A DAY INDOORS

The news struck the country like an earthquake— the kind that sends buildings falling like hail off the lowly clouds.

My nimble hands sweated furiously, and it was because I’d been playing Call of Duty: Warzone for the last few hours— a day well spent. And it was well-spent because I for one knew how rainy it was outside. It was bucketing down filthily, and the murram roads outside were filled with pools of water and mud.

“Wacha kucheza hiyo kitu, na uchange channel!” my mother came screaming. Which was Sheng’ for: “Stop playing that thing, and you change the channel!”

Sheng’ was the altered version of Swahili, specially built in Nairobi, and spread out in the entirety of Kenya.

“Sawa,” I said— which meant “Fine.”

And my hand quickly groped to the remote control, so I could switch from the HDMI T.V. game console. And just before I could press a button, I heard my character squeal as he died.

I know what you’re thinking now— what sort of idiot doesn’t pause the game?

And I have two things to say to that— number one, don’t call me an idiot; and number two, my mother had a temper.

And that was the explanation.

My mother’s temper.

I quickly switched to her favorite channel— Citizen Television, where it showed a glaring news-report about the novel Corona Virus.

* * * *

Ah, what a wonderful time to be in the world!

There’s a new virus in the loose, and it’s claiming many people’s lives in the east and west.

“But not in Africa,” my friend, later on, texted me. “At least we’re lucky.”

“I heard it’s like a cold or flu,” I shot back.

And he sent me a smiling emoji, with the words: “Good” on the latter.

I placed the phone down and danked myself back into the world of Call of Duty— just as the rain outside intensified.

And suddenly, the lights went out.

My mother shouted from downstairs, saying, “James, switch off all the lights!”

—Which was an obvious thing to do, because we didn’t want the electrical appliances to blow over when the power would surge.

I groaned and obediently got up as I started to switch everything off.

And after a moment of silence, I decided to go to bed.

* * * *

Under the duvet, I stared into the empty ceiling and wondered whether there was anything to do.

I’d been happy to play the game, text and use my time to enjoy myself. But now that the wifi and electricity were both gone, what was a seventeen-year-old to do?

I tapped on the side of my bed as I thought of reading.

But it was getting dark…

Under a candle?

Nope, this wasn’t advised.

And I, candidly, started to feel really bored; I usually didn’t sleep during the day (or take a nap, as most of my friends said). And don’t give me that eye— it’s not as though the word nap was in my vocabulary in the first place.

I just stared into the air before my phone rang abruptly.

It was Phil, another friend of mine from school.

“Corona,” he greeted as he smirked cheekily.

“Why?” I asked. This was a meme in itself.

“Because you study Chinese,” he said, chuckling. And I raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not funny, you know?”

And he shook his head. “Well, if they are joking about it, why shouldn’t I?”

I rolled my eyes, and asked, “Why are you calling?”

And he quickly answered, “Because I got bored. The lights went out.”

“Yeah, ours too.”

“Oh, wow! That must’ve been a blackout then.”

And I gave a slight nod. “Yeah…”

“So that’s it,” he said.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“You called so you could tell me you were bored?”

“— and that there’s a blackout.”

“Alright bye.” And I quickly hung up.

Yeah, well, call me an introvert, but truthfully speaking, I don’t care.

* * * *

The way mother called out my name made my eyebrows slide loftily up, and as a groan played within my throat.

I got up and headed downstairs to see what she needed of me.

* * * *

“I need your attention,” she said.

And I gave a hesitant nod. I didn’t usually like my mother’s bossy attitude when she was agitated. She was not always like this— but trust me, I know how she is.

“You cook rice and githeri,” she said, “and avoid touching the cold water— they said that it might be a source of the virus.”

“The coronavirus?” I asked.

And she shook in fury. “Don’t ask me questions, JAMES!”

And I gave a slight nod. Only a candle could make us see through this engulfing darkness.

“So you do that,” she said. “And I’ll be out to Mama Julia’s, grabbing the bottles of milk as always.”

Mama Julia was a relatively old lady who shared lots of character traits with my mother. They were both God-fearing, irritable and courteous. And Julia, her daughter, was a great friend of mine. We’d never dated— only heaven knew what our mothers would do if they’d caught us.

“Okay mother,” I said dryly as I turned to the knob on the gas cooker.

Cooking, yay!

* * * *

I know what you’re expecting now.

High-octane thrills about a burglar who broke into our house during that night. Or something like a cliche that’s bound to enter my mind like… my father walking in drunk and beating up my mother or something.

And true, the second thing had happened once before— only my mother called the cops and had my father in jail for a few days. And I’d thought about these things as well— about me capturing a thief in the dead of night, and being applauded by the media for it. But did it ever happen?

Well, no.

I instead, cooked the food, and looked around, seeing whether I’d find nearby spoons and plates.

And after the meal was done, I served it up and took the candle with me to the sitting room.

We never ate in dining rooms— my mom said that it was a waste of space and that we’d only needed a few stools and tables to hold up the food. But this wasn’t actually uncommon to most Kenyans.

* * * *

“Ah, Mama Julia,” she said as she came back. She was holding up an umbrella as she opened the door, and left it on the veranda outside.

She had her phone in front of her for a second before she pushed it into her pocket and walked into the house.

“Wewe,” she said, referring to me. “Have you done as instructed?”

And I nodded. “Yes, ma.”

“Good,” she said, as she turned and closed the door. “And how’s the food.”

“As always.”

“Good?” she asked, smiling.

“Yes.”

“Alright then.” And she sat down, ready to eat the well-prepared meal.

“This is great,” she said, a few minutes later as she quicked mowed through the plate. “There should be blackouts more often, so you’re cooking is like this!”

“Mom?” I shot back, with a smile playing on my lips.

“But it’s the truth,” she said. “It’s delicious.”

And I smiled even further. “Thank you.”

“And do you still want to go and—” and she stopped to chew; good table manners. “—and learn from that culinary school?”

“Ndugu College?” I asked. “Sure, sure.”

And she nodded. “I will then… But as long as you avoid touching others— there have been… cases, you know.”

“C’mon, mom,” I said. “There have been no cases in Kenya.”

“Mmhm,” she uttered as she finished her plate.

I offered to grab her plate, and take it to the kitchen. And she gave a slight: “Thank you”— before I went and placed it in the kitchen.

I heard thunder go off, and I thought of those friends of mine who were scared of it. I smiled and thought of how they’d react to heights— the greatest fear I’d had. And after standing there in the dark, I decided to go and sleep.