained the reason why he could not find her on social media.

Things only got interesting on the second Friday. As Mnaa was getting ready for an early night in his house, his phone rang at nine PM. He grabbed it from the bedside table. He never ignored calls, whatever time of day or night. The call could be a client, a report – his phone had never known how it felt like to be off, or to have an empty battery, or to be on silent mode. He always had an extra fully charged battery in his trouser pocket. The luxury of resting phones was left to people who did not have to follow other people for a living.

The call was the man on Kamaria’s night duty. His heart skipped a bit, knowing there was only one reason for the call.

“Yes…”

“There is activity. She just left the house and she looks like she is going out….”

Finally, Mnaa thought.

“Where are you now?”

“On Argwins Kodhek Road, about two cars behind her.”

“Good. How are you dressed?”

“Well enough to be allowed inside anywhere.”

“Good. Keep me posted…” He quickly disconnected the phone, dialling Jamba’s number immediately.

Jamba’s reaction on the other side was similar to Mnaa’s.

“What’s happening?” He asked anxiously. The call had found him watching an episode of Criminal Minds. The children were sleeping on the sofa beside him, leaning on either side of him. He eased them on the seat and walked to the bedroom to take the call.

“There is movement. My guy thinks she is going out. She is dressed for it…”

“Where…” He was already planning on what to wear.

“They are in Kileleshwa/Hurlingham area. They are still on the move…”

“Let me know where they stop. I am getting ready right away…”

He nearly ran out of the bedroom as he went to knock on Mariam’s door to tell her to keep an eye on the children. As he tucked in the children, he prayed that he would be able to bring Serah home, if only for their sake. They both never tired of asking about her, wanting to know why she did not want to see them. It made him angry at her, but he reminded himself that they were his children, not hers. That she had no obligation to make them happy, that obligation was his. By looking for her, he was answering to that call of obligation.

He had a quick shower, changed into jeans, tee-shirt, leather boots and a writer’s sweater.

He called Sudi as he was driving out.

“Where are you?”

“R&R. What’s up?”

“I am picking you up in ten minutes…”

“Where are we going?”

“On a hunt.”

                Because she was not planning on drinking anything alcoholic, Kamaria was driving herself. Besides, she had overworked Fumo enough in the last couple of weeks and he had earned the weekend off.

                The last two weeks had seen Kamaria go to the office more times in a row than she had ever done in her life. That she liked it came as a surprise to her. To look forward to a working day at Sassi was a new and good feeling. She was still navigating her way, learning how things worked, something that had embarrassed her, but everyday she went it, she left feeling wiser. 

According to the Managing Director, there were companies cropping left, right and center, companies trying to emulate what they did, but they were still far ahead in the game. Having years upon years of experience when the field was still unpopular was a plus for them. Before her parents died, they had established systems that worked, the systems still worked.

The year’s business plan and projected figures were explained to her. The amounts were staggering. They wanted her input. She had felt pressure mount on her, for a moment regretting why she had exposed herself to the information, why she had told them she wanted to understand how things worked.

                Kamaria, even at twenty six, still felt too young for the responsibility to run the company. She hated how she got the role. On different occasions, her managers had begged her to get more involved, she had ignored them, until now. They had all been excited when she turned up two days in a row, they were happy that she was asking questions about the company for the first time, they were happy she attended meetings, even willing to overlook her silence in those meetings.

                “What you need them to know is that you have no intention of muffling their roles, but also let them feel your presence.” That had been Shani’s advice.

                Over a hundred people worked for the company. In two weeks, she had met twenty of them, starting from the top. She was determined to even have a one on one with every last one of her employees, including the cleaners and the tea girls. Her short meetings with them involved her informing them that she would be more present than before, that she needed them to make her understand what it is as individuals they did for the company. In those two weeks, she had done a lot of listening.

                That Friday, Shani had called her at midday. “Hey, I have been dieting for two weeks. I think I have lost weight, but I may be imagining it.”

                Kamaria had laughed. “If you expect instant results, you are going to be one disappointed girl.”

                “Why can’t I have instant results? I mean, if I over eat for two days in a row, the results are instant…”

                “That’s the paradox of life, unfortunately.”

                “Anyway, I feel like I need a reward. I haven’t touched alcohol since we left Mombasa.”

Kamaria clapped. “Yay…I am proud of you.”

“I also have not had sex in a month…”

Kamaria laughed. “Well, you have a long way to go before you catch up with me….I forgot how to.”

“Rubbish. Sex is like riding a bicycle. If you do not ride one for twenty years, you will still remember how to the minute you mount it…”

Kamaria laughed harder. “Here is hoping….”

“Also, did you know work and no play makes Kamaria a dull girl? Can we go out and drink tonight, please please please…”

                “I don’t want to drink…”

                “Come on. You are my only hope. I don’t have anyone else to go out with.”

                Kamaria gasped in mock shock. “You? No one to go out with? Shani, the epitome of a socialite has no one to go out with?”

                Shani grunted. “This is serious. Of course, I have people I could go out with. In fact, today I have received four calls asking me for company…”

                “So what is the problem?”

                “The problem is, I do not want to go out with those people. I want to go out with you – and you do need to go out.”

                “Stop making this about me.” Kamaria protested.

                “It is about you. I have decided that you are going to look for Jamba. We need to strategise…”

                “Excuse me?”

                “You heard me. I have decided that I cannot sit back and watch you throw away, perhaps the best thing that ever happened to you since me…”

                “Don’t flatter yourself…”

                “You know I am right. Seriously, let’s meet and talk about Jamba. If it makes you feel better, we can talk about Jalani…”

                “Ha. Okay, I suppose I could do with some loud music. But I am not drinking. I do not want to drink.”

                “Fine. You can drink water for all I care.  Just be there. See you at ten PM…”

                “Where are we meeting?”

“I don’t know yet… will let you know later.”

                Kamaria, as she sat on her desk table, looking down through the window and chewing on her chicken salad, had thought about the conversation.

                The last two weeks, thoughts about Jamba had been easier, but only because there was a lot of people and a lot of stuff to distract her from constantly thinking about him. She ached for him, she missed him. She missed the children. She avoided talking to Mariam about them. She was burying her head in the sand, un-apologetically. Just.

                In the evenings, she worked herself to near collapse at the gym, leaving energy enough to let her chew on a light meal, have a shower and crawl to bed.

                She was, however, pragmatic. She knew she had to do something. What the two months away from Jamba had made her understand was, she was not going to miss him any less by staying away. He was a permanent, visible and recurring scar. Shani was right, something had to be done.

                In the two months, she had grown even smaller in size. In her opinion, it was as a result of a combination of several factors. The diet, the work outs, and love sickness. As she went to meet Shani, she wore a size ten short green dress, one she had bought during her last shopping spree. It had been a little tight on her then. Today, it was loose. Because she intended to dance, she had chosen to wear flat doll shoes. They were blue, the same colour as her clutch bag. She had made a little effort on her make up this time round, using an eyeliner, and red lipstick.

                She found Shani already waiting for her, nursing a cocktail.

                “You couldn’t even wait for me before you order…” She teased as she hugged her friend.

                “Too thirsty. It’s been too long.” Shani answered, making pulling noises with the straw. Kamaria folded her face disapprovingly.

                “You are looking well…” Kamaria remarked. And her friend was. She may or may not have been an inch smaller, but she was so dressed down. Kamaria could not remember when she last saw Shani in a pair of jeans. Yet here she was, donning a blue pair and a long sleeveless top. Her short hair was dyed blonde.

                “I actually think you have more makeup on than I do…” Shani joked.

                “I know. Has anyone recognized you?”

                “A couple of people I know have hovered about, I guess unsure if it is me or not. I ignored them.”

                They both laughed.

                “Who could blame them? You look so different, and better.”

                “Are you saying that because you are my friend?”

                “Correct. But also because it is true.”

                Shani pulled on her straw again. “You know, I am loving all this. I feel free – I don’t seem to care what people think about me. What a miserable life I led…”

                Kamaria made her order of a glass of wine and a liter of water.

                “I thought you were not drinking…”

                “I am not. I just think it would look funny to order for water only… I will nurse the wine for as long as we are here…anyway, tell me about Jalani…”

                Shani shrugged dismissively. “What’s to say? I find myself rolling my eyes every time he calls. I don’t know what to talk to him about. I don’t get excited talking to him anymore…”

                “Mh…”

                “Plus I doubt he would like the new me, anyway…”

                “Why not?”

                “Well, because he likes big bottoms, and this one of mine is getting shrunk, baby. If he wants one, he can grow it himself…”

                They burst out.

                “But we are not here to talk about Jalani. Jamba, what are we going to do with him?” Shani asked, putting her glass on the table and getting serious.

                Kamaria shrugged.

                “You have to talk to him. If you don’t, I will. Remember I have his number…”

                “Are you threatening me?”

                “Yes I am. You cannot go on wondering if he would like the real you or not. You need to face it…”

                “I feel under duress…”

                “Well, tough…”

                The waiter who brought Kamaria’s order also handed her a note.

                “Who’s it from?” She demanded.

                “I don’t know him. He just asked me to give it to you…”

                “Oooh…a secret admirer. Come on, open it…” Shani  urged with a nudge.

                Kamaria took the note as she looked around at the crowd, trying to guess who sent the note.

                “Come on, open it!”

                With shaky hands, she unfolded the note. Five seconds into the reading and her face went white. Shani did not see the colour change, but she saw the shock on Kamaria’s face and the tension of her body.

                “What is it?” She demanded in concern, grabbing the note and reading it. “Oh. My. God!” Her hand went to cover her mouth, she looked at her friend, who still sat frozen, staring at her.

                “Kamaria, if you do not come to your car in ten minutes, I will come inside and cause a scene. Jamba.”

“Jamba.”

                “B…but…but… he wrote Kamaria…”

                Kamaria nodded, still frozen.

                “And he is here…” Shani declared, looking around. She didn’t know what he looked like.

“And he knows my car…”

                Shani gasped, cupping her mouth. The fact that she had never set eyes on Jamba did not stop her from helping Kamaria search the crowd.

                “What is happening…what am I gonna do?”

                Shani, suddenly composed, took a sip of her cocktail and put it back on the table. “Well, I think you should go out there and meet him. You want to, don’t you?”

                Kamaria shrugged. “I guess. But here?”

                “Come on. This is the best place. Crowded – and you can scream if he tries anything funny.”

                Kamaria straightened up, looked at her glass of wine, did a bottoms up justice on it. She took Shani’s cocktail and did the same.

                “What are you doing?”

                “Dutch courage.” She stood up, straightened her dress. “Here goes, or never…if I am not back in twenty minutes, call the police…” And she walked with more confidence than she felt. On her way, she passed a table with people she was familiar with. “Hi, can I borrow your drink?” Without waiting for an answer, she downed it in one. “Sorry, I will pay it back in a bit.” She walked away, leaving a shocked couple.

                “What’s with her?” Kamaria, of course, was already gone and didn’t hear the words. But Sudi did. He had watched the whole episode in utter amusement. He was loving this night, and the women involved. 

                Uninvited, he replaced Kamaria on the seat, attracting a murderous look from Shani. “I guess all we can do now is to wait for the drama…” Sudi said, drinking his beer straight from the bottle.

                “Who are you?” Shani recoiled with caution, looking around for escape routes.

                “Please, don’t leave. That would be so embarrassing…”

                “I asked, who the hell are you?”

                “Ah, that. My name is Sudi, Jamba’s friend…”

                “Oh dear…”

                “I know! Aren’t those two strange?” He was laughing.

                “You think this is funny?”

                Sudi studied Shani through the dim lights. He liked what he saw. In fact, he had liked what he had seen earlier. Kamaria’s friend was a looker, and he loved them big. At close range, she looked familiar.

                “Come on. What else is it but funny?”

                Shani thought about it for a second. “Come to think of it, it is funny… but I don’t feel comfortable talking to you.”

                “Why not? I am pretty harmless.”

                “No man, especially a stranger, is harmless.”

                He crossed his heart. “Cross my heart. I was just having my Friday night beer at my local, cheap pub when my friend ordered me to tag along.”

                “That same pub in Ruaka?”

                “The very same. What’s your name?”

                She only hesitated for a second. “Shani.”

                Sudi stretched his hand to her. “Hi Shani. Nice to meet you. You are very beautiful…”

                She felt herself blush, but tried to not let the stranger know. “Are you hitting on me?”

                “What if I am?”

                “Are you?”

                He shrugged. “I don’t know really. I am just here to keep you company as our friends sort out their love issues…”

                She laughed. She liked him. And he was cute. But he was wearing a wedding band.

                _____________________________

                As Sudi was flirting with Shani, Kamaria was having her own problems. She wasn’t sure whether it was the three different alcoholic drinks she had downed in two minutes, or the prospect of seeing Jamba again, but she felt a little dizzy, and she was staggering. Her head was spinning. She wasn’t sure she could make it to the car. Looking around the parking lot in panic, she imagined herself blacked out on the pavements and some lunatic taking advantage of her. She leaned on a car, the alarm went off. She staggered to the next one and it did the same. She wasn’t even sure she was heading to the right direction.

                When the hands grabbed her, she gave a loud shriek.

                “Don’t scream. It’s me. Are you drunk?”

                “Jamba…” And that was the last thing she remembered.

                _____________________________

                Sudi was in the middle of telling a funny story to a laughing Shani when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

                “Excuse me…” It was Jamba. “That was fast.” He remarked to Shani before answering. “Hi…now? What’s wrong with her? Okay. Coming out in a moment…”

                “What’s wrong with Kamaria?”

                Sudi was laughing. “If I hadn’t seen her downing her wine, your cocktail and someone else’ drink, I would be worried. Our dear friend, it would appear, just blacked out…”

                “What? Kamaria? She had another drink apart from the two she had here?”

                “Yep. Saw her with my own two eyes. From that couple over there. They were not happy. She promised to pay them but clearly, that will not be happening tonight…come on, let’s hit the road.”

                “To where?”

                He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I guess we need to find Jamba first.”

                Shani followed, but she held a thousand shilling note in her hand and gave it to the couple Sudi had pointed at. She knew them too. “Hey, Kamaria asked me to pay for your drinks. She thanks you. Bye…” Sudi was moving fast and she wanted to keep up with him. 

Story by Ciku Kimani-Mwaniki

Personal guinea pigs: Nyambura Michuki, Rachel Gathoni, Ceh Gichimu, Carole Shiku