A Day in the Dark

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So, you want, uh, two plates of mshikaki and two mahindi chomas?" the waiter asked, jotting everything down on his little notebook. I cracked a tiny smile at his accent.

"Yeah thats all. Could I get it for takeaway?"

"Sure. We will have it ready soon."

"Asante Sana!"

The waiter smiled and walked away. I took a seat at one of the empty tables and took in the sight before me. I was in a small BBQ restaurant across the road from the hotel. The place was small, with several tables scattered around. It was like any other regular restaurant except the kitchen was an open one and we could see the chefs prepare the meat. I watched, completely enthralled, as the flames from the grill danced around the tender meat. Skewers of chicken and corn were laid on the grill atop the charcoal filled jiko. The magnificent aroma of the meat wafted through the air and I couldn't help but grin. This was the first time in a while where I had gotten so excited about food.

Another ten or so minutes passed before the waiter came back with two plastic bags filled with small white containers. I happily paid him the 5,000-shilling bill and ran to our hotel room where I knew Isaac was waiting. I was close to the hotel when I accidently bumped into someone. Stumbling, I turned to the person I had bumped. She was a short girl, a few inches shorter than me, with a dark hijab wrapped around her head.

"I'm so sorry," I said in broken Swahili as I looked her over to see if she was okay. When my eyes landed on her face, I felt a sudden sense of familiarity.

"That's okay. I'm sorry for bumping you," the woman said softly before scurrying away. I frowned. She had looked so familiar. I felt as though I knew her. Which was impossible because I had no other family besides Asha and Aunt Fatima. I shook my head and continued running to the hotel. My mind had probably gone into 'find Asha in everyone' mode.

Skipping into the elevator, I had a sudden hopeful thought. Maybe this experience wouldn't be so bad. I mean, I was going to find my sister and I could somehow reconnect with my culture and background. It would be a great experience. I could even brush up on my Swahili. I was nowhere near as good as Isaac or the locals.

Stepping off the elevator, I walked to my room and unlocked the door. It was a simple suite with a beige interior. In fact, everything was beige, even the small tea cups on the bench were beige. I carefully placed the bags on the counter and slowly walked to the bedroom. The door to the bathroom was cracked slightly and the light was on. Isaac was probably in there. I put a hand to the door and was about to push it open and call out his name when I stopped. He was talking...to himself? Or to someone else?

"Don't worry about it, aunty."

Aunty? Was he talking to someone on his phone? Angling my ear closer to the crack, I tried to hear as much as possible.

"Yeah, she has no idea I know where she is."

She? Two she's. Who were the she's.

"Of course, she doesn't suspect it was you. I doubt Elle has said anything. Besides, you're the last person she'd ever suspect."

Why was he talking about Elle?

Pushing the cracked door open I called out, "Isaac?"

A minute passed, where I could hear some whispering and a toilet flush before Isaac came out. His tall frame was only slightly shorter than the ceiling.

"Zoya, when did you get back?" He asked.

I narrowed my eyes, "A couple of minutes ago. Who were you talking to?"