Who Will Catch Us As We Fall by Iman Verjee

Author:Iman Verjee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction;Love;Affair;Epic;Kenya;Africa;Loss;BAME;Nairobi;Unrest;Corruption;Politics
Publisher: Oneworld Publications
Published: 2016-06-03T11:33:47+00:00

27

Leena walked the empty corridor, turning the lights on as she went. The smooth marble tiles were cold so she raised herself on tiptoes and continued down the stairs. She never noticed how big the house was except for when she was alone in it, staring into the deserted, quiet rooms, some of which they used and a few of which always remained unoccupied.

There was a drawing room her mother had set up in the hopes of entertaining their new neighbors, complete with a colonial-style coffee table and an extravagant divan couch. The plush, ruby carpet blended with the dark, wood-paneled walls and the impressive bookcase, filled almost entirely with Raj’s old cricket trophies. The furniture here was now draped in white bedsheets because, as Pooja had come to discover, the neighbors in Runda minded their own business.

‘And they’re all gorahs!’ she had exclaimed, dismayed, a week after they had moved in. ‘You tricked me, Raj Kohli. What will I do now for company with only white people living here?’

‘There is a Punjabi family living three doors up.’ Raj tried to placate her. ‘Why don’t you go and disturb them?’

‘How much can I speak to one woman?’

‘You mean, how much gossip can one woman give you?’ her husband had teased back.

Despite her reservations, Pooja had visited the family anyway, had met Roopa Sharma, and to Raj’s relief, it was within this woman’s impeccably decorated, three-story house that Pooja found some of the comfort she was seeking.

That night, Leena lay down on the well-worn couch of their family room, looking through the French doors into the garden outside. It was dark and she couldn’t make out the shape of things, but heard the wide leaves of the banana trees scratching the glass, bothered by the rain that had just begun to fall.

It was rare that she was left at home by herself, but today her parents had a wedding to attend and Jai was staying late on campus at Nairobi University. She checked the clock on the wall, hoping that he would be home soon.

Every creak and rattle startled her, though she was comforted by the night guard’s footsteps patrolling the house at thirty-minute intervals. It reminded her of how she had felt those first few evenings here in Runda, surrounded by too much empty space. All the night sounds that had been so comforting in her old home had spread themselves out here, become bigger and louder and drove her deep into the cushions.

She recalled the first time they had pulled a left turn from the main road, into an emerald side street. How deathly silent it had been, stepping out of the car – disconcerting not to see other children playing in the driveway or hear the shouts of so many women; there was no sign of activity at the new house except for the bustling of insects in flower pots and the rustling leaves of the aging blue gum tree guarding the gate.

Though the house itself was new,

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