Jabali's Redemption - Episode 5

 

FLASHBACK.

‘Neema hurry up with those dishes, I didn’t employ you to stare at your phone the whole day,’ Ma. Zainab screamed at Neema as she tried to balance the heavy plate of food and drink on her arms. She didn’t even flinch, after working at Swahili dishes for the past one month, she had gotten used to the screaming and boisterous loud noise from the restaurant owner. Her feet constantly hurt and her arms would nearly fall off but that didn’t seem to deter the heavy set woman from bashing her employees.

‘Here is your order,’ Neema placed the food down on the table as the eager customer thanked her.

‘Thank you,’ the girl smiled at her and Neema felt like Ma . Zainab screaming was worth it. She was happy to serve and enjoyed watching people eat and feeling happy.

‘Karibu, (welcome) enjoy your food,’ Neema replied as she made her way to the counter, where she waited for another customer.

Neema acted as a receptionist and a cashier for the restaurant. Ma. Zainab didn’t trust anyone with money but she made Neema an exception. Neema thought that Ma. Zainab didn’t have an option but let her man the counter. No employee had stayed more than two months at the restaurant and Neema could not blame them

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. The lady was a dragon, breathing fire to whoever was near. Apart from her and Ma. Zainab who was the head cook and another old and deaf man who was the one responsible for the delicacies they served at the restaurant. There was Lulu who was a dishwasher/waitress and another girl who did the same.

The restaurant was not a fancy place but it served delicious food. Neema knew that Ma. Zainab made more than enough profit to give the place a makeover but the lady didn’t do that. She insisted they work from a rundown building in the raunchiest part of town.

The place operated from early five in the morning to late nine in the evening. By the time Neema got home, she didn’t even have the energy to walk or talk. Only the bed was her solace. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

The door at the restaurant chimed and Neema looked up to see a group of men entering the restaurant. She sighed and decided that her day had just got worse than it was. The rag tag group of three men was known for harvesting tea leaves from the tea estates at night and selling them at cheap prices at processing companies away from the mountainous town. Since some of the tea estates were remote, the group took advantage of that.

‘Neema my darling come serve us,’ the leader of the group Majid called out to her. Shouting her name and gabbing the attention of the other diners.

Neema hated him with all her guts, he was a vile human who always smelled of unwashed bodies and acidic breath. Neema shivered just thinking about him, she was reluctant to serve his table but a look from Ma. Zainab eyes sent her moving.

Holding the menu close, like a shield she approached the table.

‘What would you like to take?’ she asked focusing all her attention on the small notebook Ma. Zainab insisted they carry when taking orders from customers.

‘You darling,’ Majid drawled revealing his cigar stained teeth. Neema prevented herself from gagging. Why didn’t he take a shower? She asked herself wildly. She completely ignored the other two men who openly leered at her.

‘What would you like to take?’ she asked again and hoped she won’t pass out from the stench surrounding her.

‘Go out with me on one date Neema, I promise you will like it,’ Majid continued completely ignoring her question.

‘If you are not going to order, then get out of my restaurant,’ Ma. Zainab shouted from the kitchen door where she stood arms akimbo with a mwiko (ladle) pointing at their direction.

Neema held back a smile, Ma, Zainab was a no nonsense woman. She hoped that Majid would stop disturbing her.

‘Ma. Zainab relax, it is not my fault that you have a very beautiful girl here to serve me.’ Majid countered and Ma. Zainab sent him the stink eye before turning back to the kitchen, leaving Neema to face her tormentors.

Gladly they quickly ordered what they wanted and Neema hurried away to deliver.

In the kitchen Lulu whose hand were deep inside the washing basin cleaning plates asked her what was wrong,

‘I hate Majid,’ Neema sighed as she piled food on plates, she kept a close eye on Ma. Zainab. If she found them conversing, they would be penalized for it.

‘I hate him too but I love money more, so go out there and make some money,’ she laughed quietly and Neema was glad she had someone to share her agony with, ‘I feel like my fingers will fall off if this goes on any longer,’ Lulu raised her shriveled fingers from the soapy water.

‘It’s either fingers falling off or having to face the leering gazes of Majid and the group,’ Neema laughed.

‘I would rather have my whole arm chopped off than be anywhere near that scum,’ Lulu colorfully put. They had both completed their form four exams and were waiting for results before eventually joining colleges for tertiary education. Neema didn’t have much hope for joining college, her mother couldn’t save enough money to take her there. Neema save every last of her penny for college, she figured if she couldn’t joint this year then the next year she would. Naiti was also helping by contributing part of his income.

Neema laughed as she swayed her way back to the customers, her arms laden with food.

She delicately placed them on the table and stood back, ‘enjoy,’ she turned on her heels and walked off. Luckily for her the men seemed to be engrossed in a conversation and didn’t pay much attention to her. They talked about a game change. For some reason Neema felt a malicious content in the discussion.

In less than ten minutes, they were done and gone out. Majid left her a huge tip like always and winked at her promising to be back for more. Neema didn’t want to ask what.

The lunch rush hour passed a bit quickly and Neema was happy her day was going to be over. She couldn’t wait to go home and sleep. That would be if Ngao her younger brother will let her rest.

It was almost five in the evening and the crowd had reduced only an old man sat an old man sat at the corner slowly seeping his tea while reading an old newspaper when the door chimed again.

Neema raised her eyes to come face to face with the dark eyes of Jabali Kasri.

He is back, she thought to herself as her heart rate increased and her palms grew sweaty. He was taller, probably taller than the last time she saw him though he had increased weight. He had been slender but now he was packing obvious muscles. Decently dressed in a black t-shirt and dark jeans with low heeled rubber shoes. He still had the-don’t-touch-me aura around him.

She had not seen him since that day he had apologized for her head injury. That had been six years ago. She had not seen him for six years. Since their encounter she had hoped he would come looking for her again in the plantations and strike up conversation with her but then she would feel silly for thinking that way. Why would he want to talk to her? She knew nothing. After their encounter, Neema didn’t hear any more clash between Jabali and her brother.

After his high school he had left town just like he came. Naiti said that he had gone out of the country to further his studies. Neema had been sad and happy at the same time. She had desperately wanted the fights to end but she somehow missed Jabali.

It took her a long time to admit she had a secret crush on him, his whole bad boy persona reeled her in like fish on a hook.

‘Take a picture, it lasts longer,’ Lulu breathed on her back and Neema nearly dropped the menu she had been holding tight on her hands.

‘You scared me,’

‘Uh huh, if it were Ma. Zainab you’d be bashed on the head, is that Jabali Kasri? Lord that boy has grown.’ Lulu exclaimed after training her eyes on the object of Neema’s fascination. He was now seated, completely ignoring both of them. The other waitress had gone ahead nearly stumbling on her feet to serve him. The menu on her hand and a not so subtle look on her face.

Jabali didn’t even pay attention towards her, to Neema’s chagrin. Why would he? Six years was a long time, he probably didn’t remember her. Neema sat back down frowning.

‘You know, you could go and greet him,’ Lulu decided to interject seeing the dejected look on her friends face.

‘Why would I do that? I have no interest in him,’ Neema spat back. Jabali was now a worldly man, he had travelled out of the country and probably had a foreign girlfriend, Neema thought sullenly. She could hardly wait for the day to be over to go home.

‘I know you have an interest on him or you wouldn’t be keeping his picture under your pillow,’ Lulu revealed amid small laughter and Neema’s eyes grew round as a plate. What?

‘How did you know that? Scratch that, I do not have his picture under my pillow,’ Neema said between her teeth her face growing warm. She threw a glance at Jabali but he seemed engrossed on his phone, a cup of steaming coffee in front of him. She thanked God that he wasn’t near to hear Lulu’s words.

‘Yes you do, you have drawn a love sign with a red marker pen around his face. Neema you like him,’ Lulu practically sing songed and Neema wished the ground would open up and swallow her. It was true, she had an old photo of her brother and his classmates at their last term in secondary school. She had managed to steal it from Naiti and hide it.

‘You know at first I always wondered why you would keep a photo of your brother’s worst enemy under your pillow but now I understand,’ Lulu continued smirking, clearly enjoying her friend’s discomfort.

‘That is not true,’ Neema’s voice lacked conviction as Lulu lay allegations at her.

‘Neema, Lulu I do not pay you to stand around and gossip. Get to work,’ Ma. Zainab shouted from the position she was in the kitchen and for once Neema was thankful of the boisterous woman. She didn’t want to continue hearing what Lulu had to say.

Lulu quickly dashed to the kitchen and Neema couldn’t help but turn her eyes towards Jabali.

He was looking back at her, his dark eyes trained on her like a hawk on a chick. Neema could feel her face grow warm and she looked aside. How did he manage to make feel like this without even opening his mouth to speak to her? Neema bit her lower lip in question. And why in the name of the lord did she react to him like that? He brought out emotions in her she had never felt before.

A chair scraped the old cemented floor as Jabali stood up and walked towards her. Butterflies filled her stomach. Neema became conscious of her looks, a thing she had never bothered with before. She was sweaty and her overall stained with food. She probably smelled of onions. A whole day running around in a restaurant could be brutal on your appearance. She sighed deeply, there was nothing she could do to elevate her appearance.

Ma. Zainab gave them white aprons and pink t-shirts she insisted they put on. Her t-shirt was tight on her booming chest that she always felt like it was ever increasing. No matter how much she tried to put on huge clothes, her chest always stood out plus her wide hips. Neema hated that she was fat.

‘Kahawa tungu (bitter coffee),’ he drawled, his voice deep and washed over her like cold water after a long hot day. He handed her a crisp new note and with trembling hands she took it. His fingers were long, clean and nails cut.

Neema completely avoided his gaze as she printed out a receipt for him, all this time praying she didn’t faint. She could feel his gaze on her as she worked.

‘Thank you and come back again,’ she handed him the change back and he took it only to take her right hand in his and place the money back on her sweaty palm, ‘keep it,’

Neema could feel the heat of his palm travelling to the length of her shoulder and warming her whole body.

Before she could ask why, he was out of the door.

……………………………………………

PRESENT DAY.

As Neema prepared to knock on Jabali Kasri’s door her phone released a shrill cry and she hurried to silence it. Turning around from the door, she picked inside her bag until she found it.

A new number flashed on it and she wondered whom it could be.

She pressed the call button and placed it on her ear, ‘hello?’ she whispered on it covering the mouth piece with her hand, she was conscious of her environment.

The person on the other side didn’t say anything, it was all quiet. Vuyanzi wondered if the network was bad but surely it was not. She was standing on Jabali Kasri office, his office wouldn’t lack network.

The person on the other ended the call abruptly. Neema looked at her phone and shook her head. She had important business to attend to and unresponsive phone calls would have to wait. Her brother couldn’t spend another night in jail.

Quickly turning to complete the business that brought here.

Her breath held on her throat as she nearly crashed into Jabali Kasri. She hadn’t heard him open the door and walk out. He stood there watching her a silent laugh on his lips, a laugh that didn’t reach his cold eyes. Neema quickly took a step back and she nearly fell on her two inches heels if not for his strong arms reaching out and snaking around her waist. Good lord, she breathed.

This act brought her close to his chest and Neema raised her small hands to lay on his wide chest, feeling the heat through his grey suit with a crisp white shirt and a red tie. His scent was mouthwatering and Neema wanted to bury her nose on his neck and drink to her fill. Spicy and woodsy at the same time.

‘Tsk tsk Neema, when did you grow so clumsy,’ his voice was deep and smooth like velvet and Neema nearly closed her eyes to relish at it but she remembered that Jabali was the man who killed her brother and has another one under arrest.

The thought made her pushed him away but he only managed to bring her close him, holding tight to her waist. Her hands flattened on his chest.

‘Stop man handling me Mr. Kasri,’ her voice was clear but Jabali didn’t pay heed to her, holding her close and looking at her. His gaze intent on her and like always Neema turned aside, avoiding his piercing eyes.

‘Jabali.

Read " The Dancing Bride And Her Spirit Warrior " by the same author ( Razia Iminza )

. My name is Jabali. Mr. Kasri was my father,’ Neema noticed the hostile tone but she ignored it, she knew all about the cold relationship between Jabali and his late father and the rest of his family but she was not going to go there. She was not going to take a trip down memory lane, not now. He released her and Neema managed to stand straight, missing the warmth of his hands on her. Jabali pocketed his hands deep in his pocket and swept her a look from her head to her toes, a guarded look on his face.

‘I came here to talk see you,’ Neema straitened her dress and the small coat she had on trying to look decent before the sharp looking Jabali.

‘I figured as much, come in,’ Jabali said his dark eyes back on her. He turned and motioned for her go in with his hands. Neema breathed in and entered his office. Feeling like she had stepped into a predator’s lair.

…………………………………………………

Hey guys just a correction. The story's title is Jabali's Redemption. Sorry for the confusion,

Much Love and i hope you are enjoying.

Mwaaaa. 

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