By Ogova Ondego
Published February 14, 2023
This is the first installment in the serialization of Kadosa 1: Knocking at Heart, David Maillu’s heartbreaking novel of mysterious fiction woman who is firm and compassionate, and superhuman yet she weeps. For a better feel of the novel, get your digital copy from online bookshops and libraries like Apple Books,Scribd, Baker & Taylor, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, BorrowBox, Tolino and SmashWords now.

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I tip toed to the door, put my ear close to the door and listened. I heard nothing, only for the knocking to return.
“Who’s it?” I asked.
“It’s me,” A woman’s soft voice replied.
“But who are you? No name?”
“It’s me, open please.”
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I tried harder to identify the voice but I failed. As I debated whether to open or tell her to go away, she knocked impatiently, this time calling, “Mutava, why don’t you open the door for me?”
Somehow this time, the voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t fix it to any owner I knew. You see, it had happened many times to people that a woman would knock at the door and when they opened a group of thugs would burst into the house for robbery. What special things would they rob from a poor man like me who hadn’t settled down yet with attractive material things? There were rich people in the same block of houses who would attract robbers. For example, there was an American couple with three cars. Their flat was nearly a museum with variety of luxury goods any robber would want to grab.
Maybe the person knocking at my door, after all, was a harmless woman seeking accommodation… a prostitute, possibly. But my mental record had no name of a prostitute who knew my name.
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When she knocked again I told her, “Give me a moment.”
I went to my bedroom and grabbed my security sword and then returned to open for her, ready for whatever consequences. My heart ran fast and made me start sweating. I was ready to attack anyone who might challenge my security.
“Are you alone?” I asked.
“Yes,” the voice answered.
I unbolted the door nervously only to meet an empty space!
Oh! I stepped out and looked at the empty staircase. That was when horror struck me. My skin moved on me and my hair ruffled as my mouth ran dry. I returned to the house panic-stricken. I locked the door after which I went to the window to have a glance whether I could see, under the isolated street lights, anyone walking away. I saw nobody. It became a big puzzle to me because my neighbour’s dog, which wouldn’t miss barking at night intruders, was silent. But as I closed the window, the knocking returned louder.
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“Hey!” I cried near the door.
“Mutava,” the voice called out louder, “it’s me, open.” She coughed dryly.
“What’s your name?” I demanded.
She didn’t answer and then followed a brief moment of pregnant silence. She broke the silence by another dry cough and, without answering me and with a raised voice, she said, “Dr Mutava, will you not open up for me?”
Now, that was something else. I was convinced she must be someone who knew me. With less fear because, after all, it was a woman and, as a man, I could deal with any night woman, I opened the door and was more shocked to meet the same emptiness! A ghost? My heart ran faster and I felt like fainting. Whatever makes a man brave escaped with my certainty.