Faith in the Golden Bullet

I could feel the handgun, it was hot and lighter. Perhaps I was running out of bullets. It was not possible to eliminate the hostiles with few in the magazine. I slid the barrel and checked the chamber for any rounds. It was empty...one was left, not in the chamber but tied around the caliber diameter with a string to form a necklace and hanging from my neck. I remembered it was a souvenir from a luscious woman soldier sparking one of my lascivious moments from which ensued a quickie or a plethora of them.

My dominant left hand reached out to hold it from where it hid in my chest behind my blood stained vest. I held it close to my face and noticed how beautiful it was. It was gold plated then a thought hit me that I was so drank the night before to appreciate its beauty. My mind waved away from my predicament to the events leading to acquisition of my last bullet.

She came from the back door of the rather stuffy bar at the barracks in Eldoret. The mood set by slow country music. Then perfect coincidence struck. As if reenacted by Lieutenant Akinyi, she did as the background music playing by Kenny Rogers asked of her...
"In a bar in Toledo across from the depot. 
On a barstool, she took off her ring...
...
"...You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille
With four hungry children and a crop in the field
I've had some bad times, lived through some sad times.."


She sat on the barstool, jaded from whatever she was engaged in before crashing the bar to seek a quantum of solace the bartender had to offer to numb her rather disturbed soul. She ordered a glass of whiskey. I moved close and sat beside her. She removed the cap and her midnight-black dreadlocks flowed over her shoulders. A pair of arched eyebrows looked down on sweeping eyelashes. Her delicate ears framed a button nose. A set of dazzling, angel-white teeth gleamed as she blew gently on her carmine-red fingernails before she touched her glass of whiskey gently ascended to wards her
dainty nose then took a slim sip...caught in the moment, every motion seemed choreographed. Motions moved slowly. Lieutenant Akinyi was a peach.

She threw dreadlocks over her left shoulder and rotated her chair towards my direction. She was intimidating at first, my confidence deserted me. Was she a soldier? I must have watched a lot of movies to be certain that women soldiers were all if not most shaven. 
"Leftenat, nikunywe ya ngapi reo...wewe ni *hic*..wewe ni msupa wa gu..*hic*..vu"  (Lieutenant how much should I drink in your bill? *intermittent hiccups*) asked one of the occupants of the bar who was all fatty and sweaty, he was rounded with a pot belly the size of a gym ball.
"Kunywa kiasi ya kukuua. nalipia mpaka ya  matanga" (Drink to your death, I'll pay inclusive of your funeral bills.) she replied in a smile. I came to learn that the moving fats of a guy was a Captain. I hears the bartender address him as Captain Njoroge. And there was an answer to the question I sought in Kenya anything was possible, probably Vera Stika may be a nun to ignorance of the public.

Time was flying; I started feeling the pangs of free liquor, thanks to Njoroge who passed out on the counter frothing and snoring like a stuck tractor. His paid for rounds of whiskey had no one to consume but me, his closest neighbour. She put her arm around my shoulder and asked me if I was strong enough to take her home.

“Oh yes! Like a lion, baby” I said. I staggered my way to the door as she held me on my waist with her right hand and my left hand around her left shoulder.

In a deem room full of combat gears and a small bed we entered. She looked at me as I stood there wondering who would go first. She stripped skillfully and at every turn of location, my sobriety returned. I felt heavy at the throat, I couldn’t swallow my bitter saliva…my eyes widened and knees trembled. She was in her bikini, though not the sensual looking one. This one was leather made camouflage bikini with pistol and knife holsters in the waistline of the underwear…

“Are you going to stand there all night like a stump…?”

“Coming over…” I said unzipping my pant in a staggering rush and mingled the night away in a record moment of 30 seconds.

“Seriously?” She asked in a sudden anger. I could hear her complain in my temporary seizure of pleasure. But what did she expect from a man starved of conjugal for more than 6 months?

I was dazed in pleasure. A sharp prolonged rough sound was produced from her slightly curved lips, a sign of disapproval and disappointment. I gave her to-hell-with-you look, laid on my back and asked what her name was punctuated with a strong exhalation of hot air.

“Lieutenant is enough for your kind.” She said smiling.

“Next time it will be better.” I said wondering what, ‘my kind tag’ meant.

She looked at my face. She liked what she was seeing. I could see from her expression.

“How old are you?”

“Old enough to know that you are committing a crime greater than my record time quickie.” I saw her frown. She didn’t take it kindly. The silence took over.

The mood was tense that I could hear from within me digestion taking place. I summoned saliva from their glands to lubricate my drying mouth, nothing. I reached for a water bottle beside the bed. I uncorked it, drank from it staring straight at sudden nightmare. I stretched out my hand and placed the water bottle back; it tumbled and rolled under the bed. I tried to catch, that’s when I saw the bullet.It was an odd looking bullet.

“You like it?” She asked.

“No, why should I like a bullet for all harm it does?”

“Good, because the next time we meet you will be its first casualty.” The threat was real.

For a moment I thought it was one of her tough pillow talks especially being a soldier, I didn’t expect her to go soft and ask me to divorce my wife and elope with her like other women or ask me if I loved her or lay on my chest as she narrated sad stories expecting my attention…this was different. She took it tied to a string and made a necklace out of it. If a word was to come out about whatever happened that night, she would blow my brains out with the same bullet that was hanging around my neck.

“Yes… I ...I mean, no. You won’t hear of it anywhere” I said in a stammer.

“Good boy.” She said. “Put it on as a reminder of how you will die”

“Yes, mmh…mmh…” I didn’t know what to call her.

“Lieutenant! Is that the word you are looking for, or..?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” I replied

“Dismissed!” She said.

“Nnn…now?” I said

“Your willy iko na kiherehere…go teach it some manners then come back” she said sternly. I walked out naked and trembling. My clothes hang from window through which they were being tossed.

No sooner had I finished dressing than she came out in a hurry.

“You are a doctor, right?” she asked. I was wondering whether she needed an emergency treatment from snake bite she sustained from sleeping in that bed.

“Yes.” I replied. There was an emergency and doctors were needed at Gedo in Somalia where the Kenya Defense Forces camped.

***

I was a cadet graduate from the military academy. The dusk that led to this dawn, I managed to sleep then make an enemy of the woman of my dreams. Okay, some would say I managed to commit adultery of my dreams. I was married to a college girlfriend with whom we graduated from the medical school. I was now formally employed as a doctor for the Kenya Defense Forces (KDF). I barely earned my first salary when a call came that sent me and five other doctors to El Adde in the Gedo region of Jubaland to offer medical services to Kenyan soldiers who had been attacked by the Al-Shabaab.

We arrived at El Adde in the midnight. It was a sight that words couldn’t describe. Soldiers were maimed; the landscape was totally rugged from the explosion estimated to be three times greater than that which hit US Embassy in 1998. The armoured personnel carrier suicide bomber driven was lying upside down charred completely at the center of the camp. The command center was destroyed and no communication could be sent or received.

Seven of us, five doctors and two escorting officers started searching for survivors. Every body we touched turned out to lifeless. We must have touched for pulse of 150. It was dawning when I excused myself to answer the call of nature in the nearby thicket. I scooched, started humming, then started sing Jim Reeves song this world is not my home;

“This world is not my home,
I'm just a-passing through,
My treasures are laid up…”

I was floating in the midair, pulling back my pants, this force pushed me twenty meters away from my scooching point…I was smouldering in the hot air, pieces of metal piercing through my body especially my back…the pressure in my head was too much to bear. My ears hurt, I could not hear anything but for the sharp piercing noise through my drum. I fell down in a thud, held my ears with both hands and produced a bloodcurdling scream. I hadn’t lost my consciousness, I was aware of the happenings in my surrounding but not collected to mount sufficient challenge, or just was confused.

One of us touched a booby trap or stepped on a landmine planted around the camp perimeter. A truck came hooting and shooting anything and everything walking or crawling. 
“Aqtul alkufaar” (Kill the infidels), I heard a voice demand.

“No, I have a pregnant wife, no please no.” One of us begged in vain.

He was shot several times as if to cleanse him of infidelity and the demons hidden beneath 

his skin. At a safe distance, I was frightened. I touched my waist for my handgun. 

It was still held in its leather holster which was smouldered. I removed it. 

It was hot and lighter. I pulled the hammer ready to fire at any moving object dressed in

bullet proof vest, green khaki pants and open shoes. 

“bus hunak aimra'a, hal yumkinuni qutiluha” (Boss there is a woman, can I kill her?)

One of the hostiles searching for survivors asked.

“Qate almar'a” (Spare the woman) the boss said.

“Satukhbiruna bialmakan alssabie aldhy yakhtabi fih” 

(She will tell us where the seventh one is hiding.)

“My Lord!” I almost said it aloud forgetting I was an ‘infidel’. 

They knew I was missing from the count of the corpse. The woman was Lieutenant Akinyi. 

“kuns almintaqa, ta'akad min mawtih” (sweep the area, make sure he is dead) 

he finally ordered while boarding his truck. 

Okay, you must be wondering how I understood their language. 

My wife is Muslim, so I converted and learnt Arabic during teachings of my new religion. 

Islam is a peaceful religion twisted by extremists. 

In its teachings, the Quran requires Muslims to read it in full and understand its teachings, 

As Quran 3:8 says, “We believe in it, the whole is from our Lord.” 

However the lost seek discord and perversity as they cherry pick the straight teachings of 

Holy Quran. The Quran teaches peace, tolerance and freedom of religion.

The word ‘Islam’ is Arabic word for ‘peace’. Islam is a religion revealed to mankind with the

intention of presenting a peaceful life where the infinite compassion and mercy of God 

manifests on earth. God calls all people to live by the moral values He sets so that 

compassion, mercy, peace and love can be experienced all over the world.

As Quran 2:208 says, “O You who believe! Enter absolutely into peace (Islam). Do not follow

in the footsteps of Satan. He is an outright enemy to you.”

Through the thicket I followed the direction in my cellphone which was indicating

“battery low”. I started jogging to cover a reasonable distance before the battery juice 

was flat. I was worn out completely so I rested inside a bush. It was the darkest hours of the

dawn, it must be 4 am. I held onto my handgun, inserted it inside my inner pant and sleep 

stole me briefly before I was woken up with acute pain on my Achilles. The dogs were 

growling; pulling me from the bush, three of the emaciated underfed dogs found breakfast 

in me. They were about to tear my tendon when I heard shouts.

“Alqabd ealaa alkilab shay' (dogs caught something). They surrounded me and pointed their

 AK47s at my face. This was it, my time on earth was coming to an end. I looked at tattoo

on my left breast written in Italics, ‘Shaima’. That was my wife’s name. Lying on my back 

writhing in pain from the bites, rabies was my least of concerns. Why were they delaying? 

They were still arguing who would kill me first; they were pushing, pulling each other’s guns

from my face. The four of them finally stopped arguing and agreed to kill me simultaneously

So they chose a spot.

“ladayh ras saghir” (He has a small head) One of the said holding guns to my head. 

“Daeuna 'iitlaq alnnar ealaa sadrah” (Let’s shoot his chest). So they all shifted their guns to 

my chest and the count-down began.

 “Thlath…athnan…” (Three…two…) they were counting together before lodging the bullets

into my chest. They removed the safety of their guns at two then paused before saying one. 

“WAHID!!” (ONE!!) I finished the count-down. 

“Min qal hdha” (who said that?) they looked at me and demanded a repeat.

“Ant tuakhir rihlatay 'iilaa aljana, aiqtalani bsre” (you are delaying my journey to paradise,

kill me quick). I said crying. They were surprised. Yes, it was working! 

“Allah 'akbar” (God is great) I lamented. Then, knelt and bowed in prayer position.

“Allah yaetarif biabinak fi aljana” (God admit your son in paradise). I finally said before 

pulling their gun’s muzzle to my chest and facing the heavens raising my hand. They lowered

their guns, assembled to discuss what to do with me. They came back, 

looked at me. One of them stretched his hands and said, “shaqiq albayt” 

(brother welcome home). I met his hands and he pulled up me on my feet. 

They helped me walk to their truck a kilometer away which drove me to their camp in Raso.

I was locked in a dingy room. They didn’t trust me. They had to check with their superior.   

Still in pain I crawled to a corner. They returned with some water, salty and smelled 

goat piss. I drank from the dirty mug without a second’s thought; I had to survive first, 

health issues ‘baadaye’.  

“Hey” I had voice. Is my mind playing tricks on me? I listened again.

“It’s me, they caught you too?” She was Lieutenant Akinyi.

I moved closer. I could see a face, she was bloody from the bruises she sustained from

 torture. 

“Hey Lieutenant, what have they done to you?” I asked. 

“Don’t tell them anything, they’ll kill you afterwards.” She said panting. 

What was the point of keeping her alive after such torture? “You have to get out of here 

while you still can; they will come for you too and demand intelligence.”

“What about you?” I asked. 

“I won’t make it out.” She said pointing her abdominal region where she was hemorrhaging.

From what I could see she suffered liver laceration. Liver injury caused by stabbing or 

gunshot wound. This was a severe injury with a heamodynamic instability requiring surgical 

correction within 2 hours or she was going to die. The hepatic portal vein was terribly 

damaged. She was right. I couldn’t help, not in the conditions we were in.

I applied pressure on the injury to stop further bleeding; she was pale with dry lips. I 

offered her the ‘water’. She declined and said, “In my deathbed I won’t drink goat piss, 

I am dying with my dignity intact”. She forced a smile then coughed blood.

She raised her hand towards my neck and removed the necklace. 

“I see you are a good soldier, you still have my souvenir?” She asked. 

“Yes I Lieutenant.” I answered. “This was meant for you but unfortunately, I won’t live to 

use it on your on.” She joked. I stood up then she saw protrusion of the handgun.

“Give me the gun hidden in your pant.” She asked.

“No, I am not doing such thing.” I said. “It’s an order soldier. I am going to die in my own 

terms and will not commit treason against my country. So give me the gun, after all I am 

dying.” She demanded weakly.

“They are going to broadcast my death for the world to see…when they left, they were 

going to prepare a statement in English. And here you are, they spared you for that among 

other reasons I may not know.” She was coughing as she spoke. 

The door was being opened. I hid the gun behind her between her back and the wall she 

leaned against. I crawled to my corner. Two men came in grabbed my hands and helped me 

stand on my feet and led me to a tent three hundred meters away, pushing me after every

three strides I made while limping. 

I walked into the tent. There were two wooden chairs and a metallic table. One of the 

chairs was behind the table the other beside the table. Far corner of the tent hang the 

portrait of slain Al-Qaida leader, Osama Bin Laden. On top of the table was a pen, a blank 

paper and a written paper in Arabic. I couldn’t read properly. Side of the tent was 

transparent facing the east where the sun was an hour or so away from rising. I stood right 

where I was left. The tent opened and goatees emerged. He approached me smiling. He 

spread his arms hugged me tightly and kissed my cheeks. I was dumbfounded. 

He offered me a sit in his broken English.

“Sit brother.” He said. “We are happy you gave us the accurate intelligence. We hit them 

where it hurts the most.”

“I …I…” I wasn’t aware what he thought I was. He must be mistaking me for what I wasn’t. 

“Brother Sadiqi don’t worry, we are going to announce to the whole world our victory, 

thanks to you and our brothers who are in paradise with Allah, qad fahum fi salam 

(may they rest in peace).” He paused, looked up in heaven with his hands raised 

shoulder-height before saying the last part in Arabic.

“Are you okay brother.” He asked rattled a bit. He was getting worked up that I was not 

following. I had to play his game lest I get killed too.

“Yes I am okay brother, Allah ‘Akbar” I replied. He looked me in the face. I was getting 

rather uncomfortable then smile emerged from sides of his mouth, he then roared in 

laughter.

“Now I want you to translate these words in English. I can’t write well like you do. Then 

we will read to the world as we kill that infidel w***e. Get to it as I tell your brothers to 

prepare internet connectivity.” He left the room. I read the transcript written in Arabic. 

It claimed responsibility and credited ‘one of their own’ for instigating the whole attack 

through leaking intelligence. I and let it all sink. 

“What do these people think I am? What next after translating the script? Will they include 

me in the photoshoot? Will I also be one of them? Am I a prisoner of war or an enemy 

combatant? Who am I in this situation?”

10 minutes later he returned with four others. He came in first. Two dragged Lieutenant 

Akinyi, the other two holding a laptop computer, Wi-Fi router, camcorder and a circuit 

from a car battery. They set the stage. He looked at my translated script and grinned, 

he liked it. 

“Good work.” He said. Others were setting the backdrop of the execution stage. They 

held a green flag with a drawing of crisscrossing swords with Arabic writing, “Holy Sword”, 

pinned it on the tent wall. Lieutenant lying unconsciously on her back, he was barely 

breathing. They left the tent after setting everything ready. They went to get the lights 

while their leader was rehearsing yards away from the tent.

She opened her eyes, I went to her. She was carrying my handgun. 

“This is the time; I won’t allow them to use me as a trophy to propagate their agenda. 

Give me my bullet.” She said, I hesitated. “We have no time; I have no energy left to argue 

with you but for the trigger.” I had no choice.

I untied the bullet, loaded it in the magazine, slid it up the magazine hole, pushed the slide

log with my dominant thumb and the round went to the chamber. I hesitantly gave it to her.

She held the gun trembling. She put the muzzle under her chin, held steady…I walked out. I

closed my eyes trying hard not to shed a tear…“Twaaa!” the she pulled the trigger. I went 

down on my knees.

The hostiles were animated. They thought their hiding site was compromised. They started 

packing. Their leader cut his rehearsal and sought safety. The camp was a secret place 

where maximum silence was ensured, any sound from the camp would compromise their 

location. They rushed to the tent. Peeped and pronounced her dead. Inquiry into how he 

got the handgun were irrelevant, they were loading artillery into their trucks. They couldn’t

wait any longer.

“Akhi natrikuk lakunk” (brother we are leaving but you). One of them told me.

“Qayid yurid mink aleawda, sayatasil bik”(commander wants you to go back, he shall contact

 you). He said as he kissed my cheeks and left in a hurry.I was standing their all alone, 

confused at the turn of events. “Did they just leave me unscathed? Who did they think I was?”

I dropped to my knees and started sobbing.“Why am I crying? Is it because I saw my life flash 

across my eyes or because I was emotional wreck at the time? Was it because Lieutenant Akinyi 

sacrificed her life for my own?"

I stood up, went to the tent to pay my last respects. I opened the tent and meekly entered 

trying hard as I could not to look the direction I dreaded. 

“When are they going to execute me?” I heard a voice.

“What!?” I turned swiftly. I couldn’t believe that she was not dead. She shot through the 

roof of the tent. I didn’t know what to say. I was glad and weeping.

“Oh My God!” I said my hands in my face. 

“We drove for 5 minutes from the location I was captured. The road was winding and not 

bumpy. However the roof of the truck kept grazing trees and bushes. I figured we were not 

far away from the camp that was attacked. Our people are still sweeping the area for 

survivors and probably looking for us. This meant that if I shot in the air, they would be 

spooked and our people hopefully would get the message.” She said candidly and weakly.

“Did you ever think of the consequences if you failed?” I asked.

“Faith young man, faith.” She said as she slumped.

I searched the place for first aid kit; I found some in the commander’s tent. I nursed her 

wound when the first rays of the sun lit the place. It was 6 O’clock in the morning.

From the bush, emerged camouflaged dressed search party in green caps; Kenyan AMISOM 

troops found us. 

Faith in the golden bullet.