For a very long time, I only knew how to cook one thing - water for bathing. Because I would add a little salt, anyone who used the water I warmed would say that the water was very nice, and they would ask for more.
I did not know how to cook anything else. Not because I did not want to, but because I never needed to.
Growing up in Mwisho wa Lami, in the deep intestines of Kakamega County, I never went to the kitchen – except to eat.
The kitchen was always manned by my mother Agnetta, my sister Yunia, and my small sister Caro, Mwisho wa Lami’s Minister for Miscommunication, Misinformation and Broadcasting Lies.
Even after I left Kilimambogo TTC, I never stayed alone. I stayed with my parents back in Mwisho wa Lami. Despite protests from my dad, my mum never let me enter the kitchen; she always cooked for me.
I soon got married, and Fiolina also cared for me well. In short, I never felt the need to go to the kitchen, as my stomach demands were well taken care of. Until last week, and not by force.
As you know, a few weeks ago, we dispatched all the kids to different places so that we could remain just the two of us. We planned to have the time of our lives, to do the things we had never done together.
As you know, during school days, Fiolina works so hard to make all of us comfortable, cooks for us, washes, and irons my clothes, among other duties. When schools close, it is always her time to rest, and the girls: Electina and Honda, usually pick up the duties.
That was it until both girls left. We found ourselves alone, just the two of us. The first day, as usual, Fiolina woke up to clean the house, wash, and do other things that women do to keep themselves busy in the house.
She woke me up at 9am to have breakfast; it was tea, boiled maize, and pancakes. We leisurely had breakfast, then lazed around talking about nothing.
I went back to bed and was only woken up when lunch was ready. Lunch was ugali, sukuma wiki, and eggs. Every proper Mwisho wa Lami man will tell you that nothing tastes as sweet as that. As Pius would say it, it slaps differently.
Once again, we lazed around until 4pm when we took a stroll around the village, but we parted ways at Hitler's gate where I entered as Fiolina went back to prepare dinner.
I got home well past 9pm. Grudgingly, Fiolina served me supper, and as I ate, she warmed up my bathwater, putting in some salt - as per my preferences. I do not want to tell you what time we slept, but for obvious reasons, it was late.
The next day, as Fiolina tried to wake up to do what she always did, I pulled her back to bed.
“What's the hurry for? There is no one going to school or a child that will die of hunger!” I teased her.
She insisted that as a woman, she had to be up early and left me in bed. She was pretending, because as soon as she opened the windows, she joined me back in bed.
We had a wonderful time, only leaving bed at around 9am.
“You will have to help me prepare breakfast today,” she said, pulling the blanket away from me.
I tried to take it back, but she pulled it away.
In the end, I joined her. My job was easy, to give her what she wanted. It was an easy breakfast: well-brewed lemon tea, using honey instead of sugar, sweet potatoes, and ground nuts. I made the ground nuts under her instructions while she made sweet potatoes and tea.
The breakfast was ready an hour later, and instead of taking it from the house, we placed it outside under a tree, from where we leisurely took it. Nyayo, uninvited, joined us for breakfast. We talked with him for a long time.
I have no idea what he was waiting for, as he never seemed to want to go. We left him there and went to the house, locking the doors behind us. Nyayo had no option but to leave, after noticing that his plans for lunch with us would not materialise. He has not yet returned.
We also decided to start locking the gate, to avoid any unwelcome intruders.
I called Tito, a bodaboda friend who brought us half a kilo of liver from Mwisho wa Lami market. I joined Fiolina in the kitchen, and we fried it nicely. And cooked ugali.
We took the late lunch from the house, not even the house, we took it from the kitchen, to avoid any uninvited guests.
When we took a walk that afternoon, Fiolina did not let me go to Hitler's.
“I will serve you breakfast in bed if you don’t go to Hitler’s,” she said.
That evening, we sat on the sofa set, watching TV. No supper was prepared, but there was a constant supply of tea and groundnuts. For the next few days, Fiolina served me breakfast in bed.
But yesterday, she insisted that I prepare for her breakfast. Having observed what she did, I was able to brew her lemon tea, and prepare groundnuts and a boiled egg. The ground nuts were a little black from too much heat while the egg was not well boiled. I thought she would be mad.
“Don’t worry, you will get better with time,” she said.
“It is the thought that counts,” she added, then pulled me back to bed.
