THE BELLS by Mwaura Karagu

THE BELLS

As I watched her leave and disappear behind the doors, I thought that I would never see her again. These are the moments that makes any man emotional. I wanted to cry. Weep. Just get lost in tears. How could I stand there and watch the woman I love walk away? I was in a dilemma. I was fixed. I had no choice. I had to let her go.

She had come to me a week earlier and from the look on her radiant face, she had good news for me. I looked into her eyes. Eyes that communicated with mine. Eyes that recited serenades into each other’s heart. She was the most beautiful human being I had ever known in my life. Her hair flowed gracefully on her back like a heap of wheat. Her eyes sat on her face like a pair of njahi floating in milk. Her lips were placed on her mouth which oozed juicy adoration words. She was just a drop dead gorgeous princess customized specifically for me.

“David, I have gotten the scholarship,” she sweetly said but sadly added, “but I am not going anywhere without you.” This she said with a finality that almost scared me out of my senses. It was going to be difficult for both of us. We were having a sweet conflict. Do we separate and she goes to pursue her dream course in journalism and mass communication in Oxford or get stuck in Kenya with difficult opportunities coming by? At this moment, we needed the counsel of an experienced hand. I suggested we go to my mother. They adored each other and I knew that our solution was nigh. We presented our case to her.

“My son, my daughter, listen to your hearts,” she said. “I did not raise up a coward. Go to school dear girl and when you come back after two and a half years, you will find a husband here waiting for you,” my mother said calmly. “When David’s father was incarcerated for standing against a despotic regime that was oppressing people, I kept calm and waited until he was released to freedom. At first, it was difficult but with time, I was able to cope. I raised my five children for six years alone. Toiling for them so that they could eat and go to school. My son must have the spirit of his mother and the energy of his father,” she concluded her speech. Julia and I were both in tears. We huddled next to our Mother and sobbed then agreed it was possible.

So, when I was seeing her at the airport, just like any other man, I had my fears. I remembered the Stella song. The story of a girl who left to go study medicine in Japan and when he came back, she had a baby and a Japanese husband. I did not want to go through such a pain. I watched her as she disappeared behind the door leading to the waiting lounge then turned back to the parking lot. I took a cab and went to the City Park to cogitate. I was going to miss Julia.

I made a few decisions while leaning on a tree. I made up my mind that I will ensure that I was too busy to stop thinking too much about Julia. This was going to be a herculean task but I was positive that I would make it. I also decided that I was going to focus on my studies and clear my academic project in Theatre Arts and Film Technology. It was not until two weeks later that I received a mail from Julia.

Dear delicious David,

I miss you. I arrived well and I am now settled. I have attended lectures and they are very interesting. I am looking forward to do investigative journalism. Wait for me. I will never stop loving you. I will come back to you. I love you King David.

Julia.

Yes. I waited. It was difficult. There were temptations to move on with many willing girls who thought I had a bright future. I was sure she was going through the same problems. What kept us together was the constant communication that we did. Once in a while, we exchanged letters but the most effective one was mailing and phone text messages.

The day for her arrival from the UK had arrived. I made arrangements to meet her at the airport together with her mother and the little brother. We waited at the arrivals lounge. People from different parts of the world were passing by as they went to their awaiting chauffeurs and taxis. We saw her. She was as tall as ever. More beautiful.  Beside her was a child of about two years who looked like a half cast of an African and a mzungu. They were holding hands. Behind her was a burly man of about six feet tall walking briskly pushing a cart with bags. When they reached where we were standing, they stopped. She hugged her mother and brother. Tears rolled down their cheeks freely. I did not interfere. The mzungu and the baby were like me. When the family embrace was finished, Julia looked at me and gave me a dry smile. She stretched her hand. No hug! My heart sunk! I felt my stomach churn. It was made worse by her next words.

“Meet my other family people,” she said while looking at me. A well of tears was starting to build up in my eyes. It was beyond me. I could not stand it anymore.  I started walking away. I was sure they were all staring at my back as I went away with my hands in the pockets. Then I heard her voice.

“King David!” Then they all burst out with their laughter. “Come back here coward,” I walked back to where they were all standing. She embraced me and we wept! “Do you in your right mind think that I can stop loving you? This is my friend John and his son Mike. They are here on holiday because I told them about magical Kenya. When is our wedding?” I ran to the car and came back with the ring my mother had given me that morning.

“Can you first agree to this? Will you marry me?”

“Yes I do King David.” And there was a cheering squad around us!