Dubya, Mangi’s younger brother was dark skinned, short and muscular, with a face-hardened by life. He was a regular drinker at Mama Makicha’s pub. He drank beer and not mbege like most men did. Men liked him because he always bought them beer. The women were scared of him though, especially mothers as he had a bad reputation.
Makicha told me he always sat with a cluster of men, drinking beer and talking rowdily. He had left school at ten, ran away from home and went to work as a porter for mountain climbers. He was now in the village visiting. But not everybody believed him; they were convinced he was hiding out. He had left too long ago too just wake up one day and decide to visit. Rumour was he was running away from the law. At school they said he had stolen a bag full of money from a rich tourist and the police was now looking for him.
He had left eleven years ago, when we were all toddlers, so he now hardly remembered any of us. He had approached his married older sister, Aikaeli and started asking about Makicha. Aikaeli had a shop next to Mangi’s stall.
“Who is that girl?” he had asked Aikaeli. “I want her.”
“Dunia,” replied his sister who never called Dubya by his alias, “she is young! You want the whole village on you now?”
“Who will dare touch me?” Dubya bragged.
“Dunia, just thank the God Lord that nothing has yet caught up with you,” warned his sister.
Dubya was baptized, Dunia Mbise. He was always known at school as Pendaeli and at home by his first name, Dunia. However, after leaving the village he felt both names were not fit enough for his new home thus opted for Dubya.
“How old is she?”
“She is only fourteen!”
“Haa!” he had roared into laughter, “you call fourteen young? You should come into the city, sis! Fourteen year olds are more pros than our mothers! Anyway, as I said I want her and I will have her or my name is not Dubya. Besides she is of marriage age!”
“She is still at school, Dunia!”
“She has started menstruating, hasn’t she?”
“Dunia, how could you talk like that?” Aikaeli had asked, her face turning red.
“Never mind. I’ll talk to Mangi. He’ll hook me up”
As much as Aikaeli was older than Dubya, she dared not argue with him. Dubya had a bad reputation in the city and in the village alike. Nobody dared cross his way. Dubya was known to get anything he wanted; however much it would cost him. At a very early age, Dubya had started drinking, then later graduated to taking bangi.
One morning as we were at the stream getting water, Mangi called Makicha. He told her he wanted to introduce her to someone who liked her very much.
“Who?” Makicha had asked excitedly.
Mangi pointed at Dubya, who was standing by the big boulder. He grinned when he saw me staring at him.
“Him,” Makicha had said scornfully, “Mama says he smokes and brags. And besides Mama says he is a tega.”
“Tega?” laughed Mangi incredulously.
“Why then does he have so many scars on his face?”
“From life’s hardship young woman! Besides he will take care of you,” replied Mangi, “buy you beautiful dresses, soda, ice cream and chips.”
Makicha then started sneaking to Dubya’s place every now and then. She was more afraid of what Mama would say and do if she ever found out that of her own mother, so she never stayed too long, incase someone suspected she was not where she had said she was – which was almost always with me.
It was taboo for young women to visit young men without the young woman’s parents’ permission or an escort. Many young men were afraid of having company of young women in the privacy of their homes as they might be forced into ndoa ya mkeka by the young woman’s parents. Dubya on the other hand was not afraid of anything or anybody. He bragged that he had lived in the city and didn’t subscribe to customs or silly rules put by old men who knew nothing and didn’t have a life.
Makicha always tried to get me to go with her to Dubya’s and Mangi’s place, but I refused. I knew that it was Mangi who had sent her. I was often rude to Mangi and I once got so angry at his advances that spit on him.
“For a girl who wants to go to the city, you surely are acting weird and childish. Medern girls don’t behave like that.” Makicha had later commented, “Aichi will go with me tomorrow”.
“How could you go with Aichi?” I had asked lamely.
“Because you don’t want to come!”
“But I’m your friend!
“But you still don’t want to come!”
I felt so jealous of Aichi. But I was afraid to go since I didn’t want to cross Mama. I didn’t want to miss out, but I was afraid. I wanted to see how city people lived. I wanted to learn. An opportunity to go to the lodge only came once in a blue moon, at that point Dubya was the only example of city people that I had. He was as close as I could get.
Makicha had told me that Dubya lived lavishly. He transformed his brother’s open plan hut on his parent’s compound into a neat, comfortable accommodation. He had partitioned the kibanda with boards and curtains and got a lounging area and two bedrooms. The lounge walls were now painted yellow and were plastered with his pictures from the city and pin up pictures of celebrities, giving the kibanda character and liveliness. Instead of soda crates for tables, he got out local carpenter to make him a set of lounge furniture, a closet and a bed. He had a big radio that was battery operated; where he always played music loudly and had said he would get a refrigerator as soon as we had electricity in the village. Makicha did not know what it was and neither did I but from his description and the fact that it can store and keep cool ice cream and soda – she was excited.
“I hear you and Makicha have become inseparable,” Aikaeli had commented to her younger brother a few weeks after their encounter.
“I told you I would get her,” Dubya then added arrogantly, “and by the way she is not as innocent as you lot believe.”
