Chapter 1

Call me Milly, because he made you believe I liked the name. He never once told you that I had begged him hundreds of times not to make the name stick. I was born with a touch of Christianity and I didn't like shortcuts, especially when it came to names. My mom called me Nyambiu when she bore me. The Catholic Father she took me to, soon after, called me Miriam, which was confirmed by a Bishop sometimes later; then the man I so loved nicknamed me Milly and refused to listen to my appeals against it. He made me feel like a criminal — I guess he was a confirmed one himself, with more nicknames than he ever let you know. Yes, he was my man; a man whose love no woman could resist; a man you'd think you knew all about, while you actually knew nothing. I didn't know my dad, until I was eleven, when my mom pointed out a man and said he was the one. She had to; I had become too alert to the number of men coming in and out of her room for her to ignore it much longer. In the days when he was living with us, dad was a terrible drunkard. He only came home drunk to claim for food violently — food he hadn't bought. He used to sleep out so often that it became difficult to know whether he had spent the night in a police cell, in a lodging with a hag or out in the cold in a drunken stupor. Believe me, none of this ever bothered my dad, not even the fact that our door often remained unlocked throughout the night, so that he would have easy entry at whatever hour he came home. When I was about five years old, my mother couldn't tolerate my dad any longer. He had become a burden. She decided to call it quits with this 'symbol' of a husband and try life on her own. She took my younger sister, Cathleen Mumbi, and I to her sister's place in Eastleigh and left us there. Life with my aunt, Damaris Nyakio, was lovely. She was married to a businessman — uncle Wanjau — who was very nice and polite. She treated us like her own children and since mom came to see us often, we really never missed her for the one year we stayed at Eastleigh. In December 1958, mom came for us and took us to Bahati, where she had found a bedsitter, which we all shared. She also sent me to a school, just opposite our new home. Now that she was single, mom paid the house rent all by herself. Even though when dad used to live with us he was supposed to meet the rent, we were often embarrassed when he refused to and the landlord would throw us out. We missed dad at times; my sister for one could not go for a week without mentioning him. But as the years went by we got used to being without him. It was good riddance, I guess. He came back to visit us when I was in standard four. By then mom had started selling beer at our home, and I didn't blame her for we had to survive, somehow. Whenever dad was drunk he would wage war on other customers and almost chase them away. He would at times refuse to leave and spend the whole night on the sofa disturbing our peace. I hated him then. I hated married life and I have hated men in general, ever since. Somehow he found out that he wasn't welcome in our home and gave up coming. One year later we got news that he had married his neighbour's housemaid, who then left him after her second delivery. Life in Bahati wasn't bad at all, especially for me, for I never once stayed idle. When I had finished helping my mom with the housework, I would go straight to the books. There was nothing I liked better than studying, and teaching my sister. I had no time at all to play with other children. When my sister was not around, I kept to myself. Although my mom never once took us to church, as she never went herself, I introduced myself to one just a few metres from our home and I never failed to attend. At times I think I was a born Christian. My life was honest; I loved my mom; I loved my dad, but hated his sinful life; I loved my neighbours and everything that God had granted me. I also loved the vicinity in which God had decided I would live and grow up, but I hated sinning, more than I hated sitting on a snake. I was glad that my mom realised what type of a daughter she had and helped me to remain clean. I was growing up rapidly and by the time I had completed primary education, I was almost my moms size in height. Her beer-selling business was now big. At times, patrons would come in great numbers, until she would be forced to request some to take their beer outdoors. Some would get too drunk and almost mistake me for her, trying to make passes at me. Mom never minded being touched on the breasts, even by young men; but accidental touch like that on me would make me go for nights without sleep. I so loathed it with all my heart that the thought of such a thing happening to me would make me go crazy. Thank goodness my mom saw what was happening and did the most admirable thing. She rented another room next to her bar, for me and my sister, and one whom I no doubt knew was on the way. I wasn't so naive as to fail to notice that my mom was pregnant. I did the Kenya Preliminary Examination and passed well. That was given, anyway, I couldn't fail. Unfortunately I was called to Kenya High School, even though it wasn't amongst any of my choices. The problem was that my mother could not afford the school fees, which was very high. So, through the help of some of her patrons who knew more than one thing, I got a place in Ngara Girls' High School. Once in the secondary school, my life became different. I now got up earlier than usual and prepared breakfast for the whole family. As my sister was also in school, I would see her off before I took a bus to town and then change to another one for Ngara. My mother, who had started other business in town, usually left before 6 a.m. I became social and made friends with girls of my own age at school. Often we would go out for lunch together. At times some of my friends would be picked by boys to go for lunch and would request me to join them. Even though I didn't want a boyfriend of my own, I didn't mind being with them and, as long as they didn't misbehave, I enjoyed every moment when we went out together. Everything was going on well at home. My mom's businesses were paying well and we could afford to meet our needs. Mom was living to keep us happy and well provided for. I for one got whatever I desired, because in me she saw a great future. By the time I was completing the second year in secondary school, the baby boy my mother had begot was big enough to be left behind while she went out. We decided to employ a maid and from then on my housework became lighter and I got more opportunities to study. The following year I enrolled at Bahati Social Hall for typing classes in the evenings. By now my friends in school had started wondering what I was made of. Although I continued going out with their so-called boyfriends, I never engaged myself with any and they too never saw any approaching me. Sometimes I even paid for the meals we took with their boys and this perplexed them. They decided to crossexamine me. One day I went out for lunch with my three best girlfriends. Wanja, who was our class prefect started it all: "Miriam…", she hesitated shyly, "tell us, have you ever been laid?" "I was born, I wasn't laid, are you mad, Penny?" In fact I hadn't got her meaning. I had taken her question literally. I sensed I was wrong when the rest burst out in peals of laughter. "Why don't you ask her a direct question, Penny?" Njam-bi said, when she had cut short her loud laughter. By then I already had got what she was driving at. I was quiet, rather annoyed. "Milly, have you ever had a boyfriend in your life?" "No, and I do not think I'll ever have; it isn't necessary." "Do you know what you are missing, dear?" asked Penny. "Boys are very sweet Milly. Just try one," added Amina. "Penny, how can you miss something you do not know? What do you see in men, and what is that sweet thing in them, Amina?" I asked "I'll tell my boyfriend, Joe, to come with his friend next time. He will befriend you and you'll find out the rest for yourself, said Njambi. "Let him not waste his calories for nothing. Why don't you have the two of them yourself?" "I'd lose both of them and I cannot do without my Joe. Can you do without a boyfriend Penny?" "I wouldn't get any sleep if I lost mine," said Penny. "I wouldn't get any sleep if I dreamt of having a boyfriend," I said, and I meant it. I was relieved when the bell rang. This teasing, I knew, could continue for days, probably weeks, but I didn't mind. I forgot the whole thing each time I got home and went straight to my typing lessons, then to private studies. But before men gave up on me, I had to turn down hundreds. I just could not bring myself to entertain a man and give him my precious time. No, not me! There is this Wednesday I'll never forget. It was March 12, and I was in my final year in secondary school. The previous night I hadn't slept well. I felt sick and could not even concentrate on my studies, which worried me. I woke up late the following morning, as I hadn't been able to fall asleep until 5.00 a.m. In a hurry, I prepared myself for school, picked up my bag and dashed out of the room. My mom's voice stopped me in my tracks:"Nyambiu!" "Yes, Mom." I went back to know what she wanted. "What is the matter with you this morning? You woke up late, did your work in a hurry and even before you have taken breakfast, you dash out like a mad girl." I laughed because I knew she was only joking. She knew I was obedient and I knew she was proud of me. "Did you take your busfare and money for lunch, do you have some with you?" "I had forgotten mom, I hate being late." Though I took it lightly I was surprised that I should forget. I took the money and went out. I got a bus in good time. The conductor, seeing I was a school girl asked for my pass. "Yes, I have one," I answered. I looked for it in my school bag, but it wasn't there. Yet I was sure I had put it in. I must have lost it and so I prepared myself to pay the adult fare. But the conductor understood and charged me half-fare. It is easy to dismiss this minor bus-pass incident but, somehow, it has haunted my life ever since. By lunchtime, my mood was back to normal and I joined my friends as usual. Some distance from the gate, we noticed a young handsome and smartly dressed man. To me, he was just that: smart. But not so with the others. Amina, who liked joking more than she liked her food, addressed me: "Milly, wouldn't you like a beauty like that one?" We all laughed at the joke. But as we approached the gate, I noticed that the young man was staring at me. The nearer we got to him, the surer I became that his eyes were focussed on me and I became frightened. Then as we reached where he was, he called my name! My friends broke out in laughter and I became so confused that I didn't know how to react. Should I stop and talk to him or not? Then all of a sudden it struck me: he was not just a boy like my friends were used to. He was handsome and smartly dressed and certainly no comparison to the boys we were used to. This one, even to my friends, was a beauty. "Yes, hallo. How are you?" I called. "Quite okay, and you?" he answered. "Just the same," I said and shrugged. Then he insisted on introductions, which we carried out. On that day, I met Jack Zollo. He had brought me my bus-pass, which I had dropped on the way to the bus-stop that morning. Even though my friends always insisted that I accompany them and their boyfriends for lunch, when Jack invited me, I felt reluctant to ask them along. I wanted him all to myself. Strangely, I felt attracted to him and I didn't want to share his lunch with my friends. He was the only man I had ever admired, so far and I wanted to be close to him. We walked to a restaurant nearby and took seats. I couldn't believe what was happening to me. Was this really me seated with a man in a restaurant? And not just a man, but a total stranger? Why did I feel attracted to him? What did he think of me when I accepted his offer without a flinch of the eye? And who was he? Would he dismiss me, after handing over the bus-pass, after the lunch? No he wouldn't. But what would he think of me if I told him that he was the first man I had ever sat down with? Would he believe me if I told him I was a virgin? Would he just laugh and dismiss it as a joke or mere imagination? Even as all these questions were going through my mind, I knew that my life had changed. Jack Zollo had walked into my life and unknowingly changed it completely. I wondered if he was aware of the effect he had on me; an effect even I couldn't understand. After lunch, he escorted me back to school. We talked and exchanged contacts. I learnt that he worked for DT Dobies as a salesman. I told him where I lived and hoped that he would ask me out for a date. I longed to see him smile, to hear him say that he had fallen in love with me, or just that he liked me and would want to see me again. But my boy did none of these things. He begrudged me even the smile, which I thought was the sweetest I have ever seen. I had to content myself with stealing side glances at him, and oh my, what a man! We stopped at the gate and I found myself shaking at the thought of seeing him go. I knew he didn't know what was happening to me, and if he did, then he was a good actor for he certainly didn't show it. My friends came along and stopped to say hello. I introduced them, and as each shook his hand, I couldn't help but be jealous, and wish that they would hurry and leave us alone, for they were shaking hands with my boy. My boy he was, whether he knew it or not. The school bell rang, reminding us that classes were just five minutes away. My friends bade my boy goodbye and they left me stranded. Should I ask him to meet me in the evening so that we would go home together? What would he think of me if I did that — wouldn't he think that I was too eager or cheap and easy to come by? Oh! Why couldn't women have an outward sign, declaring them virgins, when they were? It would be so easy, so convenient. Then no man would mistake us for what we are not and things would be so much simpler. But none of my wishful thinkings helped, for I couldn't bring myself to give a man a date. Finally, I stretched out my hand to say goodbye and he took it. The touch of his hand sent a chill down my spine. Then he did it: he squeezed my fingers and I almost went down, for my knees became too weak to support me. It was so warm and throbbing all over that I wished the moment would never pass. Then, for the first time in a long time, he smiled at me: "When do I see you again Milly?" And Milly I became. "Any time you feel like," I stammered. "I'll come to take you out for lunch tomorrow. Is it okay with you?" "Quite okay. Please do. Please. I have to run to class now." Upon which I disengaged myself, reluctantly though, and ran off to class. Back in class, I was glad I had met this man. I sat for the last two papers of the monthly examination and scored top marks, jumping far ahead of my classmates. That boyfriend of mine had motivated my brains. On the way home with my friends, my thoughts were on Jack. I longed for his company, which reminded me of the incident when my friend Penny had said that she couldn't do without her boyfriend. It made me wonder whether I too had now reached a point where I couldn't do without Jack, just one day after meeting him. Jack Zollo. What a nice name, I thought to myself. "You sure have a nice piece, Miriam. What does he do?" asked one of the girls on our way home that evening. "He is a salesman with DT Dobie. Believe me, Njambi, I met him today and I feel he has been mine all along." I couldn't believe that I had said that. "But he is nice. I quite liked him, although he looks too innocent and talked with a smooth voice. That one will give you a very nice time," Penny, the expert, contributed. I wished I could believe her. At home, everyone noticed and commented on my extraordinary happy mood. I didn't volunteer any information, but I was glad that they had noticed the change in me. That night, I dreamt that I was in bed with him, on his huge king-size bed. I was telling him what I felt about him when I felt someone shaking me violently. I woke up to the protests of my sister who was claiming that I was disturbing her sleep. Before my temper got the better of me, I reasoned that I must have been dreaming loudly, and so left her alone. But I didn't go back to sleep after that. The rest of the night was spent in imagining him waiting for me at the school gate. The night was so long, it seemed like a week to me. He came to take me out for lunch the following day, as promised. Again, I did not invite my girlfriends along, and this, I argued, was due to my natural jealousy, for I did not want them to share the company of my boy; I did not want them to feel the tender touch of those small hands of my Jack, or him to smile at them. He was mine — all mine, and I did not see why I should share him with anyone else. His many surprises started on that day. We crossed the road and he led me to a nearby parking lot. I had no idea where we were going, but judging from the way he was dressed and where he worked, I knew he'd be out of place in the fish and chips places my friends and I frequented. I saw him take out a bunch of keys and select one. He went to a Datsun and unlocked it. Seconds later he opened the passenger door for me and for the first time in my life, I entered a car which I had good reason to believe was part of my life. We drove towards town, and the boy could drive. I liked the way he overtook other cars, and I knew he was driving fast so that he could get me back to school on time. We didn't stop in town. On reaching University Way he turned right and entered Harry Thuku road. We passed Norfok Hotel and the VOK and went on to Hotel Boulevard. It was the first time for me to be in a hotel of this class. Most of the patrons here were white, and that answered at least a question or two I had about my boy. When the bill came I was surprised. In the hotels that we frequented with my friends and their boyfriends, the seven of us would spend twenty shillings and get some change back. Out of the hundred shillings note Jack gave to the waiter, he received change of about seven shillings, which he did not even take, explaining that it was something called a "tip" in those big hotels. Well, I didn't like this man for his money, or because he worked with DT Dobie, or whatever else it was that made him what he was. I liked him because I believed he was made for me. "Do you drink? I mean do you take beer?" I asked him on our way back to school. "Yes, why? Don't you like people who drink?" "I am sorry. I just wanted to tell you mom sells beer at home." I wanted to invite him home but I didn't have the guts to. On the other hand he could not come to my room, because mom wouldn't allow it. But if he knew home, he might just pay us a visit. "So if I happen to come, what happens? Will you buy me beer or smuggle a bottle or two to where I'll be hiding?" Well, he had started talking the way I wanted him to. He had a sense of humour. "Oh no, I just can't afford to buy beer. But can't you just sit with the rest in the room?" "Will you be serving me? "I am sorry again, mom will not let me in the room with customers." "You stay out until the last customer goes away?" He was sympathetic, almost annoyed. I detected much concern in his voice and this made my heartbeats louder. "Oh no, she has rented a room for me, next to hers." I saw relief cross his face as he sighed with satisfaction. "Thaz bearifu. I like it." "Thank you." "Why?" "I … I … don't know … I mean … it is …" I stammered. In fact I did not know why I was thanking him. The way he looked at me as I stammered for an answer sent a chill down my spine. "So what next? Here we are." We had arrived at the school gate, and in good time too, but I could see he wanted to go. I was confused and did not know what to say. "I'll come home this evening, if you promise to buy me beer. Will you?" 'Please do. I'll buy for you what I can afford." He dipped his hand into his pocket and took out a hundred shilling note. I was shocked. That kind of money was too much for me. In fact, it needed only another twenty shillings to pay our house rent for two months. I heard myself saying, "Please no, please don't; I don't need it. You need it, Jack, but not me. What would I do with all that money?" He smiled as he put it back; I think he understood how overwhelmed I was. He took out a twenty shilling note and I accepted it, not because I needed it, but because I did not want to disappoint him. "Bye till then." He gave me his hand and when I took it. he squeezed my fingers the same way he had done the previous day. I felt owned. Amina and Njambi were waiting for me outside our classroom, when I arrived, and before anything else we were on it: discussing our boyfriends. Mine, of course, was the main topic. "That one will drive you nut*. And he is so young that that car cant be his. It must be his father's." "It is a company car, but he looks like he owns one himself?" I said. "Imagine going out in a car and you can't even invite us, you cant be so mean." "You've got to understand that this man is very new to me and if I…" "Sorry, I wasn't serious. Miriam. I was just making fun." I felt ashamed. I guess, I was too jealous to want to share my boy with my friends. But I couldn't help it, and hoped that they would eventually understand and forgive me. While waiting to change buses that evening in town, I passed by a telephone booth and remembered the numbers Jack had given me. I looked at my watch and saw it was before four o'clock. I guessed Jack must still have been in the office and decided to call him. The booth was empty, so I entered. The answer came almost on the first ring. "Hello, can I help you?" It was a man's voice. "Can I speak to Jack Zollo, please?" He kept silent for a while. I didn't know whether I was imagining it or not, but I could hear music coming clearly on the phone, and I wondered whether I had called a wrong number. But then I heard the same voice call me back. "Ngojea, anaitwa kutoka huko juu. " I waited for two minutes then I heard his soft voice. "Hello, Zollo speaking." The music could be heard distantly. "How are you, I decided to call you before going home." "And who are you?" I guess I detected some harshness in his voice this time and I almost doubted it was him. "This is Miriam; don't tell me you cannot recognize my voice." I head a relief in his breath. "Ooh … it is you dear!" It was the first time for him to call me "dear" and I almost jumped with joy. "Where are you calling from?" "I am in town, on my way home; I came by a telephone booth and decided to try and see if I could get you in the office." "Do you want any help? I can come and rush you home." "No, thank you. I only felt I should speak to you." It is okay, the promise is still intact. Ill come.'* "Thank you. do you play music in the office? I hear lots of it." "You are imagining it. probably. But. this is a mad office. How is everything?" "Quite okay."" I answered, then wondered what things he was referring to and about which I said okax "You have a nice voice. Milly. I like it. It makes me love you."" My heart started racing. No man had ever said thai to me. Not that I wasn't lovable, but I had never given anyone the chance to say it before. It sounded very sweet coming from this particular man: it is what I had been longing for over the last two davs. "'Do you?" "Do I what?" Should I mention it?. I asked myself. I fell shy. but since he couldn't see me. nor challenge me with those eyes of his. I said: "Love me?" "Well … I don't know. Can one really love you enough?" What did he mean? Could he probably have been taking me for a child, because I was a school girl or did I look like one? Could he have found out somehow thai I was a virgin and probablv thought that I could not do what he might suggest? Would this make him leave me? I started getting worried. "God help me" I prayed in the-booth. "Milly. are you still there?" "Yes, I am." I felt like weeping "And why go to silence so abruptly" jack asked me a hard question.' Which one? Whether one can really love me enough. Am I soo young for love?" "No, dear, not that. I mean von are loo rood to !><• push ed about with mere words. One needs to be near you to answer that question." "Do I mean that much to you?" "More than you can guess, I wish I could get you away from everyone else." "What would you do?" "Everything on this earth. I could even eat you alive." "Jack, are you drunk? I can't believe you are not." "Then I am very sorry, excuse my haste, I am sorry." "Please do not say that, you haven't wronged me." "I see I love you." "Thank you." "For?" "Loving me. I just can't believe it. Why didn't you tell me before?" "When and where Milly? Why do you think I took all the trouble of bringing the bus-pass to you?" "Why did you bring it? Just tell me, please." "The picture on it was beautiful. I wanted to see what the original looked like. If it had one eye I'd have thrown it in the nearest dustbin." "And how was the original compared to the picture?" "No comparison, dear absolutely no comparison, not even to the others in the school." "I am glad you think that, Jack." "No, not thinking, I am sure, and let me tell you Milly, you are the first girl I have ever loved … I hardly do it." I went home very happy. I could not believe I had been talking to Zollo. I was waiting outside the house when he came. There were about seven customers and my mom wasn't in. Although I was left in charge of the little beer that remain- 16 ed when she went for more, I was not to enter the room. My duty was to open the room where the drinks were and one of her regular customers did the selling. But now that my boy had come, I couldn't stay out; I felt protected. Jack was the first and only person I served. Every time I looked at him, the telephone conversation came flowing back into my mind. I couldn't believe that this was the same person I had talked with. I couldn't imagine the sweet words coming from him and that he was now here. He was on his fourth beer when mom returned with additional stock. On entering the room I was surprised to see that she went straight to Jack and shook hands with him. "I am mama Nyambiu," she told him, still gripping his hand. Smiling, he told her: "I am Jack Zollo." "Thank you, you are welcome here." Mom then turned to me and asked. "Are you selling today? You are becoming a nice girl." She looked at me, then at Jack, and whatever she thought, she was right. She had never seen me in the room with the drinkers. Nor had she seen a young man of Jack's class in that home before, which made all this more than a mere coincidence. But I didn't want her to confirm her suspicions. It could hurt her to think that I was about to leave her. Back in my room, I could hardly concentrate on anything. My boyfriend was only six metres away and I couldn't be with him. I would leave whatever I was doing and go to the room, pretending that I had left one thing or another there. A glance at him would satisfy me and I'd go back to my room. Ten minutes later I would remember another thing I had left there and I'd go back to look for it, taking five long minutes before I "found" it. I finally gave up when mom asked: "Did you leave almost everything you had here? You've come here five times in thirty minutes." She didn't intend to hurt me but merely to let me know that she wasn't fooled by immature tricks. I respected her; I loved her as much as I loved myself and anything she said to me was acceptable, because I knew that the last thing she would do was to hurt my feelings. Knowing that my tricks had come to an end and that I would not get a chance to talk to Jack, I went back to my room and took a pen and a piece of paper. I wanted him to go with me in his heart. The following day was a Saturday and since I wouldn't go to school, I knew I couldn't wait till Monday, when he probably would think of coming to see me, and so I wrote a note: My Dear Jack, I knew this would happen. Although we didn't get time to talk, I hope you understand that I wanted to see you and you knew where I live. We must not show mom what is going on between us. Please know that I am for you, wherever you are. I cannot wait until Monday to see you. On Sundays I go to a church of my choice. I want to see you then. Could you please meet me in town, at St. Peter's Clavers, on Race Course Road, at around 9.30 a.m.! Please, Jack, don't fail to come; I must see you. Yours forever, M.N. "Miriam." I turned. It was my younger sister. "Aren't you teaching me English today? You told me yesterday that today we would learn English." Well, I did not know how to explain why I couldn't keep the promise. Instead of keeping my promise to her, I had had to make sure I saw Jack as he left so that I could give him the letter. After that my sister could have my attention. Jack received the note without a problem; it was as if he expected it. He took it and put it in his pocket, wished me goodbye and left immediately. I went back to my room to keep my promise to my sister, Mumbi. This time she would have all my attention. On Sunday I woke up earlier than usual, for I wanted to be in time for my date with Jack. I had spent the Saturday at my aunt's place, bored almost to death, a thing that had never happened in my life before. I was restless and surprised her by announcing that we would go home early. My sister, however, overruled me, to my aunt's joy, and I spent the afternoon in silence, with Jack dominating my mind. I waited for almost two hours outside the church until the first mass ended. He still hadn't come, so I went in for the second mass. But I was so preoccupied with thoughts about him that for the first time since I started going to church, I did not receive the body of Christ. Eight months after I met Jack, I sat for my 'O' levels. They had been eight months of heavenly bliss, the experience of a lifetime. A month before the examinations, he sent me a success card that made my heart go raving crazy. It was beautiful and expensive, and carried the best message I had ever read: ". . .It is only your best performance that will tell me I never interfered with your school life. Only that alone will erase the guilty conscience in me. My fate depends on your performance… " It hadn't occured to him that since I met him I had improved my performance at school greatly. It took us almost one month to complete the examinations. Every morning I would meet him, waiting for me at the bus-stop. In most cases he would have a car, a different one each day. On two occasions we rode in a taxi. He would come to take me out for lunch and drop me home in the evening. Sometimes he would take some beer at home and then go away. We were careful not to worry mom, so we did it secretly. On one occasion I had to bend down in the car and cover myself with the school sweater, when Jack spotted her at the bus-stop on our way. But she was busy talking with her friend and couldn't see us. I was lucky that during all the time I was in school, Jack never asked me to go to bed with him. He believed that it would interfere with my education, which I doubted. "Milly," he told me one day, "you are still naive in this mad world. Just do what I ask of you and you'll never regret/' He already knew that I was a virgin and had decided to treat me in his own way. Before the examination results were out, I had completed my typing course and as I waited for the results, I got a job with East African Airways. I was now 18 years old. We could now meet more often, with fewer risks of mom finding out. I hated the thought of offending her, but comforted myself by saying that up to that time, I hadn't done anything I could be ashamed of. And I gave the credit to Jack. The new year found us eagerly waiting for the results, but with different reasons. I was eager to surprise him, because I knew I had done well, and he was eager to know how I had fared. The day the results came out, I called him. I could still hear music in the background and this time it took about five minutes before he came on the line. "Hello, is that Jack?" "At his best," he answered. He had, I guessed, recognized my voice. "The results are out." "What results, dear?" The question disappointed me. I did not expect him not to know what results we could have been waiting for so eagerly and I was worried that something was wrong. He was drunk again. Did he have to go to the office drunk? Wouldn't that ruin his work? Why did he have to drink almost every day? I made up my mind to talk to him about it. I had seen what beer had done to my father and I wouldn't let it ruin my Jack. But no! Jack was far too responsible and caring to let liquor ruin his memory. That left only one explanation: He did not know who was calling. And this could then mean only one other thing: that there were other girls who called him. Jesus! This couldn't be! But it was. "Are you still there, dear? What results?" "Tell me frankly, Jack, do you know who is calling you?" "How the hell can I, if you don't identify yourself? You all sound the same to me." I burst out in tears. I was so hurt I couldn't talk. Why should he do this to me? I wish it was someone else and not him. Why? Why? Whom did he think he was referring to as "dear" if it wasn't me? I looked up to see Miss Ironside, a white friend I worked with, standing in front of me, staring. "Ironside, please, give me a break. It is hurting, it is…" "I am sorry, Miriam. Anything I can do to help? Why don't you ask for permission to go home? The boss will grant you, please try." "Please leave me alone. Do me a favour and go." The good thing with Miss Ironside was that she was very understanding. She left reluctantly and went back to her office, just next to mine, all the time keeping an eye on me. I didn't work that morning and I didn't call Jack again. The boss had granted me a day off, but I didn't feel like it; it would have been worse at home. 'Til be alright, sir, I prefer here to home," I had told him. He said he understood and left. I didn't go for lunch, either; I just sat in my office, alone and lonely. I felt something was about to happen and no matter how much I tried to guess what it would be, i couldn't find an answer. I was woken up by the ringing of the telephone. The time was 8.25 p.m. I had dozed off and had slept for about two hours. I answered, "East African Airways, can I help you?" My voice was hoarse. "May I speak to Miriam Nyambiu, please?" It was a man, and there was only one man who could call me up at work. I sobered up. "This is me, Jack. How are you?" "Quite okay, dear. Have you heard about it?" "About what?" "What else have we been waiting for, you good fool?" he joked as usual. "The examination results are out…1 want us to go and check." You can guess how I felt, so guilty, that I started to cry again. How could I have judged this man, who was so concerned about me? I too had asked him the same question he had asked me, yet when he couldn't understand me I condemned him. Feeling guilty I told him: "I am sorry, Jack, forgive me, please, I mean I shouldn't …" "Now, what is all this? What am I supposed to forgive you for? You haven't done anything to be forgiven for. I have never known you to wrong me. Or…. or… you can't have failed dear. Nol cannot believe that, not unless you want me to go mad". I had to tell him the good news straight away. I could tell that he was now getting upset. "I got a First Division, Jack. The headmistress called me soon after she got the results." Man, the boy was relieved. I could tell on the line by the way he laughed. "I am on my way to Embakasi, I'll hang around till you close for the day. Any objection?" "Please hurry up, I'll be waiting." When next Miss Ironside saw me, I was laughing loudly and hugging her. I didn't look out for a car, because I did not know what make to expect this time, but I knew that he would come driving. And I did not wait long either. Fifteen minutes later I saw him step out of a Volvo. I hadn't taken lunch and I told him so, as I narrated the torture I had gone through after calling him. Our first stop was in a restaurant and after lunch he took me to a boutique, where he bought me a dress. In another shop he bought me a wrist watch and then a pair of shoes, all of which amounted to Shs. 2,200, the equivalent of two months' salary. These were presents for my good performance in the examinations and I accepted them. But it was something I could not encourage, for I did not want him to ever think that I loved him for his money, but for what he was: innocent and good looking, understanding, respectful, patient and loving. Life as a working girl was good fun. Its beauty was enhanced by having the best boy a girl could dream of. Mom had much confidence in me and she never bothered where I went after work. But I made sure that I never abused the honour and the respect she accorded me. I therefore never slept out. I didn't have many expenses and so we shared my income. When I realized that she took it reluctantly, I decided instead to be paying my sister's school fees, as well as paying for her other requirements. The maid too came under my payroll. When th? results came out, I was promoted and got a pay rise as well as being confirmed as a permanent employee. The E.A. Airways service vehicle then began picking me up for work every morning. My performance had really paid off.

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