Diary of an HIV-positive woman (47)

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 7

Friday

My grandfather often says that angels in heaven usually descend on earth to sprinkle the lucky ones with blessings at 3 a.m.  Not so this time.

I hear screams from a distant and immediately snap out of my deep slumber. The screams come closer to my house, and I hear someone pounding on my door.

Aly and I head to the door, with his dagger drawn and ready to strike in case of any adversaries. We are met at the door by an almost naked, pitiable and bleeding sight of a wailing Mwikali, my former housegirl, who left to be  Jonah’s partner.

I usher her ito the bathroom to wash her wounds when I get a brainwave. “Wait. Let us take photos of the bruises. We can use this against Jonah,” I tell Aly, who rushes and comes with the house camera. We take photos of the battered girl, who has a split lower lip. Her eyes are also swollen, and she is coughing blood. This is serious.

Aly and I take turns washing Mwikali, who is still dumbfounded.  Aly is furious, and I notice him fingering his side belly. I know what is in there – a scabbard with one of those wickedly curved knives that are classified officially as a licensed weapon. Some one is going to get hurt.

“We need to rush her to hospital,” I tell Aly as we dress Mwikali into one of my bui buis to conceal her facial wounds. We walk her to the car and seat her at the back seat. Aly is bitter, and I notice him inching closer to Jonah’s house.

“Not now Aly. The priority is to get Mwikali to the hospital, then deal with Jonah later on,” I tell him.

“What about the kids?” he asks, hinting that he would like to remain behind and sort out that M’bara.

“I will drop you at the hospital, and then come back to prepare the  kids for school,” I tell Aly, who is obviously agitated and is determined to pick up a fight with Jonah.

Aly follows my instructions and reluctantly walks into the car. I get into the car and start it. Mwikali is groaning in pain, forcing me to drive slowly while Aly keeps a constant watch on her. The five-minute drive to the nearest clinic  seems like forever today.

“You have to report this to the police,” a young doctor at the clinic tells us.

“Right now it is the patient we are concerned about, and not the culprit,” I reply. The doctor is friendly and removes a card from his pocket, hands it over to me and instructs us to give him a call in case we need help with the police.

I bid the duo farewell and head to the house to tend to the twins. “I will be back for you after I drop off the kids,” I tell Aly, who remains at the clinic to watch over the sedated Mwikali.

A woman basher in the 21st century! Jonah, I am coming for you, and this time it won’t be the Aly games that we have been playing. I need a strategy that will not hurt his kids. What was Mwikali thinking of going to live with a man like Jonah who is fond of mistreating women?

It is 5 a.m. when I reach home. The trail of blood from Jonah’s house to my house is still fresh. I get a mop and wash away the blood before the kids see it. I then head to the kids’ rooms and wake them up.

“Where is Aly?” the kids ask in unison.

“He had to go somewhere early in the morning. He will be back when you come from school,” I reply.

“Will you carry us to the car?” Titi inquires, and I guess I have no option but to do so.

We leave for school, but my focus is not on the road. I am so preoccupied with Mwikali’s plight that even the kids notice that something is bothering me. “Are you sure Aly is coming back?” asks Didi, the most vocal of the twins.

“If he is not there when you come back from school, I will buy you a horse,” I reply.

“And you will buy me rabbits?” Titi joins in. I laugh, and my laughter relaxes them.

I drop the kids off and dash to the clinic, where I find Mwikali sleeping with Aly by his side. “The doctor says she will need a day or two to recover. We will need to take x-rays to see if there are any broken bones,” Aly says.

I call the OCPD and request him to send one or two of his boys to the clinic. He assures me that he will see to it.

“I have to go to the office. Please don’t leave here without letting me know,” I tell the still agitated Aly. I give him money for meals, walk out, but return a few minutes later to whisper something to him. “That knife will get you into deep trouble,” I tell him.

“Someone will pay dearly today,” he replies.

“It’s not worth it,” I tell him as I walk out of the room.

I arrive at work, and I am met by an elated Jumah. “Teresia will be discharged today,” he informs me, but my mind is still far. “And thank you for the tip yesterday. I hired out each of my mkokotenis for Kshs.1,000 per day!” I love his enthusiasm so early in the morning.

“Good morning Jumah,” I tell him as I walk in the office to settle into the day’s routine.

The phone rings, and it’s Mariam on the line. “Are you on for the deal or not?” she asks.

“Let my boss come then I can see how to go about it. Ideally there should be no problem,” I tell her, though she seems to want the deal sealed immediately.

“How is the restaurant doing?” I ask.

“Great. We expect a houseful of revellers today,” she says.  “We need to urgently work on the lodging side. Why don’t we buy the adjacent Dhambi House and convert it into a lodging?”

“Abdul is not here to make the deals because he has all the paperwork,” I inform her.

Mr. Kombo walks into the office shortly after my phone call. He is in a jovial mood, which means we can discuss two of our problems. I walk in and brief him about Christine’s case and the funding issue.

“That is a lot of money and might attract the eyes of the Government,” he says, “though it is viable!”

I take that as a green light. I walk out of the office only to find Christine waiting for me.

“How did you find this place?” I ask, with shock written all over my face. She is the last person I expected to visit me.

“I know Mombasa quite well,” she assures me with the authority of a girl who has been around for long. Christine is dressed in a jeans trouser, a pink T-shirt and sports shoes, a typical teenager’s dressing. She is stunning!

“Welcome,” I say as I lead her to Mr. Kombo’s office. I need to introduce her to my boss.

Mr. Kombo is excited to meet one of my projects, though the gleam in his eye reads mischief. I am on the defensive, especially given the discovery I made about Mr.Kombo and the pornographic DVDs he exports to China. I have to keep Christine away from him.

I escort Christine out of the office and take her to Dr. Njoroge’s office for counselling and HIV testing.

To be continued.

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