Suicidal Convenience

“Beba! Beba! Beba! Wa-araka! Wa-araka!”

Fists fellowshipping violently with metal, loud music blasting from stalls around the bus stop; it was a pool of chaos. Metal handcarts pulled by lanky men in discoloured clothes; torn shirts revealing hungry and chiseled abdomens drenched in a steady stream of sweat. Inhaling and exhaling desperately as they receive the crumbled 50 shilling note in their hands. Cat calls here, others there, banging upon banging, shop tills ringing, hawkers running complimented by Acapella chimes of “kanjo! Kanjo!”

Anna had been pacing up and down the street since 6.30am. She had uttered the same statement over and over again, with her pace oscillating between rapid and sluggish depending on the pace she spoke. A bus pulled upon to the pavement almost knocking her over. She banged the front of the bus, uttering nothing, with a rabid stare. The driver of the bus lifted his hands up in surrender and pressed his palms together in a prayer position gesturing penance for almost killing her.

Anna pulled off of the bonnet and began to peel off her cardigan and flung at the windscreen. She made a click sound and resumed her pacing. Now she uttered nothing, she just paced at a normal walking tempo dazed, eyes glassy no tears in sight. Anna was agonizing. She stood in the middle of the street with a frozen look of intent. As she stood chaos erupted around her, there was screaming, the skies got foggy, the air thick and laced with violent sneezing, violent coughing, more plumes of smoke. The coughing turned into screaming spilling of water, faces being washed down and dosed in water. Store fronts were barricaded from inside the shops. Other shops pulled down grills with staff peeping through the little cracks.

“Kanjo! Kanjo!” the yelling persisted and then a gunshot pierced in the air. Anna fell to the ground cross legged on her bottom. Her gaze was still intense and glassy. She seemed to be in some sort of force field. The hawkers ran round her with their wares in hand, some dropping at her feet and head; she didn’t move. She seemed hypnotized by the chaos. She just sat there. 30 minutes later, the melee was over and life resumed; stores opened, music continued and the pavement was cluttered with a milling crowd and dropped clothes, shoes and vegetables. Some pedestrians would miss Anna, others would accidentally kick her, trip over her, others hurled abuse at her.

No one noticed the pool of blood that was oozing from beneath her, her face was completely drained of colour and her lips fluttered rapidly, her teeth chattering. It was too noisy to notice her, Anna’s life slowly slipped away just as she had desired; with not a soul concerned.

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