The Rotten Fruit

The words stared back from the ominous hard white paper in her hands. Mashika knew that her mother would say she wasn’t happy with the way she dealt with her relatives. Despite the wrong people do, you must always turn the other cheek. She had tried but she had had enough. 

“Are you sure that you are doing the right thing?” Mr. Okoye, her lawyer asked.

“I am saving the rest of my country men from dealing with these people,” Mashika said, “they have to learn that there’s more to life than living like it is their last day in Paradise.”

Mashika acknowledged the greed that each one of her relatives possessed. One would think that having enough to build themselves would inspire them, which was not to be the case. The picture of another destroyed relic was displayed on the front page of the East African Newspaper, courtesy of either Simon or his sisters, one can never know.

The phone rang on the settee nearby, a slight vibration that offset the silence that had taken over her bedroom. A slight peek showed the caller to be one of her long forgotten cousins, probably doing his monthly call up and acting concerned over her health and well-being. She knew Simon only wanted to show that he was a caring person, but had heard that he had already booked an estate she had refurbished in Dar es Salaam -. We’ll see how he will take over what isn’t his, she thought, almost laughing maniacally.

Mr. Okoye tugged furiously his collar, sweat dotted his upper lip and he continuously fiddled with his spectacles. “I still think you should reconsider. Think about what people will say.”

Mashika bristled with anger. This ended up drawing up more energy than she could give up. John was turning into a nagging old had, just like her mother.

“I do not care! Don’t you see? I am dying, fading away from a disease that only you and my daughter are aware of.”

Her sickly pallor had become more evident, even for a passing glance. Mashika never thought after a successful career in politics she would leave the world just like that, dying from cancer when no one in her family had ever dealt with it.

“My sons are too busy to even see their own mother. John, do not worry about insignificant things like people’s opinion.”

“It’s just not done. You’ve forgotten that it is an African society. People will talk about this for weeks after your demise.”

“People always talk. The fact that my last born will own majority of the property really wouldn’t be much of a shock,” came the bored reply.

“You cannot just pass most of your wealth to one person. To make matters worse, it’s a girl!”

“My daughter is the only person who is not giving me grief currently. I want to leave this earth happy. My dear John, if only you knew how much those others have made life a living hell.”

40 years ago

Mashika walked the trail up to her aunt’s house. She really couldn’t get more embarrassed but it seems this is the hand that life had dealt her. Her father was in prison and her mother was just an ordinary housewife. And here she was begging for scraps from her aunt who was truly revolting. Her aunt would rather be dead than asking for a relative to live with her.

 “You again!” her aunt Rukiya said. She had already seen Mashika before she even reached the gate.

“Jambo aunt,” Mashika said. The timid voice came from a waif if not malnourished 17 year old girl.

Her aunt looked at her with disdain, her slightly round belly the only mar on an otherwise immaculate appearance. Mashika heard that it would be a boy. He would probably be as heartless and mean as his parents and siblings.

 A slight peek upwards into the storied building showed the mirthful face of her mean cousin who was a pointing finger at her, and her older sister appeared at the window slightly after. Rukiya never allowed her Mashika’s type of people to sleep in her house. She thought they would sully her house and make it smell. Like I would want to step in your house, Mashika thought. Little did her aunt know that it smelled like left over dried fish that had rot for about two months. Her house always gleamed outside, a storied house with an American architectural outlook. Beautiful as it was, it always stank to Mashika.

 “I thought you were done with your unwanted visits. Didn’t you already finish school?”

“Not yet aunt. Mama asked that you please spare some pocket money for me and if possible, you could drop me close to school.”

“Where are your belongings?”

“I left them at school. I only have this bag with me.” Mashika indicated the worn bag hanging limply by her right hand.

After tossing her up and down, a slow perusal that made Mashika ashamed due to the old second hand dress she wore and her almost bare sandals that had no sole, Rukiya told her to stay outside as she gathered her handbag. Mashika’s aunt and uncle were dropping their daughters to the posh boarding school a few miles away from their home. The good part was that Mashika’s school was not so far off from her aunt’s home.

The bad part was aunt Rukiya’s husband was similarly bad if not worse than her aunt. Tambo stepped on everyone’s toes because he worked at the largest plastics manufacturing plant as one of the regional heads. No one had a car like his back at home. His ego was so big; Mashika’s mother once commented that it might be what might get him killed in the end. Tambo was unpredictable even on the best of days.

“I really don’t know why we have to deal with your relatives. They are insufferable and far too simple minded for us to deal with,” Tambo whispered loudly as he approached the door.

“I didn’t call that girl here. She just showed up!” aunt Rukiya replied.

“Can’t they call first before they make the trip to here?” Tambo asked, “This is not some charity that hands out money for the sake of it.”

Tambo glared at Mashika as the belongings of Racheal were put in the boot of the car, daring her to ask any more than she had. The whole family settled in, Mashika placed at the back. If it were possible, she would have sat in the boot with Racheal’s things, but it was packed.

The silence as they drove to Racheal’s school was steely, the only sound coming from the radio. They hit a bit of traffic as the car reached the intersection. Mashika continued to look towards the dashboard, counting the minutes as she reached closer to her destination. All of a sudden, the car swerved to the left and parked, right in the middle of the road.

“This is as far as we’ll take you. Get out of the car,” Tambo ordered.

“Uncle, we have not reached and it’s in the middle of the road” Mashika said. She pleaded with a little frightened voice.

“Do I look like a chauffeur? Get out now!”

The cars around them were hooting, drivers hurling insults at the owner of the car that had parked in the middle of the road and was causing more traffic. Mashika grabbed her bag, opened the car and stepped out tentatively, and before she could close the door well, it had sped off.

A loud horn sounded behind her and Mashika turned, her throat swelled as she swallowed, only to see a lorry bound towards her. She had never crossed such a busy road before; she was definitely going to die. Warm liquid dripped down her legs as the big engine gunned towards her…

Present day

 A dozen individuals gathered outside the law offices. Some were bickering among themselves while others stood a bit further off from them. A few well-dressed gentlemen stood up as Mr. John Okoye arrived and led them into the interior of his chambers. A sullen face with red eyes stood close to them. Juliet, Mashika’s last born together with her older brothers. The others roughly brushed their way in. Once all settled in, Mr. Okoye produced some papers from his briefcase, and settled on one in particular.

“As you all know, Miss Itanya Mashika passed on recently. Before me sit every person that has been mentioned in the will, and as executor of her estate, it is my responsibility to ensure that you all get what it due to you.”

The hushed murmurs started around the room. Silence befell its occupants as the lawyer cleared his throat and continued to read.

“To Simon, Racheal and Daisy, she left a sum of five hundred dollars each written on a cheque. You can come and collect them after I am done.”

Shock and horror displayed onto their faces, they turned to each other, each one more deathly pale than the other.

“The amount of two hundred dollars has been left to other surviving cousins Victor, Norman, Sweets and Charles Akenzua,” Mr. Okoye said, “To her sons, Mashika left the Dar-es-Salaam cottages to Emmanuel and the Victoria View Hotel and assorted B&B’s to Lucas. The rest has been left to Juliet,” the lawyer concluded.

 The sudden uproar in the chambers took everyone outside the office by surprise. Yelling, shouting and death threats hurled out to Juliet and her brother while they cowered into a corner.

“Silence!” John said, “My sole duty was to make you aware of the deceased’s wishes. You can voice your complaints out of my offices. None of you is my client, apart from my former client’s children!”

“It’s an outrage!” Simon barked, “My mother took care of her and this is how she repaid our generosity? With peanuts and her child at the helm of a fortune that was meant for us?! We have debts to pay, that money is supposed to be ours!”

The shouting began all over again, each voicing why they had more right to the wealth and threatening to have the will revoked or wishing death upon her children. After a shrill shout, order was restored.

“Mashika left one last statement to be read out at the end of this meeting,” said Mr. Okoye.

“I have searched all my life for meaning and purpose as to my existence. I lived a childhood and youth full of hardship and shame. My life as an adult changed my perception, my will to be gone from a life I didn’t wish to live. I wish to think I have lived a life worth having. I helped people succeed, fed people, built communities and offered advice. Life was however, too short; I did not get to teach my only living relatives, life’s lessons before I left the earth. All the money in the world cannot buy the most important things in this life, and I want each and every single one of them to know. John, the only reason I even helped some of these people was because they were the lesser evil compared to their parents, or so I thought. With time however, they showed their true nature. The apple never does fall too far from the tree.”