FICTION Woman of Steel by Lucy Mwelu
I dug my heels into the seemingly unassailable soil exterior with a feral desire of attaining balance. Angling my head to the side, I stretched my burnished arms forward whilst encircling the hefty, cold steel; a Walther P99 9MM in my miniature palms. I squinted my eyes, all focus resolute on the target dummy aloof from me. It is undoubtedly bone tickling what one can simply impart themselves with by visiting good old Google. For me, it was the divine art of learning how to be a trigger-happy maniac. I pulled the trigger, my mind rushing to paint a picture of the firing pin striking the primer, the primer igniting the gun powder and finally the burning powder creating just enough pressure to push the bullet down the barrel and out the muzzle. I watched smugly as the bullet landed squarely on the dummy’s glabella; the soft area between one’s eyebrows. I took it upon myself to give that area a moniker, the sweet spot. A satiated smile crept on my lips as my arms withdrew from their elongated position. A sudden feeling of weariness swept over me but I swiftly shrugged it off. I removed my hearing protection then proceeded to hang it on a nail plummeted into the wall. I then sauntered out of the range, my legs suddenly feeling airborne. “If it isn’t my favorite student … Lily, the woman of steel … literal steel.” I rolled my eyes and playfully punched Victor Oduor on the side of his arm. Of course I immediately regretted my impulsive action given that the man was of stout stature. My eyes zeroed in on his perfectly chiseled jaw, his most outstanding feature. He was the man who had graciously seen to it that I had daily access to the shooting range in Lanet Barracks. “Well, if you really think I deserve such a title then I challenge you to a battle … .” Victor corked an eyebrow before the ends of his dried lips tugged upwards into a cynical smile. “You do realize that I can beat you with my eyes closed right?” “Driving a hard bargain as usual I see? Men from the west and their egos … how delightful it will be to trample all over it.” “Women from the east and their mouths … how delightful it will be to watch you swallow your own words.” For a moment, we stood there unmoving, our eyes locked in a ferocious duel. There was a humongous contrast in Victor’s appearance; a hard exterior complemented by beady gentle eyes. A shrill ringtone blared through the air causing us to break eye contact. I pursed my lips, my fists clenching instinctively as I stared at the screen of my phone. I let it go straight to voicemail. “Go … we will resume our little dance some other time.” I gave Victor a curt nod before hastening my steps toward the barracks gate. Patting my trouser’s back pocket, I fished out a fifty shilling note. “Ah, daughter of Governor! Beautiful girl, today tea?” “Here.” The soldier’s calculating eyes bored a hole at the back of my head as I trotted towards my Toyota E 100. My anorexic fingers fumbled with the car keys as I blinked away the pool of tears brimming in my eyes. I finally managed to open the door, being careful not to let the soldier see my distraught state. African Voices 27
