HOME AWAY FROM HOME?

Missed part one of the four part series, how about you start from the top and understand the genesis of all this. Start here  then continue below 😊

Monday arrived faster than expected. No sooner did Martin’s share hit the accounts than the guy had all his things packed and ready to go. His dad paid him a visit numerous times trying to speak some sense into him but all he got were rolled eyes and banged doors every time he tried.

The pain Cyril got on seeing his son leave that Monday morning brought untold sorrow. He couldn’t help but feel that he was losing his son for good just as he had lost his wife Maryanne. Martin drove off his father’s estate with not so much as a good bye to his family. His future never once crossed his mind. All he could think about was how he could have the time of his life. “After all, I have worked practically all my life for dad’s company. I can afford the long vacation. The future can wait.” He grinned as he drove out of his home town.

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Life in the big city was just as he hoped it would be. He had spent 5 months in the big city and still couldn’t get enough of it. He had acquired a new set of friends some of who were his campus friends. He was introduced to some beautiful girls that he entertained every once in a while in his apartment in Loresho. He had even done himself a good one and acquired an accent that went with that side of town. And boy, was Martin the life of the party. His friends trusted Martin to turn it up every Wednesday, Friday and Saturday when they went out clubbing in Westlands. And when he wasn’t partying, he always made sure he had some girl over at his place, netflixing and ‘chilling’.

You would think that he would slow down a little after all that carousing. But Martin was addicted to the high life, the girls and his living life on the first lane. It wasn’t until the eighth month when reality hit home. It was a Friday night, 11 pm. He was just about to leave the club he was in at Westlands so he could meet up with another set of friends in Kiambu. He had offered to foot the bills of his two friends and their girlfriends. He went to the counter and fished his debit card to be swiped. It beeped. “Wait, that has never happened before.” He said to himself in his almost drunken stupor.

“Sorry sir, your debit card is empty. Do you have any other mode of payment?” said the waiter.

“How much is it?” He asked, panicking as he looked at his wallet that was of course empty. “Fifty thousand five hundred and sixty, Sir,” replied the waiter, now getting impatient. He was used to this. Patrons drinking and forgetting their drinks had to match their wallets.

“Don’t worry Marto, we’ll get it for you. You’ve bailed us out enough times.” said one of his friends.

He mumbled a thank you as he left the club. “I had enough money to last me two life times. My debit card cant be empty.” He walked to his car in the parking lot, got in and fished out his phone to check his account balance. He couldn’t believe his eyes when the automated message came back. ‘Your account balance is Ksh. 20.00.’

Twenty shillings? He couldn’t believe his eyes. He had millions in there. Where did it all go?” He banged his hand on the car horn. "I must be dreaming. I'll drive home and sleep, I'm sure this nightmare will be over by morning. Probably my bank had a few technical issues that they would fix." Martin got home, switched off his phone so his other friends couldn’t call him back. That night he slept way earlier than he had in ages.

Saturday morning. 9 am. The usual hangover that he had gotten used to hit him hard. He got off his bed, walked to his fridge and served himself a red bull. Just as he opened the can and swallowed his first gulp, memories from the previous night came back.

"The bank. I have to call my bank." He dialed his bank and asked the question he needed answered. It was true. All he had between him and poverty was Ksh. 20. He hang up. Shell shocked.

A brilliant idea crossed his mind. “ He called again. “ Hi, uum…my name is Martin, we just spoke. I would like a credit card. How do I go about acquiring one?”

“Do you have a permanent job sir and how much do you earn?” responded the beautiful voice on the other end. He hang up immediately. There went his hopes of funding is lifestyle.

Another idea crossed his brilliant mind. “That is it!” He jumped off his kitchen counter and walked to his sitting room excited.

"My Mercedes will fetch me a couple of mills before I get a job that I need to start applying for,” he said to himself, grinning. All this time and never did it ever cross his mind to call home or take a trip home to visit his dad. It was like that part of his life had been temporarily erased off his mind.

Back home in Thaita, life went on as usual. But Cyril, Martin’s father never forgot his son. Every day he worried. Every day he prayed for his son; begging that God would remind him the way back home. He couldn’t bring himself to call Martin lest the young man hated him. His eldest son Michael and his staff had noticed that the old man hardly laughed, not the way he used to anyway. He was holed up in his study when he got home and was always pensive. Not that Mr. Kamahindu wore his sorrow for all to see. He knew how to hide his it well. But not well enough for his son, his friends in church, the pastor and his long serving staff.

His friends knowing what the old man was going through prayed for him all the time. On occasions when Cyril would miss church meetings as an elder in the church, the pastor always mentioned the man in prayers sometimes praying long hours for him and his prodigal son. In his study, Cyril looked at his son’s house that was close to the gate every time he was holed up in his study. Praying, hoping that one day, the young man would come back home.

To be continued... 

Stay safe, stay home and keep praying. See you soon as we continue with the three part series and delve into the heart of this matter. Stay tuned.

And remember, just as iron sharpens iron, sharpen your friend😊