Being a tour guide

Wafula the Builder – Chapter 8

The moment Wafula stepped through the door in the white void, he found himself standing in a place that defied logic. The air was thick with an eerie silence, yet there was no wind, no movement just an endless expanse of gray mist stretching in every direction. Then, as if responding to his presence, the fog receded, revealing a massive stone wall in front of him.

Etched into the wall was a list. Not just any list it had the precise, deliberate markings of a mission log from a video game or some ancient prophecy. Some of the words were clear, while others flickered as if fighting to remain visible. The largest, boldest words on the wall read:

THE CHALICE

The inscription was accompanied by an image of an ornate golden goblet, carved with intricate symbols. But Wafula barely had time to process this before something shifted in the void.

****

Far from the white void, in an undisclosed location, an old man who had been sitting cross-legged in deep meditation suddenly opened his eyes. His gaze was sharp, piercing like that of a predator that had sensed movement in the darkness. He exhaled slowly, his breath steady. Then, in a voice that carried both wisdom and authority, he spoke:

"A new challenger has stepped forward."

The message traveled. Whispers spread like wildfire through underground channels, through coded messages in places only the most well-informed could decipher. In the farthest reaches of the world, certain people took notice. Some raised their eyebrows in amusement. Others frowned in concern. And some, the most dangerous of them all, smiled.

In Nairobi, however, life went on as usual. Tourists flocked in and out of Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, many coming for vacations, safaris, or business. But among them, hidden in plain sight, were a few who had arrived with a different purpose—one known only to those within the most secretive circles.

Wafula knew none of this.

*****

As quickly as the words on the stone wall had appeared, they faded, sinking into his mind as though burned there permanently. He felt no immediate connection to it no mystical force compelling him to act. In fact, the whole experience felt oddly underwhelming.

"That's it?" he thought. "Where's the adventure? The dramatic enlightenment? The powers? The mysteries?"

He had expected something grand like in wuxia novels where a protagonist stumbles upon a hidden inheritance or an ancient martial manual that grants them supernatural abilities. Instead, he got a list.

A shopping list, essentially.

Sighing in frustration, Wafula turned away. Whatever the "chalice" was, it wasn't going to pay his rent or put food on his table. He had bills. Responsibilities. If this white space wasn't going to start offering him tangible benefits, he wasn't interested.

When he opened his eyes again, he was back in his room, sitting on his bed as if nothing had happened. The intrusive thought ability was no longer shocking—it was just another part of him now.

And so, he moved on.

****

A week passed. Work continued as usual, his studies progressed steadily, and life remained the same. He did not revisit the white void. He had no reason to. Whatever had called him could keep calling he wasn't answering.

Then came the knock on his door.

It was his landlord. A well-traveled man in his late fifties, Mr. Muriuki was known for his easygoing nature and connections in high places. He greeted Wafula with a wide smile and wasted no time getting to his point.

"I have a favor to ask, Wafula," he began.

Wafula raised an eyebrow, nodding for him to continue.

"A friend of mine has just arrived in Kenya, and they need a trustworthy guide for a week. You know the city, you're a responsible man, and you mentioned during your interview that you're a driver."

Wafula frowned slightly, trying to remember when he had said that. Then it clicked, during his house interview, he had casually mentioned knowing how to drive, trying to sound responsible. He hadn't expected it to come back to him like this.

"I know you have work," the landlord continued, sensing his hesitation, "but I'll make it worth your while. Do this, and I'll cover your rent for a whole year."

Wafula's hesitation vanished instantly.

"A year?" he repeated, just to make sure he heard correctly.

"A full year," Muriuki confirmed.

Wafula nearly laughed out loud. A full year of rent-free living just for being a tour guide for a week? That was a deal he couldn't pass up.

"Deal," he said immediately.

Mr. Muriuki beamed.

"Good, good! You'll meet my friend tomorrow. He's a foreigner but very down-to-earth. You'll like him."

Wafula nodded, barely paying attention. His mind was already calculating how much money he would save. With no rent to worry about for the next year, he could invest more into his studies, maybe even upgrade his laptop or move into a better place.

This was a golden opportunity.

He had no idea just how true that statement was.

****

That night, as Wafula lay in bed, he felt at peace. There were no intrusive thoughts, no magical summons, no mysterious missions.

Tomorrow, he would meet a tourist, show them around Nairobi, and get paid. Nothing more, nothing less.

For the first time in a long while, he felt like his life was back under his control.

If only he knew how wrong he was.