“There is a time to plant and a time to harvest, a time to laugh and a time to cry, a time to speak and a time to be silent...”
Whoever wrote that Bible verse must have had my sister Caro in mind. It has been a surprise, a shock actually, to see my sister Caro, Mwisho wa Lami’s Cabinet Secretary for Misinformation, Miscommunication, and Broadcasting of Lies, quiet.
You’d expect her to have something to say about what happened last weekend, which was nothing short of a disaster — for her, for our family, especially for my father and brother Ford, who went to great lengths to prepare for her dowry day. Only for that day to bring us shame, tears, and police.
Since then, Caro has been quiet. Very quiet. For two whole days, she didn’t leave the house. And when she finally did, she didn’t really leave — she just walked around doing housework and singing Christian songs.
Her Facebook, which had been full of photos and posts in the buildup to the failed event, went completely silent. No photos, no posts, no updates. Even her WhatsApp status that is forever busy has been empty for over a week. A very unusual thing.
But in Mwisho wa Lami, when a problem graduates from normal to abnormal, when it leaves the physical and enters the spiritual, there is only one man who raises to the occasion to help: Dr. Apostle Bishop Elkana, The Revered Spiritual Superintendent of The Holiest of All Ghosts (THOAG) Tabernacle Assembly Sanctuary.
He showed up at my house early Tuesday morning. After long prayers, he said: “God has told me there is a certain family that is struggling. And He has sent me to minister to them.”
I didn’t understand why he had come to my house. After all, I had not committed any crime. The crime scene was my father’s compound. The Apostle insisted I accompany him to my father’s home that evening.
Reluctantly, I agreed. After school, the Apostle came back to my place, and together we walked to my father’s house. I had already told my sister Yunia (who is still around) to prepare some tea because we would be hosting a guest.
At my father’s place, the MWITWA (Mwisho wa Lami Teachers Welfare Association) tent was still up, as were some of the chairs. We entered the house and found my father seated. Caro was also seated, with a scarf covering her face as though she was bereaved.
“Mimi sina shida na ng’ombe kuibwa ,” my dad said. “Lakini ng’ombe kuibwa hapa nyumbani — maajabu! How can cows be stolen from Hitler, my friend? How would I even go there? Do I have a face? A name? Where will I drink?”
Yunia brought in the tea, and soon after, my brother Ford, who had been pretending to be busy outside, joined us.
“As a family, you did nothing wrong,” Apostle Elkana began.
“Yes, we didn’t — but my son-in-law Maskwembe brought us shame,” my father interrupted. “He claims he genuinely bought the cows from what I hear, but I don’t believe it. Huyo ni mkora. Mkora kabisa! ”
The Apostle tried to intervene. “From what I hear, he bought the cows at a market. He didn’t know they were stolen.”
Seeing that Mzee’s words were worsening Caro’s condition, Apostle Elkana turned to her directly.
“Relax, my daughter,” he said gently. “The Bible says in the Psalms 34:18 that The Lord is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
“I want to encourage you to be strong and courageous,” he added.
“Pastor, I swear Maskwembe bought those cows. He didn’t steal them,” Caro said. “He’s not a nice person, but he’s not a thief.”
The Apostle led us in a long, loud prayer that included three songs, three amens, and a mini altar call for anyone “battling spiritual disappointment.”
“Thank you, Apostle,” Caro whispered afterward. “I feel lighter… like a heavy load has been lifted off my head.”
Packed her things and left
As I escorted Apostle Elkana out, he didn’t seem in a hurry. He even walked with me back to my place, whistling and humming. I didn’t need a calculator to know he expected something. When I eventually gave him Sh500, he stood up to leave and I saw him off.
But what hurt most was that after losing my Sh10,000 on the dowry that never happened, I was now spending more money on a situation that was clearly going nowhere.
As I was walking back, I met Caro — this time heading to the river, a scarf still around her head, still singing gospel songs. She didn’t even greet me.
A part of me was sad seeing her in that state. But another part was relieved — at least she had finally left the house. At that point, I almost went to Hitler’s, just to hear what the gossip was. But remembering last Saturday’s drama, I chose to go to Cosmos Bar & Restaurant instead.
“Pole sana ,” said Sapphire, who joined me shortly after. I thanked him and asked what he’d heard.
“Hitler is calling you thieves,” Sapphire said. “That’s why I don’t drink there anymore.”
According to him, it was Nyayo and someone else who stole the cows and passed them to another person, who then passed them to Maskwembe.
According to Hitler, Maskwembe knew they were stolen cows all along, he just didn’t know where.
“But even Tito, Hitler’s son-in-law was among those arrested,” I said.
“Yes, but he was released the same day, Hitler had him released,” he continued. “Hitler now believes your family wants to create enmity between him and Tito.”
“Hitler says that your family’s marriages don’t work, and now you want his daughter’s marriage to end too.”
I couldn’t believe it — but then again, I’ve never really trusted Hitler. Once I paid for Sapphire’s beer, he left. The next day, Caro came to see me. Still singing gospel songs. Scarf still on. No makeup. She didn’t waste time with greetings.
“I need your help to get Maskwembe out of jail,” she said. “Your brother-in-law has asthma. If he stays in there any longer, he will die.”
I wanted to remind her that the little money I had left was the same I had contributed for her dowry — but I stopped myself. No need to add salt to injury. I just told her that I had no money. Caro left my place disappointed.
On Friday, she left with Ford. Somehow, they managed to get Maskwembe out of the cells. I don’t know how. Yesterday, she packed her things and left. I don’t know where to.
In the evening, she wrote in the family WhatsApp group: “I have gone back to my husband. Isipokuwa Ford, everyone seems to believe Maskwembe is a thief. I will do everything to prove that Maskwembe is not a thief.”
