Although I successfully saved my Queen—I should say my ‘old Queen’—from Makena’s Palace capture, I did not expect her to appreciate my role in the delicate salvation affair.
You see, as her loving and caring husband, I was just carrying out my duty to my wife. In any case, I have saved her from other numerous financial and political misadventures in the past and she has never as little as said ‘thank you’.
But when I arrived at the Palace on Monday evening, a few hours after reinstating her at her Slopes Supermarket, I was surprised to meet her patiently waiting for me. Unlike her usual self, she was neither making faces nor banging the crockery in the house. Her face had undergone a transfiguration to a smiling and welcoming one.
“Karibu my dear,” she welcomed me at the door.
I initially thought that Margie’s drinkables were praying games with my mind. Actually, Margie has developed this queer habit of welcoming me at Green Valley with exactly the same words. But today’s missive is about my ‘new’ Queen. Margie’s ‘‘Karibu my dear’’ is a story for another day.
A wifely and romantic reception awaited me. A cock had lost its head and she had made ugali as an accompaniment.
“I had to say thank you in a special way. I had seen my world coming to an end,” Queen said.
Just then, we heard Makena coughing in her room, something she always does when she wants us to know that she is awake; and this happens many times. Let me just say that Makena is a great impediment to our good times. We had to change to the dead stories of rain and cost of living.
“Tomorrow is market day. I hope you will get time to transport my shopping to restock my supermarket,” Queen said. This was said loudly enough for Makena to hear.
“At your service my dear,” I said.
And so on Tuesday, I spent a good part of the day ferrying Queen’s shopping from Ol’kalou town. When I delivered the last trip and was just about to leave, Queen surprised me. For the first time in the history of my Volkswagen Beetle, she gave me money for fuel, a thousand shillings. I almost fainted. But that was just a tip of the iceberg.
“Now that Makena is back to the kitchen, I can give you a treat this evening after I close the supermarket,” Queen said. I pinched myself to be sure that I was not dreaming.
“Kwani kuna mwingine leo ? I have done my mathematics well. And you saw we can hardly talk anything when that Makena is there with her derisive coughs,” Queen said.
That is how on Tuesday evening, I was taken for an evening outing by my Queen at the prestigious Kichakani Paradise Resort. After a mountain of Kienyenji chicken and roast potatoes, Queen settled for her favourite Del Monte mango juice as I caroused my usual. Queen was not looking at my beer with evil eyes. A really transfigured face. It was as if she could actually take a glass of it, given the opportunity. It was a reunion of sorts; a re-enactment of our honeymoon days.
“I brought you here to just say thank you for saving me from my enemies. You are a man and a half. I love you!” Queen said.
“A husband and a half would sound better,” I joked.
“Yes, my dear husband. You are a husband and a half.”
“I also solemnly declare you my one and only Queen for life, in times of happiness and in times of sorrow. These walls of Kichakani are my witness. So help me God,” I said.
Queen laughed uproariously. The only other time Queen ever laughed like that was during our honeymoon.
By the time we left Kichakani Paradise, very late at night, Queen had promised to be good to me and ignore all the rumour mills that have been filling her head with juicy stories manufactured in their fertile imaginations.
I am now putting all the enemies of my marital bliss on notice. My transformed and transfigured Queen has seen the light. She has no place for idlers. Hii imeenda! Hii imeenda! Imeendaaa!
