MR SURVIVOR: An abrupt leave, the World Cup and a rare encounter at Happy Valley bar
Before I could recover from the shock, an usher placed two helpings of my all-time favourite on my table.
When we parted ways on these privileged and panoramic chronicles last week, Makena, our C.P.A. (Comptroller of Palace Affairs), was on a week-long go-slow. As a result of that, everything has been happening behind schedule.
The future leaders have been missing the school bus every day. And with that, C.P.A. has just succeeded to prove what she has always claimed—that Queen suffers from a great deficiency in wifely and motherly endowments.
For me, I did not require a professor of the psychology of women to tell me that C.P.A. was looking for a reason to be temporarily suspended from the Palace so that she could get an opportunity of spending the money she had milked from Queen’s Slopes Supermarket. But that is intuitive knowledge that I kept closer to my heart for the sake of marital peace and harmony at the Palace.
You can now imagine Queen’s temperament when you add up three shocking incidents in a row! It started with the political loss in the recent elections, followed by the emptying of her supermarket, which in turn lead to Makena’s go-slow. As our people say, the river follows the line of least resistance and I had just been exposed as the only easy and ready target of Queen’s frustrations.
Because I empathised and sympathised with Queen, and which was the most logical thing for a loving and caring husband to do, I accepted to suffer without bitterness. I have therefore been readily and lovingly receiving Queen’s psychological and verbal blows in an effort to uphold her sanity.
Last Sunday morning, C.P.A dropped the bombshell.
“Auntie has said that she is going to visit her mother in Meru,” the younger of our firstborn twins said. He is the family Ombudsman and is always used to pass serious messages.
“Yes, she has packed her nice clothes,” said the lastborn, the family joker.
“She said she will come back on Sunday next week,” said the older of the firstborn twins, the family judge.
“Why can’t she say it herself instead of sending you?” Queen asked.
“I am taking my annual leave. I shall come back on Sunday next week,” C.P.A. said.
“But you should have given me a notice. Where do you expect me to get money now and you know better what happened to the supermarket!” Queen asked.
“I have talked about leave not money!” C.P.A. shouted. And with that, C.P.A. left in a huff. Soon after, a motorcycle roared at the gate of the Palace. From the hard starts and intermittent coughs, I was sure that was Omosh’s rickety contraption.
That Sunday evening at Happy Valley, I almost fainted when C.P.A. approached my table. “Hibaba boys? I am sorry my boss would not have understood me. I had to watch World Cup which is banned in your house. Lakini najua hii maneno utakanyangia,” said C.P.A. She was very drunk and disorderly.
Before I could recover from the shock, an usher placed two helpings of my all-time favourite Balozi on my table. “From Omosh,” the usher said.
C.P.A. left without waiting for my response. Before I could pull myself out of the world of dreams to the world of reality, Omosh planted himself at the opposite side of my table.
“How are you, boss? Wewe unaelewa hii maneno. She said that she wanted to watch World Cup. What would I have done?” pleaded Omosh.
“But you very well know how expensive this kind of a joke can be for both of us. Your wife and my Queen are capable of lighting a fire under the very table we are seated,” I told Omosh.
“There are many ways of dying in Kenya and there is no harm adding one’s wife to the list,” Omosh said, breaking into an uproarious laughter.
At that very moment, the same usher placed another two helpings of Balozi on my table. “From that girl,” she said, pointing at Makena.
I had no choice but to serve justice to a forest of beers from C.P.A. and Omosh, the two partners in crime. With the shock I was suffering from and the fear from the knowledge of what Queen was capable of doing were she to get in at that very moment, I decided to deforest the table in the hope that it would calm my nerves.
That, my friends, is how I ended up enjoying, at Panga Point, the fruits of Makena’s generosity, yet knowing very well it was proceeds of theft from Queen’s supermarket. Now tell me good people, if you were in my small shoes, what would you have done?
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