A ROAD ACCIDENT

The day I had been eagerly waiting for finally arrived. I woke up very excited with high hopes of sheer pleasantries as the day wound on. The day broke dramatically with morning breeze. I humbly said our Lord's Prayer and stepped outside my house. The weather was frightfully cold. I inhaled the moist air and sneezed heavily. In the eastern horizon, the sun emerged spreading its rays through the morning fog. Grass and leaves with drops of dew glittered beautifully reflecting the golden rays of the rising sun. Birds were singing their sweet melodies probably to welcome the day. Flowers had bloomed, therefore, branches swayed systematically as birds collected the nectar. “Good morning my son,” my mother greeted me happily. “Good morning mama,” I replied. “Why don't you get prepared?” she asked me. “Your father is fully prepared,” she added. “Mama, I will, just a moment, for a short call.” I said favourably. “Hurry up, you are late” she told me. She was in a blue T-shirt which read 'Raila for president'. It was baggy and hung on her hands like of an elephant’s mighty ears. Her old maroon school skirt was almost worn out and its zip was not in condition. It was giving her good bye and forcing her to accept that she was a noble African woman and not a school girl. I watched at her as she walked steadily into the kitchen. In her hands, she held floor bucket and a jug of water. By the three stoned jiko, she sat humming a common hymn. No sooner had I dressed than my mother served us with mugs of porridge at the verandah under the jacaranda tree. I was in my new shirt and trouser which my father had bought me after scoring good marks in the examination. The warmth of the rising sun had cleared patches of clouds and the land was clear. It looked green and beautiful. In hurry, we took porridge and brushed our teeth. My beloved mum was as busy as a bee in the kitchen doing her kitchen chores. Without wasting any precious moment, my father called me. We were all ready, and my mother promised to escort us to the bus station. Nana, the only dog at our home, also accompanied us. With a wagging tail, it ran ahead of us. Immediately, when we reached at the bus station, we met a woman. She was my mum's friend. Her name was Monica, my classmate’s mother. Thither by hither, Jeers and cheers filled the air. They were over joyed that they greeted each other with lots of handshakes, backslapping and even hugging. They were chattering happily. Tears of joy rolled down their cheeks forming a dear and wonderful figure eleven. They were close friends inded. Monica was very charming, bold and humble. She laughed exposing her well-arranged white teeth. Her bulging dainty nose amazed us all. She was exquisitely beautiful and flawless. Her demeanor was very calm, very quiet. She wore green necklaces of threaded beads which increased her beauty. Her smile revealed an excellent set of snow white teeth which looked like a semi disk of silver. Her face was kind, her tone loving and she ever laughed exposing her golden canines. Her loving soft bright eyes and smile were altogether bewitching. Nevertheless, I was used of seeing beauty salonists dressed to kill. Without much ado, a lady arrived at the bus stage and joined us. Her name was Diana, just as she introduced herself. They greeted her and even shared stories with her. The lady was dressed to kill. She was on a high- necked blouse, but the clothe cut in front so that her bosom was almost totally exposed. Her mini skirt was a shiny green, shading into a softy blue and her eyes were glistening. She had a Black Hand bag hang on her shoulder. She wore high heeled open shoes. Her egg shell teeth and the bewitching gap crowned her beauty. She wore eye catching goggles of decent shade that covered her eyes a half way. Her face was very beautiful and attractive; her lips glittered on attractive lipstick. She had lustrous back hair. She looked as if she was on her middle teen. Her pretty little mouth whose tightly arched lips were dry revealed that she rarely talked. Her clothes have never been worn in our village. Unlike my father, I was eyeing at her speechlessly. Unfortunately, she fell her handkerchief as she was cleaning her specs! Feeling disappointed, I just faced down, smiled and shook my head. Surely, she was a complete manifestation of the beauties seen in movies if not the proverbial sea- goddess. I felt blood rush to my head. The effect was electrifying. I then avoided gazing at her. Not long had we stayed at the stage than a private car came slowly and stopped near us. The driver opened the door and stepped outside. He was tall, slim, about six feet framework and a roaming lustful spirit. He was exe- headed, deep set eyes, thick lips and erected ears. He was on his way, Mombasa Nairobi way. “Soo mbili tau, soo mbili tau” the driver said repeatedly, meaning that the ticket is two hundred Kenya shillings to town. Quickly, we boarded the car. I was overwhelmed by joy hence nothing could stop the journey. “Good bye,” said my mother as she waved at us. In a splint of a second, the driver started the engine and we set off at nine. Happily, we left for Nairobi. The car was cool and comfortable. Although it had no safety belts, I leaned on the back seat between Monica and my father. On my right was my dad who, with suspicious eyes, endlessly gazed at the driver. The car was moving very fast and the driver seemed to be behind time. He had half bottle of beer and a band of miraa which he chewed one stick after another. He was in his well-cut and a blue stripped tie. He wore a plume on his stripped hat. On his ear, he bided a well rolled tobacco stick. He had shifty half closed eyes and a deep scar across his cheek. He laughed showing a row of stained and broken teeth. His pulp cheeks gave out pretentious gaiety to everyone. It's a wonder if a lady could fall in love with him. On his left was Diana. She held a valentine red flower which read 'I love you'. Her hair, her glittering beautiful small round eyes, her well mounded nose, her thin lips and sharp pointed bosom were all what a man could see at a glance. At every gaze that the driver sleep looked at her, she lovingly returned his stare. She had a maddening quirk, that stupid cackle, which irritated my envy to immorality. On the way, the traffic police stopped us but the driver gave them hundred bob. Happily, they received the money and dismissed us. Ahead of us was a school bus. The road ran flat and straight, thinning to a point way ahead of us. The occasional singing and conversation buzzing in the school bus was the order of the journey as the bus moved down the lane. Abruptly, the car flew at a speed well above anything permitted by the traffic regulations. Little did we know of what fate had in store for us. My heart pounded inside my chest then a sickening sensation settled at the bottom of my stomach. A matter of which a driver is ignorant is like a dark night. It was just after Chumvi junction when the driver was overtaking the school bus. Gosh! Immediately, a lorry appeared before us. Our driver had a hard time to manage the vehicle at the yellow line. Black seemed to be the colour of the day. All sorts of bizarre imaginations crossed my mind. In a grip of a paralyzing fear, my teeth rattled together. My fore bolding senses were swaying as if they were giving good bye. I became weak, confused and even wet my clothes. The circumstances sent shivers up and down my spine. A sense of death came into reality. I wailed but all in vain. I could not shoe a running horse! Consequently, Diana stood up from her seat and screamed to the driver. The school bus had an emergency brake, swerved from left to right and left again in a manner likely to suggest that it was commissioned to draw some zigzag lines. It veered off the road and rolled several times prior to acquire an uncalled for storage off the road in a ditch on the left. In between the lorry and a truck which was behind us, our car was squeezed like a cotton garment. The sound pierced my ears like a bullet fired from a g*n. Tyre burst? The explosion left me deaf with bizarre imaginations. In no time, I found myself in the hot furnace. I strained to open my eyes to witness what was happening, only to see blurred coins falling from unknown origin! I shivered wildly like a leaf blade up against a whirl wind. My body turned cold like that of a person inside a refrigerator. Sad sudation trickled down my frightened visage making me resemble melting fat in the scorching semi-arid sun. In between the seats, I lay helplessly and almost half dead. All of a sudden, people crowded at the accident scene. When they came, fluttered and flickered, their eyes were wide open but did not like what they saw and how they felt. The eye witnesses sobbed uncontrollably as they described the ghastly horrifying scene. Their mouths were wide, wide open as if they were pronouncing letter 'O'. Meanwhile, hue and cry was the new order of activities.