Chapter 24: Chapter 24

After a meek struggle with death, Miriam died at the backseat of Frank’s car. It was shameful and painful. Stan’s hands were tied; it was a mere corpse that was rushed into his hospital by the frantic nurses. And cruelly, it was the same morning Miriam died that Martha ran away from the convent. She was ignorant of Miriam’s death. No one else knew, except Frank and Stan. Perhaps if she knew, she might have remained in the convent and grieved her mother’s death. But her ignorance was not bliss. The pesticide Miriam took was pitiless and she drank a large chunk of it. Stan was utterly devastated and so was Frank. His world had caved in, and everything had tumbled apart. Miriam had murdered herself in the strangest way. Still the reason why she did it was unknown to him.

Martha looked slim and perfect in her purple dress, as she hurried on the smooth, tarred road, bordered by tall gmelina trees. As she ran she paused occasionally, and looked back to make sure no one was after her. Her face was fierce and determined; she was running her way back to absolute freedom. And for the briefest moment, she could feel the scent and the exciting air that came with being absolutely free.

When she ran a respectable distance, she turned into the untarred and potholed road next to the convent. She ran across the road and stood there, staring into the soft morning sun. She remained there, watching the cars that swerved and bent, as they meandered through the potholes of the bumpy road and whistled past her. She did not bother to stop any of them. Her thought was still in a scramble and she still did not know where to go. She was destitute now, and had no home. Still she was convinced she needed to put the convent behind her. No doubt, the convent was an incredibly beautiful place. It was secure, charming and pristine. But it was a cage with the golden bars, which in any case was still a cage. Scalding tears streamed on her face and it gleamed in the yellow morning sun. She must have stood there for almost an hour when a chauffeur-driven jeep, came trundling towards her. The tinted glass of the black jeep rolled down and a man wearing a red cap, with a wide nose popped his head from the jeep and smiled at her.

‘Hello, are you going my way? Do you want a lift?’ he asked her, waving his podgy hand. Martha remained silent and expressionless. She was certain it was one of those married men with potbelly that cheat on their wives and spoiled little girls with enticing gifts and wads of cash. The man, seeing Martha’s unsmiling face ordered his driver to move on. Martha stared at the jeep as it gathered speed and grew fainter and fainter in the distance. And for a brief moment she paused and imagined if she would ever cheat on Moses if they eventually get married. But between her father and mother who was the cheater? Was it her father or mother?

Eventually, a rickety lorry came hurtling towards her and she waved it down. The lorry screeched to a halt, its scrappy body rattling. She climbed into it with her small beige bag, with which she had packed a few clothes. Her handbag was slung across her shoulder. She sat on the seat between two fat women. The women were talkative. They chattered noisily as the lorry travelled, swerving on the undulating road. Martha looked at the woman with the loudest voice and shook her head. Her English was weird and wretched. She had only a smattering hold of it, but she talked the most. Still she wished she was just as happy and carefree as her.

‘You’re very pretty. Do you know that?’ the woman said to her, smiling.

‘Oh, thank you very much,’ she replied her, feigning a beautiful smile.

‘Where are you heading to?’ she asked her. Martha’s forehead crinkled and her eyes dropped. She did not know what to tell her and where she was actually heading. She was going anywhere as far as she could from the convent.

‘I am going to my granny’s,’ she said to her, cringing at her lie.

‘Oh, I see,’ the woman replied. ‘You must be very fond of her.’ Martha nodded her stiffly and looked out of the lorry, and at the blue Mercedes jeep that swooshed past them. The woman turned to the other woman and continued talking and Martha heaved a sigh of relief.

The lorry dragged along the road with some of the passengers sleeping and snoring. Still the two women continued to talk. They talked loudly, punctuating their chatter with occasional outbursts of cackling. Martha closed her eyes and let her mind drift. First, it travelled to Jessie and to their water-splashed battles, and then to their pillow fights. Then to their little squabbles; the computer games they played; the slumber parties they attended; the nice family dinners and Christmas day food eaten and washed down with creamy cups of cappuccinos. Then it went to Moses and the taste of his sweet lips. A warm smile beamed on her face as she remembered the several nights of their sweet lovemaking. She caressed her stomach and wished she could hear and feel the jubilant kicking of their unborn child against the wall of her stomach.

The loud screech of the lorry jolted Martha out of her daydreaming. She sighed heavily. She still did not know where to go and what the future held for her and her unborn child. The future looked bleak and scary, especially now that she was not with Moses. She yawned and glanced at her wristwatch and it was 2 o’clock. They must have covered a good mileage from the convent, she reasoned. An elderly woman, light complexioned, with hair peeking out of her nose was staring at her. The grey tuft of her hair gave Martha a hint of her age. Sixty-five or sixty-six years, she guessed. She would wait and climb down from the lorry and follow the woman wherever she would go. Perhaps the woman could spare her a room for the night, as a place where she would spend the night was her deepest concern. She sighed and thought about Moses again and the convent and she wondered if they have learnt of her disappearance. But everything was still the same at the convent. No one knew that Martha had left the convent except Moses. Moses had stumbled on the letter she tucked under his door. Every word of the letter broke his heart. He was terribly sad. They should have run away together; they should have borne the shame and pain and raised their child together. Will he ever see Martha again? He was crying bitterly in his room.

The lorry continued to travel, leaving the convent far behind. It screeched loudly and slowed down to climb the bump on the road. Billows of red dust filled the air. The dust filled Martha’s nose. The passengers coughed and covered their noses. Hawkers of several wares rushed towards the lorry and other cars on the road. The hawkers sold cooked groundnuts, dried fish, oranges and cucumbers. They thrust their wares in the faces of the passengers saying: ‘Buy from me; it’s small money.’ Martha looked at the hawker with bean cake on his tray and her mouth watered. She had only a measly sum of money with her, and she knew she needed to be prudent with it. She shook her head in self pity, and wondered how she would survive with barely enough money to keep the wolf from the door.

Some passengers began to announce their bus stops and the driver asked them to ready their fares. Martha peeked at the elderly woman and their eyes met. She removed her eyes from her and looked out of the lorry. Then the lorry screeched loudly and the passengers tilted sidewards, brushing their shoulders and knocking their heads together. Then it slewed off the road. The passengers roared and cursed the driver, with some laughing. But it happened again. The lorry swerved off the road with loosed bolts rattling. The driver was fighting to keep it on the road. The brakes have failed. The driver’s desperate attempts were fruitless. The lorry juddered through the potholes on the off-road; as the passengers screamed and prayed. Their loud voices rose and blended into one that swiftly silenced, as the lorry rammed into a stationary truck, parked at the corner of the road. The lorry crinkled as blood splashed on the road. Dark fumes filled the air. The passengers lay lifelessly on the road, groaning in pain. Martha lay on the bloody road, next to two lifeless bodies. The two fat women were dead. She closed her eyes as blood oozed from her mouth. Everything was blurry and spinning in her eyes. The loud screaming and weeping of onlookers blended with the piercing sound of the police siren. Martha coughed throatily. She opened her eyes and stared into space and imagined a million bubbles in the air. Then it all went dark and silent. She closed her eyes as the cold hands of death seized her.

James was eating rice, when two policemen arrived at the convent’s gate. The men had searched Martha’s handbag and found out she was a nun at the convent. James looked through the sentry-box and saw them. He opened the gate and was apprehensive as the men approached him. For donkey’s years, policemen have never visited the convent for any reason whatsoever. The austere looking policemen asked to see who was in charge, and James led them to Reverend Grace. Reverend Grace was sitting on her armchair with her glasses on the bridge of her nose. She was peering at her hymn book and singing her favorite hymn: ‘With my Savior ever,’ when the policemen reached her. She rose from the chair and stared at them. The sight of the men looked ominous to her. The policemen hit the nail on the head and told Reverend Grace about the fatal accident and Martha’s brutal death. James was shocked; his face turned pale as he cradled his head in his hands and screamed. Upon hearing the horrible news, Reverend Grace went stiff and collapsed on the ground.