Why So Prickly?

The last human I expected to meet at the Lighthouse Book Club meeting was the vicious, salty, dispute-oriented Nana Masiko. But if you were me and had known her for the four years that I had, then you would definitely settle for Nana Makasiriko. Some people might have known her as a vibrant youth with a burning spear of success residing in her soul but personally, I saw her indisputable resemblance to an old,  rigid, battle-axe of a woman. She might have been fearless, that, I would definitely give her, but her in-built inhumane personality was an override to her boldness.

I was extremely excited when I was invited in. Honestly, I never thought that I would be considered since I probably did not know anyone who was part of the "team kubwa". I only came across a notification from a member of some random WhatsApp group I was in. He was bragging about the adventures of book reading at the Lighthouse Book Club and amidst all the rambling, happened to have shared a link and contact details. 

The fella's words were rationally picked though and they came at a time when I was mulling over what constructive activities I could do with my time as a high school graduate. I found myself being drawn in to join the club. I sent them a WhatsApp text message instantly, with detailed information about me, for the purpose of signing up for the club and five hours later, received a response. Somewhere, at the back of my mind though, I knew there was something that was determined to constrain my enthusiasm and I trusted my instincts. 

First of all, the message was too long for a simple official note and secondly, they referred to me as "Sweets". What was I signing up for again? Some kind of an Infantile Confederation? I gave them a benefit of doubt though, maybe they had urgently replaced the person in charge with a juvenile PROXY or maybe they just had a way of approaching young people because oh, I had just mentioned my age in the message.

"Hello Catherine, we are so glad that you showed interest in the Lighthouse Book Club. We are glad to inform you that you have been awarded a seat at the club once your membership fee has been settled. We have emailed you all the details concerning that. At LBC, we assure you that your thirst will be quenched and your voice will be heard. You are unstoppable and you will definitely find what you are looking for here. This is a world-class book association with room for gifted people like you. Thank you for considering being a member, I hope you enjoy your life with us in it. We look forward to having an enlightened interaction with you. See you soon, Sweets."

The message struck me as one that could not be sent to a professional or an experienced, polished maestro of books. So they probably thought that I was nothing close to an avid reader and unfortunately for me, that was factual and authentic. The conversation between me and the LBC went on on WhatsApp until I was added to their WhatsApp group. 

As a typical curious youngster, I spent my time surveying the profiles of the 22 members in the group but unfortunately, only a handful had their profile pictures visible to the public and on them, there were either pictures of cute babies and puppies, meditative quotes or bookshelves. Let's not talk about the names because most like Paradoxianne and The Orgasm Donor, were exclusively depressing. 

My first meeting with the club was slated for a week later, the following Sunday. Meaning I had one week, that is precisely six and a half days and seven nights to find and read two four-hundred and two-hundred paged books and as earlier mentioned, I was not a book fanatic at the time and so the art of reading fast and grasping the contents of a book in a short time was not one I had cultivated. 

Long story short, the two books were found but the reading was scantily done. The Confession left me on a death row and The Night Clerk was equally overwhelming. I was excited to be at my very first book club immediately after my high school and that was one fine venture that I could not quit mentioning on my Social Media. So, with the books strategically placed on one hand and with the other holding my phone against the midday sunlight, I struck a pose and a hashtag #Lighthousebookclub was spread all over my social media pages.

I entered the small room at Just Us Plaza with smiles on my face and with a determination of quenching my thirst, airing my voice out to be heard and in search for a face that I could attach to the name Orgasm Donor. I could not tell whether it was a privilege or a mere sense of belonging that aroused my excitement. Whatever it was, I was ready to build upon it and carry it with me all through the session. I was thrilled by the very fact that I belonged to a club of such stature.

A few hellos were exchanged and the two new members, that were me and a feeble, lanky young woman introduced ourselves. Just then two revolting, stringent-looking ladies entered the room and I recognized one of them at once! She burst my bubble and the calmness I had earlier felt unexpectedly turned to a series of chaotic mixed reactions.

Makasiriko was there. Was it not enough that she had already made my life in high school a living hell? What in the precious name of Mother Mary was she even doing there in the first place? And her hair, the kind that was worn by every evil nanny I had encountered in movies. She had not thought it wise to get rid of that hideous bun behind her head since high school? Despite the fact that I was eight months older than her, she was physically constrained by her dull choice of clothes and was aged, twenty years more, with her kind of hairdo.

She swung her neck to all the corners of the room. I must have escaped her view. Maybe because of the layers of makeup I had on but also, she was an absolute snub, an act she had perfected remarkably well and presumably, she might have seen me but her cold heart definitely did not betray her.

Turns out she was the co-founder of the LBC and was never going to let anyone go without getting that fact into their heads. In her eighteen years, she had read hundreds of books since she was six. She never failed to give the precise number so she could inflict an intimidating sting on everyone around, with the tremendous knowledge that she had gained from her list of five hundred and forty-five books, and counting.

She boastfully indicated to everyone present in the room that she had read both books and wrote their reviews in just two days. She had precisely chosen me to give an oral precis of the two books, an act I did not receive kindly. So she had noticed me and was only waiting for the most opportune moment to humiliate me and kill my ego. 

She referred to me as " the little, sad lady in a pitiful polka dot shirt" as if we had never met nor shared a classroom for four years, gave me a look of malice, with a lifted nose and raised brows. She was determined to skin me, just like she had done to me back in high school when my essay had been ranked first and hers second. She had released a commotion, turned everyone against me and reported to the literature teacher that my essay had hints of plagiarism. She worked hard to pin me down for the four marks that I had been awarded ahead of hers. Unfortunately, she never succeeded and was forced to watch me receive rewards and endorsements. A disgrace she had never encountered before and so since that day, the beef that existed between us was born and nurtured.

Ever since I had the tragic opportunity of knowing her, she had carried herself with so much pride and power, you could think she was destined to be the chosen writer of the sequel of the Bible. She claimed that everybody liked her and she thought the ones who disliked her had everything to lose. 

I wouldn't call Nana my rival but she would definitely be the girl I wished I never met. A slithering, pricky creature I would never want to associate with if a healthy living was a priority I treasure. I loved Lighthouse Book Club but even more, I despised, without any uncertainty, the devious being that was Makasiriko and so my membership was short-lived and I still cry over the sh.500 I lost to secure my membership.