EPISODE 2:
It didn't require a university degree to know that the man had reached the end of his journey — as if he were a vehicle that had already dropped its last passenger and was now idling quietly before being switched off to rest and prepare for a new day.
She didn't even know who he was — not his face, not his name. Even if one said they had an agreement, she wouldn't have recognized him. Yet somehow, she had given in that night to a stranger who had touched her in the dark. Truly, Siyawezi was full of mystery, and after that moment, she went straight back inside.
She showed no sign of wanting to leave again. It was clear that whatever had taken her out had been that urge — something troubling her body, denying her peace until she sought release just to sleep soundly that night.
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Early in the morning, Mzee Jumbe left as usual for his daily routines. He went out at a time when only a few students could be seen on the road — those who studied far away and wanted to catch transport before it became crowded.
For Siyawezi, who attended school in Mbagala, she was still in bed. Not because she was asleep — she was simply lazy and unwilling to go. The desire for school no longer existed. She preferred staying home, eating dona and wandering around, rather than attending classes. Though she had passed her primary exams well enough to reach secondary school, she had no real interest in learning.
Indeed, her success had found someone who didn't even understand the meaning of education. She went merely to show up, just to prove presence because of parental pressure. If it were up to her, she would have never gone again. Siyawezi had become a burden her father carried without complaint, though he knew her weaknesses.
When the sun began to rise, she finally got out of bed lazily — only after her mother shouted that she would tell her father if she didn't go to school. Then the girl tied her kanga around her waist, remembering she had nothing underneath, just so she could go outside.
As she got ready, her movements caught attention — her body shifting in a rhythm that made one think of a truck suddenly braking. The kanga clung to her form, revealing her shape as she walked to the bathroom with a toothbrush in hand.
Even bathing became a slow, lazy process. By the time she finished, she was already late for school. Yet she didn't care — she only dressed in her school uniform to show that she was "going," even if her mind wasn't there.
She finally left home around seven heading toward eight, wearing her neat uniform and walking toward school. Her face clearly showed her disinterest, but she had no choice.
From her home to the area called Magengeni, near the Mbagala Kibondemaji market — a place long known where people bought household goods before the area expanded — she walked quietly.
There, she stopped suddenly when the sound of a motorcycle approached and halted in front of her. It was a young man slightly older than her, wearing short trousers, a sleeveless shirt, and long socks like he was ready for a football match.
He gestured for her to get on. Without asking questions, she climbed on and held onto the metal bar at the back. The motorcycle sped off, heading toward a junction known as Maduka Tisa. Siyawezi remained quiet as the vehicle moved faster.
Surprisingly, instead of turning left toward Mbagala School, they went straight ahead, passing the Tanita Cemetery, near a large factory gate. Still, she said nothing.
The rider turned right onto a narrow road beside the factory wall, continuing around its fence until they neared the graveyard. Siyawezi sat silently — like a lamb being led to slaughter — not protesting, not questioning.
The rider finally stopped near a small, ordinary house beside a ravine. "We're here," he said, switching off the motorcycle. She remained seated, uncertain, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings far from school.
"Get down, we've arrived," he told her. She pretended to be surprised, asking, "Where is this?" — a question only someone foolish could ask, given the obvious situation.
Without replying, he took her hand and led her toward the house. The building was unfinished, the walls showing raw bricks and cement, though electrical lines had already reached it.
He unlocked the door, and she was guided inside — into a modest sitting room. She sat on a small couch, quietly looking around, her face showing both confusion and curiosity.
"You know I don't even know you. Why have you brought me here?" she asked softly. But before she could react further, the young man suddenly moved toward her with the quickness of a hunter cornering his prey. Siyawezi fell sideways on the couch as he leaned over her, his presence overpowering.
She turned her face to speak, but no words came out — fear and tension gripped her.