The Lone Guitarist and Other Short Stories

By Kitui Wakape

This is a compilation of a short story based in Kenya. It captures varied themes especially those that focus on family. It includes responsibility, marriage, divorce, illness, affairs, not to mention separation and death. Readers will be struck by how the themes have been brought out and the unique writing style employed by the writer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kitui Wakape
• Release date: Dec 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224839544

Kitui Wakape

Kitui Wakape has been writing for over ten years. His first novel The Sound of Goodbye was published by Asaph Office Publications in 2012, and 2016. Other works by the author include The Last Farewell series which is a sequel to his first novel. In 2015, he began writing short stories which he hopes to publish as a collection. The Girl With a Winsome Smile was written in 2020. Currently, the author is writing his last full-length fiction, Salma. Kitui Wakape lives in Gikambura, a small and quiet trading centre south of Nairobi, Kenya. He spends his time tutoring, taking photos, and writing both fiction and non-fiction. He blogs regularly at Tekaway.blog, and StroryElimu.blogspot.com.

Book preview

To Dorcas and Nduta

For your company when I needed it most.

And for Mutiga and others...

For the fun and precious moments we shared.

To Soledad, Juliet, Wainaina, Brian and Gathagu

It was a privilege having you under my care.

1.Not Ready for Good bye

Madam Jasmine stepped inside the classroom and the rain that was descending downhill began hitting the iron sheet roof. She quickly bolted the door and stared nervously through the window at the gate. She had just seen off one of her pupils. Zawadi's guardian had phoned the office and asked that she be released for home. Jasmine had obediently done so but hadn't seen the rain coming.

As she stared outside, she wondered whether the girl had run home fast enough or if, just like her, the rain had caught her unawares. The rain soon hit the windows obscuring her view. She slowly withdrew to the back of the classroom and began rearranging learning materials pupils had left haphazardly on the floor when home time came. When she was done she sat at her desk and stared dreamily at the ceiling.

Madam Jasmine! She was roused to reality by the contemptuous voice of the headmistress.

Jasmine hurried to the door and opened it panting. The headmistress eyed her head to toe disdainfully. She was under an umbrella and made no effort to greet Jasmine though they hadn't met during the day.

The rain had reduced to a drizzle but it was enough to wet someone. Puddles of water had collected in different places around the compound and particularly in the middle of the assembly ground where there was a depression. Jasmine was glad she'd released pupils early enough before the rains. But she couldn't stop worrying about Zawadi whose parent had to phone first before she was released.

Did you ponder about what I'd told you?  The headmistress interrupted her thoughts, staring through her.

Jasmine shivered... again. A frozen subtle breeze was blowing, making her regret; in retrospect, why she hadn't carried a sweater on what had been a warm Friday morning.

I’m not ready... she whispered, her commanding teacher's voice quivering.

The headmistress grimaced, several lines running across her large brow. In her right hand she played with her car key while the other gripped the umbrella firmly. Her eyes surveyed the compound in a heartbeat and when they settled on Jasmine, they were as dark as a moonless night.

You've no choice, she said bluntly. She eyed her disgracefully, as Jasmine's long and loose-fitting dress danced a little on her chubby body. If you do it, you'll have all your benefits just as I promised you. Or else I'll do it for a fee.

As she moved away, Jasmine's uncertainties abounded with each step the headmistress made. A few minutes later, Jasmine sat at her desk to complete the teacher-on-duty report. When she was done and with the light dimming in the west, she locked the door and handed the keys to the night guard before walking home.

JASMINE WAS PLEASANTLY surprised to see Zawadi walk in through the gate hand-in-hand, as usual, with Mutiga. She had been worried that Zawadi wasn't going to show up when it reached 9 and she hadn't arrived. It must have been the rains...it could have given her a bad cold, she'd thought.

She temporarily stopped marking pupils' math assignments just to look at the two. The pair walked leisurely on the assembly grounds holding hands with no care in the world as they laughed. Jasmine then concluded crossly that it was Mutiga's fault that Zawadi had run late by over thirty minutes.

He was naughty, always landing in trouble for all offenses, but most of all he derived pleasure sticking gum on pupils' seats. She'd tried separating the two but they always found their own way of coming together... like now.

Teacher, I'm through, a boy at the back said. But Jasmine was too preoccupied to hear him, though.

Zawadi was the first to step into the classroom because Mutiga had suddenly realized, after reaching the door, that he desired to go to the washrooms. But it was too late for Zawadi to tag along. Jasmine had stood at the door gazing down at her.

Her hair had been plaited in thick lines that ran from the front to the back of her head. The lines looked lovely to Jasmine. Her school dress was clean and well-pressed so much different from her companion who'd just walked in. The only similarity was that he'd looked after his hair by having it shaved. Yet Jasmine shook her head sympathetically for it was grimy. She quickly asked that they copy and complete the sums on the board.

She suddenly stopped and walked to Zawadi's desk to make sure that she was on the right track. She smiled pleasantly after she noticed that Zawadi had already written the date.

You can now get on with the sums, she urged her sweetly before moving to a desk in front of Zawadi's.

One, two, three, four... Mutiga started counting seriously. Jasmine turned and gazed at him. Zawadi noticed this and smiled knowingly. But Mutiga went on, his head bowed. Jasmine slowly walked to his desk and watched as he subtracted five from eight.

He'd drawn eight sticks under eight and was crossing out five. And though she was upset that he was counting out loud contrary to her directions; as it made other pupils to lose count, she was pleased that he'd arrived at the correct answer.

In row two, Imani's hand was up having finished the entire assignment. Her technique of using her fingers to count had always made her top the class most often in speed; for at times because of omission she would get one or two sums wrong. As Jasmine marked her work, she couldn't help but notice how all of them had grown.

Most arrived on their third birth day while a few joined along the way. While she sat in her seat to let the most struggling finish, her eyes ran around the room. She recalled nostalgically twenty five of them as they wailed as soon as their mothers had left them in her hands. Yet Zawadi had been different. She'd gone straight to sleep. And then she was up, her right thumb in her mouth and staring at Jasmine with a beautiful set of brown eyes. They had been drawn to each other at that time as Zawadi never seemed bothered that her guardian had left.

She watched Zawadi count her fingers as she tackled the last question and felt proud. As her first and only teacher, she'd seen her grow up from a tiny timid girl to this grown person who always listened to her instructions. Zawadi suddenly looked up and their eyes locked. She quickly looked away, smiling sweetly. They always did that almost daily.

Mutiga was in row three. And though he'd gone silent, Jasmine could clearly see how difficult it was proving to be. Once in a while he'd forget and when he'd notice the teacher staring at him, he'd stop counting shyly.

She remembered this emaciated boy with unkempt hair the first day he'd arrived to her class. And she'd known by just looking, that he was trouble.

He's stepped on my foot, Zawadi had reported tearfully while pointing an accusing finger at the new pupil. Jasmine had been infuriated, regretting why she'd allowed him to seat at Zawadi's desk. Jasmine had stopped copying sums on the board and quickly walked to Zawadi's desk.

Tell her that you're sorry, she'd demanded while Zawadi sobbed.

Mutiga had stared at the floor wishing the problem to go away before mumbling something less satisfactory to Jasmine. Look at her and apologize, she'd stressed every word.

Sorry, he'd said awkwardly before resuming his work. Jasmine had placed a comforting hand on Jasmine's shoulder.

Mutiga was overage his parent insisting that lack of fees had kept him at home. The new order from government that every child of school-going age must be in school had left her without an option. He was five-and-a-half in a class of three-year-olds. The boy was self-conscious yet he got used along the way.

Jasmine turned a little. Joseph had cleared his assignment. He was preoccupied with a bubble he'd formed in his own saliva. He was smiling to himself and Jasmine smiled