PUBLISH’D AFRIKA Magazine Facebook Short Story Competition – April 2023 Leg/ Elizabeth Nafula

THEME: KNOCK YOURSELF OUT

TITLE: Blamed For Others’ Mishaps

Written by Elizabeth Nafula

She got under the blanket and enveloped herself. Thoughts flooded her mind on how her mother had yelled at her. That was after she was asked to turn down the volume of the television, but she adjusted it to maximum. She felt like taking off the blanket when she listened to the whining sound of mosquitoes. It distracted her.

She gripped her blanket in her hands. The warmth radiated was enough for her to forget her mother’s utterances. Her mind juggled between turning on the lights and killing the stubborn mosquitoes. She lowered the blankets and looked through the dark window. That was the best way she could calm the mind. The night was deep. She changed her posture and moved her head in a hasty manner. She collected her blanket and wrapped herself up. Thereafter, she heard her mother erupt like a bomb, “Wake up!”

Naliaka pulled the blanket up to cover her head as she listened to her mother’s shrill voice. “I wish some people were never born!”

Her ears concentrated on the clinking of washing utensils and the splashing sound of water. She gave a smile for a battle won. Her main concern was her step-sister, Anyash. From time to time, they had a heated argument over who should do what and when. They sometimes exchanged blows, and punched faces to bruising.  Muna intervened in the matter, but never gave her an opportunity to defend herself.

’’I won’t harm her again,’’ Naliaka admitted in a brittle voice, even though Anyash had started the fight.

“I would rather not listen to such nonsense,” she cut her short.

Muna pulled aside the blanket, exposing her body. Naliaka shot up from bed and looked for her pair of sandals quickly, and then walked towards the door.

“The dishes must be clean!” Muna called to her at the top of her voice.

“Not me, mama. I’ve done much this week.”

“The kitchen sink stinks,” she said, covering her nose with her palm. “Child labour? Not my children.”

 “Does it have to be me all the time?”

“How many times have you skipped a meal in this house?”  Muna questioned, looking at her with black eyes. She blinked her eyes, and retorted in an undertone,”None.”

“I’m counting to three…”

Naliaka darted into the kitchen and burst the door open. Anyash scrubbed the cooking pan with the scouring pad like that would be her last time using the pan. She hadn’t realized Naliaka was standing beside her.

“They should sparkle like diamonds, okay?”

“I’ve heard you; don’t make a big thing out of this!” she broke in.

She scrubbed off the utensils, towel dried them and set the milk to boil. As she finalised her washing, a plate slipped off from her hands and broke into pieces. Muna shot into the kitchen.

“How many have you broken?”

“It’s not me, it’s her,” Naliaka said, pointing towards Anyash with her mouth.

“Be careful next time, I will replace it.”

It was a moment of epiphany for Anyash, when she thought back to the milk she had set to boil. The cream layer spilled over the cooker.

 “You’re the cause of all this. If you weren’t here, it wouldn’t have spilled over.”

Anyash collected a table cloth and dipped it in water before she rubbed the cooking surface. She splashed over the water she used to rinse the utensils at Naliaka’s feet.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Naliaka pointed a finger at her.

 “I can’t harm you,” she replied with a plastic smile on her face.

Muna stormed into the kitchen. “What’s happening here? Get out now!” Muna directed her to the balcony.

“Do I deserve this?”

“You can report to your father, who brings you gifts every evening. He has never brought Anyash and Omosh gifts.”

 “Where is Omosh?” Muna broke the lull in the kitchen.

“I haven’t seen him. Though, he looked unwell yesterday.”

“Go check if he’s awake.”

Naliaka walked past them into Omosh’s room. She flung the door open and sat next to Omosh. He had developed breathing problems. She thought of waking him up and giving him her word after her mother’s reaction.

***

Mayi Nanjira was gone. She was not breathing. Her hands straightened like legs of wooden stools. She had been ailing for a fortnight. She had a reputation as a woman who stood her ground. ‘No’ was ‘no’ and ‘yes’ was what she wanted. Her eyes were like glass; she would predict what one planned to do and what was done already. She chaired women’s monthly meetings and helped resolve disputes. But, if one dared cross her, she would ensure she paid for it.

One evening, after winnowing the grains, she saw a woman plucking a ripe banana from a bunch in her farm.

“You’ll have to return my banana,” she screamed in a loud, piercing voice.

The woman threw away the banana and ran, thinking she had escaped.

Nanjira and her husband, Kolwe had been engaged for six years. He didn’t know what he wanted. Likewise, he would leave home as Nanjira went farming. Later in the day, he would begin a fight and call Nanjira all sorts of names. Naliaka tried to come in between them, but Kolwe pushed him aside.

Early in the evening, Kolwe arrived home and found Nanjira spreading her body in the grass. She hadn’t prepared a meal for him.

“Where is my food?” he yelled at her.

“Why can’t you find your own?” she replied in an audacious tone.

Kolwe moved an inch close to her and collected the axe next to the split wood. Nanjira spread her legs further. As she turned herself to sit, Kolwe hit her back with the axe. She fell and hit the back of her head on the hard ground. Kolwe shook his head and narrowed his eyes to the body. He knew Nanjira was dead. He helped carry her to the house. Naliaka had visited her aunt. She was to be back the following day. Kolwe tried waking her, but she was motionless.

Naliaka arrived home the following morning and was informed Nanjira was no more. Whimpers and hiccups could be heard from the room. Her mother’s death ripped a piece of her heart out. Naliaka lay down her face first in the broken grass. They brushed against her skin as she bent. She thought of how life would be in her mother’s absence. She sat upright and looked at the dancing trees. Her eyes felt scratchy.

***

 “What should I do now that the dishes are clean? I hate seeing Omosh sleep while I’m busy. If I report him to dad, definitely he will defend him.”

Muna was back in the living room. She walked in with a whip in her hand. She sauntered out from Omosh’s room, unaware of Muna’s intention.

“I am tired. Nobody listens to me,” Naliaka screamed her lungs out, but that only earned more whips. Muna gave her the final whip, which landed on her left eye.

 “There is a heap in my room. In an hour’s time, they should be clean, and dried.”

Naliaka dragged her feet to her mother’s room and assembled all the clothes.

 “Remember to scrub the jeans!” Muna called at the top of her voice as she peered through the window.

Naliaka washed without complaint, and returned to her room after she was done. Muna knocked on the door. Naliaka was deeply asleep.

“Am I speaking to someone?” her voice was cold and heavy with a threat. She woke up and collected the broom from the store. Muna pushed the dustpan with her feet and threw the rake at her. It landed on her ankle.

“This is too much. Anyash broke the plates, she wasn’t punished.”

“What are you thinking about?” Naliaka listened and tilted her head to the opposite direction. She motioned the broom sideways as the wind howled, blowing off her transparent skirt.

“The broom should be flat. Why is your back raised?” Muna yelled at her picking up a stone. She rubbed her brows and bent as Muna preferred. Her eyes were focused on the ground. Naliaka let her mind stray to the thought of how simple it would be to lose her mother. When she saw her mother’s grave sitting by the corner, she sobbed.

Late in the evening, Kolwe entered the compound. His skin was dry and dwindled after walking in the scorching sun. His neck was thin, and it held the motionless head firmly above the skinny body. He swung the Daily Nation Newspaper in his left hand. Darkness readied itself to embrace the fading light.

“What are you looking for in the dark?”

He stopped and peered in the dark to see her.

“Kolwe pulled up her hand and stormed into the living room, ready to spit venom. Muna had spread her legs on the table, watching.

“Why are you doing this?”    

“I’m tired of her. She burnt my dress this morning.”

“Where is Omosh? I thought he would be here.”

Anyash stared at Muna for a moment and said, “He’s been asleep the whole day.” Kolwe turned to Naliaka,

“I apologise for all that happened, and I’ll take you somewhere tomorrow.”

Muna looked at them as though she were about to say, “Why aren’t you concerned about Omosh’s health?” Muna was on her feet. Her eyes breathed fire. She lifted her leg and stood on the couch.

“I think you’re running mad!” Kolwe exclaimed.

“Did you just called me mad?” she asked, folding her arms ready for war. 

“I want all siblings to receive equal treatment.”

“She’s your daughter, not mine. She’ll have to do what I say. If not, she should find herself a new home.”

“I’ll send you away if you dare me.”

Kolwe looked at Naliaka and asked her to rest. She left the room relieved.

***

Muna woke up early. She sneaked into Naliaka’s room carrying a cooking pan with hot water. She placed it near her bed. She looked everywhere to be certain no one saw her enter Naliaka’s room. Muna got back to her room. She opened the door silently. She wasn’t aware Kolwe had woken up before her. He had followed her and saw the pan she was carrying. It was Naliaka’s turn to wash the utensils. Stepping out of bed, Naliaka lost balance when her left foot landed in a pan with hot water. She screamed as she tried to regain balance.

Naliaka was at a crossroads. Things were going too far. However, she decided the first thing to do was to wash the utensils. She dragged her feet to the kitchen and washed, then put them away in the cupboard after drying them. All the time, Muna glared at her.

“Why did you wake up late? I’m talking to you!” Muna gritted her teeth. Kolwe joined them in the kitchen.

“Where did you get my cooking pan?”

“I woke up and found it next to my bed.”

“Since when did the kitchen equipment be stored in the bedroom?”

“I saw you carrying the pan into her room,” Kolwe cut in.

Muna fumbled for words and said, “From today, she’ll rest.” She listened with worried attention, for she knew her siblings would rebel.

Anyash and Omosh burst the door open, “Dad, you love Naliaka more than us. We have never received gifts from you.”

“But you dislike her, whom do you expect to love her if not I?”

Kolwe invited the family to the table. They all sat up to listen. He began, “From today, there should be no raising of voices.”

Muna was moved by Kolwe’s words. She got up from her seat and walked towards Naliaka.

“I’m sorry, for all the mistreatment,” she said and shifted her gaze towards her father. Muna held her arms and rubbed her palms against hers. Kolwe looked at her with eyes urging her to forgive. She turned her shoulder to Muna and sobbed. Omosh and Anyash glared at Muna and embraced her. Kolwe walked behind them and patted them on their shoulders.

_____________

PUBLISH’D AFRIKA Magazine Facebook Short Story Competition is funded by the National Arts Council, Department of Sport, Arts and Culture and Presidential Employment Stimulus Programme 3