STELLAR NERVOUSNESS

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Bottomline: I quickly take my leave from the kitchen as it is a woman’s area of operation thanks to the traditional African setting that reserves this area as their personal space.
“We live to fight another day Pigeon, don’t you worry brother, we shall be awake, sound and waiting patiently for the coward once that time comes.”
” Hey buddy let them go, no more fights we agreed. Just let it go, I don’t want you to be killed for no justifiable reason. You ought to act better than this, and you know it broski…” I reiterate to my younger brother Lazar. He has picked up a fight in town with some ‘big boys’ around Masquerade area Jhika town in Transdei.
We are almost two kilometres off the first block close to town,the storm is building. Driving in a sleek magenta land rover defender, is my little kid brother and I. I’m on the staring wheel as I indicate my car to assume a left junction leading to my place, I initiate the screen wipers.
My brother monologues from the back seat in awe displeasure with a convincing disappointment. It is going to rain heavily. I can read it. I can feel it. Goosebumps have creatively formed atop my lower arms to give my body a kill monger skin print. I am wearing some folded long sleeve denim shirt with some fitting khaki pants and golden Phil Knight designer pair down south.
Clouds have built up making the atmosphere to be chilly. We are soon going to be home, I choose some unique spot by the garden, close to some zebra – painted round mahogany table. Swiftly, I turn off the engine as I unleash the handbrake upwards.
Lazar had long alighted as he went into the white painted 4 room, one storey residential. I pick my jungle green leather jacket from the far right back seat before heading straight inside, not waiting to peck my younger sister, my 6 year old daughter, most crucially my wife and mother to our only child – We named her Enzi Anzazi Kombe, peculiarly because we hadn’t forgotten where we come from.
” I can’t wait to get home big bro. I don’t even think I’m quite able to recall my parents looks, for I was stolen from them long before I got used to their priceless faces.” I overhear Lazar speaking as he lazily throws his body on top of the cosy leather couch.
Closing the door as I enter the room. Sticking to original plan walking towards the aisle that leads to the kitchen. My guess isn’t wrong as I find them all therein.
“Daddy,” her sound almost worries me. She chockingly speaks with food inside her mouth as she runs all she can, arms stretched, heart melted, mind focused. I quickly kneel down moving a bit closer to her, I pick her before her final step lands her on the floor. I am patting her back, she is chocking. I pick a glass of water from the counter promptly directing it toward her solemn mouth.
She is well, am relieved. I give her a big peck which lasts for 3 minutes for a girl I crazily love. Later on I find my sister helping Shekuna – my wife, preparing dinner. They are frying ginger, carrot chapatis. Served with meat stew with potatoes accompaniment  . Some coconut galvanized beans an African recipe alongside some cold passion juice, blended already inside the refrigerator for gradual cooling.
I exchange expensive niceties with both. My sister aged 24 and her close friend Shekuna who emanates as this one marquee lady that got married to me 3 years ago.
I quickly take my leave from the kitchen as it is a woman’s area of operation thanks to the traditional African setting that reserves this area as their personal space.
“Boom! boom! boom!” gunshots are sprayed. In the solace of our house which is already over performing  much to keep the bullets at bay. ” honey, take the kids to the basement, everybody down! I repeat lie down and don’t move,” I command authoritatively as I dive to the window – far end. Tactfully, I manage to roll the 2.5 metre – long sofa set to barricade the window which was proving vulnerable and susceptible,whose leakage was placing lives at stake, lives on some balance, precious innocent, some guilty maybe, on some weighing machine; some bet – kind – 50 -50, win – lose kind of a gamble.
I quickly jump toward the kitchen, forgetting not to grab my brother who was holding his pistol, all set waiting for the green light. “say, the word and we pounce,” this lunatic really loves squabbles and scuffles. ” I cannot afford laxity, I can’t be doing it 6 times over, and it’s still ” luck, or is it lack the American conscious rapper?”… Hell no, I’m black my brother, ride or die,” affirms Lazar.
We quickly came up with a strategy that is to see us out of the establishment unscathed within the next few minutes or so. The only thing that would not give me peace at this moment is the ominous thought that me, or perhaps somebody else put my own family in jeopardy.
My brother ducks into the kitchen, with rare, sharp mentality, he has carried some 4 – metres wide blanket. The kitchen does him a huge favour by accommodating few gallons of water therein. Soaking the clothe in water, Lazar employs it as shield to buffet the kids with profound tranquility out of the apartment cum hell, at least for the moment.
Lazar uses his impervious and unbreakable spirit as he solders the kids to the beast,black Land Rover Defender. Somehow my younger brother knows we are in solemn danger thanks to his spiritually committed thug life. I warned him, I have warned him severely. Moreover, I am not in any way planning to change this… But what do you do when you never applied to get sired as the firstborn child amid motherly love? It means you just have to be accountable for your actions, trustworthy leader not only to your siblings but also the society.
Arabs would have the best term to describe such as “jahiliya.” Do these guys want money or are they simply unleashing terror upon. Are they interested in Lazar alone or I am I as important to these guys. Now having an approximate how many aggressors. Do they shoot to kill? Or are the folks satisfied with seeing our pants, now dry transistor to assume wetness? Time will tell…
I shove up my laser – ray binocular and focus via the restroom’s frosted glass, I’m sure they won’t see me but I shall enjoy a birds view of these phantoms and their mutinous acts. Lazar has packed all possible belongings including clothes and a cache of mini semi automatics and one ceska pistol. He hands me the short gun over the bathroom. All this while, gunfire rentend the air for a period of close to two hours. No police aid, no ambulance,no nothing despite my wife’s relentless efforts to dial and redial numbers over and over until her Samsung handset cannot take no more.
” Brother, we are running out of time. We need to act, now. Ferry Shekuna and our sister towards the ‘beast,’ let Shekuna drive as fast as she can to wherever distant hideout she can. Pack some foodstuffs for we cannot come back here. Not now, not soon. I also want you gone, I can destroy them, about 9 guys, four towards the anterior gate and a quadruple barricading the posterior gate.” I speak dishing out these water tight instructions to a guy I know would never heed to my command.
” This is my fight brother, I won’t go nowhere. Our sister will be safe once they get moving. But you…you are my blood brother and even your war is mine,” he asserts as sharply as his speech tone would enable him utter.
We snap fingers before our trademark type of handshake that much staunchly takes after the famous Wakanda greeting that involves crossing the forearms to stipulate a bird’s withdrawn wings. I sneak the gun’s muzzle across the window and belt a chain of gun – powdered bullets enshrined within multiple magazines… I think six. As the great escape nears, only my mind beats; for a moment, it feels like my heartbeat emanates from the brain… Have I skipped a beat or two?
Neighbors won’t come out to our much needed rescue, gushing through the steel gate is a van that sweeps clear four of the masked gunmen before they fire a single shot. The big defender is out of the establishment and into the main road. Red indicators on either sides signal braking before the fuel guzzler roars angrily through the tarmac into oblivion.
Her escape gives me some doorway to pounce and attack seizing the opportunity at once. I turn my focus towards the anterior gate. The men are in panic, their plan had just got to its pinnacle… Hell has broken loose. I drop three of them in quick succession with a dramatic accuracy. One of the guys manages to escape, I decide to pursue him deep into the thickets surrounding our place.
“Boom!.. Boom ! Boom !” We are both down unconscious fighting for our sorry lives.
I wake up at 8:00 AM the following morning. My first glance meets with police officers holding notebooks on their palms. It is like all they ever did was wait for me to wake up from ‘slumber’. Never before have I undergone pulsating nervousness, intense tension and friable panic in my life. I came within a dark path, where the straight path was crazily meandered and atmosphere improbably dilapidated.

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