THE BEAUTY AND THE DUST.

I remember how boldly the sun rose on that Saturday morning; just a seemingly normal day, but little did I know what I was to encounter. So, it is about noon, I am walking down this street, just minding my own business as I take pleasure in the sun’s bearable heat. All of a sudden, in front of me; at a distance; headed in the opposite direction, is what appears to be an angel. And no, it is not because of the wings, shiny-white garment or flaming eyes, what made me conclude that she was an angel was this intense aura of charm and allure she was oozing. My palms were already sweaty, my pillars growing weak and my brain was on override, yet she was not even a meter close.

Her presence was so strong such that with each step, heads were turning. I witnessed the weak men stumble; the weaker could not help but fall. As she drew near, my heartbeat could be heard from a mile away, and the blood within my veins; it could be compared to a raging river that is about to break its banks.

Her bare skin was as polished bronze. Her hair, gloriously flowing down her proudly arched neck, could be compared to an unbroken waterfall; and as the strands divinely merged with the sun’s rays, it came to life; roaring just as the waters. Her eyes were putting the stars, up in the night sky to shame. They appeared quite delicate, yet so powerful; a stare from her could rob even a Lion of its pride and courage. Her body, sculpted beyond perfection was like a surreal and unfamiliar landscape, awaiting exploration by the bravest of men. Her walk, which was like that of queens, could cause even the meanest of cats to fall into jealousy. Even the wisest of kings could be swayed by her enchanting smile. Her teeth, arrayed by a perfectionist, were as precious pearls…

Just as the ocean’s depths, was her beauty, were you to fall in, you would only go deeper and deeper; losing yourself amidst the darkness. If I had the power and wisdom of a god, maybe then would I be able to measure those depths because; not even the most honoured of artists could capture all the details.

I could not stare at her any longer, “I am not worthy of such beauty,” I thought, so, my eyes took refuge in the dust. The distance between us was now mere feet, the time had come for my strength to be tested. As we passed each other, all of a sudden; as if a mine had gone off beneath my feet, the ground shook violently. My balance began to crumble. From the side; her overwhelming aura mercilessly struck me as the waves pound a ship out in the high seas.

I put up a good fight but my will and strength were not enough; I began to fall. But, just as I was about to come in contact with the ground, face first; from nowhere, a gust of wind blows mightily against me; sweeping me back up onto my feet. Phew, I was thankful that I had not broken my nose, or even worse, lost a tooth. But something felt strange, “How can the wind blow so mightily yet there is not any sign of an approaching storm!” I remastered my balance and turned around to see if the beautiful stranger was okay. The wind had mysteriously died down as it had risen but had left me enveloped within a cloud of opaque dust, so, I had to impatiently wait for the dust to settle before I could check on her.

A few coughs later, my vision was let loose, and to my dismay; the lady had vanished. I intensely searched all around but she was nowhere to be found. By now, the dust had fully settled and since I was not the only one staring at her prior to her disappearance, many were likewise startled and they began to gather all around me. As they drew near, I could hear many of them asking, “Where is she?”, “Where is she?”

The atmosphere was flooded with clueless murmurs but I overheard a woman say, “Maybe she is a witch and she has just commanded the wind to carry her to her den.” As the murmuring went on, a man with a husky voice was heard yelling, “Haha, sorry fellas, the gods love her more.” This was followed by a hysterical laughter by a group of envious women after one of them said, “Aah, thank goodness! She was stealing the souls of our sons and husbands.” Several men; I included, who had hoped to play the ‘knight in shining armour,’ stared at the women in utter frustration, quietly grieving for our lost opportunity.

At this point, my head was spinning since everything had occurred in mere seconds, so, I asked one of the bystanders what had happened, just to make sure I was not hallucinating and he replied, “Me I was just attending to my customer in my shop over there and as I handed her the change, I saw this beautiful lady walking down the street; she had this glow…I almost dropped the money. As she walked past you, as if you had tripped over something, you began to fall. All of a sudden, the wind blows; stirring a huge cloud of dust. The next minute, she is nowhere to be seen; it is as if she turned into dust or something, I don’t know; this is witchcraft!”

The assumptions that many were settling for, were not adding up; and my thoughts were equally fruitless. One soul after another, the huge crowd was now rapidly being eroded by the need to keep ploughing; the need to keep walking.

A few minutes later, even after everyone else had moved on, I had not moved an inch; I was still standing at the scene. Deep down, I knew that if I was to walk away without the answer, I would have to endure the torment of a thousand more questions, for the rest of my life. So, I was not going to move until I had an answer, even if the passersby thought I was a mad man for standing right in the middle of the street.

Right there and then, as if the devil had peeped at my thoughts, an ear deafening honk flooded the atmosphere. At a distance, a train of about four pickup trucks could be seen headed in my direction at a menacing pace. Behind them, a trail of choking dust ensued. Prior to this, several other vehicles had used the same street; while approaching, they would harshly beep but eventually yield to my madness by going right or left over the weedy footpaths, and as they sped past me, some were retaliating with cold stares while most with blunt and sharp insults.

But these trucks were no ordinary vehicles; these were the ‘Miraa trucks.’ (Gari za Miraa) One can easily identify them because the drivers usually begin to honk from about a mile away while approaching a crowded area and the trucks always have their headlights on full beam. They were transporting the highly perishable commodity to the nearby airport for export and the street I was standing right in the middle of, was one of the major routes they burned rubber.

In the western world, they say time waits for no man, but here in Kenya, we say, ‘Miraa trucks wait for no man.’ (Gari za Miraa hazingoji mtu) As I panicked, the pieces of the puzzle that I had been trying to fit together were instantly scattered. And now, with my eyes dazzled by the headlights, I had to quickly choose: Was I going to accept the coldness of death? Or was I going to endure the torment of a thousand questions? “No, I am not yet ready to die; I know not love!” I thought.

“Songa wewe!” (move) “songa!” (move) Some passersby could be heard yelling as I stepped aside; evading death by a whisker. As the trucks sped by, I watched in sheer frustration as any possible clues or answers were dissolving in the cloud of dust they were stirring. I tried to calm myself down by assuming that maybe she had just run off and that she was safe and sound somewhere but this was not working; as even a Cheetah would not have been fast enough to escape all those eyes that were staring.

As the fourth truck sped off, I felt the puddle of hope left within me rapidly dry up. “Where is she? Where is she?…” Even as the question rung on in my ears, I knew that the answer was forever lost, so, I hesitantly gave up; “After all, life has to move on,” I thought. “Maybe God had destined that I witness this bizarre mystery for a purpose He is yet to reveal, or maybe! uh, maybe! some questions are better left unanswered!” I concluded. I turned around and began to walk away; but a few steps into my resolve, I felt the burning urge to take one last sweep at the scene.

As I turned around, my left eye encountered a blinding shine; I instantly redirected my stare back ahead as I gently rubbed my eye so as to get rid of the irritation. A few seconds later, I looked back again, this time, my right eye leading and my eyes came in contact with a shiny object partially protruding from a minute hill of dust on the ground.

Immediately, I walked back to the scene, to satisfy my curiosity. I got on one knee and with my hand, dug into the dust, picking up the shiny object. As the dust spilled through my fingers, while partly being blown away by the breeze, a necklace was revealed. I could tell that it was made of silver.

“Does this belong to her?” I wondered. With a single breath, I blew away the sticky dust particles off the pendant and saw that it resembles a rose; exquisitely etched by a master’s hand. In that moment, I closed my eyes, clenched my fist and did a quick flip through my memory; I remembered seeing something similarly shiny, hanging off the lady’s neck as she approached but I could not match the designs since I had looked away when she came close.

“Is this her necklace? Was it dropped by one of the bystanders within the crowd? Was it dropped by an occupant in one of the pickup trucks? Or maybe someone had dropped it long before this day dawned!” I wondered.

I got up, beat the dust off my knee and took one last stare at the necklace before casting it down to the ground where I had discovered it. When it came in contact with the ground, a tiny cloud of dust arose; I patiently watched as the dust settled, burying the necklace. I turned around and began to walk away.

By, Musa Jumba.