The Rain in April

Wedding bells and wedding vows

Chapter 17

“Do you, Alex Eke, take Akaliza to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Alex looked at the priest who was dressed in a white robe; he nodded and turned towards Akaliza, his face brightening up with a smile.

“I do, with all of my heart,” he answered, looking straight into her eyes, this was all he wanted, a life with the woman of his dream, a woman he loved.

“Alex and Akaliza, with God’s divine power bestowed on me, I therefore declare you husband and wife. You can now kiss the bride,” the priest announced with his hands outstretched. The two held each other and passionately, Alex thrust his mouth into Akaliza’s, gently kissing her, not that he had not kissed her before; but this was special, it was their wedding day. The whole congregation stood up, clapping their hands.

“Stop!”

The whole congregation kept quiet as all eyes turned backwards, to the arch way. Standing there was a tall, dark, aged man. The man just stood there, breathing heavily.

“Khali, where is father?” Akaliza asked, breaking the silence that had engulfed the church.

“Do you know this man?” Alex asked in a low tone. Akaliza nodded in the affirmative.

“He is my father’s driver; he was supposed to drive him here this morning.”

She stepped down the staircase leading to the altar and walked towards the first sets of pews raising her heels of her gown up with her two hands so as to move faster. The whole church seemed quiet, probably waiting to hear what happened to the chief, the face of the driver revealed much fear.

“Where is my father?” She asked, this time raising her voice, revealing the fear and c***k in it. What was she afraid of? Her father was in no way involved in whatever trouble that was erupting and he had reassured her that nothing would interrupt this day, not even him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, tears escaping from his eyes.

“Sorry?” She repeated.

She took some steps closer to the man who had gone on his knees, expression of confusion written all over her face.

“They took him.”

Just then, they heard shouts and gunshots outside. The whole church was thrown into jeopardy. Everybody scrambled around trying to escape from an unknown enemy.

Alex rushed forward and grabbed Akaliza by the hand pulling her along with him as he raced towards the direction of the car park. The shooters seemed to have long gone but nobody cared, everyone just wanted to escape.

“Over here.” It was George, Alex’s driver that called. The two rushed over to where George was by a car and got in.

“Where, Sir?” he asked.

“Take us home, George,” Alex screamed. He looked out through the mirror; the church's premises were almost empty, even the old rusty jeep belonging to the priest was gone.

“They took him,” Akaliza said rapidly, her voice very thin. She turned and faced Alex whose eyes were glued to the window.

“They took him,” She said again, causing Alex to turn towards her; tears were already visible on her eyes.

“Do you think it’s connected to the death of the President?” she asked, her eyes focused on his. Alex thought for a moment,

“We are not rushing into conclusions yet.” He looked at her.

“Your father would be fine, he is a Hutu and a politician at that, no harm would befall him,” he said reluctantly.

“But they took him.” Akaliza cried out.

“Shh,” Alex mused, pulling her gently to his embrace before kissing her on her hair. He looked at the rare mirror, George was staring at them,and without doubt the man looked worried. Of course, he had every reason to be worried, he was a Tutsi.

“It will be over soon.” Alex smiled but he found it difficult to believe what he just said.

**********

“Where is my father?” Alex asked, walking up to Fred who sat still on the sofa.

“I could not find him, I was with him when the gunshots started, we had started off towards the car but before I got there, he just disappeared,” Fred explained.

Alex sat on the black leather armed chair, there were four armed chairs in the sitting room forming a circle around a small white table, and a red sofa was behind the circle of chairs.

“Where is Akaliza?” Fred asked, his gaze firm on the window as if he was expecting something to happen.

“She is upstairs, crying herself out. I mean, today was supposed to be our day.” He walked over to where Fred sat; his face hardened but revealed traces of frustration and uncertainty.

“She was supposed to take pictures with me, her father and my father,” he said, sounding sarcastic.

“Take it easy man, what were you expecting, Alex? The President was killed yesterday.”

“And how is that supposed to affect me?” Although Alex knew the answer to that question, he found himself in a situation where none of it should matter, his father, i.e., his father’s fame.

“You know the answer to that question, Alex.” Fred stood up and walked towards the painting on the white wall, it was the painting of a woman carrying a pot on her head and holding a baby in her arms.

“Do you need me to remind you that you just got married to the daughter of one of the strongest politician in this country? Or the fact that your father is quite popular here, a Nigerian immersed in great wealth, someone who is a major stakeholder in our region,” Fred continued, running his left fingers through the paintings.

“We just have to wait, Alex and see as things turn out,” he said with one eye eying the window.

**********

“Take the left turn,” Obichukwu said, pointing to the left as Khali turned.

“I’m sorry sir,” Khali muttered, his eyes fixed on the road.

“You have been saying that all day since we left the church. I don’t think I understand what you are sorry for,” Chief Obichukwu said trying to catch the man’s eyes from the rare mirror.

“I should have driven off, I panicked.” The man looked up at the rare mirror, catching Obichukwu's eyes. Chief Obichukwu took his eyes off the mirror and looked out through the window. He had met Khali on only a few occasions mostly during Chief Runihura’s visit to his house. The man was Chief Runihura’s driver and according to the Chief, during one of their conversations, he claimed that Khali had been his driver for more than a decade.

“What happened to him?” Chief Obichukwu asked, his eyes now fixed on the rare mirror.

“I just don’t know, all I remember was his voice calling me back to the car but…”

“He trusted you,” Chief Obichukwu said calmly.

The driver nodded and Chief Obichukwu could swear that he saw tears gathered round the man’s eyes.

“Who took him?” he asked, reluctantly.

“I don’t know them, but they were armed; I panicked,” the driver answered, his eyes still focused on the road.

“And you are driving me right now, am I going to be among your list of victims?”

The driver ought to talk but kept quiet.

“Tell me why I should trust you, it’s not that I have a choice, you could be leading me to my death,” Chief Obichukwu said, smiling. He looked out through the window; definitely he had a choice because there is always a choice in every situation. He learnt that since the Nigerian Civil War, there he chose to flee, to run when others sacrificed themselves for what they believed in; not that he didn’t believe in what he was fighting for, but he could not bring himself to fight in a war that would result to his death. So many times he wondered what his family would say if they discovered he was alive, definitely, he would be called a coward and a heartbreaker. He had often tried to imagine how his wife, Nkiru and his son would be faring in Nigeria. It had been years since he had seen them, since after the war, this he had kept as a secret even from his family here in Rwanda.

Obichukwu’s attention was brought back to the car when the car suddenly slowed down.

“What is wrong?” he asked, leaning forward, in front of them was a barricade and some men stood there holding cutlasses and sticks.

“This wasn’t here this morning,” Khali said, approaching the roadblock slowly. Many things ran through Obichukwu”s mind, maybe this was it; Khali delivering him to this men just as he did with Chief Runihura, but he was not going to back down that easily, if he was going to die, he would make sure Khali dies with him. Gently, he formed his hands into a grip and was ready to strangle Khali when all of a sudden; Khali turned the car towards the opposite direction and drove off towards the direction they had come.

“They won’t follow us, they don’t have any cars,” he said adjusting the rare mirror so that he could see the back view. Obichukwu freed his grip, breathing rapidly.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I studied them.”

Just a moment ago, Obichukwu thought Khali would give him up, he was prepared to kill him even if it meant causing an accident, things turned around and it seemed as though Khali had bought his trust.

“Which tribe are you from?” Obichukwu asked, relaxing on his seat.

“I am a Hutu, Sir, from Mulindi to be precise.”

Khali smiled, raising his face to see the Chief from the rare mirror. Chief Obichukwu smiled, Mulindi is a little town located near the border between Rwanda and Uganda. This was the start of a war and he already knew that, he had fought in a war to know what it meant and what it caused. He looked out through his window once again and afar off, he could see his house.

“You have to understand what caused g******e to happen or it will happen again.”

Tim walz.