The phone call was brief. 

“Mama Shirleen, kimbia nyumbani..!”

A mother knows when an emergency is an emergency.  I stopped what I was doing and hopped into a boda. 

You know when you feel something running down your spine? That’s what I felt. A cold sensation spiraling down my whole body, leaving me senseless

What could it be? My eyes did not register the speeding boda as we scuttled along the city center, meandering in and out of the congested streets

I don’t even remember paying the boda guy as I started running to my house

I saw her and my energy simply fizzled out

She was sprawled on the sitting room, crying. Her eyes had turned scarlet, her lips cracked from dryness

My house girl was crying too. And my neighbor too

I then noticed the blood splattered on the floor, cascading from somewhere between her legs

My knees went weak. Blood drained from my whole body. I collapsed, all the while looking at my last born daughter. Only 7 years old

So innocent. And fragile. Yet horribly defiled

Silence engulfed the room. All the three of us unable to put words into what had just happened

It was then that I heard the noise. From outside our compound. I carried my girl and gently placed her on the couch, covered her with a lesso and together with my neighbor we ran out

First thing we saw was a middle aged guy, all bloodied as an angry mob dragged him, baying for his blood

A young girl approached me, pulled me aside and whispered: “This is the animal..!”

My body froze

I turned to look at the guy. His clothes were tattered into smithereens. His face a bloody pulp. And worst of all, I knew him. He was the Sunday School teacher

The man trusted with instilling Godly knowledge to our children. 

The man we allowed to visit our houses to check on our children

The man we all called Goddy. Polite. Respectful. Kind

My eyes were still fixed on his bloodied face as a police vehicle stopped a few feet away

I did not digest anything as they hauled him into the car. The crowds still baying for his life

As two cops accompanied me to my house to check on my daughter, someone slipped a somali knife into my sweaty hand

Discreetly I pushed it into the sleeves of my sweater, holding onto the tilt

I stared at it as we walked into the house. Kept staring at it as they gingerly carried her to a second car. Felt its grip as I was led to the back of the car

I settled between two cops. Goddy on the other side. His head was bowed down, not looking at me

The words the two cops were saying fell off my ears like water dripping off your head when you shower

I felt the knife, feeling its steely tilt as it rotated in my hand

We arrived at the station. Made our statements then started for the hospital

I had missed my chance

But six weeks later I came face to face with Goddy. He was laughing as he walked with some petite lady, holding hands

I stared at him. He stared right back, as if he didn’t know me

I took a few steps then stopped and turned, following them

I don’t remember what happened coz suddenly it was dark and I was standing outside the gate they had gone through, still staring at it

A few minutes later, my best friend arrived with a boda and quickly passed the Somali sword to me. I don’t even remember calling her

I silently walked towards the gate, stone-faced. I found their apartment and stood there, motionless

I could hear their merry voices laughing loudly

I knocked gently and waited