Tribulations of Mark: Part 5

From part 4

Many people detest Mondays. They don’t feel like waking up and going to their various places of work. The reasons they give for hating it are varying.

Starting from hangovers due to heavy drinking over the weekend, overindulgence in certain dubious activities, and also laziness.

Mark knew one thing; he did not feel like waking up. His body was still tired and aching. The throbbing inside his head had subdued but not completely.

He decided to call in sick at the school he taught. He had issues to solve. And since it was still early, he pulled the blanket over his head and went back to slumberland.

He woke up with a start one hour later, at first disoriented and not even knowing where he was. As he was used to, he stretched, yawned and scratched his bearded chin.

Involuntary, his mind started racing back, reminding him of all the disturbing occurrences that had happened to him. He shook his head to clear it and jumped out of bed ready to tackle the day and the week ahead.

Having taken a hot shower and dressed nicely in a greyish suit, Mark left the house and headed to town.

On arrival, he went to a hotel to take breakfast, something he was not used to, but now he had no option. After paying the bill, he started moving towards the Central Business District - (the heart of Nairobi City).

He moved to a mobile phone shop and bought a Samsung phone, and this made him remember how he was conned. This time he had decided to avoid the come easy ones.

As he moved towards Nairobi’s C.B.D, he wrestled with thoughts of his wife. He wondered why his heart ached so much. He tried hard to get rid of her in his perturbed mind.

Within minutes, he was nearing the bank where his wife worked. The bank was already open, he walked in. There were a lot of customers in the queue as was the trend in many banks.

Not that the number of customers was overwhelming but the services they offered were very poor. One would queue for more than an hour to make a deposit or a withdrawal.

And if you thought you were wise or a technology savvy person and went to the ATMs, then you would be disappointed for nothing. Most of them had stickers saying they were out of order.

Others were displaying an error message, “Sorry I am out of service.” So the remaining working ones were being fought for.

The branch manager sat back on his chair surprised. “You, what do you want?” He asked Mark with hatred and murder written all over his face.

Mark stood staring at him as if he had seen an apparition. “Where is my wife?” he asked in an intimidating thunderous voice.

Luckily he did not need any of their services today, but there was someone he wanted to see. He dashed his eyes here and there like that of a lost chameleon before they rested on a specific door.

From where he was, he could see the words very well, Branch Manager. Mark walked rapidly across the slippery floor, pushed the door as the notice on it indicated and found himself inside a relatively small office.

The piggy man looked up suddenly pushing an empty cup of coffee to the side. He had a bandage on his left eye and his upper lip was swollen to the size of a mountain.

Mark realized he could have done more damage on that Friday night was it not the interference of the revellers.

The manager pushed his seat back as if ready to flee. “Man,” he said in a lowered voice. “This is an office; we can sort out the matter, later on, just you and me.” Beads of sweat started trickling from his fat pig-like face.

“We are going to solve it right now, and right here in this office of yours because I believe it is where it all started.” Mark moved forward towards the table. His voice sunk to a husky whisper. “How dare you play around with my wife …?”

There was a sudden sharp shrieking sound so unexpected that it startled Mark almost making him bolt.

He heard hurried footsteps, and a commotion ensued in the main banking hall as people responded to the sound of the alarm.

The door to the office he was creaked open and when he turned back, he saw the ugly muzzle of an A.K. 47 assault rifle and behind it a not so friendly face of a police officer with eyes burnished of steel.

Far off to the left, another officer stood hunched with his gun cocked.

“Hands up where I can see them.” The harsh voice of the police officer was more terrifying than the gun he carried. “Make a false move and you are dead.” He was not bluffing, he meant it. “Lie down flat on the floor.”

Mark could not believe this was happening to him again. The foolish bank manager had raised the alarm for he knew there would be an instant response.

He felt the cold muzzle of the gun prodding his ear. The other police officer came towards him.

He pulled his hands together behind his back and placed cold shackles and locked them forcefully.

The two officers then hauled him to his feet and led him out towards the door. Upon reaching the glass door, Mark turned back and saw the manager smiling like someone who had invented a new kind of dish.

And to add insult to injury he winked at him as if telling him ‘I have won another round.’