Irakabiri

Chapter Two

A few hours later after she had sent Mr. Gihu to his house, Zuba decided to pay a visit to her much older neighbor - Bukuru, a single old man whose wife and kids had abandoned in Burundi and started a new life in Belgium. His bank account had suffered when his pharmaceutical company went out of business against one of his competitors a few years ago. Bukuru had gone on a downward spiral afterwards, drank more often and was aggressive towards anyone who came close to him. As a safety measure, his wife had taken the little money she had stacked over the years and started a new life with their two sons far away from him. The divorce papers had been handled by their respective lawyers and the two had agreed that once their oldest son turned fifteen, they would come back and visit Bukuru for Christmas.

At the beginning of the year, Bukuru had been able to withdraw from alcohol and instead just smoked weed every night. He had admitted to Zuba one day that he was doing it for his kids, "I don't know how much they remember of me, but it isn't pretty for sure. I am hoping that this December they can see their dad in his best shape so hopefully I can quit smoking too. I have started going to the gym, you know, in case they run around hoping I can catch them."

Obviously Bukuru was either in denial or he truly believed that everything would go back to normal once the kids were back home for Christmas. On the other hand, Zuba could not stand Bukuru's ex-wife as she felt Bukuru had been betrayed at the very moment of his life when he needed support. One night in a heated argument with his ex-wife over the kids schooling, Zuba had witnessed Bukuru cry for the first time. She had then confessed, "I wish she would show up here! The woman is a manipulator and an opportunist, maybe this divorce was the best thing that ever happened to you." Zuba was all in her feelings as her hate towards women in general was justified; the signs were out there even when she wasn't looking. It was a woman who had abandoned her, another who had bullied and excommunicated her, dozens of others who in one way or another had betrayed her. She was safe around men for the most part.

Tonight, Bukuru was going to provide a small bag of weed that she would bring to Butoyi for his services. As he always said, "Anyone who wishes to encounter heaven alone is selfish." Bukuru was mostly generous with this marijuana.

On her way to Butoyi's house Zuba bought some fruits and vegetables from the street vendors. All women. Not the ones she could not stand. No. These women were giving up comfort to feed their kids. These were goddesses in her eyes and although she could afford going to the supermarket or even send her housekeeper to do the groceries, she loved listening to their conversations. Despite her own effort to obliterate the silent voice within her that longed for some feminine energy, she still spent her Sunday afternoons at the café near the women's fruit stands. Sometimes she would offer to pay for their lunch or buy the remaining items for double the price.

*

The white Toyota Rav 4 honked at Butoyi's gate by 6.45PM. A young man came and opened, Zuba drove through.

"I told you to come at 7.30PM, what exactly are you doing here?" said Butoyi.

"Jeez! Aren't you happy to see me?" Zuba replied, "Is that how you greet people now by shooing them away?"

Zuba got out of her car and took out the groceries. She felt like a big sister to Butoyi and every now and then she would stop by and bring some groceries on the pretext that he would die of hunger otherwise. Butoyi was an orphan who had managed to take himself through school and ended up being one of the biggest programmers in the city. Although several of his extended family now tried to claim him, he had already established his family amongst his close friends. The two had met four years ago outside of the Cabana Club, Zuba on the night of her Grandmother's funeral, him on his graduation night. He had gotten into a fight and was too high to defend himself, Zuba left her then boyfriend to drive him home and the rest is history.