19/04/2026
PART 8: THE JERICAN, THE SMELL… AND THE TEMPTATION
Immediately, Apostle Hezekiah turned and walked back to his car. That car… ah! We shall talk about it another day. Not today. Today we focus on Mutunga’s test.
He returned shortly, not empty-handed… but with a 5-litre jerican.
“We! Shika hii.”
Mutunga paused. Just for a second. The kind of pause that asks,
“Is this part of the job description?”
But respect is respect. He took it.
“Enda pale petrol station uninunulie mafuta… litre tatu.”
The Apostle added, casually… like sending someone for bread.Coins and notes changed hands. Mutunga calculated fast, very fast. The kind of mental maths that only works when money is involved.There it was. Balance… shilingi hamsini. Fifty bob. Not small. Not big. But very useful.
Mutunga stepped out of Uncle Simon’s Kinyozi, jerican in hand, responsibility on his shoulder… and temptation waiting ahead.
Then it hit him.Not a person, not a voice but a smell. A dangerous smell.
Have you ever met a smell for the first time… and immediately trusted it more than people? The kind that enters your nose and goes straight to your soul?The kind that says,
“Whatever is cooking here… forget your mission.”
Saliva did not ask for permission.It simply reported for duty.Mutunga slowed down. Then slowed down more.
Then… without announcing it… his legs adjusted direction slightly. Not fully. Just small-small. You know those accidental turns. And there he was.
A man, a grill and smoke dancing like it had a purpose in life. On that grill… something familiar… yet upgraded.Mutura.But not the village edition of Ndivuni.No… these ones were serious. Big, full and confident.
Mutunga stared.
For those who don’t know mutura… it is exactly what Mutunga saw, only sweeter than explanation itself. Every place has its own version. You taste here, sweet. You go there, another level of sweetness. Around the corner, different sweetness.
Life itself.And the best part? Even with Ten bob, you don’t go home empty.
Mutunga moved closer. Curiosity first. Hunger second. Or maybe hunger first.
“Maa… unauza aje?”
“How much are these… intestines?”
The seller didn’t even look up properly. Busy hands. Serious man.
“Ti maa ni mutura.”
“Not intestines… mutura.”
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