The undesignated ghostwriter

“Please sir, I know you’ve been through a lot; but I need this,” she melted my heart as she knelt down and clasped my hands with her fair but rough hands. Oblivious to her entire team, she looked into my eyes as if I were her Messiah.

 “Rudo!” I reprimanded her in a sharp whisper, but she held onto me like a stubborn stain on a white shirt. Mortified, I helped her back to her seat with a carefully thought answer, “You’re an annoying toddler, did you know that?” I looked down; feeling naked as a hundred pair of eyes penetrated through my ill fitting jacket and baggy jeans.

“Don’t worry about my friends, they’re used to this,” she gave everyone in the room a warm smile and a quick naughty wink. “You’re quite impressive yourself, if I might say. You turned down five dozen offers ever since you left the joint two months ago,” she began with so much compassion in her voice. “Such handsome offers, all of them. Is it because you vowed never to write again?” her tone still the same but deep down inside I felt as if she was mocking me. 

“ Isn’t this a dangerous time for your kind to be outside,” I openly made fun of her hoping to turn her face red but to my surprise she was not moved a bit. Instead, she closed her eyes and laughed hysterically. 

 “I used to relocate to my mother’s childhood home in the rural areas during this season. Even still, I would stay in doors because I wasn’t entirely safe. I would spend the day studying as I could not go to school. A first it used to bother me but as I grew older, I understood the significance of my annual long sabbatical every five years,” she reminisced dreamingly. “I used to despise myself but now as you can see I am regarded as one of the most beautiful women in Africa. My skin is naturally porcelain white and my blonde afro is simply majestic.Being an albino, I should have never ventured into politics given our historical struggle with discrimination. If being adamant makes me a toddler, then I would rather be naive,” her words surged with pride. For a human being who had been presented with a foul hand all her life, she surely oozed with astounding confidence.

I lay on my bed with my eyes closed, and imagined what Darren Kgomo could possibly have written about me after the long interview I had with him that fateful morning. It was a long stretch to expect him to after what he’d been through a decade ago; but still I hoped that I had agonised him enough to at least think about it. He had went on to reject a couple more offers that very week, ten more in the month that followed until he eventually became irrelevant. The state had acquitted and compensated him for his wrongful imprisonment but it could neither turn back the hands of time nor erase the pain and embarrassment he went through. Who knows, maybe he experienced some kind of abuse during his incarceration but the last I heard of him was that he had retired to the solitude of humble farm life, far away from the madding crowd.

It was horrid to imagine that Darren had walked away from his great talent like some infectious disease which had inflicted him day and night. The woman who had destroyed his life had given up the ghost a month prior to his release but some how she still had a great hold in his life. Nombuso Mayiza, passionately known as the golden butterfly had devastatingly tarnished his image. Not only did she steal his upcoming bestseller; she also had his wife murdered and framed him in the process. To make matters worse, she further spat in his face by being a gender based violence activist. In super contempt mode, she led a smear campaign cleverly designed to taint his name so as to erase every shred of innocence in everyone’s eyes. He hardly could defend him; yet alone breath because there was no space left for redemption. It’s funny how everyone had been brainwashed to believe such a horrendous lie and the fact that his father-in-law did not like him nailed the coffin. He was separated from his two year old son and for ten long years he was labeled a monster condemned to life in prison without parole.

Beyond the prison walls, the evil witch continued to flourish. She stood on a pedestal and every little girl aspired to be a golden butterfly. Nobody knew the wolf she truly was until she was mysteriously murdered in her lavish home. Upon investigations, the police unveiled some shocking revelations about her. Not only did they discover Darren’s laptop which he had reported missing a week before his wife’s murder, they also found out that she was a drug smuggler. Although he was acquitted for the crime, the damage was already done, never would he write again and true to his word he refused to have his work republished in his name. He wanted nothing that reminded him of Nombuso Mayiza, the con artist who not only stole his work but also destroyed his family. She had pulled the wool over the entire world’s eyes and I felt disgusted at myself for ever admiring her.

“Excuse me Ma, am sorry to disturb you whilst you’re resting but a package just came in for you,” Dorothy my housekeeper interrupted me. 

“It’s fine, just put it in the study,” I called out feeling too tired and a bit lazy to wake up. I never imagined that being mayor was such hard work and this week’s work had taken an extra toll on me. Everyone was up my neck all the time just because I was not affiliated to any party but at the same time they were somewhat scared of me because I ran a tight ship. 

“Ma,”Dorothy called out nervously. “It’s no ordinary package, some weirdo dropped it off at the gate and walked away. I thought it would be unwise to just bring it in the house without you establishing what it was first,”her words frightened me but my curiosity was greater. I was a politician now and many people loved me but there were a few psychos who hated my guts, maybe one of them had left a bomb at my gate. 

In a few seconds I was at the front gate ready to inspect the “mysterious” package which one of my bodyguards ripped open in front of me. I could not believe what was before my eyes, the old fox had done it! Rising like a phoenix from the ashes he had geared up the courage to produce another masterpiece. 

“To a special friend who made me believe again,” read the dedication.