Mr Survivor: World War III brewing as Mrembo plans to 'finish' Margie

When I was very busy sorting out the threatening third world war in my first home between the two women of the Palace—my dear Queen and Makena, our long serving house manager—another world war was shaping up in my ‘second home’ between Mrembo and Margie, the two leading hospitality entrepreneurs in Happy Valley.

I found myself in the mix of the simmering war by virtue of my successful taxi business empire. You see, my weather tested and proven Volkswagen Beetle is an indispensable supplement to Happy Valley’s hospitality industry, particularly in this weather when Happy Valley countryside has been turned into one big dam.

Mrembo and Margie’s customers depend on me for their safe delivery to their homes. The revellers have this habit of observing a minimum staggering distance from my Beetle just to be sure that I am available. Where I go, my customers follow. So, when I recently left Mrembo’s drinking den for Margie’s, the customers followed me. That is how and why the two women have no choice but to talk to me nicely. 

Now, juicy stories in Happy Valley usually spread like bushfire in the dry Aberdare forest. Even what is supposed to be top secret is sooner than later public knowledge, courtesy of the likes of Master and Sumbua, Mrembo and Margie’s men of hands respectively.

The two mercenaries, called machinery in our lingo, are omnipresent and omniscient in Happy Valley. As masters of odd jobs, they are a must have for the two women going by the nature of their businesses. As you can expect, part of their pay is the ‘kill me Quick’. In their ever drunk status, they can go to any level to please their masters.

In my investigations, I have gathered that Mrembo blames Margie for the historic fall of her business. She claims that Margie gave me kamuti (a love portion) from Daktari kutoka Kitui (a doctor from Kitui). In my hypnotised state, she claims, I shifted my parking base from the Grills to Green Valley. The truth, and nothing but the truth, is that the allegations are a result of Mrembo’s fertile imaginations. But who has time for truth?

Sumbua, Margie’s man of hand, excited my antennae recently. “I can see it in Mrembo’s eyes that there is something being planned,” he said. I take what Sumbua and Master say very seriously. Any harm to any of the two women was going to be a big dent not only to my business but my good name. I had to dig deeper.

In my days at the Grills, Master was my ‘car wash’ and since my departure, and with no customers at the Grills, he was at his most vulnerable. When he appeared at Green Valley, he looked hungry, thirsty and beaten.

“Give Master two big ones before we go for a car wash,” I told Margie. He gulped them like his very life depended on the drink. The funny thing with his type is that they are very cheap to buy. They live for the moment and can let out any secret when you properly lubricate their gullets. 

I ordered half a boiled head of a goat and soup for both of us. You could have heard us from 10 metres away, crashing and devouring. “Thanks boss. Kule kumekauka sana. Mli tunyaganya wateja wote (The other place [Mrembo’s den] is quite empty. You left with all our customers),” master said after the devouring ceremony.

“With whom did I take your customers? I just left alone,” I asked.

“Boss, these walls have ears. But you cannot just take meat from someone’s mouth and expect that person to just sit back and watch you enjoy the piece of meat,” master said. I ordered a big cup of soup to wash down the meat, which lightened his tongue and, with that, he started having verbal diarrhoea.

“But this is business and each one has to know how best to treat their customers,” I probed.

“Wewe unajua yule mama ni mnoma. Kuna mtu atafichwa,” he said.

I wanted to know who between Margie and me the target was.

“So, who is the problem, Margie or me?” I asked.

“Mrembo has no problem with you. She says you are not yourself. But Margie will become history.”

I did not take Master’s words lightly. His words are Mrembo’s mind. I had to act before a case of murder happened at Happy Valley.

Yours truly is an old finger at such things. If I could handle my Queen and Makena, two drama queens par excellence, who are Mrembo and Margie? The two women have to live harmoniously at Happy Valley. Here I go.

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