Last week in the Van (part 3)

On one hand the girl with the brown dirty fingers could have removed some mud from her shoes and in the process gotten it into her fingers you know. I know I said her dirt was from a lifetime in the rural setting but maybe I’m wrong. On the other hand she was pretty so that could have clouded my judgment too. I’m not saying it did but it could have. I remember getting lost in her eyes when she had looked at me and asked to know what had been going on. I had caught myself in good time just before making a fool of myself –I realized I had been inclining towards her as if ready to plant one on her. Plant what you ask? A kiss! What else did you think? Cactus?

The Miraa chewing fellow in his failed attempt to” break the ice” had helped me do so! I told her about the Miraa chewer’s wandering hand albeit hush hush but clearly touching her thigh in my elaborate demonstration. She did not seem to mind. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? No, wait! Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.

Anyway, I wished she had sat on my right side which is my best side then she would have had the honour of seeing my dimple. I tried turning my head sideways to show her the dimple and kept throwing one or two smiles her way. I think that made her think she was dealing with another buffoon and I was wondering why she looked alarmed until she moved her leg and I realized my hand was still on her! I quickly removed my hand and grimaced my face tightly; eyes closed expecting a slap but did not get one. When I opened m y eyes I saw her putting on some earphones and then she leaned on the window on her left side and closed her eyes. The ice had freeze once again. Come to think of it her fingers were really dirty. I hope it never comes off.

We were now just over 50km to Nairobi. Back then I thought that perhaps things would change- perhaps her phone battery would go low and then she’d have to open her eyes and I would be there with my dimple ready to start a new page. For now I can confirm to you that nothing of the sort happened. I think she had a new phone.

I decided to wait for a miracle and in the meantime I pretended to be staring out the window on my left stealing glances of her in the process. It was dark outside so the most I could see was just a few spots of light here and there. My thoughts and my eyes were in two different worlds until I heard the man with the heavy leather jacket shout at the driver to stop at a center next en route where he would alight.

The drunkard seated in front was by now fast asleep perhaps finally he had found his true age in his dreams. The hat man next to him was still quite just looking ahead at the endless road and on coming vehicles. I was grateful the driver was no longer on phone. I think he had won the phone argument .He looked apprehensive which I attributed to the blinding lights he had to face every couple of seconds from the on coming vehicles.

The passengers seated behind them were all asleep in awkward poses. The balanced diet woman and the woman with the crying baby were leaning on each other like to trees supporting each other in sleep as they had in eating. The spitting woman next to them leaned in font holding on to the driver’s seat. How could she sleep holding a seat? Isn’t sleep supposed to be relaxing? Even the leather jacket man and the two “politicians” behind her looked at the 3 in awe. “The politicians” had stopped their constitutional debate after it had emerged that neither had read the draft that they had been emotionally arguing about. They had moved on to international politics mostly American and Obama related but from what I heard they did not know much about it as well.

Perhaps if they had spent as much time as the show off reading a newspaper in the dark behind them, then they would have material to argue about. But that could also have been a death knell for their argument for what’s the fun in it if you know the facts? The newspaper man was now half way through his constitution reading. He kept nodding his head and biting his lips as he went through the lines following them with his index finger. One would have thought there was an exam at the end of his destination hence his cramming. Did he know it was a draft and that changes would be made? The Miraa chewer was fascinated by his reading and seemed to chew in sync with the nodding, his hands now fully focused on feeding his mouth with more khat. He had found himself a new obsession. The woman with the weave was however still on her weave patting obsession, now alternating from her right to left hand.

Everyone seemed to have something new going on except for the guy on my right who was still coughing incessantly after every five or so minutes. But not for long for all changed. I had gone back to looking at the girl on my left so peacefully asleep when I was jerked back to life by the loud wail of the driver. (Next: The Last part)

Last week in the Van (part 2)

I got in to the Nissan (van) and sat at the back not because the van was full but purely on different motivation. Yes, there was girl involved. Soon the van was ready to go and I observed all its occupants starting from the driver.

At the front sat the driver busy conversing in vernacular with someone on the phone at times steering the car with his protruding belly whenever he got agitated and let go of the other hand to emphasize a point to the caller as if he could see him. Next to him was a man with a black hat, one of those given when to you when you buy barbed wire-written “seng’ege ni ng’ombe”. No! Not “Wire fence is a cow!” Don’t translate it okay? Just listen to me! The hat man kept quiet to himself never uttering a word to the drunkard seated next to him, he looked like a lost farmer. Close to the door was the drunken man who kept singing happy birthday to himself. In his song he was 31 but from his balding head and grey-white hair he must have been in his late 60’s, but no one was interested. One would have thought that the hat man being used to dealing with cows would have told him to shut up or get dehorned or neutered.

Behind them sat a woman who knew the value of a balanced diet. She chewed her way throughout the journey changing from boiled eggs to boiled maize and kept insisting that the driver make stops whenever she saw a roadside seller with food. But man or now woman must eat right? One thing you got to give her though is her giving spirit. Half of the food she bought was eaten by the woman next to her and her crying baby. At first I thought the baby was sick but as we went on I realized it was sick alright, sick for the boiled woman’s eggs and other foodstuffs. The baby kept demanding for more. Its mother was more than happy to assist in chewing the food for it and swallowed most of it in the process. No wonder the baby wailed so loudly. The old woman sitting next to them was appalled by their behavior and kept spitting outside at regular intervals while looking at them with scorn.

The man in a heavy leather jacket seated behind them kept looking at the four of them in disgust. He told the two men seated beside him that he hated being in a van with women and children because of all their fuss about nothing. The two men had then stopped their arguments and looked at him for a couple of seconds not knowing how to reply and then continued with their politics. One of them the one with those khaki jackets with many pockets had insinuated that they would be no peace without a new constitution and that he would mobilize “his” people to reject the draft constitution as it was. This was met by a quick rejoinder that the other man also had “his” people who would vote for it. The heavy leather jacket man, he who hated children interrupted them again and asked them if they had read the draft constitution to which they replied that they had not. Their reply invited lots of stares from the whole van .Even the drunkard at the front cut his song short and asked them to tell him how old they thought he was.

We all ignored him except for the man behind the politicians with the day’s newspaper apparently reading the constitution! Show off! He told the drunkard that he was as old as the first constitution in the world. The drunkard by this time was so busy in his world that he did not know he had been insulted. The newspaper man got back to his newspaper world for he had a few hours before the newspaper became stale after all who reads a daily at 6pm? It was just a few minutes to 6pm. This I got to now from the Miraa (Khat) eating man in front of me who had finally “broken the ice” by asking the woman beside him what time it was and had nearly chocked on his saliva in the process. After a few good coughs and minutes had passed he had finally tried his seduction skills again this time asking for her name. She did not respond and there was a long awkward moment which followed.

Now I’m not saying that she was ugly but she was not beautiful. However, she was trying her best to work with what she had. She had a weave which she kept patting every couple of minutes. At first I had thought it was because she wanted to make sure it was still on her head and had not gone with the wind blowing at high speed from the open window beside her. When she dug in to the weave with her fingers, I realized that she must have had an itchy scalp and all the patting had not helped so she had decided to go in for the kill. I think I imagined it but there were some creatures crawling out going down her neck after her long scratch in the weave. She must have felt my eyes on her neck looking at her creatures because when she suddenly turned to face me, she caught me staring and for a moment we were in a gaze.

I broke the gaze and looked away not in fear or shame but in surprise at how grey her face was. She had applied so much white powder on her face that she looked like she’d fallen in to a makeup kit face first. She turned to face the Miraa chewer who had been following her head movements keenly and slapped him! The Miraa chewer spat some greenish saliva on his shirt and quickly faced the front while wiping off the green matter as if nothing had happened. The weave woman pointed a dirty looking index finger at him and told him to keep his hands to himself.

The commotion had woken up the girl sleeping on my shoulder much to my displeasure. The man on my right side who had been punctuating our journey with his loud irritating coughs gave me a wide grin and gestured with his chin and lips at the girl on my left side checking herself out in a small mirror from her bag, as if passing a coded message to me. His grin did not last long for the cough caught up with him and he gave out a big one.

I prayed that the girl would go back to sleep. I did not mind being her mobile pillow. She was pretty. I had immediately known that she did not live in the city and was probably visiting. How? Her fingers. I came from the village so it takes one to know one – she had dirt stuck in her nails. Now this kind of dirt is the one you get off after a lot of washing and zero contact with soil for a long time. Well now you know. (To be continued)

Last week in the Van (part 1)

I think I told you what happened last week. I did. I didn’t? Well there’s nothing better to do now so I guess I’ll go over it again for you- one last time, ok?

People die everyday, every second, right now? Anyway the reason for this story is that I had travelled to attend a funeral. No, it’s no one that you know, I think.

I think there was sadness for some minutes and then joy on learning that workers would be allowed to travel to attend the funeral. I confess I was a little bit happy. At my work place we only get official permission to be absent on such occasions. Jose being now a member of the in house welfare association had promised me that all was being organized for the bitter-sweet travel. By “all being organized” I mean he fixed me in the entourage even though the deceased was not in my department. What? My department? Cleaning, but that’s beside the point. Stay focused. Where was I? Oh, the travel.

Yeah, so I got in and I must say it was fun- it reminded me of that time our primary school teacher took us to the agricultural show. Despite the 3 hour walk in the muddy paths we took in our school uniforms it was still fun. The teacher was quite frugal though he made us make groups of four each to share a loaf of bread and a soda. Someone said he took some sodas home for his family. That someone really had it rough for a couple of days later. He experienced what we used to call “global warming”- our frugal teacher lay the rod on his behind every now and then at will. What? The other story? Oh! Ok.

Well we got there and buried our colleague. We made a few stops on the way to sight see- the driver called it “kuuwa nyoka”- killing a snake. Most of the sight seeing was done in the heavily forested areas and individually in hiding. Ok! I’m getting to it. Alright!

When it got to time to travel back some of the deceased relatives said that they wanted a ride back to the city as they had some pressing issues that they had to attend to – rumour had been going on that they wanted to inherit the deceased’s position and the way they saw it the first to get back to our boss would be the rightful heir, thus the race and scramble.

And so they called out for the list of those supposed to have been attending the funeral and my name was not there! I looked at Jose but he was nowhere to be seen. So now I was left stranded in a place I’d never been before with my colleagues not in the least interested in my pleas.

Just before they left I cornered one of them and bled my soul out to her shamelessly. My efforts were rewarded with some money for me to use private means to travel back and that is where the story begins, ok? In the van? The Nissan? The story begins in the van. What? It did not the last time? Do you want to tell this story or will you let me? Fine! So this is what happened….I got in to the Nissan (van) and sat at the back not because the van was full but purely on different motivation… (To be continued)

Letter to you sir, yours secretary general

Dear Sir,

My name is Joseph sir. I am an employee of your company. I work in the cleaning department. You probably know me sir. I was recently appointed the secretary General of our in house association. If you don’t remember me let me try and describe myself to you. I am the one you called a nincompoop just the other day for bumping into you as you were showing some visitors your “operations” area. By the way I did not mean to sir- I was so busy trying to avoid you that I was not looking at where I was going. Still haven’t clicked or rang any bells? I have a worn out apron with a brownish yellow t-shirt inside- I wear it all the time, it used to be brown or was it yellow? One of those colors.


Anyway the reason I’m jotting down this massive to you sir, is because we as your workers have some complaints sir. Before I get to them I want give you some background information. First about myself sir. They say it is only by knowing where you’re coming from is when you know where you’re going or should not go. I’m coming from a village far away from here sir. I came here and got a job at your company and I was happy. I live at The Estate, it’s just a few kilometers from your big house if you use the main road but I am actually your neighbor. Of course we don’t meet because of the big wall that separates us. Were it not for the wall you could actually see me everyday when I get home from work in the morning as I go for my cold shower or for bodily duties behind my place. That wall is pretty tall sir someone said it’s like the Berlin wall, whatever that is sir. We share some amenities too sir. For example the municipal council has given you metallic dustbins on your side right? We also use them sir but for other purposes – our landlord uses them to repair his roof. The City council engraved label is a total give away but no one can see us- the wall remember?


Anyway, again sir I am preparing for our first meeting as a member of the Association. I can’t wait. Yesterday I was at our local tailor very early in the morning but had to wait until 11 am for my chance. There were some people already in line there sir; we go there only on few occasions to iron our clothes, at a fee of course. I had washed my uniform and put them under my mattress but they were not straight enough sir so for you I decided to appear smart. The tailor came late as well. He has been opening late nowadays ever since some TV station decide to air Nigerian movies in the morning at about 9am he says. You see it’s not that he likes the movies so much- it’s the men and more so the women in the movies sir. He has been copying the various designs that they have and what better way than to sit and watch –with a pen and piece of paper of course. Business he says has never been better. I’m told the movies are very good; I don’t have a TV sir.


Sir, I think we should now get to the main body of my letter. Some of the complaints we have include summary dismissal. I don’t think it is fair to summarize the work of someone sir. Not after they have worked for you for all those years. Take for example me sir. I have worked for you selfishly for many years. Just the other day you sent me home for one month on unpaid leave for being absent without permission. I have and I will repeat my reason and good excuse sir. A plane fell over my house sir. I was not making that up sir. It really did sir. It was in the news. Some people even saw me on their TV’s. I don’t know what station sir- I don’t have a TV.


Ok so maybe I left out some details, like the fact that it is a few kilometers away but sir it was an opportunity to die for-some people actually did die sir. I got to see a real plane sir! Face to wreckage!


Your recourse was uncalled for- one month? I know you care about us sir, I do. That is why I have never told you what the other people say behind your back. Some say that you are a philanderer and an animal that needs to be taken to the zoo- I think they say this because you have hair sprouting out of your ears but I understand what it is sir- your body is just making up for the hair loss on your head and that is normal, right? I also have hair growing in many places so you see they are just jealous.


That other thing sir, about you being a womanizer, I think it’s just a big lie. They are saying that the receptionist is yours. I agree. Of course she is and what is wrong with you being her guest after all she is the receptionist.


The other thing that we want addressed sir is about pay. The workers are demanding a pay increase sir. They are saying that you made a lot of money last year and you will too this year so they want a piece of the cake. I understand that something went horribly wrong with my predecessor. He asked for too many things and you listened to him go on and on as it was his democratic right. You then exercised your democratic right as well and fired him. I love my job boss and I’m not going to talk more than I have to in our meeting. I thought it better to let you know of my agenda in advance sir.


Let me go to the last part now sir, the conclusion as I know you’re a busy man and that the receptionist is also waiting to receive you again today.


Every good letter, my teacher used to say, must have a conclusion so here we are sir at the conclusion. They are many more things I would have liked to say sir but I will save them for the meeting. Have a good time.


Yours,

Joseph, but you can call me Jose, everyone else does.

Secretary General.

Bye.


PS: I think we should also talk about the unpaid leave you gave me. So that will also be in the agenda somewhere. I look forward to hitting it off with you as soon as possible. I will make a photocopy of this letter for you and me too. Bye again sir.

What Day is it again?

Today is the day that I go broke. I think it will be later in the evening as I trek back home after the work that I will realize how broke I am .I will smile and pretend to have enjoyed it all but be crying deep inside in pain and anguish. No one will notice- no one does with my act. I’m already thinking of people who can loan me some money till end month. It is six in the morning. I know it will be a long day. I read somewhere that nothing is for free and man don’t I know what that means now!

Don’t get me wrong I was happy while it lasted. The thing –if you can call it that- is that I did not expect it to cost that much. I mean who knew a simple outing could be so complex.

I think it all comes down to pay. My employer does not discriminate his employees. On the contrary he is good at what he does –making money. When it comes to sharing it, he also shares it appropriately. If you live in Kenya then you know what we always say about our leaders-they are not bad people it’s just that they are surrounded by horrible people. They always mean well at all times but their directives get misquoted and misrepresented by the cohorts near them doing the actual work. You see that is why I am saying that my boss is a good person. He pays me according to the labour laws- the bare minimum wage, period .Once he overpaid me by mistake and I learnt my lesson. Again, the lesson being nothing is for free. The strenuous deductions for the overpay ended last week.

Yes I said week- I’m paid every two weeks- waiting for one month would just not do. I can’t handle the budgeting. My boss says it’s better for us since we don’t need that much anyway. He says too much money will spoil us. So we take it like a dose- twice a month. It was in a moment of joy and foolery on new found wealth after my latest dose that I thought it better to spend some money.

I had lots of money yesterday. Not that much to spoil me but enough to put a spring on my walk. I have an old polyphonic phone- I’m tired of defending it-it’s a phone-supposed to receive and make calls, isn’t that what phones do? Mine also sends text, most of the time but with my new found wealth I thought it was better to call.

Once in a while I do call you know…. really. My mobile network provider has a new offer-they give me an opportunity to call at times for a lower amounts-depending on where I am geographically so I went to the place where the rate is the lowest. It so happens that it’s always close to a dustbin or a huge hill of refuse. I wonder why- could it be because where I live we’re surrounded by it, I don’t know. I don’t go out much but when I do it has to be a big bang. So I scrolled my contact list and saw several potential dates and settled on one. This was not really hard for me. It’s all about economics. People are different so I checked my list depending on their expectations of a date and their tastes. One caught my attention and her expensive taste.

After several confirmations on how much I would pay for my call I rehearsed my message and when I was good and ready made the call and invited her for the date. The thing (again with the thing! Agh!) is dates in my area are like fast food. They are always ready to go. Not much planning needs to be done, no cajoling and advance notice needed. Just a phone call on a weekend. Life is simple or so I thought.

Before the date I went and bought a few toiletries –a bar of soap and a roll of toilet paper (not that I had run out of newspapers, I was trying to be cozy).She was not the date I would take to a recreational park. When we got to the venue she ordered a cocktail- a small glass that has a mixture of drinks worth a weeks pay. I still had one weeks pay but that was until two of her friends joined us. I think they paid for most of the drinks they took. I lost count after I ran out of cash. I can’t quite recall when they left me to join the adjacent table next to the man dangling some car keys whether I said goodbye or thank you. Was I happy they had left or sad? It must be the drinks- but I only took one.

When did I get back to the house again? What time was it? No it wasn’t cos of the fun, far from it. I think it was around 4 in the morning, right? What a walk! I think the distance from the city to The Estate is shorter at night. I took how long? Why was I running? was someone chasing me ? They took my wallet! Good thing I don’t keep anything in it. Serves them right! What a night! I had fun!

So why is it so cold right now? The sun is up early today. It must be raining in this room again.It so cold. My clothes are wet. I need to get up and go to work. Funny I can’t feel my blanket. I’m imagining things-is that a dog in my house? Why is it sniffing me? Get away dog. What is this? When did I paint these walls brown! I must talk to the landlord.

Oh wait! That looks like soil and the dog is sniffing at the garbage I’m lying on. I could have sworn I got to the house. Let me sit up. Oh God! There’s our gate!

For The Principle

“So, what do you think we should do now sir?” the medium one asked.

He looked at the big one in awe for he always knew what to do in such hazardous situations. The big one seemed to be lost in thought as he moved sideways perhaps to stir his body, get good circulation to his head and a bright idea. In the meantime, the small one looked at both of them in amazement. He had so much growing up to do. Soon he would be medium and then big. Being big came with it’s luxuries but of course it had negative consequences: many of them. Perhaps being small was not that bad after all. Big stopped moving and looked apprehensive. An idea had been born.

“Look at him!” He shouted. Small was getting a little bit worried now. All this noise could attract attention.

“I said look at him Small! Big continued,” He thinks he has won!”

Medium was now agitated.

“Big had better come through this time, he’d better” thought Medium. All of them relied on Big.

“I say we call in the reinforcements” said Big in a slow soft voice. It was unlike him to enunciate his words. The words always sounded like they were running out of him; out of control and all he had to do was breath for them to form.

“But that would mean war!” Medium exclaimed.

Small moved so that he was now between them and covered by their body sizes and felt a false sense of safety. This was going to be big.

“What choice do we have Medium? He started it! Look at HIM! Do you think he cares about us? Hell NO! And neither should we!” shouted Big.

Small shifted his legs nervously while looking at HIM. Just the other day they had been a running battle in the field and what a massacre! Only Small had survived all due to his size. He had managed to crawl into a hole that none of his friends could fit in to.

“I say we leave this place and cut our losses. I was here yesterday and it was terrible. I lost a lot of good friends at this very point.” Small whispered.

Why couldn’t Big just give up the fight? It was not like this was the only place they had. Big cleared his throatandsaid.

“It’s all about the principle guys! We leave HIM and we might as well leave everyone else and then what? Where do we go from there?”

“Principle?” asked Small.

“Yes Small, Principle. We have got to keep up the struggle otherwise we’re doomed.” Medium answered for Big. He was already getting in to Big’s shoes and that in turn meant that Small would soon be Medium. Frightening!

They all looked at HIM- their enemy and started the long hurried walk back to their base. Their enemy had moved and soon they would be visible to him. Why couldn’t he fight fair? He had all sorts of deadly assault weapons and was no match when it came to improvisation. Small began to hate HIM. The enemy had killed many of his childhood friends.

Meanwhile their enemy was in a deep trance. He had fallen asleep on his watch and was in the middle of a nightmare. In his nightmare his boss, Mkubwa was telling him about the new machine that the company had bought in a bid to win some worldwide certification for something he called “Going Green.” Mkubwa had been talking about this Green affair but none of his workers had understood what it had meant until the machines arrived. The machines could do what 50 workers were doing per day in just under 4 hrs. Mkubwa was ecstatic and full of praise for his machines so much so that the dark black hairs that were sprouting out of his ears now looked twirled up like horns. He’d get more work done for less.

The workers had always thought Going Green would not be hard for them after all they had gone green along time ago- they had mistook Going Green for “eating greens”- something they had been doing for a lifetime and thus did not foresee any problems. They were wrong. Mkubwa was going to fire some of them, and then they would not even be able to buy greens.

Just as Mkubwa began reading his dismissal list, the enemy woke up in fear. What a dream! He opened his eyes and saw 3 cockroaches on the wall besides his bed running for cover. He reached out on the other side of his bed and felt for his slipper and when he got a hold of it swiftly moved it towards the cockroaches in great haste.

“Incoming! Take cover!” shouted Big. Medium ran towards Big who was just about to take cover under a paint crack and both of them disappeared in to the crack. The slipper landed on the crack and sealed it. Big and Medium were no more.

Small felt his legs give way and he could not hold on to the wall any more. He felt himself falling in the air towards the space between the bed and the wall heading towards the floor. The slipper missed him by a whisker as he passed the bed on his way down with the enemy cursing. Small landed on his back but quickly grabbed a hold of the bed sheet and turned himself in time to see the enemy’s big eye peeping through the space looking for him. Small went undercover…under the covers.

Early the next day after much hiding at night, Small made his way to the others at the base and got there in time for the early morning march. He looked at the huge reinforcement that had materialized from just one night. Now he understood what Big had meant by Principle.

“It’s time Big!” one of the reinforcements shouted at him. Small looked around and then it hit him like a slipper to the head- he was now Big!

Yes, it’s time! For the principle!”He shouted

“For the Principle! For the principle!” the reinforcements shouted back in unison.

“Let’s go!” Small now BIG gave the order. And the march began towards the cooked greens the enemy had left in his cooking pot…

The enemy opened the door to his room back from the outside bathroom from a cold bath and headed to the corner he called kitchen to warm some water for some milk less tea but just as he was about to lift the match box…

“What the…..where did all ….” He stammered on finding cockroaches eating his greens- Going Green! He turned and went outside his door to get the wet slippers he’d left out to dry.

It was time for war.

Shrewd Young Player

It could happen to you at any time. You could be walking down the road, going to the shop to buy some kerosene for your stove, sitting by the roadside waiting for a free ride to work or when you’re busy minding your own business standing in a horrendous queue waiting for your government food ration for the week. You could meet that girl anywhere.

You know the one who your mama warned you about? She could be lurking in the woods waiting to strike and there’s nothing you can do about it. Well there is but who in their right mind would pass such an opportunity? My cousin didn’t.

He has been sitting in my room waiting anxiously for that all important call that would make him an employee of a “prestigious” firm. I say prestigious because all his application letters since he finished college have this term referring to all places he wants to work. The idea has crossed my mind that I should ask him to also drop his CV at my work place however I don’t think he would want to. It is anything but prestigious.

Since no prestigious offers had come his way by last week, I asked him to keep himself busy by spending sometime outdoors. He is running out of savings and since I am neither his father nor his mother and have never been known to grow money, I suggested that his best recourse was to assist us in getting the free food rations being given by the government. We have had on going water and electricity rationing and so a food ration was good and in the offing, we had no qualms about getting it.

Very early the food ration day my cousin went to the chief’s office with a sack ready for his fill. The queue he saw outside the office was unbelievable. It looked like the whole neighborhood had come for their ration. He looked at the long snaking line and wondered if it was worth the effort. Wouldn’t one go home after standing for eternity on the long queue to eat all the food he had been given to recover from the exhaustion?

He paced himself and looked for an angle to jump the queue at least by a hundred people but just as he was about to pick a spot he heard a loud scream from a woman a few meters behind him and then she shouted:

“Wewe! Hakuna kuruka line!”

He turned and saw a middle aged woman carrying a young girl on her back in froth at his attempt. Everyone had turned their attention to him. He cast his eyes out to the chief’s door and saw the chief carrying a big white container popularly known as “Kasuku” busy pouring maize and other cereals in to a green paper bag held by an old woman. He followed the line scrutinizing the faces of the people and realized that up to where he was standing there were a handful of men on the line! The women would definitely kill him if he dared to break the queue. He swallowed the rejoinder he was going to give the shouting woman and with his head firmly tilted, eyes facing the ground walked to the last person on the queue and stood behind her.

He then put his hands akimbo and stared at the different types of sacks the women were carrying. Some were too big others too small while most were torn and in different states of demise. He wondered if this was the life that he had so much looked forward to. Whatever happened to the rising of the masses to fight oppression, all the isms in Marxism, pragmatism, socialism etc, which he had learnt in college? He felt lost. What was he doing here? His thoughts wondered some more but were brought back to reality by a soft soothing voice that said:

“Excuse me; you’ve dropped your sack”

In his reverie he had let go off his sack, perhaps symbolizing his problems? He picked it up and said his thanks.

“Is this your first time here? “The soft voce asked. A few pauses passed and then she repeated.” I was asking if this your first time here?”

“Who?.. Me?”He asked and then quickly answered. “Yes”

There was no one behind him on the line so it had to be him. Of course it was him

“Yes, this is my first time. Is the line always this long?” He asked.

“Last time it was longer than today. They were giving out cooking oil too.” She answered.

She had by now completely turned and was facing him. She was a few inches shorter than him and her face was right in front of him so that he could smell her warm breath on his neck. She was scintillating. The more they spoke the more interesting she became. My cousin spent 5 “short” hours on the queue with her talking about all sorts of things. In the evening after each had taken their potion home, they met for a cup of tea in one of the many neighborhood cafes where love was brewed.

He is smitten. I have heard much about this girl for days on end. He has found a reason to like The Estate. I have been told by reliable sources that when I’m not at home during the day, my cousin brings a certain girl to my room. The neighbors are looking at me funny. Baba Boi sent word that I needed to see him urgently or else I would come to regret it.
I asked the watchman about this on goings in my room but he told to me to see Baba Boi.

I finally managed to meet Baba Boi today in the morning and he has given me the news.
The woman my cousin has fallen in love with is a girl. She is a form two student in a secondary school nearby. My cousin does not have a clue who he is dealing with. This girl must be shrewd. I’m lost for words.

Two Birds One Stone? Throw it Twice

When someone compliments you, the norm is to say your “Thank you” and perhaps follow it with a smile. However, I have come to learn that not all compliments are to be taken at face value.

Take for instance the tea girl at my employer’s place: she recently complimented me on my new cologne and improved hygiene. I was amiss for I had neither bought any cheap fragrance nor done any extensive cleaning save for a shoddy haircut. On further prodding after I had promised to also buy her “Maize Mandazi” (she mixes maize and wheat flour to cut costs) she told me that I previously had this foul smell consisting of stale sweat, bad breath and a distinct kerosene smoke. I had not realized that my using a kerosene stove left me with kerosene smell, after all a man must cook and eat.

My new found aura is as result of my cousin who has just finished college education. He tells me that when he was in school the government would loan him some money to pay for his fees and upkeep. He was not much of a spendthrift and thus saved and bought a few items which he calls “bare necessities”. These include one of the biggest radios I have ever seen up-close and operated- a 3 CD changer. As if that is not enough it also has a remote so all I have to do is put my backside on my 3inch mattress on my bed and press some buttons and we have music. He also has a gas cylinder cum cooker thus the disappearance of my kerosene smell.

He is waiting for job openings and spends most of his time drafting both short and lengthy letters of applications for various exiting and non-existent jobs. Everyday I ask him if there’s any luck and all I have been getting is that they told him to “drop my CV and they shall see in future.” I am not complaining since as I have said I have been enjoying some new found smell…. or lack of it.

My cousin seems not to like The Estate. Our landlord has been rationing the water that we use. It has come to his attention that we now seem to consume more water than before the water rationing in the city. Apparently we have been capitalizing on the “water days” when the city council allows it to flow to our estate to do all manner of laundry and cleaning. He is at loss as to why he seems to be paying more than before, now that there is water rationing. What he does not know is that some of his tenants have been selling the water to the water vendors. It is all close knit and no one in The Estate is ever going to tell. Why should we?

In addition, we now have electricity rationing! It really doesn’t make a difference what the power company wants to call it- they are calling it power “management”. The other reason why it does not matter is because we have been having our own internal rationing all through. You see the landlord has since time immemorial been switching off the electricity from 8am to 6pm except on Saturdays and Sunday when he switches it back on at 2pm. We call these two days, off peak days. But now with the Kenya Power and Lighting Company schedule things are even worse since now lights go off at 6am to 6:30pm!

When Baba Boi inquired about this anomaly in his power management, he was informed that the country is in a crisis and that we all need to pitch in and make sacrifices. The landlord had then gone on to say that he had as a result made his schedule to go hand in hand with that of KPLC only that his is now daily! As a result I only get to listen to the big radio at night and at low volume. Our landlord definitely knows how to kill two birds with one stone only that his understanding of the saying is that you throw the stone once then pick it up for a second throw.

Come end month, I assigned myself the job of assisting my cousin to get a place of his own albeit unwillingly. I took him to one of those suburbs with mean looking uniformed watchmen to look for a Servants Quarter better known as SQ. I’ve always wondered –if the rich have so much money why do they rent out their SQ’s? Perhaps to remind themselves off poverty or is it to get rid of some rich guilt?

All we had to do is inquire from the watchmen if any of the SQs were vacant and leave his phone number with them in case of any eventualities. One of them did call - but when we went to view the SQ we found out that there was more to it. The watchmen have come up with a new way of making money. They are also part-time house agents with hefty commissions. The watchman informed us that he had a charge of ksh500 to cover “viewing fee”. In addition, if my cousin liked the house he would have to pay him an additional ksh1000 “moving in fee.” This is definitely something I need to introduce to our watchmen at The Estate. They could make some commission by showing off my room and telling the would be tenant of my impending departure come the end of the month only for me to postpone it. We sure could do with that “viewing fee.”

My cousin has also postponed his departure till the end of the month when he hopes to get a reply from his many job applications and possibly a job as well. In the meantime, I smell better and listen to CD’s from 6:30pm till 6am then doze off at work the rest of the day.

Wedding Blues

On Saturday we attended a wedding. I say we attended because we were not invited. We were at the wedding by default courtesy of our Mkubwa. One of Mkubwa’s “staff” was tying the noose...I mean knot. I call him “Staff” because even though we work at the same place we are not referred by that name. We have our own category- we are “workers”. And so Mkubwa’s staff and workers were to attend a staffers wedding. The staffers were attending both the church ceremony and the reception while we were to attend the reception.

Now when I say were attending the reception I am actually lying. The correct word is attending to the reception guests. In my line of work you never really know what your job description is. It is upon the discretion of the Mkubwa. You could be working in his warehouse as a do it all- meaning you do as you’re told -and the next day your work place is his residence which is in one of those places with lofty names ending in grooves, sides, palaces, courts and villas doing some gardening!

Our benevolent Mkubwa saw it in his own right and wisdom to invite us to the reception to do the decorations the sitting arrangements and everything else that the wedding planner had in mind. In short when the wedding planner said jump, we did not ask why? But our quick response was “how high madam?”

We were surprised to see the long winded green grass in the reception grounds. Contrary to our belief that there was a shortage of water in “The Green City in the sun” water sprinklers were ten feet apart spraying water on the green lawns. Some of us did a quick calculation of the distance from our homes to the reception to see if we could carry 20 to 50 litre containers to also irrigate our homes since water in The Estate now costs more than the kerosene we buy for our stoves. It was agreed that we would hire a cart pusher to do the job or better still hire only the cart and push it ourselves.
However, our wet dreams were quashed when Davy- we refer to him as “he that knows news, aka reporter” because he buys the Swahili version of a local daily everyday-informed us that the city council had banned use of hand pushed carts in the city. Down but not out we moved our morning agonies to the reception- we showered and did our toiletries in the confines of the huge bathrooms they had for their workers. Their bathroom size would put my “house” to shame in terms of size, lighting, colour...well everything. We also carried as much water as we could in our bodies and in very many small bottles.

All was not lost for come the Dee day we were also going to enjoy the reception. Those who could were to bring a date to the wedding. I did not have a tough time convincing my landlord’s house help to join me for this auspicious occasion. All I needed was to show her my invitation card. The one the wedding planner had said had mysteriously disappeared and would be deducted from our meagre salaries. It was an expensive card and must have cost a fortune to make it. I’m told it was handmade. I allowed my date to keep it on one condition, that she would not carry it to the reception. Without getting into details, I have since seen it prominently displayed beside her bed. It’s bound to make another disappearing act soon, very soon. Something about it giving...what’s that word...hints...yes, marital hints.

On the big day, the staffers among other guests arrived at the reception after the church ceremony in beautifully decorated cars making a long convoy. Mkubwa must have been impressed by our work. He patted me heavily on my back. Come to think of it, it could have been a push, a shove to move out of the camera focus. I don’t know. I hope it was the former. I did not think much of it then because I had someone grab my hand and pull me away from the cameras. It was my date. She looked stunning but that’s according to The Estate (that’s what we call our residence) standards. Her bright orange kitenge and green ,yellow flowered skirt would have made other men in The Estate look at me with envy but right then it made her stick out in the reception like a sore thumb. I held her hand and towed her towards the kitchen with many eyes looking at us, heads turning and the general feeling of discomfort.

“What are we going to do in the kitchen?” she asked when she noticed our destination.

“I want to check up on what the workers are doing. I’m in charge of the company’s workers helping out on the wedding.” I replied.

“Is that why all off you have the same uniform?” she continued. I did not know if it was an innocent question or some good use of sarcasm. I decided to tread carefully with a one word reply.

“Yes.” I responded.

I had hoped she would be able to mingle with other legitimately invited guests but with her outfit she would not stand a chance. The bridesmaid would tear her part for trying to steal the limelight from the bride; after all it was her day, right? She had not heard one of them call her a petticoat- wearing- bitch.They would then trace her presence to me and I would probably kiss my job goodbye. Much as I dislike my description less job I was not willing to lose it.

The food was good and the reception was fantastic at least that is what I was told by my fellow workers. We ate the food alright but I did not dare venture in to the reception again throughout its entirety for fear of being caught with an uninvited guest. My date is yet to fully comprehend the day’s events and no matter how much she prods I have been very evasive on the issue.

Despite the awful date I had, there is some good from all this. I have been told my skin is glowing and no it’s not because of my date, it’s because of good old soap and water, lots of water, that I had for the last one week while working at the reception.