A JOURNEY OF A THOUSAND SINS

SIN 2

MOTO DAY

We weren’t beaten for SIN 1, so why would we shy away from our adventures? This ‘motivation’ line led me to untold suffering. As usual, dad picked up his walking stick and sneaked out before we woke up to bother him with ‘my school short is torn’, ‘ need a new sweater’, ‘we need two thousand shillings for a trip ...’ He didn’t wait to say he was going to meet other men to make money.

This time, I checked and noticed he had forgotten his Motorola D520 beside the Great Wall TV. We had been waiting for this day like forever. The troublemaker had finally ‘gifted’ me another chance to bellow like a lost calf. Enough of the admiration we had every time our friends narrated how they enjoyed playing racing and football games using their father’s phone.

I dashed into our bedroom. My brother, Innocent, was still thinking of how he would milk the cows despite the drizzles. Otherwise, just like the previous week, when he failed to deliver milk to the dairy because of lateness, he would receive a slap at the back of his head, sending him reeling like an injured puppy.

“Bro, finally!” I said and paced around the room, raising and clenching my fists.

“What is it?” my bro sprang out of bed.

“I said, FINALLY!”

“NKT! I don’t want trouble.” Innocent was not amused. He marched to the kitchen and picked a pail of warm water. He grabbed an arimis tin that was almost empty because we shared it with the cows. He headed to the dairy. I covered my head with an empty sack and followed him.

“Listen, dad left his mobile phone. It’s our day to play some games,” I whispered with a grin.

“Wait, are you sure!”

“Yes! Can’t wait for mum to leave for her usual women’s group meetings.”

Moments later, mum left. As soon as she was out of sight, we scrambled for the door. Everyone wanted to be the first one to play a game. My brother was quick, and he already had the phone while I struggled to jump over the tables, careful not to break the ‘bomb’ – a strategic thermos flask bought for only two things – display and visitors. Breaking one was the greatest SIN and a direct ticket to exile, if not hell. And you think we didn’t break one? Wait for this upcoming SIN (The Bomb) which made Innocent pack his belongings.

Innocent put his finger on the red button. I closed my ears. As if to announce our vices, the phone produced an ear-splitting sound. He almost dropped it. He pressed it in between his thighs to suppress the sound. Within no time, the phone was on. We celebrated our father for being so generous that he didn’t bother to secure the phone with a password or PIN.

“Search for the game. Be quick,” I said, rubbing my palms. Innocent fumbled with several buttons, trying to find a game. Innocent was just innocent and too careful. As he searched for it, I stood at the door to ensure we were not caught.

“What kind of a phone is this? Does it really have a game?” I heard him protesting and stamping his bare feet. I went back and snatched the phone.

“Sorry analogue, innocent bro. That’s why I don’t like your name. Let me show you how it’s done.” I pressed the buttons like a ‘pro’, trying to find the game. My brother went to the door to ‘cover me’.

Suddenly, the writings on the screen turned into unfamiliar symbols. I navigated back using the home button, but all I could see were curved characters and dots – a language none of us understood. My hands trembled. My heart burned. My throat dried as if I had gulped a cup of cement. My brain stopped working for a minute. I closed my eyes, shook my head and assured myself I was in a dream, only for my brother to remind me that I was awake and waiting to be fried.

“Is everything okay?” my brother asked. I didn’t answer. My eyes were blood red. Then, my brother came closer. He stole a glance at the screen.

“What is that? Did you mess with the language? Thank God I was not here. I am innocent,” he said and disappeared, leaving me in distress.

I pressed some random buttons, trying to change the language to English but all in vain. I thought of how I woke up in the morning. Why did I touch this phone? Is it possible to start this day again? I would not set my foot in this house, I thought. But it was too late. The day of reckoning had finally come. I lost my peace. My brother avoided me like a disease. He didn’t talk to me. He didn’t want us to share any work. He whistled on his own as he fed the cows, went to the river and planted his tree seedlings, leaving me strolling around the compound like a bereaved donkey.

In the afternoon, mum arrived and went on with her evening duties as usual. Darkness slowly crept in, and for sure, dad was on her way. All this time, mum hadn’t touched the phone. She knew dad was ready to slaughter anyone who touched his five-thousand-shillings property.

At 5.03 pm, achoo! Achoo! Achoo! My father sneezed at the gate to announce his arrival. I welcomed each sneeze with a urine dribble on my pants as I dashed to the study room like a terrified chick that narrowly survived the claws of an eagle. I knew the encyclopaedia would not rescue me this time. I had no idea what to do. I saw my brother laughing his heart out until he slid fell in the cowshed. I wished the cow could get mad and smash the pail of milk with a resounding kick – Innocent would no longer be innocent. My wish was short-lived. Dad sat in the shade outside and called me, “Mambo, bring me my phone. I left it next to the TV. I hope no one touched it.”

“Oh! You forgot it?” I asked, and without waiting for a response, I sprinted into the sitting room like a humble servant. I gave him the phone and returned to the study room, my heart pounding and my legs trembling.

He switched it on, and two minutes later, I heard him say, “Hey! ‘You have stepped on the wrong wire today’,” dad said with a heavy breath. He marched into the study room and dragged me outside.

“Innocent, come here or disappear forever,” he snarled.

“What did they do again?” mum asked.

“Just look at this phone,” he said and threw the phone at mum. Mum looked at it and said, “Let them pay for their sins.” Mum lit the firestorm and left. Innocent joined me with his eyes blinking.

“Who did this?” dad hissed, showing Innocent the phone.

“Dad, I am innocent,” Innocent said, avoiding eye contact with me.

“I know you are innocent. Who messed with my phone?” dad asked, stretching his hand as if to send a deafening slap to his face.

“It’s Mambo,” he said.

“It’s you, Mambo! Utaona Moto – you will suffer,” Dad roared and shoved me into the study room. I was helpless and hopeless.

He pulled his rubber baton, trapped my head between his knees, and whipped me. I bellowed, begged and sobbed. Half an hour later, I came out of the knees, unable to walk, sit or speak. Innocent laughed every time he saw me standing or leaning on a wall, even where there were plenty of seats.

?Little did he know that he would sleep in bed for three days for being the transgressor in SIN 3.