TEARS TO THE GRAVE

TEARS TO THE GRAVE

by Mwaura Karagu

When Karugu entered his boss’ office in the second floor, his mind was back where he had come from. His home. His mind was jumpstarted by the booming voice of his boss giving him orders.

‘’Karugu, take these reports and make me presentable data for submission to the board. I have a meeting with them in the afternoon.”

‘’Yes sir,’’ he said while leaving the office carrying a sheaf of papers.

He went and sat behind his computer and went down to work. After two hours of nonstop keying, he knocked at his boss’ door and submitted his work. He waited to be told it is okay so that he could leave. His boss looked at the papers before him then looked at Karugu then back to the papers. His fist came down thundering on the table.

‘’Is this the data I told you to prepare?’’ he demanded.

‘’Yes sir,’’ Karugu said meekly. He was stuttering. His boss had a reputation of a mad bull. He could easily knock down your career for a small mishap.

‘’This is a different report man! I am not going to entertain mediocrity here. I want my report in the next five minutes or you are sacked! Get out of my office!’’ He threw the papers at Karugu who was about to cry. He picked them then dashed to his office.

Behind his desk, he checked the papers and checked the documents on his computer. They were different. He had printed the wrong ones for his boss. He hurriedly printed them then took them to him.

‘’I am sorry sir; I printed the wrong document for you. Here they are,’’ he said.

The boss took the papers looked at Karugu and dismissed him with a gesture. He went and sat behind his desk wondering about what future held for him. That day he made more mistakes at work more than any other day. He had even accidentally hit a table with tea and splashing it on one his colleagues who screamed obscenities to him. He said a mumbled sorry and went for his chores.

Karugu had joined Kamata Data Networks (KDN) six years before. He had scored a distinction in the university. He was paid a six figure salary. He had been given a car grant. He had taken a loan and built himself a bungalow at the outskirts of Nairobi City. His future was bright. Then he married.

Nyakairu was beautiful. They had met in a party at one of his colleague’s house. He was thunder bolted. She had all. She had long dark hair that glided down to the small of her back. Her teeth were so well arranged and her smile would send shivers down to his loins. He was hyptonised by her curved stature. Her chest was firm under her white blouse. He started imagining things. They exchanged contacts and a relationship was born. She found him informed and witty. One thing led to another and before their friends, family and religious leaders, they exchanged vows.  

Their honeymoon was not in Honolulu but it felt so. They had gone to Egypt then to Malaysia. Their first year was dedicated for fun. The following year they got a baby. A girl. When she was two, Nyakairu felt that she needed a job to help Karugu fend for the family. With his connections, she got a job with one of fast growing insurance companies in Kenya. Within a year, she had gone three grades up to being a regional manager. She started earning more than him. At first it was cool then traces of disrespect started getting between them.

One day he arrived home only for his wife to tell him to serve his own food something she had dutifully done every day since they got married. She was on her phone checking her social media pages. He was hungry and hence decided to sort himself out. He went to the kitchen, warmed his food and ate in silence. When they went to bed that, he tried to enquire about the reason why she had decided to behave differently that day. She shouted at him.

‘’Good night Mr. Man!’’ she screamed.

He was shocked beyond repair. He apologized then left for the sitting room. He put on the television, took some old aged scotch and swallowed three gulps undiluted. He was bewildered. Many questions were running through his system. What could he have done? How would he apologise to his wife? His head suddenly became heavy like a loaded pot and he slept on the coach. When he came to, it was around 3.00am. He took a bath, dressed and left for his office after writing an apology note which he left next to their matrimonial bed.

That was one and a half years ago. Things had grown from bad to worse. Nyakairu had become something else. She would scream at him for any slightest provocation. This was not the woman he had married. She had become a tigress. Angry and remote. His world was now revolving between him and his daughter. He could only get intimate with his wife wherever she wanted-which was rare. He was starved. She would intentionally hurt him with no apologies. Every fault in his life was met with her full wrath. Nothing he did was met with a word thank you.

He tried sorting out the mess in her marriage in vain. He had tried reaching out to her through the best couple during their wedding and it was futile. He tried elders and that too turned out to be a mirage. He had found a pack of condoms accidentally in her pouch when she directed her to find her car keys. Two were missing from the pack. His heart was hurt. He felt tortured, tattered, torn and alone. His only source of consolation came from his brown bottle. He slept drunk and woke up staggering.

His production rate at work went down. He had made the company lose two prime clients. His fate was sealed. One morning he found a letter on his desk. He knew what it was. He did not even open it. He took it and went out of the door. He did not pick anything from his office. He did not pick his car keys even. He walked along the office corridor up to where the stairs were. His office was on third floor. He did not go down the steps. He decided to go up. A force within him told him to go up to the sixth floor. The force pulled him. The power in him was so overwhelming. In that power he saw redemption. He saw his pains like chaff disappear with the wind. He saw salvation. He felt his heart lighten. He smiled because it was over.

He was now standing at the balcony on the sixth floor of the building where he worked. Down there he saw people of all walks going to different directions. They were not like him. They were fine. They had jobs. They had great families. They were not like him. He thought. His problems were now coming to an end. He moved closer to the rails. He touched the letter in his breast pocket. Intact. He held the rails then closed his eyes. He released the rails. He knew it was over. It will take a few seconds. He was now free. He let go. He then felt a grip on his left hand. He knew he had reached heaven and an angel was holding him. He opened his eyes to see the angel. It was his boss.

‘’I don’t like stupid people Karugu!’’ open the letter I gave you.

He did without talking. It was an empathetic passionate leave letter with a fully paid counseling session letter by the best psychiatrist in the city. He had also been given another house where he would go and stay.

‘’We knew what you are going through. We arranged for this as colleagues,’’ he said while his arm rested on his shoulder. Karugu looked at his boss then at the letter. Only tears could speak for him.