Eldama Ravine, 6:42 PM. The sky was bleeding orange, casting long shadows across porch.
Said sat on the cracked porch steps, legs stretched, chewing on a sugarcane stick. His mother, Mama Rehema was folding laundry beside him, her hijab fluttering in the in the breeze like a flag of quiet dignity.
"Mama," he said," am leaving tomorrow. Nairobi. New job. New life."
She didn't look up."I know."
He hesitated, "before I go... give me an advice. something real. "
Mama Rehema paused. Then turned to him, her eyes Sharp like a broken glass.
"Never let anyone take your grievances about you to Allah."
Said blinked. " What does that mean."
"It means," she said,"live in a way that no one ever cry to Allah because of you. Because when people complain to Allah... he listens."
The wind picked up. A dog barked in a distance. Said felt a cold chill crawl down her spine.
He laughed nervously. "That's deep."
" it's dangerous," she corrected,"and true."
She handed him a folded scarf." This belong to your father. He wore it the day he disappeared."
Said froze."Disappeared?"
" The evil behind alcohol! He vanished."
Said swallowed hard. The scarf felt heavier than cloth.
He kissed her hands, stood up and walked into the twilight- never knowing that those words would one day be a curse that unraveled his soul.