Stones and Metals

By LAWRENCE CHITERI
Published July 25, 2009

It is Monday morning in an upmarket residence, seven stories up an apartment complex, complete with an impregnable electric fence, blinding search lights, and commando trained sharp shooters on guard. The residents in this neighborhood live in the secure confidence that any trump or thugs are completely hemmed out of pry, thievery or intrusion. In one suite of this set up, Jeddy and Rolly, 10 years and 7 years old respectively, are in no mood for school. Jeddy is sleekly gliding before a 5- foot tall stereo hi-fi, belching fine tuned numbers from the breakfast club. ”wow! That is Curtis Redding, the rock wizard on ABC’s Breakfast Club, wow!” she relishes. Rolly cuddles himself deep in the roller chair, as round after round heightens in the repeat wrestling show, he struts and chuckles with every action, surely neither of these imps seem ready for school this Monday morning.

Augmenting the mood for Jeddy and Rolly is the backdrop of a lush, fluid environment and comfort; ease and exuberance conspire to summarize the aura in this setting. The mood is to say the least, eccentric, and lull for the children until Mudge the nurse enters. She stops on her track petrified by what she sees, not that there is anything particularly new about the unfolding scenario, but because for the umpteenth time she knows Therea, the mother of the children, and her boss will connive with her children and lay every blame at her door steps. Mudge has been here for six years, and knows well her way around every challenge in this household. Subservience and hollowness of the mind are the arsenal for continued employment here, so with alacrity and acted naiveté, she approaches Jeddy, the elder of the two, and meekly announces: “Children, breakfast is served,” but is summarily rebuffed without as much as a glance and with a rough, “tell him!” All this time, Rolly is chuckling dryly as he imbues every detail from the 60-inch LCD screen, and as Mudge nears him, he bursts out, “tell her.” Poor Mudge is transfixed as her cry of “Please” goes unheeded.

There reigns a temporary air of triumph and melee as the children wallow in their utopia until Therea, their mother, dashes in. She just won’t believe the carnival unfolding before her eyes, and on a Monday morning. This is not in any way suggestive of her astute motherhood, but being one who loves to have her cake and eat it, she can be quick to uphold pretended ideals when it suits her. As usual she knows where to heap real and imagined blame. She angrily approaches the LCD screen and turns it off amid protestations from Rolly. “That’s unfair ma, that’s unfair! You didn’t turn off Jeddy’s transmitter.” Mutely and apparently enraged, Therea picks up the remote control and silences the hi-fi, predictably not without Jeddy’s curses of, “Ma what’s this, what’s this?”

She is undaunted and firmly announces, “It is Monday and a school day, get ready for school!” The children indulge in a body language that intriguingly speaks to her, she knows a little pampering, flattery and ‘you are not to blame guise,’ would do the trick. And as she embraces both of them close to her chest , she coos, “You know how hard I have struggled with that good for nothing school teacher of yours to get you special concessions to be in school at 7 a.m. and not 6 a.m. like the rest of them….”

They instantly mollify to emit knowing smiles and looks. She has done it. They are flattered, and she pleads with them to eat their breakfast. They oblige and when they reach the breakfast table, “There is no wheat bran and choco,” cries Rolly, “and plum jam is always there,” adds Jeddy. The plot thickens for Mudge, and Therea summons her and looks long and hard into her eyes. The message is clear. She is to blame! She takes the cue and in her defense affirms, “but today’s menu…. . “ However, Mudge is not going to get away with it because Therea is about to put her in her place. Therea is emphatic on Mudge and reminds her that she is merely a hand in the house; she calls no shots! ”Give the children what they want, nothing is rigid here. You are a hand, do I make myself clear?” Not daunted, Mudge swallows this one as well. She has swallowed them myriad times before and suffered no indigestion for them. She is dispatched to get uniform for the children.”If they get late for school, you will take full blame,” follows her as she leaves.

Everything has coiled round Mudge as usual, and as she slips out of sight, the glee in the living room is rudely interrupted by a sudden, but incessant bang on the front door. Startled, Therea and her children are forced to huddle, apprehension registered all over them. The bang ceases for a moment and some sigh of relief returns in their faces. They are certainly not used to this kind of approach and when Therea finds her nerves, she laments bitterly: “That was rude, there is the door bell.” And as if in response to her, the loud bang comes again. It is more incessant and urgent now. Therea manages to yell out “Nurse!” No response. “Nurse!” No response…

(To be continued)

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