Confessions Of Nairobi Men Book 2 – Joan Thatiah

I tried her number—it went straight to voicemail. By midnight, my heart was racing. I paced our small apartment in Mirema, trying to tell myself it was nothing. She was fine. I dialled her number again, praying it would ring, but it didn’t. The apartment felt colder than usual, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the silence. I opened the window, hoping the cool Nairobi breeze would calm me, but it didn’t. The streets outside were quiet, except for the occasional rumble of a passing matatu, its neon lights flickering like ghosts in the night.

At 2 a.m., my phone rang. I lunged for it, hoping to see Kemunto’s name on the screen, but it was an unknown number. “Hello?” My voice cracked, betraying the fear gnawing at me. There was a pause on the other end before a low, gruff voice spoke. “We have your wife.” I froze. The words felt like a punch to the gut, leaving me winded. “Who is this? Where is Kemunto?” I demanded, my voice rising in panic. “Don’t go to the police,” the voice warned, ignoring my questions.

“If you do, you’ll never see her again. We want five hundred thousand shillings. You have 48 hours.” My heart pounded in my chest, each beat louder than the last. “We – I don’t have that kind of money,” I stammered, my throat dry. “Find it,” the voice growled. “We’ll call you with further instructions.” Before I could say anything else, the line went dead.

I stood there, staring at the phone in disbelief. My legs felt weak, and I collapsed onto the couch, my mind racing. Five hundred thousand? How was I supposed to find that kind of money? I dialled her number again, praying for some kind of miracle, but it was useless. Voicemail. The next 48 hours were a blur. I called everyone I knew, begging, pleading for loans. Some helped, others didn’t, but I couldn’t blame them.

It was a huge amount, more than most of them had ever seen in one place. Eventually, I managed to scrape together the ransom—loans, selling what little I could in such a short time, borrowing from people I swore I’d never turn to. By the time I had the money, I was exhausted.

Also by Joan Thatiah Things I Will Tell My Daughter (2016) I’m Too Pretty to Be Broke (2017) Letters to My Son (2018) Damn, Girl! Stop That (2019) Guilty- A Novel (2020) Everything I Know About Life (2021) Confessions of Nairobi Women (2022) Confessions of Nairobi Women – Book Two (2023) Confessions of Nairobi Men (2023) 1kitap1.com/en 1kitap1.com/en Confessions of Nairobi Men Book 2 First published in 2024 P.O.

Box 1108 – 00600 NAIROBI KENYA Copyright © Joan Thatiah 2024 Stori Zetu Books All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or uti- lized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including pho- tocopying and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the author or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A copy of this book can be found at the Kenya National Library. To purchase this book write to [email protected] ISBN 978-9914-37-128-4 Book design by Blu Graphics Communications [email protected] 1kitap1.com/en For Rex Thatiah, my brother, my rock. Rambo, this one’s for you. 1kitap1.com/en Contents Chapter One: A Mess of Chaos and Crimson Chapter Two: A Wounded Lion is Still a Lion Chapter Three: The Blue Mazda Chapter Four: Some Horrific Painting Chapter Five: We Buried My Father Shoeless Chapter Six: Chief of Staff Chapter Seven: The Smell of Motor Oil Chapter Eight: Scraps of Affection Chapter Nine: A Year with a Baddie Chapter Ten: Four Stick Figures Chapter Eleven: Time of Birth.

Time of Death I remember being admitted to the mental health treatment facility on a fog- gy Sunday in July four years ago, but I don’t remember barricading my- self in the bathroom. I am told it took four orderlies twenty minutes to break into the bathroom. By then, I had bitten into my left arm so hard that my veins and tendons were showing. The bathroom was a mess of chaos and crimson. Blood was gushing from my arm and forming a pool on the floor. The mirror was smudged with bloodied handprints, almost as if a hand had reached out for help.

The sink and floor were streaked with jagged red lines. The violence and urgency that had filled the bathroom in those twenty min- utes I was locked in were palpable, etched into every surface, every stain. I wasn’t always a mad man. Just a year before all of this, I was a happy, healthy thirty- two-year-old. I had a job I loved, selling biomedical equip- ment for a multinational company.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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• File Extension: .pdf
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• Title: –
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• ISBN: 9789914371284
• Pages: 155
• Language: English (en)

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