Suicidal Result

The wooden makeshift door faced me, barricading me from the rest of the world.
Behind the door my little brother could be heard distracting my dear father- who was
usually intoxicated by this hour of the day- with his fantasies and recollections of the
days events. The day was not done, the sun still scorched the now wetlands before the the night rainfall would appear to flood the land again.
 
“Njoki, kuja kula!” A quick rap on the door followed my brother's voice calling me to
eat. Anxiety overwhelmed my senses and at his loud, rough but young voice I
realised I was holding my breath.
 
“I am not hungry,” I replied meekly, not wanting to leave the phone on the stool as it
would soon ring and show dreaded or successful results.

A maths exam sum rang in my head, yet my mind flowed over its existence, preoccupied
by other torturous questions. When the first wave of thoughts disappeared, I
glanced to my right at the noose hanging from a hook in the mud baked wall and even
though the noose was above me, the knot tightened tighter around my guts.
 
“Cynthia! Cynthia!” I was bellowing and ramming at the door trying to get in to
change from my drab black clothes that was my uniform, before the sun cooked me half raw. My sister had been in there for almost two hours now and counting. At first it seemed as if the door was jammed and Cynthia was not around. Then a heavy sniffing began and along with it my own heartbeat, aching together not for the same purpose but
because of the same reason. Suddenly, a massive crack echoed through the house from inside the room, arousing my handsome father from his daily naps.
 
“Njoki, kwani you think everyone wants to listen to you? Stop making noise!” I
stared at him, blank with confusion at the sound and blame, managing only to show
that the noise had emanated from the barred room where Cynthia was . He leaped up
from his ancient worn out armchair, clearly fatigued by the wait for the results,
slammed into the door and straight into the frail legs of my sister.

For a moment I wondered if my sister had managed to defy the laws of gravity and
was floating but, like a sack of potatoes at Wakulima Market, it hit me that she had
purposefully left our world. Her body was limp and lifeless, with an air tight noose
around her neck. A paper lay below her with my name imprinted in large on it. At
first, I stood rigid and watched as my father move tremendously slowly to the bed.
Baby Tama, as if sensing the loss of our older sister mourned the tears that balanced
in my eyes. My hand moved unbearably slow towards the letter, picking it up from
the ground. On it in Cynthia's delicate handwriting was:
 
“I did not make it Njoki. I love you my little sister, but I failed father and you. I
don't want a life without happiness of passing KCSE and filled with a reckless marriage. Take care of our baby brother Tama, and our dear father. I am sorry.  Forgive me.”
 
By the end, the rivers I had held back were flowing in full force. Nevertheless my
watery eyes saw the phone glowing with rejection written all over it.
 
Father retired soon after from the tea farm and started a small kiosk nearby. The
drinks grew from one to two. To thirteen.

The sun was sinking rapidly, leaving just the brink of its whiskers visible. The phone
vibrated. Once. Twice. My heart rose through my throat and plummeted back down
into my guts. My Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education (KCSE) exam results,
were on this phone. I shut my eyes tight and dived for the phone, praying to God all
the while. At the same time as I opened my eyes the door flew open and I only
glimpsed:
 
“Dear Student Njoki, from Nyeri public school...” before my father saved me from
encountering death's arms by snatching the phone that held my results just like it did
Cynthia's. Tama being of the brink of tears, held me tight in a comforting embrace.

only One

The root stabilises the stem,

provides for the growth of the tree.

The sun warms up the Earth,

never leaving it frozen.

The wind sings to the land,

putting it to sleep with a lullaby.

The water protects the land,

from distant and nearby harm.

A beauty in its own making

the blankets that hug the bed-

affectionately.

The rains tears are wiped away,

by the winds gentle and comforting hands.

The irreplaceable, unbreakable

base of a cup, or binding of a book,

keeping intact its most precious item.

Me.

Although they are lovely things,

all of them are not things,

but one person-

that outshines them all.

I am not afraid to say

I love her.

Because I truly do.

She is my first friend,

She is my deadliest enemy.

She is my girlfriend.

She is my wife.

She is my daughter.

She is my sister...

But first. She is.

My mother.

Prefectship

The hall was filled with 850 children all uncomfortably slouched on aged rusty chairs filled with foam covered with dusted, deep-maroon leather. The blaring whispers reverberated off the walls of the drowsy hall, as friends revisited the same topics.

I myself was entranced in this boredom, as the faint voice of the headmaster tried to penetrate our attention, like a fox tries to lure its escaped prey back. However through through his endless trial and fail, as well as calling for silence, no one paid attention to him.

It didn't last though; the ignorance faded like the mist does when the sun finally rises, after he mentioned one word. Those that were slouched were now straight-backed that you could use them as an ironing board. The noise perished within a second, you could hear the plop of a water droplet hitting the floor.

Fear crept I and made heart beat like war drums, flooding my ears until it became unbearable. My neighbour said some silent prayer to ease off the mounting anticipation, while I hoped the name that would be called would be mine. The second ticked away and the silence tormented me.

I think I blacked out completely, for when my name was said, I sat up with a big fat smile and time stood still, shock making me rigid to the spot. As it wore off, I got up slowly trying to act placid and laid back, but inside I felt ecstatic with joy.

The dull hall bloomed up and the blood red walls became a shiny scarlet. Applauses rained down on me following my every footstep as I rapidly walked up onto the wooden dust-brown stage.

A line of students shaking the headmasters hand blocked the view of the one thing I wanted most. Finally it was me; I hurriedly shook the headmasters hand and grabbed the thin cobra like object that gave you extra-power, but a vicious stranglehold on your neck and even deadlier when you went down the wrong path. That extra-power is what I needed. What I wanted. It made me one of the chosen special ones.

The smooth, soft, silk made my hand ring with excitement of putting it on. I just restrained myself from shouting off the top of my lungs to show my rejoice of finally getting the one special thing that everyone else wanted to be a part of, the crimson red tie that highly respected prefects wore.