We’d been living in Nakuru for about 2-3 months now. E had been asked to come back and play for the national rugby team so he was kept busy with that. I was occupied with learning a new language, raising a baby, and adjusting to life in a completely different environment then I was used to. E’s old local team asked him to come play with them when he was in town and normally I took the baby to watch. But on this one occasion I was just getting over my first experience with Malaria and had to pass. E went to the game and said he’d be home later since he didn’t feel like staying out. No big deal.
Normal game time passes, plus an hour or two and I don’t hear from E. I tried calling him to see how it went and no answer. 2 hours turn into 4 then 6 then its overnight… and nothing from him. I’m going through every scenario in my head about where he could be, what could have happened, is he ok, what can I do? I’ve been calling his phone every practically every 15 minutes since 4 AM with no response. At first I figured ok fine they won and he’s partying with the guys that’s fine. But after no answer. No text. No call. And no E. It got scary. By the morning I called his sister to see if she had heard from him, but she was in Nairobi for the weekend and no, hadn’t heard from him. So my next option was to go out looking for him.
E had told me stories about him growing up and being arrested a few times walking home from rugby with friends just because they looked like a bunch of guys up to no good (making trouble in the neighbourhood 😉). Or being beaten up on the way home by a group of guys and getting robbed. So I’m thinking the only reason he hasn’t called is because he’s locked up, or half dead in a gutter somewhere.
So I strapped on my boy in a sling and set out to find my husband. Sick and all. In a town I barely knew. In a town I was literally the only white woman there. I had no idea where to go first so I decided to head towards the rugby club. All the way across town. I went on foot so I could keep a closer eye on the sides of the road for E.
I made a stop at his sisters house to see if maybe he had stopped there for the night and was greeted by a guy I’d never met but somehow through a bunch of marriages we were related. I explained what was going on and he agreed to take me to the police station.
At the station it took about an hour for them to go through all the guys they’d locked up the previous night to determine E wasn’t there. Now it was on to the rugby club. Which was completely empty. I had no other ideas of where to look or what to do, so I headed home. After 5 hours of wandering the city and repeatedly calling E, I was still no closer to knowing where he was.
I got home and took my son off who by then felt like he was 100 lbs. I took my meds for the malaria and did my best to sleep, but it alluded me. Until there was a knock at the window. There was E.
I was so happy and SO mad at the same time I didn’t let him in. He stood out on the back porch and explained that he got so drunk he went and slept at his sisters house in the backyard because he didn’t want me to see him. I told him everything I had done to find him. All he had to say to me was that when I went to his sisters I should’ve thought to come to the shed in the backyard to find him.
What the fuck. So now it’s my fault I’m sick and carried our son all over this foreign city to find your drunk ass and I didn’t look in the right place!
I didn’t care that he got drunk. People do that.
I didn’t care that he didn’t come home. Although a call would’ve been nice.
But to blame me for not thinking of looking in the shed? Fuck off.
I opened the door. Handed him the baby, and finally went to sleep myself.
His hungover ass could deal with making himself dinner.