Shocker as Jobless Graduate Wets His Beddings, Kills Father and Himself

“Are you bewitched my son, Danvas? Answer me!”

“I want you to be like other graduates; having a nice car, lots of money and a big house.”

My father gave me a surprise visit in my city apartment to scare the hell out of me and to sound a warning that the village no longer entertained my joblessness any more. In my head were many options

“I don’t want to see you on that computer. What are you doing on that computer? Still searching for a job or just watching movies and chatting with some robots?”

“We sent you to university to learn and get a degree then a nice job after which you must help us! You even went for postgraduate! Do you see how emaciated I am? Don’t you care that I and your mother have not eaten since the cost of flour was increased by the big men? Don’t you care that our village is under attack from militia from the neighbouring tribe?”

I melt in fear, hoping for the worst. Ever heard of graduates who submit to their parents? What could I do? My father is the village lion. When he barks, all dogs go parking.

I am now thinking of an extraordinary thing to do so that I can grab the attention of top Kenyan politicians. I am sure that there are several jobs in Kenya. The only problem is that the jobs are reserved for sycophants, people who know people and bold guys who can create drama and seek for attention.

Which politician should I start tracking so that I can shout their name at the top of my voice? Shall I be allowed to reach near enough to create unsurmountable drama? Who will give me a passage to the top managing and hiring managers so that I may remind them to read my CV? Do I wait for the president and praise him loud enough, above everybody else so that he may tell somebody somewhere to give me a job? Who is to blame for my misfortunes?

A certain friend of mine cheated me to register a construction company like him. We applied for tenders together but his company alone got the tenders. He invited me to work for him as I wait for my turn in the future. My company has never won any tender and all little investments I develop crumble. I am deeply in debts. I owe people over Ksh. 1,000,000. I weep at night and sing hymns. I quote from the bible and ask God to bless me and many more in similar situations. I am now left with one friend, Jesus Christ.

“I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me — Phillipians 4:13

But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus. Phillipians 4:19

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Matthew 6:33”

Maybe, I should look for an aircraft that is about to take off and create drama so that I get popular and earn myself a decent job. I think you have heard of two Kenyans who clang to a helicopter to get public attention. You may watch the video here.

Should I just bypass all gatekeepers in lucrative companies and talk directly to the human resource managers? Oh no. I have remembered that my pungent cumulative sweat may not smell sweet to any hiring manager. I took a shower eight days ago when I visited a friend who happens to live in a place without water rationing. No potential employer will recruit any employee with toes protruding from the front end of safety boots.

Should I go to all major media houses and create adverts that I am a graduate mechanical engineer with masters in engineering, of good standing, with no criminal records, registered with Engineers Registration Board (ERB) but jobless in my own country?

Bad things caused by bad people happen to good people because other good people are not bold enough to say anything or prevent the onslaught. This is nothing but the truth in my country.

As I am thinking about this, my father gives me a hard punch on my cheek that sends me where you send lunatics.

I now realise that I had taken too long to answer my dad’s questions.

Should I tell him to close the door so that the landlord may not realise that I am around?

Should I tell dad that I took another loan from Mswari, Tala and Branch and that I got blacklisted by the Credit Reference Bureau?

Should I tell him of the neighbour next door that I impregnated when I was trying to cool myself and relief the stresses and how she needs money to buy foods she craves for?

Or should I just tell him to pay and top-up the Kenya Power tokens to dispel the blackout and continue kicking me at least under electric light?

One thing you need to know about dad is that he is a calm gentleman. He is so calm that whenever he beats mom, he does not expect her to scream, let alone manufacturing tears. He does not drink but he behaves worse than addicted drunkards.

The last time I remember getting a sound beating was in high school when we tried to demonstrate against the ever-increasing school fees. Here again, I have earned myself a punch which has turned to a beating due to my inability to secure a job.

I remember one gentleman from my village had suggested a solution to me. He said that he could connect me with a well-known politician so that I become the chief campaigner in the forthcoming elections. He was glad that I studied engineering. He could not even hide his amusement on learning that I could design websites and create social media groups and pages. He said that I was sleeping on my talent. My talent of being the only engineer in my village, a social media expert and a web designer could be used to campaign for the politician after which I could get a job in any office I chose. A Christian of my calibre cold not stand such an abuse and misuse of education. I remember how I turned down the offer and how he proclaimed throughout the village that I was too proud to take his proposed job. I remember how he said that I was the worst role model to villagers. I remember how he mocked me for not securing even after 6 years post-graduation and yet I studied engineering. Now, engineering and medicine are courses held in high esteem by most ignorant and learned people of course.

Should I remind you that there are no engineers or any experts in any field in Kenya? How can you then explain this article which appeared in the newspapers stating that Kenya does not have enough engineers? Kenyan engineers are of poorer quality, learn more here.

Why does she, or is Kenya a he, have to import engineers and other professionals from I don’t know which country? Has Kenya been investing in fake education all along? Before sanity returns to our education system, joining university and graduating with first class honours is one thing and getting a job is unheard of.

My father has now intensified his action.

Somebody in dark clothes and dark googles approaches us from the open door. What a distressing spectacle? It reminds of the militia killing my people in the village. As I wait for the worst, the mysterious man pushes my father aside and tells me softly, “this is Kenya son”. I want you to understand fundamental things:

If I steal that phone of yours that I see wrapped in rubber bands, I may go to prison until I die.

Furthermore, I want you to know that your country has more jobs than the population, more resources than poor individuals, there is nothing like higher education loan, your country has united into one tribe, all corrupt people have been incarcerated, you are no longer poor and that you shall no longer face the pain and suffering in your country.

I want to take you and your father to a strange place. A place you have never been to, where you no longer work, where everything is quiet, where no politicians entice you with money, where there are no loans, where there is no cost of living. I cannot stand you quarrelling with your father over something that you have control over. I now promise to help you terminate your life and that of your father. Menacingly, he edges closer. I can smell the acrid odour of his breath.

He is the angel of death.

He says he is the only solution to my crisis.

He produces two daggers and two ropes from his deep pockets. He tells me to choose how I would love to die.

Well, I have never died before. I remember how I read on the bitterness of rope strangulation and how two lifeless bodies of close friends dangled in one house, inert to life’s troubles. I choose the dagger. After all, I am a man and I am more used to knives than ropes. I last skipped ropes in Nyanguru Primary School where I emerged the best student.

He hands me one dagger and remains with one. He now tells me to kill my father as he waits to kill me thereafter. I turn to kill my father. My father is dead already. His love for my brighter future cannot allow him see me die. My joblessness, state of the economy and lack of basic needs killed him. It is now my turn to be killed. The tall man in dark goggles draws near, he thrusts his knife first below my belt, then into my stomach. He is now thrusting into my chest. One, two……

Just as I am about to take the third thrust, I wake up covered in sweat and other salty emissions. I had wetted my bed and it is rainy season.

Alas! At least I am not dead and inert.

Instead of committing a crime and take advantage of free food given to inmates in prisons, a place where I cannot pay rent, I quickly open my computer and check my email.

No single employer has replied yet!

Maybe all employers are politicians too, or something worse.