The Perchyderm

THE PERCHYDERM

By onyango lenox

He is sitting there lacking anything to do. He had told me that there was no way the year would end before he would be able to end the year before marrying Tamara. Now the one am speaking of is Jarabai. The latter is my good friend. We have been bred well across the Kalande Estate. Needless to say this guy was a bachelor, indeed a senior bachelor because his age was considered too old if yet he was still single.

I remember when he broke the news to me, “I am going to marry Tamara whether she accepts or not.” “come slow on this sir, it is not as easy as you opine.” I think I boomed back. “Look here I want you to accompany me, so tomorrow morning, we go, it’s a two hours’ drive when the streets are busy and halved when the zeal of many has cooled down on the road. The day if I remember correctly was 30^th of December of that year.

“Has she accepted your proposal, or you are walking blindly like an animal attempting to attack the porcupine and of course will get spiked with the thorns,” I said with much ease that I think was too disgusting, and still think. Now let me tell you the story of Jarabai, he was a qualified accountant and was recently employed by county government and was a mushrooming rich man I say. He possessed a government car which was a new shiny brandished Volkswagen Toureg. He was growing a small public opinion as a result of his hyena-appetite to roasted beef served with hot pepper and a cold Johnny Walker beer. I think this is what made us friends, I did not drink any such beer or the local Simba Waragi. I only enjoyed the huge chunks of mouth-watering beef that when roasted would subdue the acrid air and make the hungry experience a mock satisfaction.

On matter of his dressing, I thought this I knew better than him. He preferred some khaki trousers and a pilot shirt which was given a tincture of black leather shoes. The shoes were always well polished that even in his car he possessed much shoe brushes and a black shoe polish wax. He would drive and occasionally pull over the road and check his shoes if it had any minute stains of dust. Even it was not found any stain, he would go on and polish the shoes.

“Ok I accept to accompany you, ensure you put on a nice suit for when going to an in-law you don’t be so casual,” I replied, and I saw him nod and smiled a bit before he bade farewell me. “I repeat, by tomorrow, I’ll be married, ehee…you keep watch,” he said turning the latch of his mahogany door. He bade farewell me and so we made ourselves scarce for each other.

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The following morning was the D-day, the final day of the year which still I refuse to say. I woke up that morning and made myself acceptable as an important co-guest, in fact, a distinguished one. I wore my pink suit which was sourced from Turkmenistan and my pair of shoes which were so shiny that it could reflect much light that could be screened hundreds feet away. On this I tell the truth. I wished I could know the looming danger that was approaching like a clandestine enemy hidden among your troupes in a battlefield. I walked and took the route to the train to Jarabai’s pace.

I found Jarabai seated at the balcony, enjoying the infrared or rather the vitamin D that it seemed he was absorbing the two like a siphon dipped in a well. His dressing was more than I had instructed. His light green tuxedo, Japanese suit that was enclouded beneath by a pair of white sharp-shooter shoes. The flowery tie and the congruent pocket square made the suit over-complete, he stood and that was when I noticed the head gear he had made, this was made from a colobus monkey skin. It made that man more authoritative, and I was reassured with that head regalia, Tamara would give in immediately.

He shut the door and we marched to his Toureg that was perfumed with such an aromatic spray and some deodorants that if an ant passed by, it would be choked by the smell thereof. He entered the car and I followed, he told me to drive and I accepted the offer for I did want him to be stressed more. I started off the engine and turned on the music, where I enjoyed the booming soundings of Bill Gaither’s songs especially the ones from the Tent Revival. I tried to glance at my client, whom I was driving, and he seemed lost in thoughts and I did not want to disturb the ambience.

During the way, he could occasionally throw some words like, “I hope I will make it, after all his father is also an accountant like myself.” He said that with such a great finality, that made me think we had arrived our destination.

On arriving the scene, even our destination, I am frog marched to the compound. The gate is so big that even two trucks could pass through. “Welcome,” I am told by an old man, whom I later learned to be the security guard who was guarded with much fire arms, and I knew that the mission which I was in did not need any violence induced thereof.

We are being welcomed into the house. The house was well prepared and now it was no joke since our hosts seemed ready to tackle our ideas.

“Ok welcome so much, my son, it seems you are the expected guest, my daughter Tamara told me about,” the old gizzard boomed and we felt a great sigh of relief. “Well thank you so much, I am Jarabai, I am the guest and my friend here is called..,” he looked at me for any approval and after I had nodded he continued, “is called Ongwano, he is my great acquaintance,” he continued and stopped.

“So my son, Jarabai, how comes you want to marry my only daughter, Tamara my love, what do you offer,” he inquired and sipped a bit his passion juice as if to remind us that we were also allowed to drain our fragile glasses and lower there centre of gravities. So I was not adamant to drain mine, and I opened wide my buccal poverty and gave two big gulps. the host looked at me and nonchalantly marched towards me. He sat near me and I think I almost emptied my urinary bladder at that point but I managed to evade the menace.

“I am willing to give what shall be asked for,” Jarabai said and laughed. “Ok my son I ask for ten hectares of land,” he said and frowned that I thought I had erred.

“Ten hectares is too much, maybe you talk of livestock,” Jarabai intervened on his own behalf. Immediately after these words, he frog marched us to a path that led to a large farm. I saw such a huge herd of dairy cattle and on the other side of the ranch gigantic bulls that could weigh around three six kilograms each. We were silent and then he told us to make our dowry negotiations, it was totally impossible to give any valid value as the dowry.

“I can’t offer anything, I see you have everything, I lack anything to offer,” Jarabai said with finality and took directions towards his car. As the old rich man followed closely behind, I saw tears falling from the cheekbones of my friend, Jarabai. I also took the driver’s seat and did not want to ask anything. My client was crying.

As I looked at the Tamara’s father’s house, at the window of the first flow, I saw Tamara crying and in tears and was trying to calm us down.

So we left without achieving our goal but crying. Tamara would one day me married. “I am going to donate this clothes and this vehicle, they have failed me, I have nothing indeed,” Jarabai said and vowed to contact Tamara on her own. So we donated the clothes even mine. The vehicle was donated. “But I must get coupled with Tamara, even if it calls for what,” he said and sat down on his sofa set.

I looked at the gate and I think I saw Tamara coming in tears and sobs, Jarabai is also in tears, they couldn’t see each other. Surely, when troubles do come, don’t cry for the tears will block your eyes and obscure you from seeing the goals and the opportunities, ask Goro Wa Kamau, I am not being deceptive in this.

Tamara is coming, I am leaving the compound, she is crying and can’t see me. I see her groping for the door, as I leave the compound. I meet the sleek Nissan Patrol vehicle entering Jarabai’s compound with a police Land Rover full with armed men in blue.

I think I had some gunshots when I was many miles away from the compound.