Archive for the ‘Short Fiction’ Category
To be sure, Zeinab had trailed him to all manner of restaurants, dainty little cafes and nearly every other noisy and quiet corner of the city. Now there was no doubt about it—her husband Musa was seeing another woman.
Curly black wig and tinted cat-eye glasses framing her face and a scarf swathed around her neck, Zeinab threw furtive glances at the pair sitting three tables away. Sinking low into the red leather seat of the restaurant booth, she opened a menu booklet and held it up to her face just like the article she found online suggested. Tip 5 in ‘Who Needs a Private Investigator When You Can Catch the Bastard Yourself?’ stated, “When carrying out surveillance in public or within close proximity of the subject, dress in a manner and style unlike your day-to-day inclinations. However, remember to blend in with the environment. Keep your face fully hidden but make sure that your eyes are focused on the target at all times.”
Tony didn’t have much say in his life. That’s why, one day, a tall man with kind eyes, an “Amercan” accent and a matted beard was deposited at his house. Mike, his 26-year-old cousin was back from the land of the KFC and the KKK. And Tony’s mother was determined that her late sister’s son would quietly re-enter Nairobi life from her son’s home. It was expected that Mike would move out as soon as one of the job interviews set up by a few uncles and an older cousin panned out.
But it had now been eight months since Mike had set foot in Tony’s house.
When her mind reading powers finally manifested themselves at 6:00pm, rather than report to Mistress at Headquarters, Heri made a beeline for Ly’s house.
She’d been patient. Eating the food the other girls at Headquarters had whispered aided “the process”, staying close to electronic devices–-she’d smuggled in a pocket radio that she switched on, put on silent and slipped into the pockets she’d fashioned in the roof of all her school hats and uniforms—and most importantly, she’d secretly visited the old lady at Senior Aunty’s place—rundown and humourless one-storey buildings where old people were secreted away when they became a nuisance to Headquarters.