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Homecoming Part ThreeMercy spent the whole of the next day shopping: five pairs of trousers for her father and three pairs of shoes to match; three trendy dresses for her mother and two pairs of shoes to match; two pairs of jeans trousers each for her three younger brothers; five loaves of bread; two kilograms of margarine; five kilograms of sugar and two giant-size packets of tea leaves.
That done, she went home and prepared for her journey early the next day. Before she went to bed she made a solemn prayer asking God to grant her a peaceful journey.
She was up and about very early the following day. After her toilet and other preliminary preparations, she was ready to go.
When she got to the stage, there was only one bus that was travelling to her destination. She boarded it.
Throughout the journey she did not pay attention to the beautiful scenery that they passed. Her mind was replete with thoughts of home…home…home. Home sweet home.
She knew she would see changes at home. Every wild idea of what kind of change she would see, traversed the breadth of her mind.
“It will be a whole new experience,” she thought.
“Maragwa…Maragwa. Nani Maragwa?” the conductor shouted at the top of his voice. “Nani anashukia hapa. Ah, dere, twende. Hakuna mtu anashuka.”
[This roughly translates to: “Maragwa…Maragwa. Who is alighting at Maragwa? Driver, it seems there is no one getting off. Let’s continue with the journey.”]Mercy was jolted from her reverie. Maragwa was her destination.
“Please, let me alight I have reached my destination,” she told the conductor. The driver looked at her angrily and told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was wasting their time.
She pretended not to have heard, paid her fare and got off the vehicle.
Her first impression of Maragwa was that it was dry. The ground was dusty and parched, a sure sign that it had not rained for weeks. Maybe even for months.
She went to a shop that was near the stage, bought a soda and sat down on some stones that were beside the shop.
Nursing her drink, she took in the whole scenery. The shop was new and the shopkeeper was unfamiliar. There was a primary school nearby. She had not left it when she left for the city. Farther left, there was a police station. That was new to her too.
When she left for the city, there had been many trees but now there were fewer trees in the horizon. Where they had once been, there stood buildings of various shapes and sizes.
She paid for the drink and started her climb home. Her home was less than two hundred metres from where she was.
Her baggage seemed even heavier than before. She was tempted to leave part of the load with the shopkeeper and send her brothers to fetch it when she got home. She decided against it for she did not know the shopkeeper well.
On the way home, people kept looking at her in a queer way. She recognized some of them but, because they did not come to her to either greet or help her, she pretended not to know them. Among them she saw people she had turned down when they offered to marry her. Maybe they had never forgiven her.
At last her home loomed in the distance. Her heart started singing and her heartbeats tripled. And, for a reason she could not place, a cold sweat trickled down her spine.
She trudged on painstakingly, wishing that she were already at home.
On reaching the gate, she pushed it open. Its creaking hinges made a hell 0f noise. That did not deter her.
“Anybody home!” she shouted with a touch of liveliness in her voice. “Father…mother…Mwangi...Njuguna…Chege I am home. Mercy Mugure is home!” Silence.
Pregnant silence. Ominous silence. Loud silence. Only the sound of the wind whistling through the trees could be heard.
Gradually her spirits were dampened but she cautiously advanced towards the crannied, dilapidated house. Lines of weakness ran from one corner of the house to the next. The iron sheets were done for: brown with rust.
“Anybody home,” she tried with renewed vigour.
It was a futile attempt.
To be Continued
