I pace around the chain-link fence, eyes darting around, trying to find something to use. Another loud gust of wind blows dust and dry leaves into my face, a nudge to hurry up, else get caught.
“Maybe if I just-” I grab a handful of chain link fence in my small hands, right by a supporting pole. I figure if I can scale it, jumping inside won’t be so much of a task. I get to the top and peer down, the ground on the other side was much lower than the outside. I don’t want to die, not like this. As I try to stable my footing along the fence, I slip and fall backward with a muffled thump. A nearby thorny bush catches my shirt and leaves a tear deep enough to break skin around my elbow. It is bleeding, a small spring of blood emerging and forming a thick dark river down my arm, ending in a waterfall of pain around my wrist. I peer at my watch, turning all sides to see what time it is; 4:05 am. A dog howls in the distance, awakening the rest of the dogs in the neighbourhood. They begin to howl in intervals, a conversation I could not eavesdrop on. Did they think I was an intruder? Did they smell my blood and want a taste? I hope not. I look up, hoping for a little divine intervention, but all I meet is the blockade of thick cold clouds, the sky moonless. I am clearly on my own with this one. I have to work fast.
***
It wasn’t my idea to go out tonight, in fact, it will be my first time to taste what I had only heard about the Kampala nightlife. It is for a good cause though, the Batwenda sisters are switching schools next term, going all the way to Kenya; we won’t get to see them anymore. I met these girls in S1, five short years ago. We were not instant friends, unintentionally finding each other on the way to whatever we wanted. They thought I was unfriendly because I’d only hang out with my friend from primary school, Candy. I thought they were bullies because they were always together and had used their twindom as a weapon whenever they felt threatened. One afternoon as I listened to my tiny portable radio in the dorm, which was illegal, by the way, they passed by.
“You listen to the top 40 countdowns too?” one of them had asked. They told me their radio had been confiscated about 2 weeks prior. I had invited them to join me and we became inseparable; Candy, the twins and myself. We called ourselves ABC for Ady, Batwenda’s and Candy.
Now that we weren’t going to S6 with the twins we felt we needed to give them a good going away, Candy suggested we go out. I spend the day worrying about the night ahead because I know I won’t find a way out of the house at such a time so easily. When I go to my Auntie, who I live with, and try to come up with a bogus sleepover story, it all goes up in flames.
“Adong, what do you mean sleepover? Do you think I was born yesterday? You want to go and sleep in a young boy’s home?? You want to bring here babies??” Any attempt to convince her otherwise is met with stone-footed resistance, “I know those tricks! You’ll present one of your friends as a distraction kumbe they will sleep in their homes alone. My answer is no. You’ll see your friends tomorrow.”
I sit outside on the hot veranda contemplating… I can’t miss this. I need to be there for the Batwenda’s, and I’m also a bit curious; I’ve never been out before. They are to leave the next day at 8:00 am so there is no chance of doing this again. It’s so weird that their parents didn’t tell them until the last minute, maybe they were avoiding the opposition the duo would have put up.
I pick up the gate key and decide on a plan. No one is in sight, I assume it’s because the weather is at Sahara levels of sweltering heat. I am the only one mad enough to be out in the open. The way the gate makes noise when opened, one would think a child is doing that slow siren-like cry when they realise they are supposed to feel hurt after falling face first. I run into the house and slip a bottle top full of cooking oil. I lubricate the hinges of the gate until it swings open without any sound, without any friction. The hinges are better than new ones. I slip the key into the pocket of my jeans.
That evening I moodily eat supper with my elder sister and Auntie. I have to seem so disappointed that I won’t get easily found out. I leave “for bed” immediately after eating, and once I reach the room I share with my sister, start to change. I wear my blue Wonder Woman t-shirt and some black high waist jeans. I don’t want to stand out. Candy said they pick out us “youngins” when we try too hard to look grown. I spray on a bit of my sister’s perfume and smear on a little lip gloss. I use my ears to wait for the right time to move. When Auntie goes into the bathroom to wash off the day, I crack the door open and take my stealthy leave. I’m almost invisible, but my sister sees me from the corner of her phone screen and shakes her head disapprovingly. I silently beg her not to say a word, and she shrugs her answer. She is a little older than me and often reprimands me like a child. I know, however, that she won’t tell. Much as she disapproves, she is well aware of the extent of Auntie’s wrath.
I open the gate, and slip out, locking it behind me. I proceed to join ABC, out on the town. We go from bar to bar to club, tricking unsuspecting party animals into buying us shots, dancing our faces off and playing games along the way. I have lots of fun, despite it being my first time. Candy is a pro at this, so I just follow her lead. At one point in the night she stumbles upon people who are celebrating a birthday and they end up sharing their succulent chocolate dripping cake with us. We laugh and unsaid sentiments of pre-nostalgia are potent in the air between my friends.
At around 3:00a.m, I know I have to get home as quickly as possible to avoid being caught, so we hire an Uber and all pile in to go home. As we approach my quiet street, we convince the Uber driver to switch to neutral so that there would be no auditory trace of my arrival. I slide out of the Ipsum’s worn leather seats and shut the door ever so slowly. I make a wordless, tearful goodbye to my friends and watch as the car quietly rolls away and rounds the corner.
Once the car is out of sight I stare, forlorn at the fact that this is probably the last time I will see the twins for a while. Maybe in S6 vac, I’d organise with Candy and head there. Maybe they’d come home for Christmas. I reach into the back pocket of my jeans, where I slipped the gate key into after I locked the gate and feel uneasy at the smooth barrenness of my backside. I tell myself maybe it is in the wrong pocket, so I tap the other one, and meet a similar eerie feeling. There is going to be trouble. I freeze in place, my heart beating a mile a minute, sending tiny sweat beads to my forehead as I anticipate my fate. If Auntie finds me here… no. I will rather be dead. I remember when my cousin had been suspended from school for sneaking alcohol in, she first called an assembly and caned him from there, asked the teachers on duty to cane him as well, brought him home and decided to call pastors home and start a deliverance service. If she could do that to her own son, what of me! I know she is coming from a good place, wanting only the best for us but eish, the harshness!
By this time, I’m pacing outside the gate, biting my nails and looking at the fence, willing it to just quietly come tumbling down.
When it doesn’t I take two deep breaths and do something about it, I can’t just sit here and get myself caught, like a mouse in a trap. I examine the gate hoping the key would be there, maybe I hadn’t put it in my jeans and it had just fallen to the ground. I know this is reaching for the impossible because I would’ve heard the sound of metal hitting the ground. It isn’t there. I look at the thick padlock, hoping maybe it isn’t properly locked. Again, in vain. I’m breathing heavily, and start to wiggle my arms in the air, desperate. I walk along the fence and find the side that faces the window of the room I share with my sister. I know she implied that it’s not her problem whatever happens to me but I bet she could pass me the spare key to the gate, which is in the kitchen.
I call out her name, and after doing so 3 times with no response, decide on being silent; it’s just plain wisdom. A thief does not orbit the house he is about to rob beating a saucepan with a spoon.
That’s when the idea pops into my head, there is ample fence left. I could try and get in like a thief. “Maybe if I just-”
***
As I lay on the ground, muffling my natural instinct to yell out in pain, watching my arm bleed out, I know I have to do better. I have to get inside or die trying. I stand up, dust off the dirt that sits on my behind and look at my challenge, the barricade. I survey the fence looking for any area that was closer to the ground than my first disastrous choice. The smell of rust is mocking me the whole time, reminding me that I have failed once, and can’t afford to fail more. I start to regret going out or having such a clumsy plan to come back inside. Can’t blame me! This is my first time doing this mess; I’m not experienced in ‘sneakery’. A sharp explosion of thunder sneaks up behind me and tells me to stop dreaming and get to it. The only place I can try to climb is ironically opposite Auntie’s bedroom, I have to be super stealthy and silent with my landing. I go to make a step forward when I hear someone walking up the street, talking on the phone. I don’t want to be suspected of theft, or worse called out on my scheming ways, so I hide. I crouch down next to the darkest shadow along the fence and close my eyes, letting the blanket of the early morning shield me from sight. It wasn’t until the mystery wanderer was a long way off that I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
So I start again, one arm after the other, climbing up towards victory. My palms are sweaty, and I’m shaking from the cold. If this ends badly it will be a disaster; I have faith that it is my last viable shot, so I take it. I don’t look down as I jump into the overgrown grass on the backside of the house. I roll quickly away from the danger zone in case, despite my seemingly suave entry, Auntie heard something. I come up to my window and pick up a small stone, to knock and try to wake this girl up. I’m inside, but still in a danger zone. My watch reads 5:15 am as I prepare my persuasion plan. The rolls of thunder are more consistent now and are threatening to drop. “Adong, WHAT!!” She whispers loudly when I lift my head to knock at the window. Imagine! This ‘chick’ has been awake the whole time, watched me suffer and did absolutely nothing! I know she is a light sleeper; I just didn’t know how ruthless she was.
“Come on just unbolt the door, that’s all I ask!!!” I plead, close to tears. She reluctantly leaves the room and I hear the kitchen door come undone. I creep there slowly, as the first drops of rain anoint my back. I take off my shoes and proceed to stalk like a hungry cat, to my bed. I fall down onto the blanket with a wholesome, exhaustive crash and barely get under the covers. I’m still fully clothed, the bleeding has stopped by now and on the outside, a loud menacing patter of rain falls onto the iron sheet roof. I don’t have it in me to say anything to my sister, whether explaining or interrogating why she hadn’t just helped me in the first place. That would have to wait for tomorr…
The End.
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