I think it was a weekday. Actually, it was a Friday because we all went home to catch our breath after the madness unfolded. So, there we were, coming from KM after dinner, and we spontaneously decided to embark on a side quest. By “we,” I mean my boyfriend back then, Flinch, and my close friend from high school, let’s call her Maluu. The three of us had grown fond of each other. It felt so heartwarming that my friends and the guy I was dating got along so well. It was late in “school hours”, which mattered because we stayed in the school hostels and those gates locked promptly at midnight. Past that, you were either sleeping outside or turning into a ninja. We decided to pop over to see this guy Flinch knew: let’s call him Buddy for the sake of keeping things tidy. Wow, look at us, successfully introducing the characters and setting the scene… go us! Upon reaching Buddy’s hostel, we went into his room, and the plan was a quick in-and-out. But by the time we were saying our goodbyes, the clock was inching closer to midnight. So, we opted for the back route of the hostel, which was basically the back of beyond – past the clothesline, behind the water tanks, where the security streetlights didn’t quite reach, and where the school’s tall, bushy fence stood. We made our way to the water tank area, not exactly bracing ourselves for action. There was a quick flick of the lighter, when out of nowhere, a voice barked,
“Nyinyi, simameni hapo!” (“Hey you, stop right there!”)
Now, you have to remember what I said earlier about it being late by school standards, with that midnight curfew looming over our heads. So, when we heard that command, our immediate reaction was to make a beeline to where we were supposed to be because it was already past the witching hour. I will never pass up an opportunity to toot my own horn, especially when it comes to things I’m genuinely proud of. Throughout primary and high school, I was a track star. In primary, I swept every race I entered. I was the top athlete and swimmer in my year. When I transitioned to high school, sadly, my school didn’t have a pool, so that winning streak in swimming came to an end, but I digress. The instant I heard that voice and saw two guards from the security office, I took off like a shot, without even a second thought. Maluu? She was already gone. That girl can run like she’s dodging rent. We used to be in the same house in high school athletics. She was my bunkmate senior year, and truly, that night we were just two track teammates reliving the glory. Except this time, the medals were replaced with fear and adrenaline. I ran behind her, struggling to keep up, marvelling at her speed. Behind us, boots pounded and voices barked.
“Simama ama nikikushika!”
(“Stop, or if I catch you…!”)
Now, that sounds like a threat, right? You’d expect one of us to stop. And someone did. Maluu.
I looked back mid-stride: why in God’s name was she slowing down? Meanwhile, my lungs were on fire, my legs a blur. I kept going. I ran until the only sound left was my breath, ragged and sharp. I spotted the first open women’s hostel and darted inside. The first three rooms I tried were locked tight, and rightly so. It was almost 1:00 am – who leaves their door open at that hour, waiting for trouble to walk in? Towards the end of the hallway, I saw a slightly opened door. I slipped inside, shut the door quietly behind me, and tried to catch my breath. My heart was hammering against my chest, my vision was a bit fuzzy, a cocktail of adrenaline and fear, I reckon. I placed my hands on my knees and did a little breathing exercise to ground myself. My vision was still a tad blurry, maybe from the sudden drop in blood pressure, or perhaps it was just the dim lighting. Was that a candle or a lamp? I only remember the cinematic glow— my life really is a movie. I glanced up to see two girls sleeping in one bunk, bundled up like burritos. There were two large drawers separating the bunks and a table with two chairs in the middle of the room. I gathered that one of them owned the top bunk, and the other two were from the opposite bunk, just having a late-night chinwag. Turning my head to the other side of the room, I found the upper bunk empty. But the lower one held three girls, their previous hushed conversation broken. As I stood there panting, they stared at me like I’d just landed from another planet. And honestly? I had the audacity to stare back as if to ask, “And you are…?” completely forgetting I was the one who had barged in.
Breaking the awkward silence, I spilled my truth: I was on the run from security, Maluu might’ve been caught, and I needed to lay low. They blinked. Then one of them got up, rummaged in a drawer, and tossed me a change of clothes. A girls’ girl. That’s how I met Rachel. I texted Flinch. He replied that he and Maluu had been caught and were sitting tight at the security office. They weren’t found doing anything incriminating- just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the guards insisted they’d seen a third person and wouldn’t rest until they identified the mysterious runner. I told Flinch to plead ignorance, say they didn’t know me. Did Rodney from the Diary Of A Wimpy Kid teach you nothing? Deny, deny, deny. That would explain why I ran. Wouldn’t a “good friend” at least look back? I told him to play that angle hard. Make it believable. After all, what kind of person just ditches their people in a pinch?
He went silent.
My gut twisted.
Moments later, my phone buzzed. It was Flinch.
My heart sank. I already knew.
They had ratted me out. The guards had threatened to escalate the matter to a disciplinary case unless they revealed the third person. And so, Judas dialled my number. He told me I had to come turn myself in or their case would get worse. I stared at my phone, disillusioned. My boyfriend? My Flinch? Sold me out under pressure? What happened to true love, jamani? I thought about just disappearing back to my room, letting them figure it out. The worst punishment wasn’t that bad. A few thousand shillings to “grease the gears,” and we’d be free. I even planned to chip in. But after a mental struggle, I changed back into my own clothes and walked into the lion’s den.
At the security office, I was mocked.
“Eeh, Kipchoge. Umekimbia hadi wapi?”
“So, Kipchoge, where did all that running get you?”
“You put Rudisha to shame.”
God forbid a girl would make use of her fine calves.
The guard who had caught Maluu was behind the desk, taking down our names and student details. He went on to tell us that he was Muslim, meaning he couldn’t be bribed because he was an upright member of society with strong values that wouldn’t allow him to be compromised. We sat in that security office until about 3 am. He rambled for hours, accusing us of disorder, disobedience, and daring to disturb the peace. By 3 a.m., his tone shifted. He mentioned that the next day was Ramadan. If we could buy him some tea and bread, he wouldn’t mind going to celebrate with his family. Imagine that. After all that noise about moral high ground, our freedom cost an Iftar meal. We coughed up some loose change and handed it over, effectively buying our way out and quietly made our way back to our hostels. What happened to Buddy, you ask? You didn’t think we forgot about him, did you? The moment his lighter sparked to life, two guards stepped out of the shadows. They were swift, but so was Buddy. Without a sound, he retreated, easing himself into the darkness behind the water tanks and the dense, leafy fence. It was a flawless, instinctive vanishing act. Camouflage at its finest.
Maluu stayed over in my room, sneaking in through the window with help from the large basalt stone I’d leave outside my room for nights like these. And yet, as we lay there in silence, my mind swirled.
Why didn’t he protect me?
Why didn’t Flinch stand up for me?
Why was betrayal the easier path than loyalty, especially when the stakes were so low?
Why do some people default to self-preservation while others run toward the fire for the ones they love?
Was this about cowardice, or was it calculation?
Or maybe, just maybe, some people are only loyal when it’s convenient.
