A mysterious night

Inno had admired the girl of his dreams and suffered silently. Finally gathering the guts to tell her on a moonlit night, he was interrupted, writes Dennis D. Muhumuza

Loyda sat outside her father’s house sobbing quietly. It was shortly after 9p.m., and the resplendence of the light bulb on the balcony shone down on her, providing a vivid view. In the dark, Inno was watching, and it stung him like the cut of a sword to see such hurt on her face. He believed only beasts could displease a girl like Loyda. He wanted to leap out of the shadows and kiss away those tears but he was consumed, fascinated; for in tears and laughter alike, a combo of sensitivity and femininity; a beauty as rare as it was difficult to fathom, defined this neighbourhood girl.

One cannot begin to tell the seemingly endless times –mornings and evenings – when Inno skulked about if only to catch a glimpse of her or hear her voice. Then he would hurry home with beautiful dreams of him and Loyda roaming relentlessly in his mind. Pulling out his journal, he would proceed to write vigorously, his heart thumping, and when all calm returned, would rip out the pieces, furious that nothing could accurately convey the intensity of his feelings and thoughts for Loyda.

On this Sunday evening as he hid in the dark cold, watching the teary girl, he decided he had to be man enough after all faint heart, it was written, never won fair lady. He had to step out and establish the cause of her pain, and then pour out his heart too; God knows he had a lot of pouring-out to do!

Inno took a deep, long breath when suddenly the door swung open and out came a lady with a sweeping stature – no doubt Loyda’s mom. In one hand she held a small Bible, in the other, a golden cross, a big-beaded rosary around her slender neck. She was wearing a white night gown, translucent in the bulb light, giving her such a seductive figure that for a moment, Inno thought she was the goddess of attraction.

Stooping, she said, “Come on Loyda, don’t be such a child,” the wind blowing her soft words right into Inno’s ears.

Her words were the ignition for Loyda broke into fresh violent spasms of tears so hot they made the veins in her neck and on her face stand out alarmingly; as if about to explode. The moon shone on wanly in the sky, the wind blew even harder, making the door and window frames creak, and Inno gritted his teeth, disturbed to the core by the elusive significance of this baffling and gloomy night.

Just then, just like that, a very small, shirtless man appeared at the door with a walking stick and wincing painfully, hobbled toward Loyda and her mom. His awkwardness and agonising groans attracted the attention of Loyda, who abruptly ceased sobbing and jumped to her feet. “Don’t, dad, please,” she said, her tear-stained face awash with pity and concern. The man opened his mouth and mumbled things that came to Inno’s strained ears muffled and incomprehensible.

Loyda smiled (oh the beauty of that smile!) and wrapped her arms around the sickly man, resting her head tenderly on his small chest. They stayed there like that for a long, long time.

The sky grew smoky and sinister, the wind blew with renewed violence, the moon became paler and the dolorous song of the owl sounded urgent in the nearby tree. Inno could take it no longer and soon found his way home, still worried and confused about what could have caused such tumult to Loyda, but determined to find out sooner than later.

--Sunday Monitor, January 10, 2010