Bed of Lies

In his bed, Mzee knew that his time has come. He ordered his children to take him back home because ‘the smell of the medicine in the hospital made him sicker.’ His older son, Hassan, was against it but Mzee’s mind was made up and there was nothing he could do about it. At home ‘Mfanyikazi’ as they all called her even in her presence, made some chicken soup for Mzee and a meal for the whole family. Halima had been working as the house maid (mfanyikazi or aunty) for the last 6 years, she was practically family at this point but nobody bothered to master her name. She never complained, she was always on time and her work was perfect.

When Halima lost her mother, her father reached out to Mzee and pleaded with him to take care of his only daughter. He couldn’t say no because they were very good friends since back in the days before he came to the city and made it big. This is the least he could do for his longtime friend. He promised to educate Halima, provide for her and raise her like his own daughter. Halima was only eighteen when she was brought to that posh lifestyle.  It wasn’t easy at first, coming from the rural parts of Kilifi most of the things she saw amazed her. She did almost everything wrong and the family would have something to laugh about every evening when they come back from school and work.

It was probably his fault for not giving out proper introduction because nobody treated her like family. The first day she set her feet in the house, it was all chaos, people moving up and down, and those seated were all on their phones, screens all over the place with flashy scenes. ‘Thank God you are here, viombo vimejaa kwa sink, please nenda ukaoshe’ said the first granddaughter of Mzee, Sakina. Mzee had 6 sons, and 8 grandchildren, all living under one roof. Without any questions, Halima rushed to the kitchen and started doing the dishes, and from that moment everybody assumed that she was a house help.

Mzee turned the blind eye towards Halima and never mentioned about education. This devastated her at first but after losing her father a year later, she knew that she just had to comply. Being the only child and losing all her parents, she had nobody to run to and she decided to stay with Mzee’s family. She liked working and cleaning during the day but she loved rubbing and squeezing at night. “He is not as old as you think,” she told her co-worker with whom they shared a servants quarter. “This sounds like trouble and I don’t want to be a part of,” said Asha with a grossed look on her face.

Mzee being a widower for years had been looking for a better way other than the gym to stretch his joints and the 18-year-old Halima was just right for him. Round boobs, curvy body, and sleepy eyes, a little bit dusty but with some lotion she will be perfect, he thought. Just a month after taking her in as his own ‘daughter’, he shot his shot and he was impressed by himself when he didn’t miss. Halima was scared at first but the feeling was undeniable. She was pure as snow and Mzee had the pleasure of paving the way.

Everything went well for the last six years, she wasn’t scared anymore and she knew how to cover her tracks. She went into his room every Wednesday and Saturday at 10 pm and would leave at 1 am. He took good care of her and made sure she got everything she needed. It was so smooth, in public, he would call her daughter and she called him Mzee as everybody else. One Saturday as she was leaving his room she bumped into his older son, Hassan. “So, you like the smell of old balls?” he whispered. Halima didn’t flinch; as she was walking away from him he held her hand and said, “I want the piece of the pie.”


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