i hear voices..or is it

"..I hear voices,..Wagithina!!", Waitherero says.  "aaii waitherero, what do you expect, we are in nappier grass plantation" I reply. "Peter you cant hear", she repeated. Any time Waitherero used my English name, I knew she was serious, I only used hers under humble and negotiating circumstances.

That day, having been a Saturday, we had come from attending Choir classes and rehearsing for roles for the next Sunday Service. The classes are led by teacher Wanjiru and Wandeto the priest and during the classes, me and Waitherero, usually sat and walked home thereafter together. The journey home could take us the better part of the afternoon, due to detours and other errands each of us could have been sent by our parents. We lived two homes apart, but always found a way of spending time in between those two homes, especially at the water well which was hosted by Mzee Ngorobias land. Mzee Ngorobia's was a very proud man and had alot of praise for his sons, except one, and his two daughters especially Wanjiru who had just been admitted to the district secondary school. He was so proud such that, he would carry the admission letters of his sons and daughter around and more so, to the village pub. Its at the latter, that the regulars swore that they can even rewrite those letters, word for word since Ngorobia had a habit of reading them aloud, one after the other when on his fifth beer. It was also such that, upon opening his fifth beer, Wanja, the bar maid who looked so dented, would suddenly be reminded by Ngorobia of how beautiful she was. This was also accompanied with a promise of how, he was going to employ her as a clerk of the cattle dip committee, which he shared. She had been promised this job for so long that, several generations of cattle had passed on since the day the first promise was made. Also since then, generations of wrinkles and more dents had also been added on Wanja's face, but after five beers, Ngorobias eyes used to brighten upon seeing her.

On this Saturday, Ngorobia was no different and on our way from Choir practice, me and Waitherero spotted Ngorobias old pick up packed outside the village pub. It was on this day, he had also passed by our homestead to show my father, his daughter Wanjiru's admission letter to the district secondary school. Me and Waitherero had once shared a class with Wanjiru and despite her rewinding twice, she was still two classes ahead of us. For some reason, me and Waitherero always used to fall on the repeating quartile of the class, talk about birds of a feather. On this day during the Choir practice, I had sat next to Waitherero and despite being together with the rest of the class in spirit and action,  my hand was together with at least one part of her anatomy throughout. Wanjiru Ngorobia sang her heart out during these sessions, but it was Wandeto's illustration of the dancing moves with her, I thought at first had more to them, especially where his hands mistakenly always used to roam. I found his illustrations similar to the ones I practiced with Waitherero, when showing her moves during these choir practices. But being a priest, any time he gripped Wanjiru, we would just brush it aside, as a pastor with passion for song and dance for the Lord.

On this particular Saturday, after class I suggested to Waitherero, we head to our usual spot - Ngorobia's farm, which if the nappier grass could talk.....This process, usually lasted me thirty minutes of convincing Waitherero and this made us always the last to leave the church. Upon spotting Ngorobia's pick up at the village pub and knowing the  daughter Wanjiru was thirty minutes ahead of us, we knew there was no chance of us being interrupted at his farm. When we got there, as my eyes roamed around looking for a good spot on the nappier grass, Waitherero suddenly became alert and claimed that she could hear voices. At first I hadn't heard, then I heard a wail. It was not a wail pain though it could have been, not of pleasure, though it probably was, but definitely feminine. This made me alert as well and on listening closer, I heard a mans voice growl, "aah ciru ..aah". Upon peeping, I could only see the a bald head come up and then disappear in the nappier grass, but I definitely recognized the man .......

to be continued.