Whoever dies first

CHAPTER ONE

She was awoken by shrieks. It was Rita and her boys. The boys were fighting over toys again.

"Give Jimmy his robot," Rita yelled.

"He broke mine, mum. It is not fair," Jeremy said.

"You will drive me into an early grave, boys. Get out of my sight," Rita shouted.

Wangu fumbled and rolled, grumbling.

How short were the nights? She wondered. She flung back the covers. It was as if she never slept at all, barely had she closed her eyes when morning came. One thing she was grateful for, was that most nights when she closed her eyes; she immediately drifted to a sweet and balmy world of sleep. It didn't matter how the day was, the day's worries dissolved once she dived into that bed. If in any case, the troubles were overwhelming, the pillow knew better, for the tears soaked in it as she addressed the issues to God.

When she was young, her mother would always wake her with a slap. "Get out of that bed or I do something bad," she would say.

Wangu wondered what was worse than that stinging slap that usually landed on her cheek, most likely it would have been breaking her jaw.

Often Wangu thought of ways some people utilized the nights. Not with sleep like she did. Most coups happen at night. Murders, conspiracies, and a greater percentage of inhuman acts. Evil lurks when darkness is reigning. Prominent men are brought down by their mistresses at night. That's when they sign cheques and transfer money from their accounts. The greatest historical robberies took place at night. Demons operate at midnight. It is also claimed that most deaths occur at night. Darkness can be evil and awfully powerful.

She made her small loyal bed, humming. Not particularly an orderly person. At times she would wash her clothes and pile them without folding. She hated ironing. It was a shame that she never owned an iron box. To minimize creases on her blouses, she opted for hangers. She loved her place clean, and clothes clean, although arranging and folding them was a strain. All the same, she found it necessary to have her bed tidy. The years of staying alone had taught her some crucial life lessons. Wangu had known making her bed was an initial step in bringing order into her life.

She always committed the day to God for she believed no matter how people tried to disapprove of His existence there was so much evidence to prove His being. Her father used to say that even thieves asked God for guidance before undertaking a robbery. Furthermore, demons know Him as well and tremble. Who was she then, to assume self-reliance? Hence, she said her prayer without omitting her favorite line, "For by you all things were created, through you and for you."

She would then rise to face the day. Her favorite days were Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. Tuesdays at the workplace ran smoothly, she felt energized and ready to face any hard task, unlike Mondays. Fridays were the best, especially when it was sunny. Most Fridays were full of aura and unique warmth. On Sundays, she would go to church and join Sunday school service without fail. She was at times stunned by the power behind the round, innocent, and curious eyes of the children. Their innocence though, was not to be trusted fully. They at times engaged in delinquent behaviors that she felt like she would never set foot in those church school classes any other time, but every Sunday she would wake up with a burning urge to meet them. They had a place in her heart that was irreplaceable.

Heri was a bustling place full of life. It was an average neighborhood. She lived on the third floor of a four-story apartment. Many occupants were family people. Her immediate neighbor was a nuclear family, made of four; Rita, her husband, and two boys. Occasionally, she thought of vacating the place for it was not easy living near such a raucous family. But something held her back.

This particular day was a Sunday. She left her house and headed to the church. The weather was calm, the sun gently kissing the earth after a shower that night. The freshness of the morning, the sweet petrichor, and the burgeoning green everywhere displayed hope and life. It was an ideal day. She wore a knee-length blue dress. She matched the outfit with black high heels. She looked splendidly beautiful. She loved her hair beautifully plaited. Simply neat and presentable. She loved simplicity. She'd known that children learn from what they see and not what they are told. She was not among those who preached water and drank wine.

"You look great in that dress, teacher Wangu," said Annie, a Sunday school child who was always punctual. "Mum said I will be one of the flower girls at your wedding," she added, smiling innocently, exposing little white teeth. She had big eyes and rounded cheeks. A lovely doll! Such a beautiful blessed child with no ill in her heart. An angel.

"Mum is right. You will definitely be one of the flower girls, and all of you will be page boys and flower girls," Wangu replied. She held her hand and led her into the room designated for children of her age.

Mrs. Waiganjo, her colleague, had arrived too. Normally, they divided the children into two classes according to age for easier handling. Mrs. Waiganjo taught the very young ones where she used to narrate stories, and most of the time play games while Wangu handled the older ones. There she had fun with the curious minds who were always inquisitive and had myriad talents to showcase

For the years Wangu had taught, and as long as she could recall since she was a Sunday school child herself, she had noted with concern that men rarely taught in the Sunday school. She felt the boys in the Sunday school were deprived of a very crucial aspect; role models. All they saw were women. She was of the opinion that they needed men to look up to. So unfortunate that the disease had escalated and overflowed from the church to homes, schools, and workplaces. Men were in cocoons, sleeping underground comfortably while women would be seen leading everywhere. What about the growing boy child? Where would they draw an example from? Wangu saw a huge imbalance in society.

She'd once asked a male church congregant to help in Sunday school and the answer she got was out of the world.

"... But how can I manage rowdy kids? Can I even manage to help clean their noses and assist them to the toilet?" She could see the disgust on his face.

"Those are mere insinuations, Sir. We do more than that in the Sunday school." Wangu replied.

"What can that be? Singing funny songs and repeating yourselves a hundred times?" He asked contemptuously.

"Why don't you come one day and observe?" She asked.

"I can't," he blatantly said.

As it was the norm, the Sunday school session would take two hours. They sang, played games, and presented Bible verses and poems. Wangu loved the presentation session most. She was always amazed by the talents and uniqueness every child possessed. It was incredible. The unfortunate thing was that most parents didn't nurture the talents, instead, they suppressed them for they were considered as an interference to their children's studies.

She had once approached a certain parent whose kid had shown great acrobatic skills.

"Dani is amazingly gifted. His agility and balance are brilliant. You must be a proud parent. It is a unique talent that should be nurtured. You should..."

"Stop planting nonsensical ideas in Dani's mind. My son will grow to be an engineer just like his grandfather. Miss, Mind your own business." She retorted.

In place of what Wangu thought would be a share of delight was a rebuke. She grabbed her son's hand and angrily walked away.

Wangu was bewildered. She could not fathom how acrobatics could prevent Dani from becoming an engineer. After all, she thought being an acrobat was a talent like any other.

But she was not one to be cowed by a half-witted parent. She perpetuated her mission of discovering and nurturing children's talent whenever she found an opportunity.

It came to her realization that children were not only obedient and honest, but whatever they did was from the heart. She loved the authenticity and honesty they exuded. No wonder even the sinless Christ embraced them.

When the services ended, parents would come for their kids. Some smiling and chatty and others wearing frowns despite partaking in the Holy Communion. Women adorned in costly clothes, faces in expensive make-up, looking beautiful and magnificent but sad and ugly inside. Men in suits, smiling widely but hiding aches and appalling secrets.

Wangu knew some people came to church to show off. To flaunt the new car, the new dress, or the latest hairstyle. Of course, not all, for some indeed came for they were thirsty and wanted to be quenched by the word of God. Others came because they were burdened by things, they longed for rest, and some came because they were hopeless and hungry for hope.

Not all children had the privilege of being picked up by their parents. Some were orphaned, and some had no parents in the picture, they came by themselves and would always take themselves back.

Lewis was such a child. A boy who at a very tender age had received a big share of the world's anguish. His parents were separated. The mother left after multiple cases of abuse by the father. She ran away leaving Lewis in the hands of a brutal man, a profoundly immoral and wicked being.

Wangu was observant and noted that Lewis was always alone with no one to bring him or pick him up after the church. She was prompted to enquire about it and that's how she learned of the parent's break-up.

Lewis disclosed to Wangu of the last incident which made his mother leave to never look back. In this last ordeal, both her hands were broken.

On this day, Lewis waited for Wangu at the church's gate. He wore a sullen face. He had a deep look in his eyes and some unmistakable trepidation. She could tell he was a disturbed child. She felt a need to talk to the child. She led the boy to a bench in the church compound. They sat.

They spoke for a long time. Occasionally, the boy would break into sobs. She could feel the pain in his voice as he narrated how he had suffered at the hands of the man who bore him

When the mother abandoned him, things turned sour for Lewis. Ngware, a deceitful man, brought countless women into the house and the longest they would stay was a fortnight. According to Lewis, every woman treated him differently. Some treated him with disdain, others acted as if he never existed at all but a few were kind to him.

He witnessed the father beat and harass them repeatedly. Not a single woman left that house unscathed. "The one who left last week had her tooth removed," Lewis said.

"You mean your dad removed her tooth?" she asked in shock. "That's a beast," Wangu was pensive.

"Yes. The fight began in the evening," the boy said.

Ngware was a vicious man. Everyone in the neighborhood feared him. His brutality was known all over. Most times he got involved in fights and quarrels with people. What surprised many was his ability to relate with authority. No matter the magnitude of his crimes, he got away with them. He could bribe his way out. Rumors had it that he was a drug peddler and had a lot of money hidden in holes in the house. People said that the house had underground chambers and tunnels. Wangu couldn't help but ponder about it, she imagined of weird things that probably happened there. It gave her chills.

What she didn't know was that Ngware's fight was worse than just removing a tooth. That particular woman Lewis was talking about, had moved into their home with her two daughters a week after another had left.

The first -week things ran smoothly. She would hum sweet melodies all day. She was happy. Life was good until one of her girls had a nasty encounter with Ngware.

They had just eaten supper. Ngware was calmly smoking a cigarette. He loved menthols. One of the little girls grabbed the cigarette packet lying on the table and threw it in the burning jiko. At the speed of lightning, Ngware snatched the packet of the cigarette which was already burning, and threw it on the floor. He then slapped the little girl so hard sending her to the floor. She wailed, painfully. She was bleeding from the left side of the head. Apparently, she had hit her head on the table before tumbling over.

"When I saw that, I scurried to the door. I was scared."

When the mother saw that her little girl had been hit, she grabbed the thermos which had freshly brewed tea, and threw it at Ngware. He managed to duck quickly. The thermos missed him narrowly but hit the wall spluttering the broken pieces and tea on Ngware. That's when hell broke loose.

Ngware turned the table upside down. He jumped across grabbing the lady by her hair.

"Unlike the other women who took the beatings from my father, she retaliated. She was brave. First, she hit dad on his right eye." Wangu was listening keenly.

Lewis went ahead to unfold the account of the fight.

She then hit him several times below the belt with her stumpy, strong legs. (Wangu felt an urge to smile, not because she found the issue at hand funny, far from it, but because it was the name people gave to such an attack, they humorously called it 'a family attack'). That took Ngware by surprise. He was a serial batterer but never in his life had he seen a woman raise a hand on him. He doubled over falling on his knees screaming in pain. The woman jumped over him, grabbed the injured girl who had been crying and yelling the whole time as she observed the fight. The other girl was nowhere to be seen. It is in the process of trying to look for her that Ngware recovered a little bit from the shock and pain. He jumped at her and hit the woman on the head with his clenched fist. She lost her balance and fell over. This time he was wise enough to reduce the distance between him and the woman. Wangu could tell this was an effort to avoid another 'family attack.' He pushed the woman to the wall and squeezed her in such a position that she could not make even a slight move. He punched her all over. She knew that she could not free herself from the grasp of the enraged beast, she was overpowered, and she began calling for help. She screamed loudly. Her face had more to get than any other part. Ngware punched her eyes, and her nose and mostly targeted the screaming mouth.

For quite a while no one came to help. It was because they had been used to screams and shouts from the house. They were also afraid to help out. It was Lewis who ran out when he sensed the situation was dire.

"Did you find help?" Wangu asked worriedly.

"Yes, I met our neighbors standing outside, listening."

"You mean they were outside all along as the fight was going on? Those are cowardly people," Wangu spat. Lewis nodded.

"They feared to come in. People fear my father, once he is done with the victim, he then turns to the one who has tried to help."

"Oh."

"I managed to convince them the situation was dire. It was not the normal fights they'd been used to. "

That's when a group of men ran to the scene of battle. They found her battered so badly that she was almost losing consciousness. They pushed Ngware away but not without a fight. They managed to rescue the woman who by then was bleeding profusely. She was whimpering in pain.

"She supported her chin with her hand, blood was oozing from her mouth," Lewis said, rolling his sweater to the elbow.

"Did she report the matter to the police?' Wangu asked.

"I don't think she did. One of her teeth had been knocked out," Lewis replied. He blew air softly on his left arm, close to the elbow. That is when Wangu saw it. He had an ugly burn wound. One glance and her body turned cold.

"Oh, dear God," she gasped.

"It is getting better," Lewis said flatly.

"What is this? When did you get burnt? You shouldn't be wearing a long-sleeved sweater on burn wounds," Wangu said, springing to her feet.

"I can't expose it; I don't want people to see it. My father would kill me," Lewis said. Fear was resting on his eyes.

"When did he do this to you?" Wangu asked.

"Two days after Firida left. I don't know how he came to realize I was the one who called people to come and help."

"Was her name Firida?"

"Yes.

Wangu could not believe it. She could not come to terms with what she had heard and seen.

"This wound needs dressing," Wangu said.

"It is better now. It has started healing." He was not about to allow Wangu to make a mountain out of a molehill.

"No. I will take you to the dispensary immediately. Come. Let's go."

'No. My father will kill me when he finds out I told you or I went to the hospital," he sobbed.

"He won't kill you. I will kill him first. I will see to it myself," Wangu said. She didn't have an idea of what she was saying. But Lewis was adamant. He was not going to allow her take him to the dispensary. Is she trying to have my father kill me? Lewis wondered.

"Then let me rush to the chemist out here, and look for an ointment. Stay right here, I am coming," Wangu ordered. She had to do something. The pharmacy was right opposite the church building. She rushed there. She wondered how many such kinds of atrocities were committed in what people called a normal world to innocent children. She knew children suffered silently out of fear of perpetrators. A culture of silence.

She described to the pharmacist the kind of wound it was. He gave her some ointment and tablets but advised her to take the boy for dressing.

Wangu applied the cream generously on the wound. He then swallowed some pills. She handed over the remaining tablets to the boy, with instructions on how he would use them.

"These you will take before bed and tomorrow morning. Okay?"

"Thank you very much, teacher."

They spoke for a long time and Wangu finally decided to take Lewis to her place for lunch but recalled she had not cooked anything. Sometimes she didn't cook at all. She decided to buy the boy some lunch in a small hotel where she used to take tea in the evening at times with her friend Neta.

"Let's go and have lunch at Muriuki's," Wangu said, holding Lewis' hand. Muriuki was a hotel located just a few meters from the church.

When the boy made an effort to stand up, he winced in pain.

"What's wrong?" Wangu asked perturbedly. He didn't answer. Tears streamed his face and this time he cried loudly, painfully. Wangu knew there was a bigger problem than she had first thought. She sat down again, and this time she held the boy in her arms like a child, embracing him like her own- rocking him as one would do to a small baby. That's when the pastor came and found them.

"Praise the Lord, Wangu. What's wrong? Why is the boy crying?" He asked calmly. He was a good man.

"That's what I am trying to find out. We have been conversing for a while, and there is a lot he has seen at his age," Wangu replied.

"Why don't you find a room from where you talk without disruptions? In case you need me, I will be in my office," the Pastor suggested.

"No worries, we will be done in a short while, and leave. In case of anything I will talk to you, Sir." The Pastor left. Wangu watched him walk back with calculated strides on the way to his office. For some reasons, she was hit by a wave of pity. She shifted back her attention to Lewis.

"I'm sorry for what is happening in your life, Lewis. But I know you are a strong boy, you shall overcome this," she said wiping large drops of tears from his eyes.

"Do you have another burn? Are you feeling pain somewhere else?" She asked in a soft motherly voice.

Lewis nodded.

"Please calm down, let me help you. What happened?"

"It's...it's...my...my... father. He.... he...."

Wangu was growing impatient. "What did he do again?"

"He...he... did bad manners to me," he finally managed to say it in a pained, faint voice. Wangu was speechless. She had never felt so helpless in her life. She was defeated but she had to remain strong for what was ahead.

"What do you mean bad manners, Lewis, please explain?" She was not sure whether she was asking the questions appropriately or was asking the right questions anyway. The boy remained quiet for a while and Wangu waited calmly praying and hoping it's not what her mind was trying to weave in her head.

"My...my... father....he...he... removed my shorts and hurt me," the boy finally said, tears falling, falling on Wangu. Large, hot tears. She became tongue-tied. Such kinds of things were broadcasted on radios and Televisions. Never in her life had she been confronted with one. In her service as a Sunday school teacher, she'd encountered children with diverse issues. She had helped teenagers living on drugs, who had run away from school, others with mental problems, and some who were on the verge of committing suicide. She had dealt with issues regarding teen pregnancies but she had not encountered what she was hearing.

One complicated case she handled was of a pregnant teenager. She had no idea who was responsible, whether it was a young boy she had slept with at one of her friend's birthday parties or the Motorbike guy who used to give her free rides. Well, that was not an easy one, but it was eventually solved. The girl gave birth and resumed her studies.

But the matter at hand was complicated. It made her feel sick. She wished it was a bad dream and she would soon wake up from it. No, it wasn't a dream, Lewis was there saying it and in pain. She felt sick in the stomach and an urge to throw up came. But in the face of such, she had to show courage.

Lewis explained that he had pain passing stool and while sitting. She boiled in anger. She couldn't comprehend how on earth a father would do such a heinous act to his child. The fear she had was replaced by indignation and she felt a rush of hysterical strength. At this point she was fully convinced that Firida was justified to have given Ngware the 'family attack', she actually felt that Firida had not done enough, she wished she had crushed and ground his vitals into ashes. Crazy thoughts flashed through her mind. She thought of mobilizing people and having the man burnt to death.

She woke up from the short reverie and felt ashamed for having such thoughts, especially in the church compound.

"I can't believe this. He burns you then sexually abuses you? He is a pervert who is not fit to be in the society," said Wangu to Lewis in annoyance.

"What are you planning to do? Please don't tell anyone about it. It will lead to greater trouble. This time he will kill me. He will kill for real. He swore it," Lewis pleaded.

Wangu had noticed Lewis had the conviction that his father could murder him and he was actually capable of doing so. He certainly used death threats to silence the boy.

"No. I cannot just sit and watch this happen, Lewis." Wangu thought for a while. I should talk to the pastor right away. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along to the pastor's office.

"That criminal who goes by the name your father will not harm you anymore," said Wangu, not necessarily addressing the boy.

Pastor, a tall man with a serene face and bulging eyes. He always wore a sad look probably from years of preaching to sinful people, perishing souls. And years of solving difficult issues like the one Wangu was about to throw at him. His hunched shoulders spoke of the heavy burdens he carried and the deep secrets he harbored in his heart.

The man of God listened to the matter keenly as Wangu narrated everything as per Lewis' explanation. She did it as if she was the victim, with such clarity and pain that the pastor's face was distorted in dismay.

"How can he do that to his son? What kind of a man is he? He beats women and children and nothing is done about it. He is a beast who should not be allowed to live any other day." She was breathing fire.

"It is very wrong indeed. I'm always surprised by what the devil can accomplish through people."

The pastor's words didn't do any good to help in the situation. He did not say what Wangu wanted to hear, for the Pastor began to advise the young boy on discipline and how the man who abused him remained to be his father. And how God had ways of avenging His people. As the pastor went on Wangu lost her patience, she was shaking in fury.

"That man deserves to rot in jail. It is not Lewis' fault. It would serve him right if he gets a beating from a mob and then roasted to death," she shouted at the pastor, rising from her seat. The man of God was shocked. He met a woman in rage who didn't care a fig how heavy her words were or how scary they sounded. He looked at Wangu like a stranger he had never met before, she was not the soft-spoken Sunday school teacher he knew. Not anymore.

"Watch your words in front of this child, and lest you forget we are in God's sanctuary, Wangu," the pastor said after absorbing the shock.

"Forgive me Pastor for shouting, I am overwhelmed and deeply vexed. I greatly need your counsel in this heavy matter," Wangu said, calming down. She knew she couldn't fight this alone, she needed support. However, she still felt deep inside her that the Pastor was wrong and needed to give the boy some attention before 'lecturing' him.

Wangu had learned that no single person was infallible, including men of the collar. She quelled.

"I think the first thing is to take the boy to the hospital for some tests.

I will drive you there, I am free for at least two hours," he said.

Wangu felt better.

"Thank you, pastor, that's very thoughtful and kind of you." She was happy that the Pastor was taking the matter with the seriousness it deserved.

Lewis reluctantly agreed to be taken to the hospital. He sat behind the driver. One could see fear written all over his face. He was lost in thoughts. What happens to me when my father finds out I told people what he forbids me? Will he assuredly kill me?

"I wonder what kind of a world we are living in," the pastor said. They were on their way to the hospital.

"We are living in perilous times," Wangu answered.

At the hospital, they found a very cordial lady.

"Please, do not withhold any information, Lewis. Tell the whole truth to the doctor. No one will harm you no more. Okay?" Wangu beseeched the boy.

"But what will happen to me after that?" he asked. He was distressed.

"I will make sure you won't go near that horrible man any other time. Promise, you will tell the doctor what you told me?"

"Okay," he promised.

The lady asked to examine the boy in a secluded place where they took close to half an hour. Wangu and the pastor sat at the administration block waiting, silently. Now and then Wangu stood and paced impatiently.

"God has a way of healing any wounded soul. I pray the father of this boy will come to know Christ someday," the pastor said, breaking the reigning silence. Wangu looked at him sharply.

"Really? That cruel man does not deserve anything good. He deserves to die." Immediately she said it, she realized she had gone overboard again.

It was the Pastor's turn to look at Wangu sharply.

"Everyone deserves God's mercy," he said in a stern voice.

Wangu found it wise to remain silent rather than blurt out which would change the pastor's perspective of her. Like Herodias' daughter in the Bible, she would have asked for Ngware's head on a silver platter if she was given a chance.

By the time the doctor was done with the boy, the wound had already been dressed.

"He should be brought back again for dressing," she told them.

"Alright. I will see to that myself," Wangu said. She pulled the lady and the Pastor a distance away from Lewis.

"What have you found out?" Wangu asked her.

"From what I have gathered from the boy, it is true, he has been sexually assaulted. At least it was done on him once. With some counseling, he will get past it with time. Cases of children's molestation have become rampant. We have been receiving many cases of child molestation. The most depressing fact is that some morbid cases of sexual abuse never get to the authorities. The matters get solved at kangaroo courts and finalized behind closed doors. What they don't understand is that; the trauma inflicted on children may haunt them forever if not handled professionally," Doctor Betty said. Her voice was heavy with emotions.

"You are right Madam. I pity children facing such difficulties, most never rise to conquer the debilitating ramifications," Wangu said.

"Those who do such evils need to know Christ," Pastor said, wiping some sweat on his upper lip. Wangu opened her mouth, do you want to say that that beast deserves another chance? but she dared not say it. She had observed the agitation on his face when she had said that Ngware didn't deserve mercy. Wangu understood quite clearly that the Pastor's sole purpose on earth was to win even the vilest of sinners to Christ.

The doctor then sent them to the police station to obtain a Police Abstract so that justice could be served. An hour later, at the police station, things were complicated. Wangu noticed a lot of reluctance. It was after great persistence from Wangu and the pastor, the police agreed to go after the culprit.

"I think I will leave, Wangu. I was meeting a certain couple at the church at four p.m. Call me in case of anything," he said, checking on his watch, and rubbing his hands together.

"You have done much already Pastor, thank you very much."

For another whole hour, and what seemed like an eternity, Wangu stayed at the police station hoping that the offender would be brought.

"Will they bring him here?" Lewis asked with great concern. They were sitting on a bench.

"Who are you talking about?" asked Wangu. She was deep in thought.

"My father. Will he find us here? I don't want him to see me."

"Don't worry Lewis. The matter is with the authorities now," Wangu assured him.

The two policemen who had been assigned to make the arrest came with disappointing news. They never found him. When she heard that, she stormed out madly pulling Lewis along. Three-kilometer walk to Ngware's house wasn't a big deal to Wangu or so she thought. After walking for a while, her calves began growing sore, and she could see Lewis was struggling to walk and keep up with her pace. She hailed a passing motorbike that took them to Ngware's home. The home was fenced with a kei apple fence which had been neglected for a long time.

Lewis was terrified. It was noticeable.

She was not about to give up that quickly, not at that time.

"He will kill us, I know," said Lewis shaking. "I have seen him do worse. We better not go in."

"What is bound to happen will happen. Whoever dies first," Wangu replied, gallantly.

"We will die first, I have no doubt about that," said Lewis, lagging behind intentionally.

"Probably he is not in. Let us just check," Wangu said, trying to console the boy. She pushed the wooden narrow gate and entered. Wangu looked at the squalid and horrible stone house, she wondered which room had holes where money was stashed.

It looks haunted. She thought.

The man, Ngware, sat on the bench behind his house with a young woman. He was built like a brick house, no wonder most feared him. The woman sat on his lap. They were cuddling, she was laughing carelessly. Wangu wondered whether it was the same home the officers had purported to have searched. She doubted it. Probably they didn't, and if they did, then, something was not adding up.

"So, you have all the women you want but still pounce on your boy?" shouted Wangu, alerting them. The lady jumped fixing her hair and arranging her skirt. Ngware looked at Wangu with amusement. By then, Wangu was seething inwardly. She purposed to wipe out that look from his ugly face.

She grabbed a bucket that was nearby, half filled with dirty water. Some strange strength surged in her, she raised the bucket and threw the water at Ngware with all her might. That caught him by surprise. He stood soaked all over. Before he could collect himself Wangu hit him with the bucket with such a force that she staggered backward, nearly losing balance. She remembered how Neta would always say - one should attack before the enemy retaliated. And one should not give the opponent time to think.

She was determined to break the man's neck or at least remove one of his teeth. The lady stood there dumbfounded, watching the drama, pale as a corpse. This time Ngware was regaining his normal self and rage possessed him.

"Who are you? Oh, wait, I know who you are, the stupid teacher from that hole you call a church. You thick-head. A shameless busybody. I'm killing you right away. How dare you attack me at my own home?" He asked furiously, wiping water from his face. He took a step towards Wangu.

"You are the one who will die first," Wangu yelled. She was extremely excited.

She was brilliant enough to know that allowing Ngware a step closer to her was fatal. Already she had a stone at hand, which she hurled at him, it caught him right at the jaw. He wailed like a wounded hyena. She could not wait any longer, she grabbed Lewis who at that time had flinched at the far end holding her purse. They ran out. They could hear Ngware cursing madly. The boda rider was waiting at the gate. He had no idea what transpired inside there. But he could tell things were not right.

Wangu made a call to the police station to alert them that Ngware was at his home.

"That criminal is at his home right now. I swear I know the commissioner's office, in fact, he is my good friend. Dare me."

"What do you mean by that?" the police on the other end asked.

"What I am saying is simple. Ngware is at his home right now. He should be in a cell as we talk." She disconnected the call.

She nearly told them that she could do their work better and that she had given Ngware a taste of his own medicine. Wangu was happy, she felt relieved somehow. Things that she did at times made her feel ashamed afterward, like what she had just done.

It was not safe for Lewis to go back to their place hence Wangu decided to take him to her house before she could know what to do next. In any case, she was not sure of Ngware's arrest. Who knows, Wangu reckoned, Ngware would even connive with the police once again and get his release, probably with the help of a bribe.

It was nearly dark, and the boy needed to report to school the following day but didn't have a uniform and stationery. Lewis was in grade five.

"Should we go check whether he is in? Is there a way we can get your uniform?" Wangu asked Lewis. The boy shuddered. He kept quiet for a while.

"I don't want to go back there," he said eventually.

Rita, Wangu's neighbor, had once explained to her how she almost died giving birth to her first child. She labored for three days. The pain came and went in intervals. She narrated to Wangu how she whistled like a shepherd boy, created songs, and came up with tunes. It was not easy, she said. But once she saw the baby, her baby boy, the fear melted, the pain was a forgotten thing. An attachment grew immediately.

Hence, Wangu couldn't understand the reason as to why Lewis' mother ran away and left his son in the hands of an abuser. A woman whose womb carried a child should never forsake her blood, so she thought.

That Monday Lewis went to school with some borrowed clothes from Rita. In the evening, Wangu decided to pass by the police station to enquire whether Ngware had been arrested, and if so, seek information about Lewis' mother or any relative who could take care of him. She knew she was not in a position to take care of Lewis, especially at that time.

At the police station, all was not well. They all acted indifferently towards her. One police officer said that Ngware's face had dents and the lower lip had a split.

"I wonder what happened to him. Maybe he got involved in a fight. He is a known bully," replied Wangu feigning ignorance. She saw the officer look at her suspiciously.

"He says you attacked him," the officer said.

Wangu laughed sarcastically. But her heart was beating extra-ordinarily.

"Seriously officer? Look at me, look at Ngware. How can a mere woman like me attack such a gigantic man?" asked Wangu, opening her arms wide.

"I don't know, maybe you can explain to me how you did it," the officer said, looking at Wangu quizzically.

"He might as well have fallen while running from you guys the day you went after him," Wangu said. She knew she was not making sense but she had to say something.

The officer simply shook his head.

Finally, she didn't get the wife's contact but Ngware gave contacts that belonged to Lewis' aunt, Kabia. That was better.

The aunt came after two days. Wangu was disappointed, she hoped Lewis' mother would come in person. She was eager to know the reasons which made her run away and leave the boy to a monster. The aunt said the mother lived in Mtingoi where she worked as a tout and couldn't possibly make it.

"How busy is she that she couldn't spare at least an hour to come and check on her son?" Wangu was surprised.

"She says the boy reminds her of Ngware and there is no way she can live with a little version of the monster," the aunt said.

"That's not justifiable. She is just looking for reasons to run away from her responsibility as a mother," Wangu was pissed.

"You are right," Kabia said.

Lewis was not pleased with the arrangement. He didn't like the idea of living with his aunt. He wanted to live with Wangu but she was not in a position to do so. Wangu felt guilty and inadequate. She hoped that someday she would own a rescue center and save kids who were faced with such a predicament.

"Why can't I stay with you?' Lewis asked.

"For reasons you may not understand, but I promise to be visiting often." They made an arrangement on how Lewis would be taken back to the hospital.

Luckily it was at the beginning of the year, so he was able to join a school near his aunt's place in Jikaze slum.

There was nothing that broke Wangu's heart more than witnessing children undergoing suffering. Do children deserve to suffer? A child? A symbol of innocence. For instance, her niece, a baby born with a complicated medical condition, made her cogitate deeply about life.

One time she had gone to check on her niece at the hospital. She witnessed events that broke her heart. The one which was still clear in her memory was of the old woman. An old woman came carrying a grown-up man at her back. Well, the face was of a grown-up but the body was small and frail, like for a ten-year-old. He was whimpering strangely. The old woman placed him carefully on the grass, a lawn near the administration block. The look on her face displayed sorrow, pain, and hopelessness. Wangu was compelled to look in their direction. Then she saw the hand of death. The man jerked and stretched his long weak legs. The eyes popped open wide and he gave a final yawn and died.

The old woman wailed bitterly, she threw herself on the ground and rolled madly with unimaginable strength.

"I have sold everything including my land to cater for his medicine but he has died. Why should I live to see another day?" she shouted. Tears streamed down her wrinkled face. She tore her dress in a mad rage. Two women ran with a leso to cover her, but it was an effort to futility. She pushed them away and discarded the leso furiously. People, including Wangu, turned their heads to avoid looking at the woman's nakedness.

"My only child..." she wept."Even adults are someone's children," Wangu thought.

Morticians came for the deceased. The woman stood up very first and followed her son's corpse. It was heartbreaking. The ground that she stood on had heard such cries, many of them. The walls had witnessed awful screams and groans of death visitation to mortals. A place of death.

She proceeded to the ward where her cousin's child was. She found her cousin lying on the hospital bed. Dry tears made lines on her tired face. She had been in the hospital for close to a year. When she saw Wangu, she jumped on her feet and hugged her tightly. She began wailing loudly. Tears ran lengthwise across her eyes. She rocked her like a small baby for about five minutes.

"My baby was born with a hole at the back. There is a disconnection at the backbone," she said amidst sobs.

'Myelomeningocele' was the condition. Wangu came to understand all about it much later. A severe type of spina bifida where the spinal cord has an opening at a certain place and a sac or fluid pokes out.

"Why me?" She asked Wangu.

Unable to hold it anymore, Wangu cried too, vale of tears. She wondered why there was so much suffering in the world. Growing up, she thought bad things and pain happened to bad people. She equated suffering to doing evil. And so, in her younger years, she was very keen and cautious. She remembered the times Puree her cousin, would collect some coins on the road and then buy sweets. She would never be a part of such schemes. She avoided any mischief that in her narrow understanding would lead to her reaping bad things like failing exams or developing a cough.

She never cheated in exams, she hated lies, never bullied, or did anything associated with naughty kids to avoid consequences. Later in life, she realized the world doesn't always work like that. It treats everyone with brutality. Pain and suffering happen to all, just like day and night happen to all. When the day dawns, the light shines on murderers and thieves just as it happens to the righteous. She had even at a point believed bad things did not happen to good people, the flawless, the innocent, and those who feared God.

"My girl won't recover. She has undergone several surgeries and I can't see any change," her cousin said, wiping tears with the back of her fingers.

"Whose report will you believe? My niece will recover, I know that for sure," said Wangu, not even sure of what she was saying.

"Why would God want to take my little angel? I can't fathom this. Initially, I miscarried twice. He then allowed me to carry this pregnancy to term, He allowed me to give birth safely, only for Him to take her away." She had lost all hope, she couldn't see her child out of it alive. She wept bitterly. Wangu sat next to her hugging her closely. She did not understand it either.

"He would not have allowed me to see her. He should have killed her inside my womb like He has always done...and killed me as well. I'm tired of this life and it is clear God does not listen to me anymore," she said bitterly. She was suicidal.

Wangu didn't have the right words to tell her. She felt dry and useless. She tried quoting some scriptures but that never worked as well.

She reminded her of Paul's teachings to Corinthians, 'There hath no temptation taken you but such is common to man- but God is faithful who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will the temptation also make a way to escape that you may be able to bear it.'

She also reminded her that God has ways to pay for what cankerworms and locusts have eaten. That even though God would take that child, He would later give her many children. But her cousin's condition was beyond such common encouragement. Wangu could see her heart was hardened and blind to such words from the scriptures.

"I think if there is a God at all, He hates me," she said, rising and staggering towards the room where her child was lying. Wangu followed silently, with her hands folded at the back. She realized her encouragement was akin to promising the desert green vegetation and permanent rivers. It was indeed a dire situation. It was hopeless.

The baby passed away the next day after Wangu's visit.

The burial of her cousin's child was uneventful as the suffering they had undergone was even worse. Her cousin didn't want to hear anything to do with God. It was obvious she was wounded and the God she denied, Him alone had the power to heal her. She knew it was not easy to preach hope to one who had gone through so much pain in life- two miscarriages and the loss of a child.

Someone was quoted as having said suffering is divine. Regardless, Wangu never fathomed why innocent children suffered. They did no wrong and hence deserved no wrong. But it took life lessons to teach her that bad things happen to all, young and old, women and men, saints and sinners.

Horatio Spafford underwent much, the death of his four daughters in a ship tragedy and a business burnt down in Chicago. And all he had to say was, "Someday I will understand why." Wangu resonated with Horatio's sentiments. She hoped someday her cousin would reach that point as well.

*****

Ngware's case was brought into a hearing before the magistrate after being in custody for two weeks. Before then, Wangu kept on calling and going to the station to make sure that the man had not bought his way out. She was afraid the man in his evil dealings could be roaming out there, waiting for an opportune time to avenge himself. Luckily, the case had been embraced by one God-send lawyer who had helped many children in matters of abuse and neglect. Doctor Betty had also helped in identifying a child protection officer who was willing to cross-examine Lewis professionally.

The counsel explained that the boy was exceedingly scared of the father, and that could be a hindrance from testifying against his father in court. The child protection officer took a report given by Lewis and presented it to the court alongside Doc. Betty's report. A picture of the burn wound was presented too. Thanks to technology, the child protection officer had with her a video recording of the boy narrating the ordeal.

Ngware, the villain was brought in, a perpetrator of child abuse, a criminal, a destroyer of the innocent. By a mere look, one could tell he was a vile person. His insolence was unmistakable.

He stood at the bar glaring at everyone throughout the trial, especially at Wangu. Wangu sat on the front row and did not spare him either. She even made faces at him when the judge was not looking. She saw the scar on his lip and smiled. It was the work of her hands.

The judge, whose grey hair spoke better of his years in court, sat rather bored. Wangu thought he saw him doze off at some point. But she was glad the case was handled very appropriately. It was a fair hearing or so she thought, being her first time in court.

When Wangu's turn came to give her testimony, she was called to the witness stand. After being sworn in, she narrated what Lewis had told her. Though she was a little bit tensed, she tried her level best to remember every small detail from the conversation they had with Lewis. She explained to the court how she accidentally saw the burn wound on the boy's hand which led to the boy opening up after much persuasion. She also narrated to the court how she noticed Lewis struggling to walk from the pain inflicted on him during the alleged molestation.

The cross-examination session took longer than Wangu had anticipated. At some point, she thought the questions were many and unnecessary, but she answered them anyway, her ardent wish was for justice to prevail for the young boy, Lewis.

After Wangu was done giving her testimony, she sank deep into thoughts. She wondered if her testimony would match with that of Dr. Betty and the child protection officer. She dearly hoped so.

After a seemingly long day, the court was adjourned until a fortnight later. On the 13th of March, Wangu arrived at the court before the opening hours. She hoped that a verdict would be read on that day and the matter put to rest once and for all but that was not the case. After all the witnesses of the day took their stand, the court was adjourned until a month later.

Though Ngware was adamant that he had done nothing of the sort, and that he had been a good father to Lewis, the evidence overwhelmingly proved otherwise.

After one month they returned to the court and this time the verdict was read.

Ngware was found guilty of child neglect, abuse, and assault. He was imprisoned for sixteen years.

Wangu was relieved after the ruling but the idea of Ngware coming back to the society, even after the sixteen years, was not pleasant. Luckily, by that time Lewis would be a grown-up, she was consoled.

"He would have given that devil of a man life imprisonment. Some people are a threat to society, misfits," Wangu told Kabia.

"Yes," said the scrawny, anorexic-looking woman. Wangu couldn't really tell her age, probably she was in her late thirties or early forties.

She never spoke unless spoken to.

"How is Lewis? Did he finish his medication?" Wangu asked her.

"Yes, he did. He really misses you. He said you should come and visit him in the slums."

"Of course, I will. I hope you have been taking him for his therapy. Remember it is very crucial for his wholeness and total recovery."

"Yes, I do. Lewis cannot forget as well. He keeps on reminding me each morning about it," Kabia said. She ran her tongue over her lips. Lips that were dry and chapped, begging for something.

"Come, let me buy some fruits for Lewis," said Wangu to Kabia as they walked out from the courtyard.