I looked at him dead in the eyes. I was scared out of my mind. There was no one else around. It was quiet and dark yet it was the afternoon. The doors were shut closed. He was towering over me. With a smug that broke into a smile and some hint of cockiness. He was in control, he called the shots. I was helpless...everything depended on him. The fear was riveting....tears trickled down my cheeks when he told me to lie on the bed.
My heart was racing, I was in total fear.....my mind ran and tried to understand what he wanted from me. Then it hit me square in the face. He wants what people do on tv. He wants tabia mbaya?!! Oh my god, I cannot do tabia mbaya. We've been warned by our parents that it was shameful and dirty. Only big people do tabia mbaya. I cannot go against authority.
Then I looked at him as earnestly and sincerely as I could muster. By then he had turned his back to me...he was looking for something.....I continued crying and asked him to let me go. I put icing on my request by telling him that I would not tell a soul. At that moment getting from doing tabia mbaya triumphed over the people he had told me were coming for me. The people who wanted to beat me up. He flashed a pen knife at me and told me that he would find me and cut me if I dared told on him.
He opened the doors and I fled. I ran, not looking back. Scared to pieces. I had a secret. I could not tell. Catch 22 in the making. Talk about the shameful, dirty tabia mbaya or be cut. He was real and ready to cut and I was eager to forget and please the society. Did I really escape or did he just take something from me that I cannot get back. Was it his to take or mine to give?
