Those of you who have visited me of late must have noted that I photocopied the first page of my promotion letter, framed it and hung it in my house for the Doubting Thomases to attest to my achievement.
Those who have seen it will confirm to you that the letter has my name only. It did not have the name of my father, my mother or even that of my one and only dear wife Fiolina, the laugh of my life. Yet, these people have been behaving as though this is a shared responsibility.
It all started a few days after my appointment was confirmed. Although I no longer visit Hitler’s, I always get to know anything said there about me. I got to hear how my father had been bragging to them and even promising people all manner of favours. Nyayo told me all the things Mzee Caleb had promised.
“He has promised Alphayo the contract to fence the school yet I thought I would get the contract,” Nyayo said. My assurances that we had not discussed that with Bensouda did not convince him.
Nyayo also informed me that my father had promised to ensure that the chief’s son was demoted as head boy for Hitler’s son to take over. “If you are electing prefects, please pick my daughter Sandra. Amechoka kubeba vitu shuleni.”
I can forgive my father for promising people goodies in exchange of a drink, but what he did last week is unacceptable.
Mwisho wa Lami residents who have ears on the ground must have heard of the case of Theophilas, the son of Malaki. Malaki is one of my father’s drinking buddies.
Theophilas is a Class Seven boy whom we have been having issues with. The other week, he arrived at school late and when he found Madam Ruth at the gate, he brushed her off and even insulted her. When the matter came to my desk, I suspended him immediately and asked him to come with his parent a week later.
Come last Monday, Theophilas came with Malaki and my father!
“You cannot be chasing pupils away from school hivi hivi,” said my father.
“Sitaki aibu na laana watoto kama hawa wakiwacha shule,” he added. I told him to keep quiet and proceeded to discuss the matter with Theophilas and his father. All was well until I announced the punishment: cutting grass a quarter length of the football pitch.
“Mtoto wangu wacha hiyo,” my father said. “Watu wa Mwisho wa Lami watakuroga ukianza kutesa watoto.”
Looking at Theophilas, he said, “go to class and never repeat that sin again.”
Unwilling to start a confrontation, I let Theophilas go and saw the two men off. – my father with a wide smile.
Then there is the case of my mother. While I agree that she is a little sickly and needs some assistance, she cannot just take matters into her hands. It was at the staff meeting last Tuesday when Mr Lutta, who has never accepted that I should be his boss, raised a matter that really embarrassed me.
“When did students in this school become your family’s workers?” he asked. I did not know what he was talking about and asked him to elaborate.
“All Class Six girls took water to your mother while the boys will deliver firewood. The girls will be there this Friday to smear mud on her house.”
“That cannot be,” I told him.
“You go find out,” he said. “You stay in Milimani and have no idea what happens in Mwisho wa Lami village.
“That’s bad,” said Mrs Atika. “This is a matter we can take forward and you will pour your flour!”
That evening, I passed by home to verify what Lutta had said. Unlike other times, there was a large pile of firewood outside the kitchen. My mother was very happy to see me.
“Why did they promote you so late?” she said. “Had they promoted you earlier, my back wouldn’t be aching.”
“You have not been a deputy HM for long but see what the students have done. They brought me water and firewood and they will even be coming to smear mud on the house for me.”
“I met a prefect and when I joked that they should help me fetch water, she offered to ask her classmates to bring some. She said that if she told them that the water and firewood were for the deputy’s mother, all students would participate.”
“Really?” I said. I wanted to pick a quarrel my mother but could not do so as I was sober. I walked to my house in Milimani, wondering what to do. I found my wife with my female colleagues. Among them was Madam Ruth. As a respectable man, I left them alone and went to Cosmos.
Given my recent huge and unplanned-for expenditures, I could not afford beer yet I did not want to take soda. Based on my budget, the barman recommended that I try out Countyman, a new drink for the counties. I took one tot. The results were instant and after just one bottle, I felt confident enough to face my parents.
I was shouting a kilometre to our home: “Mwisho wa Lami has only one deputy,” I sang. “His name is Dre the Great.”
“Mzee,” I told him. “If you want to be a deputy, you must first go to secondary school, then to TTC, then teach for about 10 years, umesikia? Hapana kuingilia kazi yangu. Sijashindwa na kazi, umesikia?”
“Nimeona hata headmaster wengi sana, so lazima unisikize.” Hearing the noise, my mother came out to intervene.
“And you, tell Pius to pay a maid for you, don’t use my students.
“I did not ask them, they were just helping.”
Wakileta maji, hutaona ndururu yangu tena,” I told her.
Feeling sleepy, I walked home. Supper was ready but I don’t remember eating.
Just before I retired, Fiolina told me that she had something to tell me. I sobered up because there must be trouble when a woman says she wants to talk to you.
“Madam Ruth will not be in school tomorrow,” she said.
She has some urgent matter in Nairobi and I have given her permission to be away for two days,” she said.
“Your wife,” she said. “Please allow her. I assured her that I would talk to you and you would accept.”
“Call and tell her she has no permission,” I shouted. “Call her now!”
Seeing a totally different Dre, Fiolina called and told Madam Ruth to report to school as permission had not been granted.
I had to show Fiolina that I was the deputy HM, and that I had not asked for assistance from anyone!
