Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

While digesting her dinner, Imara wallowed in her dreams of a blissful future while savouring the warmth and comfort of the restaurant where she received special attention from the proprietress and staff who knew her man to be a big spender. After her meal, Imara would quietly make the journey back home. At the moment she was like the bride of a Military Officer who has just been sent to war. Back home she would spend some time playing and drinking alone. “Are you avoiding us?” Idara asked one evening. “ You don’t chat with us anymore” Fat Bukky observed. “ Enjoy your life, because Thounder is enjoying his.” Idara advised.

“No not my Thounder” Imara defended “and please don’t ever suggest such to me do you want Thounder to kill me as if you don’t know how much he loathe his woman being a prostitute” Imara confessed to Idara and fat Bukky before they left for their nocturnal walk on the streets of Brass city. Imara since she could not join them was content to sit on a sofa and watch Bukky practice how she would wiggle her arse to catch the attention of a customer. “Imara why don’t you come with us,” Idara would say. “After all even as we speak Thounder could be out there enjoying himself.” “Not my Thounder,” Imara would say defensively. “Okay be there and die of loneliness,” Idara continued… “Who’d tell that you’ve been dating anybody or did he plant a metre down there?” she asked crudely. “Baby life’s short enjoy it while you can,” Fat Bukky had advised. Then Imara could not stand their taunting any more so she had fled into her apartment. After two weeks the money Thounder had left her had dwindled considerably and Imara was worried. There was still no sign of her lover. On Saturday morning, Imara was on her way to the supermarket to do some minor shopping. This morning she didn’t feel like driving rather she preferred to take a cab. It was a bright and sunny morning on reaching the bus stop she saw two men talking animatedly. The story that reached her ears almost made her faint. The men glanced at her lustfully and then returned to their perusal of the newspaper. “They caught these guys at last,” one remarked. Imara just stood under the shade waiting for a cab. “What’re you talking about, what guy?” The other man asked. “Don’t you listen to the news the guy that shot a party chairman in Port City”. “Yes, l remember now, is that his picture in the paper? “His friend asked pointing at the front page. “Yes, it says here. They’ve been trailing him for days. Actually the police were tipped off on his hideout”. “You don’t mean it,” the other exclaimed. Imara looked anxiously over her shoulder mostly because the men had mentioned politicians and Port City and Thounder was an errand boy though he claimed to be a consultant. As she looked over she saw a large photograph of what turned out to be Thounder her lover. Imara cried out in dismay. She didn’t bother with the caption, she had seen enough. Clutching her bag to her chest, Imara turned and ran away from the bus stop. Tears poured down her face as she ran desperately back to her apartment, where she threw herself down on the sofa and gave vent to her grief. For a long time she cried and sobbed herself into hysterics. Idara heard the crying and came over immediately. “Sweetheart what’s upsetting you?” She asked with concern. “Thounder has been arrested for shooting a political opponent,” Imara said in between sobs. “So l was dating a killer all along? Oh God see my life”. Idara eyed her scornfully. “It’s not your fault, love,” she said. “You’re as green as grass, you know very little about this cruel world we live in.” “Yes you’re right Idara, but l’m beginning to learn,” she replied. “I love him but now l don’t know what to do”. “Imara, love,” Idara called with a sigh, “Thounder shot a man. We don’t know if the man is alive or dead. You have to resign yourself to the fact that he’ll go away for a long time. Even those he worked would’ve abandoned him by now.”

“Thounder said he was a consultant for a group of politicians in government so this was what he meant?” Imara asked. “But how can l see him?” “See him? I wouldn’t advise my enemy to do that,” Idara replied. “But it won’t be difficult that means you have to travel down to Port City and then find your way to the maximum security prisons.” “Then what next?” Imara asked anxiously. “Then you demand to see him. Honestly luv don’t try it because you’ll only hear he has been moved to an unknown destination.” On hearing the last sentence, Imara broke down and began to weep profusely until Idara’s gentle hands soothed her brow and fortified her with a mug of milo. “Imara crying will not help,” Idara said gently.” Luckily l have Fred’s number so l’ll call him to know what’s really happening.” “Fred will know a thing or two,” Imara said with certainty. Idara came in the next morning looking very tired and unhappy. Imara had woken up early and was standing on the balcony smoking anxiously as she watched Idara come into the premises. As she heard her footsteps on the stairs, she left the balcony. Idara was bringing news of her sweetheart. “What did Fred say?” she asked excitedly as Idara came in. “Well l did, Imara,” she replied with a frown. “Shortly before he went for the job he told Fred never to divulge his whereabouts but since he’s been captured Fred does not where he’s being kept.” Wide-eyed with disbelief Imara stared back at her friend. “This is a big setback for me,” Imara said. “Now where do l start in my bid to see him? Imara was panic stricken at the thought that another blissful relationship had just about fizzled out under her eyes. Idara looked depressed and shrugged her shoulders. “Fred warned that you should lie low and not try to look for Thounder”. “But why”? Imara asked angrily. “He’s right, Imara”, Idara said. “The other group could be planning to retaliate either by killing the people who sent him or any family member of Thounder.” Imara leaned on the balcony confused. “What’ll l do now”? Where do l go from here”? She cried bitterly. With no possible solution insight, Imara retreated into the house and sat down in a daze. So it was the end of a sweet dream. Her fairy castle now lay in ruins, shattered beyond repairs. Fate had decided for her. She would be like Fat Bukky and Idara walking the streets of Brass City at night to earn a living. After that there was no news again. The days seemed long and endless as she waited hoping to hear from Fred. Money had become a big problem and Thounder didn’t give her much money before travelling. She stopped dining at Pelga’s restaurant and rather began to prepare her own food. Things continued to deteriorate forcing her to sell some of her jewelries to make ends meet. In face of all the challenges, Imara was grateful to God for the house which Thounder had bought and paid for. Therefore no body would disturb her for rent. Thank God l am not pregnant at least l will manage till l get another break, Imara thought to herself. “Imara you’ve got to move on with your life,” Idara said impatiently. “You can’t just sit here and wait for nothing.” “Don’t worry, l’ll be fine and Fred might soon call,” Imara declared. “Oh my God,” Idara wailed. “Even if they swore on your head may it not have any effect.” “Amen,” Imara concurred sarcastically. “Imara wake up, will you? Thounder almost killed a man and you think the case will be handled lightly”? She asked. “He’ll be lucky not to be shot inside the cell.” Imara started violently. “Please don’t say that, ldara what shall l do?” “Of course same as others,” Idara replied without delay. “Keep going, l’ve said that many times over.” As Idara spoke on Imara remained silent. There was fear inside her. Fear of the unknown fear for her true love who was shut up behind high walls, just as she had been in Rock city then Kondu city. Suddenly she snapped out of her thoughts. “I’m calling Fred right away,” she cried. “I’m sure he knows how l can see Thounder”. “My God,” Idara declared. “Don’t make an issue of it, Imara; it will only make things worse”. Imara ignored her and went on to call Fred. The discussion lasted only five minutes. “Well what did he say?” Idara probed.

“Thounder is being held in police headquarters on Moloney Street but he’s under tight security visitors are not allowed,” Imara replied as tears rushed down her eyes. “Is that all he said?” Idara pressed on. “No, he said Thounder will be taken to court in two weeks time and his family members and friends have been warned not try to make any contact with him,” Imara added. The next few weeks were very dreary, spent smoking and drinking with Idara and Bukky in the saloon. Whenever she was alone, Imara would cry her eyes red and then consume cigarettes and dry gin before passing out on the floor in a befuddled state to sleep the night away. Then at last, the long awaited week arrived. She waited eagerly for news from Fred and she also began watching television since it was possible the trial will be on the news. Fred called her the next day to tell her the trial had begun. But Imara missed it due to power failure. “Thounder,” he began is being remanded in the nation’s foremost prison till further notice. Nobody knows when the case would resume but we’ll do our best to get him out fast and don’t try to visit him,” he warned. Imara thanked him before she switched off. Imara threw the phone away with disgust and let out a shrill scream that echoed through the house, then she began breaking the figurines on the shelf – sobbing and crying, while Idara and Bukky watched in amazement. “I’m sure after this she will be alright and would go on with her life,” Idara said. “I agree with you,” Fat Bukky concurred mischievously.

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On a bright Wednesday morning in the sleepy streets of Brass City, life began to emerge. Newspaper vendors could be heard blowing their hand horn to attract potential readers to their wares, school children hurried in order not to be late while cars blared their horns as Civil Servants and businessmen rushed out to keep their appointments. While the madness lasted, the whores turned over in their tumbled beds, the day had just began and it was too early for them to rise up in her flat, Imara wallowed in a luxurious cold shower. The cold water was so refreshing to her after a very sleepless night. She had been unable to sleep because there was so much disturbing her. How could she sleep when her lover was in prison and worse of all she had been warned not to come near him. The way things were going it was all over with Thounder, she would just keep away just like they had advised her, and rather devote time to taking care of her body after all who cared what she did?. Passing the sponge over her body, Imara examined her breast and other parts of her body. At least l am still alright, she thought. She was grateful to God that she had not been impregnated by Thounder like it happened with Tony. Her mind drifted to her lovely boy that she had given up for adoption, he would be almost a year and a half by now. Her thoughts wandered back to a sad and pathetic picture of a faded woman retching into the gutter each morning. Her face contorted with pains, and the room reeking of stale sweat. If Imara had been able to live a normal, happy life she would probably have raised a sizable family, and she would have known how to care for them and ensure they were well catered for. That was one lesson she had learnt from her mother’s experience. However one thing was certain now, she thought, as the cold water ran down her body. She would never lead a life like that of her mother, who was sick and defeated at thirty-eight, and died leaving three children to the care of the state. She squeezed the water from the sponge viciously. “They won’t beat me,” she muttered. “I ‘ll live a life of my own. To hell with them all, “she said as she stepped out of the shower. With Thounder marking time in prison for attempted murder, Imara realized that the months ahead would be rough for her. Money was now very short having disposed of her jewelries to survive. Until she found a means of supporting herself life would be on a hand – to – mouth basis. Idara and Fat Bukky were very kind and always as generous as they could be. They were the ones who paid for her whenever they went out. But that afternoon, over drinks, they discussed the future.

“This job gets tougher as the days go by,” Idara said, thoughtfully sipping her drink. “I’ve got used to those old men who don’t demand much from you. But these boys of nowadays are real dogs. Don’t pay well too”. Imara stared sadly at her friend, “I’ll pay for today’s outing,” she said firmly. “I’ve taken a decision to start work tomorrow.” “Congratulations, Imara,” Idara said happily. “Where is your new office?” “On the streets of Brass City,” Imara replied. “Anyway, you’ve got to be very careful,” Idara warned. “There’s a lot to learn, it’s no picnic out there you know – to survive you must play by the rules”. “Don’t worry, Idara, I’m old enough to take care of myself. With my shape, l’ll still get good men who will settle after a good outing,” Imara replied smiling. “I know you’re old enough but just be careful,” Idara warned. “Come – on give me a break and stop fussing like a mother hen,” Imara fired. Idara shook her head. “I’m just fond of you and l recall my promise to Queen, but l suppose we all must learn one way or the other.” Then she changed the subject with a nonchalant shrug. While the discussion lasted, Bukky was busy trying to score a hit with an army officer. The following evening at half past seven precisely, Imara left the flat wearing long black silk tights under a short skirt. Swinging her handbag to and fro, she walked to the corner of metro hotel with a provocative swing to her hips. She hesitated for awhile, for on each of the different corners, stood the prostitutes. As the dark eyes surveyed her with knowing looks, scowling faces devoid of smiles. Imara felt the hostility and the thoughts running through their minds. They avoided her like a plague being a fresh faced beauty they could not just compete with her. Gathering up her courage, Imara crossed the main road, walked the length of stadium road and went once round the Eleven – Eleven Arcade. Every time a solitary man hurried past her, she would try to entice him through but without success. Imara was flabbergasted at the turn of events so far and to worsen matters her legs had begun to ache and she was feeling thoroughly unhappy. Making her way back to the pleasure paradise, she stopped at the joint where she and Thounder often had drinks in the evening. Imara ordered a small stout and sank exhausted into a coffee brown seat. Young couples cuddled in dim corners, while virile young men lined the brightly let bar. But it was like they were all blind, not once did a head turn in her direction. Sipping her drink, she pondered over the strange fact that men had fallen over themselves to flirt with her while she was with Thounder her lover, but now that she was on her own, they were no longer interested in her. How did one start? She wondered to herself racking her brains for a way out. What were the magic words one spoke to differentiate oneself from a girl out on the town to a paid whore? She sighed sadly and in her purse she had just a thousand bucks left enough for another bottle and the transport fare home. Imara went to the bar, ordered her drink and put the money down, but a strong had pushed it away and a voice said, “drinks on me and make it big”. Imara’s heart leaped, her luck had changed just when she was planning to finish her drink and go home. At last she had clicked, as Queen used to say. The man was average in height, dark and young – probably about thirty. His dark eyes were sleepy and streaked by the alcohol, and it was on slightly unsteady legs that he carried the drinks over to a quiet corner where they sat down. “Cheers my beautiful one”, he said raising his glass. “Drink and be merry,” he added. Imara smiled warmly. The chilled drink flowed down her throat and helped to restore her confidence. Soon she was able to chat with her date. “My name is Eskor,” he had said kissing her cheek. Eskor put his arm about her and in a very pathetic way told her of how his fiancée and sweetheart had gone off with the son of a commissioner while he was jobless and searching for employment. Imara scarcely listened.