When we last met on these streets, following Apostle Elkana’s prophesy, I had been welcomed so warmly in Kakamega by Fiolina. Unlike the previous time, I felt like the head of the house once more and was being fed well, listened to and respected.
Until I received a call from home that my mother was not well. It was my sister Yunia who called.
Indeed, I had taken some time before visiting my mother. And it was true that my mother was unwell. But my mother had always been unwell. If it was not blood pressure, it was blood sugar issues. If it was not arthritis, it was a condition that she simply described as “this body is not mine”.
I saw no urgency to travel back home and planned to travel after two days. What was the hurry for? Wasn’t Yunia at home anyway? Later that evening, Pius would call me to say he had heard mum was not doing well. Caro also called. Ford also.
Early the next morning, on a Tuesday, I travelled to the village. I did not need a calculator to know something was amiss. There were many people at my parents’ compound, wailing. It had happened. My mother had passed on.
Later, I sat with my father and sister Yunia to start planning.
Saphire and Nyayo, had, without any letter of appointment, assumed the role of my bodyguards and were not leaving my side. The first thing we agreed on was to take my mum’s body – it was strange to call her a body – to a mortuary. My father and Yunia went to the morgue, leaving me at home.
They asked me to be in charge of things at home. I did not know what to do. People continued arriving and wailing, then sitting. It was Nyayo who informed me that once someone had wailed, they needed to take something. I gave Nyayo some money to buy sugar and bread.
When an opportunity presented itself, Nyayo, Saphire and I went to Hitler’s. While there, Ford called me asking me of our next plans, and I told him that we were waiting for him and Pius to come. He told me to be a man and start planning: “What if you were the only son?”
A few minutes later, my sister Caro created a WhatsApp group. We were all encouraged to add our friends and ask them to contribute. While my brothers Pius and Ford added many of their friends, I did not have anyone to add other than my friend Wesonga.
Kizito, who assumed the role of chairman, started issuing instructions on the group. He soon shared a budget of about Sh350,000 and said we should start sending contributions to Pius, the treasurer.
In the evening, Nyayo asked me if I wanted people to join us at home to keep us company. It was not for free. For once, I gave him some money. He came with young men and some Hitler’s stuff. As they partook of it, they stayed with us overnight.
The mood of the home changed when my brother Pius arrived on Friday, the same day the body was brought back. On arrival, Pius and Ford admonished me, saying I had not done anything yet I was the one at home.
Fiolina agreed with them, saying I had only been visiting Hitler as if he was the one bereaved.
“Yaani we have to come from Nairobi, Kitui and Kakamega to organise mum’s funeral and you are here?” Pius asked.
The three engaged a number of people to set up tents, a public address system, catering services, among others. Pius called for a family meeting, where he said money was needed urgently. He committed Sh30,000. Ford gave Sh10,000. Yunia gave Sh2,000, saying she had spent a lot on mum’s treatment. Caro gave Sh3,000 while Fiolina sent Sh12,500. I had only Sh1,000. I gave Sh500 and pledged another Sh500.
“I have many teacher friends and I know you have a good benevolent scheme, I was expecting more money from you, Dre,” said Pius. I had not been contributing to the fund and was in arrears with Mwisho wa Lami Teachers’ Association, who always came in handy whenever a teacher was bereaved. In short, the only place I could get money was from my savings, which did not exist. I told Pius to consider what Fiolina and I had given.
Realising that I had nothing, Nyayo and Saphire left me and became Ford and Pius’s bodyguards. The night before the burial, there was lots of music, dance and merry-making, as if Ford had piped drinks from Hitler’s to our home. Ford had also travelled with three uniformed prison wardens and so security was tight.
That night, I went to my home to sleep. But I found that my house had been taken over by Fiona’s family, who had taken up every room, including my bedroom, which Fiolina was sharing with her two sisters.
Having not been given anything, the chief ordered that the service must be completed by 10am. Apostle Elkana, who seemed to be relishing an opportunity to conduct a major funeral service, presided over the occasion. Except for me in my green Kaunda suit, everyone else in my family was in black. But observers say that I, as usual, stood out. The only downside was that I was not allowed to say anything at the funeral as my brother Pius decided to speak on behalf of all the three boys. He, however, let Ford speak since he was my mother’s boy!
After the burial, the wazees declared that none of us boys could sleep in our houses until after three nights. For three days, we kept ourselves warm around a bonfire and Hitler’s stuff. We only returned to our houses on the fourth night, and what a busy night it was! I am not suggesting anything, but let us compare notes at the end of March 2022! Fare thee well, mum. Till we meet again.
