A WAY OUT

Machines beeping. A certain smell feels in you. Not of happiness but despair that there is no tomorrow and if a believer of The One above, there was hope filled with the offering of a prayer to guide you.

Holding the hand firmly, while the other was asleep, tears flowed down his cheeks. Unfortunate was the event. It was not the time for the other to go yet, it was too early, he had an obligation which he saw it as a happy occasion to provide the other that side of life. Softness and not hardness. With heavy breakfast of eggs, omelet, sausages, juice or soda and breads made from the bakery, a variety of them like four. Add to that pinch, a sense of travel. Moving around the cities of the world and taking nice photos of the skyscrapers and filling in with the various cultures of the world. From the Eiffel Towers in Paris to The Great Wall of China, to the bridges in Cincinnati, churches in Spain to the mosques in Sofia.

Frail was the other, he did not want to look any more. He wanted to be distracted a little, enjoy even a brief moment of the world he was in, a fresh breath of air. He could not move out still, he wanted to be there, perhaps his presence will give light, a healing to his parent. To awake his parent from the deep sleep. So he decided his phone was the solution. Memes were the distraction. He tapped on the WhatsApp app and checked on the status. God favours his creation, he was filled with laughter for with every post there it was hilarious. Suddenly his inbox pops up.

“Who is this now?” he asks himself of who was disturbing his peace. It was seven-ish in the evening, stars filled the sky and street lights emitted its radiance to the outer world, blessing them with thankful words, “Jehovah, it was tough, but we did it, the day has passed well. Tomorrow is another day to struggle,” being stated.

He wanted to ignore that text but the name was one not to be ignored, it was Mr. Iyeno and that meant his close family was calling. Blood duties were never to be ignored. Call me was the message. He dialed the number.

More burden piled up, it was not good news; his brother who was in high school was in problems. He was bright, that he did not complain about, but he was always hungry every now and then it was phone calls with issues of not eating well, of not being satisfied. He used to give him lectures of how his days were. Not enough food to eat, but look where he was now. Working at the biggest telecommunication company in the country and with a repute in Africa and the world as a whole. He worked at Colleto.

Just when he had sent his brother pocket money, he received a text message from his distant aunt in the village. It always was first an ask then followed by a reminder of how good she was when he was young. Giving him food to go to school and back when he was at home. She gave the reason that now old, she needed assistance for she was not strong as before where she rode a bicycle 5 km apart to ferry maandazi, viazi karai and pilau to sell to schools during break and lunch time. Those were the brighter days, the sun though had set and it was moon time.

Not that he did not appreciate that assistance, he was a man of honour after all, that was what he was called by his friend, “Yeno, you are a well behaved person,” but finances, there was a need to upgrade to something, way above the one he was currently. He sent a small something to his aunt.

He was careful though, sometimes he used middlemen to assist her; he did not want an issue when he died. He was told by a lawyer friend of his that the law can cater for her as a dependant when he dies, somehow he could inherit something from him, especially those contribution to pension schemes. He had not searched more on it, he did not have fees to pay to ask for assistance on that. Additionally, when he was told that it was during a past time, they were coming away from work, had gone to drink coffee and to add more weight it was Friday welcoming the weekend. Though he did not know the real stand, it was never bad to be cautious. Ignorance after all, he was even told by the same lawyer was not a defense.

The time for him to go back home had come and it was then that an idea came. Moments of sadness, where you are in between places and where your heart is heavy is when imaginations come and a moment away a click to something worthwhile comes by. He took a notebook with him which he carried everywhere he went and wrote the idea that was in his head. He would write about it more clearly when he reached home.

Five minutes later, he was at home. With his laptop he wrote it down and after finishing he copyrighted the idea, the next day was for reaping his creativity.

***

The security guard noticed how happy he was when he entered the office that day. He commented on that to the reply by Yeno, “what a blessing day it is today.”

He did not want to wait any longer, immediately he entered into his manager’s office and laid down the idea he had the other day.

“I will get back to you,” his manager answered him.

***

That was two weeks ago. He was on a dinner date with his girlfriend and the conversation that came was,

“Why do I get this message of promotion on my phone from weird five numbers telling me about getting call signature or even downloading songs as ringtone or even engaging in betting and if I wanted to stop them, my message of stop will be charged? Can you as a worker at Colleto stop it?”

“Wow, this idea is making me rich,” thought Yeno.

The idea was to engage companies and considering they had the mobile numbers as a telecommunication company they send texts of advertisements to customers to enable them enroll to promotional things and having ringtones or betting and make it so often that people get tired. If they want to stop, they text “stop,” and then they will be charged. So it would be an earning machine for both that company and Colleto, where they share the spoils and everybody walks happy. Give and take principle, to eat, you must be eaten, as the initial first messaging it costs credit but when the stop is texted back they earn also.

<The end is but a sparkle of other writings>

*Viazi karai to mean spiced fried potatoes.

Photo by Lon Christensen on Unsplash

*All instances relatable either living or dead are purely fictional and it is not meant to be a legal advice*

Abiyo Omar

Abiyo, born in Kenya, likes writing, dwelling on poems, scripts and philosophy. He posts in this website a short story on Tuesday and a poem on Saturday. He has a YouTube channel called Abiyo Omar where he posts Spoken Word. He also has another YouTube channel called Olryz Productions that features Swahili films. Abiyo by profession is a lawyer and a certified professional mediator.

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