Wangu Ever After

Chapter 1

Amessage dinged on Maisha’s phone.

He pulled it out, glanced at the screen and wrote two words before slipping it back in his pocket.

Lulu? Tristan asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Why would you just assume it is Lulu? Maisha asked his best friend. I could have met a girl.

A soft laugh sounded behind them. Both men turned to see Nasi wiping down the counter.

Do not mind me, Nasi said with a grin. Carry on.

Tristan chuckled, What Nasi’s trying to say is that for you to meet someone, you’d actually need a social life.

They were having breakfast in the cafe that Nasi managed. It was called Karibu Cafe.

The owner, Frank, was old and he left the day by day running of the cafe to Nasi.

He would pop in once in a while to have some fried chicken before heading back home. His wife Mrs. Li did not allow him to have any fried food at home. The doctor said fried chicken was bad for his cholesterol but the old man loved fried chicken too much. He was also deadly scared of his wife so he would hide to eat when she was not around. Frank made Nasi swear never to tell his wife.

These days though, Nasi baked the chicken instead of deep frying it. When Frank grumbled about the difference in taste, Nasi simply told him, It’s not the chicken, it’s your taste buds that are dying.

The cafe usually opened at nine, but Tristan and Maisha came at seven for breakfast- a privilege they enjoyed to avoid the rush of students from the university. A peaceful meal before the place got hectic.

Maisha pointed at Nasi, even if you are my brother I can cut you off.

Nasi scoffed, tossed the kitchen towel over his shoulder, and headed to the kitchen without a word.

Turning to Tristan, Maisha repeated, I can cut him off.

Tristan rolled his eyes as he picked a piece of yam. Of course you can. He said dryly, popping the yam into his mouth. You’re such a big boy now.

Maisha rolled his eyes, half-seriously considering cutting both of them off.

His life would be so much simpler.

What did Lulu want? Tristan asked.

She was checking in on me, Maisha replied, taking a bite of his boiled cassava.

You guys are too close, Tristan commented. Maisha didn’t respond. It was true. Though they weren’t related by blood, Nasi was his brother and Lulu was his little sister.

Finish up, Maisha said, changing the subject. We need to talk to the marketing professor before class starts. Did you speak to the warehouse manager about the back orders?

Tristan groaned. It’s always about work with you. Can’t we finish breakfast before jumping into business.

When Tristan first started university four years ago and met his roommate he had a completely different vision of his future. Visions of drinking, partying and waking up on a lawn somewhere in his underwear. But no, he had to go and befriend the only driven eighteen year old on campus and before he knew it, he was running a full- fledged business while studying. He never imagined he would be a co-partner in one of the fastest growing edu-tech startups in the country. By their second year he ran away from the dorm and got his own place, but they kept running the business together.

Maisha did not answer, he raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an answer.

Tristan sighed. Fine, I’ll call him right after the first class. Happy now?

Maisha replied, Not unhappy.

Nasi returned with a fresh pot of coffee and refilled Tristan’s cup. Don’t let him overwork you. Nasi said with a smile. I have no idea where he gets his working attitude from.

With that, he disappeared back into the kitchen to fry mandazi for the breakfast rush.

Tristan chuckled to himself.

Nasi claiming he did not know where Maisha got his work ethic was the biggest joke. Nasi had been running the cafe for Frank since high school, sacrificing his own chance to attend university to pay for Maisha’s school fees. He’d hustled non stop - creating promotions, keeping the cafe open late for students and even introducing deliveries. If Maisha was a workaholic then Nasi was a maniac.

Both of them worked too hard.

I have to go, Maisha said, standing up and taking his plates to the kitchen. After washing them, he grabbed his bag.

See you in class, Maisha said as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

Off to feed the stray cats?

Maisha didn’t respond. Bye, he said, stepping out of the warm cafe into the crisp morning air. He tugged the lapels of his coat tighter as he walked down the street, eventually turning into an alley at the end of the block.

At the far end of the alley was a small rundown shack where a black and white stray cat and her kittens had taken shelter. The mother cat and her babies stayed there whenever it rained or got too cold. Maisha had brought old clothes and blankets to make the shack a bit warmer for them.

Since his dorm did not allow pets, this was the next best thing.

Maisha crouched down, reaching out to pet the kittens. Hey, he murmured.

The kitten purred and Maisha smiled.

He opened his bag, pulled out two cans of cat food and set them on the ground. The mother cat got up and began eating, while one kitten wrapped itself around his leg and the other nuzzled his hand, eager for attention.

He stroked the kitten gently. You okay? He whispered.

The kitten meowed in response and Maisha smiled again.

With his morning routine done, he stood up and made his way to meet the marketing professor before class.

You need to hire an artist to create the right visuals for your marketing campaign, the old professor said, peering over the glasses. I know you’re trying to save money, but these images will be linked to your brand image which is essential for growth.

Maisha had been scared of this.

When he started his business four years ago, he could get by using free, generic materials he found on the internet. But now his business was expanding and to capture the essence of African education for the children, he knew these tools were not enough.

I understand but... Maisha hesitated.

Professor Yeti leaned back in his chair, All these free online tools can only go so far especially when it comes to art renderings of African children.

He had a vision to take his business full time after he graduated, this being his last semester, he needed to lock in.

Professor Yeti put the tablet down and said, If you want to grow, you have to hire an artist.

Maisha nodded, he knew the professor was right but he did not have any savings left. Half of the profits he made went back into the business. The other half he used to pay Tristan, cover his dorm expenses and pay for Lulu’s school fees. Hiring an artist right now just wasn’t financially possible.

I know, Maisha sighed.

The professor shifted in his seat, studying him closely. How about you find an art or graphic design student? You could help each other. They get a chance to work on their portfolio and you get quality images for your campaign. A win-win situation for both of you.

That might actually work, Maisha thought, a smile spreading across his face..

Thank you sir, he said, picking up his tablet.

Professor Yeti nodded. See you in class.

Maisha said, Okay sir, see you in class, before heading for the door.

As the door closed behind him, Professor Yeti sat back in his chair, wondering to himself, What drives a young man to push himself this hard?

SABRINA WAS SLOWLY losing it.

She looked at the picture on the wall, feeling the eyes staring back at her, like they were dissecting her from deep within.

Her grandfather.

You should go outside and play more often, he used to say. You need more friends.

I am outside, she’d reply, sitting on the front stoop of the cabin, picking stones from the beans. She’d laugh and say, Why do I need more friends when I have you?

He would click his tongue and carry his sisal tray back into the old cabin. Young children nowadays, never listen to anything I say.

She’d laugh as she watched him shuffle inside, his back hunched, faintly smelling of his favorite brand of cigarette.

Love you, she would shout after him.

He’d wave his hand as if dismissing the words into the air, yeah yeah, whatever.

Then he’d go inside, mumbling to himself, as usual.

Sabrina smiled at the memory, glancing back at the picture.

She could not believe he was now gone.

And she was now truly alone.

A message pinged on her phone, breaking the moment..

How are you? The message from her mum read.

How was she? How was she?

She wondered as she glanced out the window. Rabi the rabbit was darting around the front lawn.

Another message popped up: Why don’t you come and live in the city?

Rina, as her grandfather used to call her, had grown up living with her mother and grandfather, happy as a pig in a mud hole. She attended the school nearby and in the evening she went back to the farm that had been in their family for generations.

Everything changed when her mum met a nice man from the city. He wanted to marry her mother, but they had to move to the city, and Rina was expected to follow. The idea of leaving her grandfather behind, alone in the farm, made her stomach churn.

You should go, her grandfather had encouraged her when she shared her concerns.

But I do not know anyone there, she’d replied.

He had glared at her and said, You don’t know anyone here either.

That was true, she barely had a social life. She spent more time with her drawings than with people.

She had stuck out her tongue at him in playful defiance. He threatened to cut it off and she had run away laughing. So, she stayed.

For five years, it had been just the two of them. Until last year, when her grandfather caught a cough. Before she could take him to hospital, he was gone. Pneumonia.

Sabrina did not have time to answer the texts before her phone rang.

Hey sweetheart, her mum’s voice came through the line.

Hey mum, Sabrina replied, stepping out on the front stoop, staring at the lush green landscape.

Why don’t you move to the city with me, her mum went straight to the point. The city has more opportunities for you to grow.

I am fine here, Sabrina replied, she could not bear the thought of leaving this house. It held too many memories for her.

Her mum sighed., What are you doing there, alone every day? What’s your plan for the future?

The future. Sabrina hated that question the most.

What plan did she have for the future?

None, she wanted to stay home everyday and draw. But it had been a year since she sketched anything. It was as if her grandfather died with her inspiration.

You should move here, her mum pressed. There is a great university nearby. You can study and get a good job.

She knew her mum meant well but she was not ready to move. Her usual excuses were not working this time.

Petting the rabbit that had hopped to her side, without thinking, she blurted out, I joined the University of Kiri.

It was the closest university she could think of.

Ohh baby that is great news! her mum sounded thrilled. Why did you not tell me before?

Probably because I just made it up, Sabrina’s inner voice chimed in, dripping with sarcasm..

I wanted to finish enrolling first, she said quickly, Before I asked for help with fees and stuff.

Her mum’s joy was evident,, That is wonderful news. Let me know when you are done and I will send over the money for your tuition.

Yes mum.

Take care baby, her mum said softly, and Sabrina’s heart softened, too.

Bye mum. She hung up, still petting the rabbit.

Picking up the rabbit she looked at it and said, it looks like I am going to college.

The rabbit looked at her like she had lost her mind.

I know, she sighed, setting the rabbit down before taking out her phone to check the school’s website. She had promised her mum, there was no backing down.

She opened her phone and browsed on the information about the school. She realized that the admissions for the semester had already closed. Classes had started a week ago.

I’ll go and ask, she told the rabbit who was now busy nibbling grass. If the admission is closed then there is nothing I can do, right?

The rabbit ignored her and kept eating.

Must be nice, Sabrina thought with a sigh as she stood up, grabbed the keys to the old green pickup and closed the cabin door. She got into the green pickup, an inheritance she got from her grandfather. He’d used it to run errands in the town and around the village. Since his passing, she’d kept it clean and used it for trips to the town center, which was twenty minutes away.

Starting the engine took a solid five minutes, but soon enough she was rolling down the hill. The dirt road was dry after a week with no rain, and dust clouds billowed as the pickup speed past maize fields. She rolled up the windows and ignored the dust