Although I did not know much about the company that Fiolina, the laugh of my enviable life, worked for, I have no doubt that it was a good company — if you ignore the fact that they fired her in a shameful way.
And although I never met Tony, who was her boss at the company, I can tell you without batting an eyelid that he is a bad man, even though Fiolina liked him and, for the time she worked there, she prioritised him over me; over everything else in life.
That is why when Fiolina was abruptly, irregularly and illegally fired, although I was sad that she lost her job, a part of me was happy that she now would be far from Tony, a man I hated.
That is why when she proposed to keep staying in Kakamega, in the hope that only then would she be able to get something else to do, I was the first to tell her no, and convinced her to come back to reality; to come back to Mwisho wa Lami village.
“You were not staying in Kakamega when you got that big job, were you?” I wondered. “You came straight from Mwisho wa Lami to the job.”
I added that she could still get a job straight from Mwisho wa Lami: “If a job is yours, it is yours.”
“That is how pessimists speak,” Fiolina said. “You have no idea how I got that job.” Even I was shocked that not only did Fiolina know the meaning of the word pessimist, but that she could successfully use it in a sentence.
As you will remember, Fiolina agreed to come back home. But it was not easy, as I had to allow her to use the Deputy HM’s office — partly to keep her busy and sane.
This changed when I made Kuya the acting deputy. The first thing he did was to mark his territory by starting to use the deputy’s office and closing it when he was away.
“I do not understand teachers’ obsession with offices,” she told me the evening after Kuya kicked her out. “Where I worked, all that one needed was internet connection. As long as you were connected, you were good.”
For my own peace, I did not respond to her.
A week later, she would ask for money to go to Kakamega. She wanted to visit a spa. I had never heard of the word “spa”. I asked her to explain.
“The spa is a place I used to go for selfcare: salon, facial, manicure, pedicure, and body massages,” she told me. “When I was working, I used to visit it at least once a month.”
“But you are not working anymore, are you?” I asked her, sarcastically.
“Yes, I am not. But that doesn’t mean I should leave my body like that. I need to look good and feel good.”
After googling some of the terms she used, I told her that she could achieve all she wanted without going to Kakamega and without wasting money.
“Anindo, Nyaya’s wife, can plait your hair into matutas. We already have a nail cutter here to handle your nails. And as for massage, I can do it,” I said.
“You have never had a massage in your life. You have no idea what I am talking about,” she said.
“I know that money does not come easily, but there is no reason we cannot be having fruits every day and fresh juice every so often,” she said. “When I was staying in Kakamega, I made sure that we had enough stock of fruits in the house and we would take fruits after every meal. Not only is it healthy, but fruits also make my brain sharp.”
I told her that we may not have money to buy fruits, but Mwisho wa Lami was blessed with many fruits.
“We have guavas everywhere; avocados are in my father’s home and bananas are easily accessible,” I replied. “You can easily pick them from the trees and eat them as you walk around.”
But it wasn’t long before Fiolina had another complaint. I arrived home to find her not in a good mood. When I asked what was wrong, she said she was very tired as life was difficult.
“Just taking a bath is a lot of work and a very long, long process,” she said. “You go get water from the tank, warm it, then take it to the bathroom. It is very difficult to crouch to get water from the basin like primary school kids.”
This shocked me and I reminded her that she should thank God we had a tank. Most people have to go to the river, far away, to get water.
“Even with the tanks, taking a bath is just a lot of work. You know, I was used to just walking to the bathroom and getting hot water instantly, not this long process. Getting clean should not be work; it should be enjoyable,” she said. “We need to fix some things, Dre.”
“I was doing some studies but without Wi-Fi, there is nothing I can do,” she said. “In fact, I can’t understand how you can live with no Wi-Fi. When I was working in Kakamega, I had Wi-Fi at home and in the office. My laptop and phones connected automatically.”
Dear Fiolina, when I married you a few years ago, you did not even have a phone. You were using soap instead of Vaseline and you did not know what a salon was. Accept your already upgraded village life. If it is difficult, you are free to go back to Kakamega, at your cost!
