The hardest conversations are mostly had behind walls, in the dark sometimes, and so, my curiosity as a writer had me thinking… What if you were a fly perched on one of those walls, eavesdropping, listening to every word they said, what would your reaction be? Would you empathize or point fingers? Would you think they deserved it? Would you fly away? I know, I got too many questions which by the way, I hope will be answered by this new category I call… “Conversations in the Dark” Haha, dramatic, right? And if it sounds familiar, it is because I’ve written a fictional story under the same title but if it doesn’t, well, good for you because this is a category I’m planning to keep for a while. Enjoy…

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“Ebu ongea… zimetokea line ngapi?”

“Bado sioni vizuri, hii light yako ya blue huku kwa choo inabore!”

“Toka nayo basi tuangalilie huku, you don’t have to hide…”

“Uko sure? mimi I’m scared…”

“Eeh, come baby, it’s nothing we can’t handle…”

The toilet door opens, and a crying girl in shorts and a bra walks out slowly. She walks with a slump to her gait, the weight of her very existence almost overwhelming her. A man walks up to her and pulls her into a tight embrace, but she winces, as if allergic to intimacy.

“Nilikuambia usinihug na nguvu hivo kama huna shati, hizi nywele zako za kifua zinanidunga…”

“Yaani that’s your worry sai, of all things?”

“Ebu tusianze ku argue bure tena… washa hio light tuangalie hii kitu…”

Light floods the room. The two squint as they bring the pregnancy kit closer… Silence. The man coughs awkwardly. He walks off towards their open kitchen and leans on the counter. He heaves loudly and violently rubs the top of his head.

“Aki hizi line ni mbili… si hio inamaanisha niko na ball?”

“We uliona instructions zinasema?”

“Usiongee kaa fala btw, now’s not the time!!”

“Lakini ata wewe, si uko na mtoi mwingine tayari? unafaa kuwa unajua kusoma hio kitu by now, si kunisumbua na kelele!”

She hauls the kit at him which misses his face by inches, but he doesn’t flinch, and the two seem to hold their glare for an eternity.

“Kama hungemwaga ndani hatungekuwa na hii shida sai, and that’s how unaeza ongea? Wow!! I’m so done with you Martin!”

“Hadi umeacha kuniita Marto…”

“Ebu acha kuwa mjinga na uniambie tutadeal aje na hii mimba!! Juu sikujiweka!!”

Silence again. Martin walks up to his kitchen cabinet and gets a glass of water. He then walks over to the dispenser and pours himself a generous amount. If stares could kill, Martin would’ve been dead by now.

“Unakumbuka ukiniuliza hii alama kubwa niko nayo kwa tumbo ni ya nini nikakuambia niligongwa na ng’ombe?”

“Unanibore by the way…Sasa wewe kugongwa na ng’ombe ni relevant aje sai?”

“We jibu swali… acha kujifanya unajua sana…”

“Haiya, nakumbuka…”

“Oooh, nilikuwa nataka ukubali nilikuambia, juu kitu nilikuwa nimebakisha ni hio ng’ombe ilnipeleka surgery mara nne, walikuwa wanatry kuokoa kitu hawaezi okoa…”

The girl looks away as she wipes tears from her face. Martin sips his water, a bittersweet smirk plastered on his face.

“Sa sai we ndio unafaa kuniambia kama hio ball ni ya baby daddy ama kama umekuwa ukigawa huku kwa majirani”

More silence, you could almost hear the devil laugh at them.

“Si niliacha ukona vitu mingi sana za kusema Sharon, mbona sai umenyamza? Ama ata labda tukikutana ulikuwa na hio ball tayari…”

“Ball ni yako Marto…”

“Ball ni yangu aje na ng’ombe ilimake sure siezi zalisha!!”

He smashes the glass on the floor and Sharon yells, stepping on a shard of glass as she attempts to make a run for it. She falls to the floor and is now screaming like she has boiled stones in her stomach. A few lights in their neighbours’ houses go on. Martin crawls over to Sharon and covers her mouth.

“Nyamaza! Unaamsha watu…”

“Si ni wewe una…”

A loud thud echoes in the room. Someone is at the door.

“Marto! Bro!”

More knocking. Martin opens the door.

“Aah, sema bro? niambie…”

“Sijui kama ni mimi nimeskia vitu zangu ama kuna msee amepiga nduru huku kwenu?”

“Aah, poleni maze… ni Sharon amekanyaga glass amevunja apa…”

“Ooh, mwambie pole sana”

“Lazima bro, we dose fiti”

Martin walks past Sharon and the two exchange a look that strangers do, a look that says ‘I don’t know you so don’t you dare come close!’

Martin slams the bedroom door behind him, opting to be alone rather than with the person he thought he knew. Sharon is still sobbing in the dark, and I’m not sure whether it is the wound in the sole of her foot or the wound in her heart that’s causing her pain.