Diary of an HIV-positive woman (26)

By JEZEBEL KAMBO
Published December 27, 2009

Hi. My name is Jessica but my friends (who are very few) call me Jezzie while my enemies –a constituency of them – call me Jezebel. I am 25 years old and HIV-positive. I am a mother of 4 -year –old twins – David (Didi) and Terry (Titi). This is my continuing story.

Week 4

Friday

Today is meant to be the big day for the Backfront Restaurant, but Abdul has just called me to call it off.

“Some legal issues need to be sorted out,” he tells me. I can’t place whether or not he is happy.

“Sure my dear. I can’t wait for this dream to take off,” I assure him. And it’s true I am really looking forward to the opening of this restaurant.

“Next week, God willing,” he assures me. Sweet Abdul.

Mum’s operation date has been set. We have a week to come up with a staggering Kshs 350, 000, with 50 percent deposit to be paid, at least two days before the surgery, and the rest on the discharge date.

I have an appointment with one of the leading banks that offer unsecured loans in 48 hours. I check on the manager the first thing in the morning. Long queues define the room. Why are people always so serious in banking halls? The room seems to have undergone a face lift, the blue colours donning the bank walls, complementing the white seats. There is even free coffee from the dispenser.

“Kshs 0.5 million payable in 36 months,” I remind the manager as we peruse the terms and conditions.

“It will be in your account latest Monday afternoon,” he tells me. That is fine with me as I can use the balance to clear my mounting debts and see if I can team up with Charo to get a car from the port.

I leave the bank a happier woman, though my head is still reeling about Susan and Mr Kombo, who is still stuck in Nairobi. We do talk on a daily basis, though.

Susan drunk herself silly last night, picking up many cat fights in the process. Mariam’s tenacity in defending her, though eyebrow raising, was not surprising.

I reach the office to find Teresia eagerly waiting for me. I place a call to Susan as I raise my hand to tell Teresia to wait. There is no response from Susan. I try Mariam, and I am happy to go through.

“She is still in my house dead asleep,” Mariam tells me. She also sounds tired.

“I hope you have not taken advantage of her vulnerability,” I am firm with Mariam, who has never heard me use such a tone before.

“I am a seasoned hunter and know when to strike. This is definitely not the time, so you better relax,”  she responds.

I am ashamed of my assumptions. Mariam is just a study of contrasts. I wonder how far she has gone with the policeman’s wife.

“Is the restaurant deal still on, or is it one of those Mombasa pipe dreams?” Mariam asks me.

“We are on next week,” I assure her, hoping that she will not let me down in running the restaurant.

The monthly report is due soon, and the projects deadlines and finances need tallying, which means the Kshs 43, 500 missing from the kitty needs to be accounted for. Hopefully by the time Mr Kombo comes back, I will have settled the difference.

Friday’s activities start on a high note with phone calls rolling in. My MP friend is in town, and he wants us to link up. Definitely bwana Mheshimiwa, I don’t mind being part of your CDF entertainment account.

“Tonight mheshimiwa,” I tell him, as he gives me the details to his hotel. He is residing in a five-start hotel in Nyali.
The next call comes from Abdul, my on-and-off boyfriend.

“Today you are mine!” he shouts in his characteristic high pitched voice.

“Swinging?” I blurt out. “What is that?” I show my ignorance.

I listen keenly as Abdul outlines the plan he has with his friends. My repugnance changes to curiosity and finally to a burning desire to see what takes place.

“And you can bring in some friends. The more the merrier,” he tells me. I cannot believe it. I call up Mariam and tell her the news. She is excited and says that she will have to take Susan because the policeman’s wife would not be available if I am not with the OCPD. Fine.

“But is Susan also like that?” I ask Mariam, unable to use the word ‘lesbian’.

“I will know tonight,” she responds.

Another call comes in. This time it is from the OCPD. Although he and I have warmed up to each other of late, I was not expecting his call today. I wonder what he will say the day he finds out that his wife is a lesbian.

“Socially, I am still awaiting our date,” he starts. I am doing badly when it comes to honouring dates. Most of my girlfriends are complaining about my absence from social circles. I have missed several chama meetings, and Wangeci, the bitchy chairlady,  is threatening to expel me from the group. She thinks that having three brand new cars is a ticket to harassing others? Bure!

The OCPD is still on the line, bringing me back to reality. “Officially, a complaint of a hit-and-run car crash has been lodged against a pea green Toyota Celica registration KKAA 1985Q being driven by a lady driver by the name Jessica Kambo. The accident is reported to have taken place on Wednesday at around 1:30 p.m. outside The Turnaround Hospital,” he says.

“Was the report made by one Shida Mingi?” I ask.

“Yes!”

“Thanks officer, I will come over to record a statement about it as well. Then we can discuss our lunch date,” I tell him.

I go ahead to explain to him the beef between Shida and myself. He laughs his head off.

Another call comes in, and this time from Mariam. “Girl, your name and car are all over the FM stations as a case of  a hit-and-run accident. Calls are coming in for your arrest!” she says.

More and more calls roll in, but I ignore them.

Shida, the war is on!

To be continued.

Related Posts