Due to the reducing fiscal space in my pockets over the last few weeks, I had not visited Hitler's for quite some time. But last weekend, I got a windfall from the sale of my arrowroots, which I planted in January, and decided to return to that hallowed place.
As you all know, Hitlers is not just a drinking joint, it is Parliament, the Supreme Court, CID Headquarters and the BBC World Service combined. People were happy to see me, and I took the opportunity to narrate what had transpired at Kakamega General Hospital when I took Alphayo, Kizito's father, for a medical check-up. I had no ill intentions other than to pass time, share my experience and make people laugh. In fact, Alphayo himself was present as I narrated the story. He even chipped in, and we all laughed about it.
"Surely," Alphayo wondered, "how can they find all my disease using such a small portion of my waste? What if the part they took was the healthy one? If someone wanted to treat me properly, they needed to check the whole thing, not just a small part of it."
Rasto laughed so hard that he removed his cap, wiped his tears and declared that in his 78 years on earth, he had never heard of anyone donating enough stool to start a fertiliser factory.
"You are lucky you managed to produce such a big one," said Saphire. "The last two times I went to hospital and was asked for a sample, that is exactly when it disappeared. For two whole days, I couldn't go for a long call. By the time it came back on the third day, I was already healed."
"But Saphire," Tito said, "how do you expect to go for a long call when you only eat properly once a week?"
He then continued. "Talking of samples, when Fiolina, Dre's wife, was sick and needed blood, we witnessed wonders in hospital."
He started laughing so much that he couldn't continue, so I picked up the story. It was sometime in 2019. I can't remember exactly what the illness was, but Fiolina found herself admitted to the hospital and blood was urgently needed. When I asked my friends to donate blood, they all refused. But the moment they heard there would be soda and bread after donating, suddenly everyone became patriotic. Saphire, Nyayo, Kuya and Tito all turned up, saying they had more than enough blood to spare. Indeed, they did. The only problem was that none of it could be used. In the words of the nurse who took the samples, Saphire's, Nyayo's and my blood were all rejected because the blood content in our alcohol was very low! We eventually had to send Anindo, Electina and Hnda to donate.
That evening, I narrated the same story when I went to visit my father. My sister Caro, Mwisho wa Lami's Cabinet Secretary for Miscommunication, Misinformation and Broadcasting Lies, was around. Since she had been home for almost a week, my suspicion was that she was making her annual homecoming after another disagreement with her husband. We laughed even harder. I had forgotten one thing. The moment you tell Caro something, you have told the whole world. For the next three days, that is all she did. Everyone she met received the story, complete with drama, sound effects and outrageous exaggerations.
"You see that man called Alphayo?" she would begin. "Don't just look at him. He has been permanently banned from Kakamega General Hospital and from the entire Kakamega town."
Then she would continue. "That old man has a very strange COVID disease. He left a full drum of faeces all over the hospital laboratory floor. All the workers ran away, and it took 30 people to clean the place. The smell spread across the whole of Kakamega Town. If it were not for my brother Dre, I don't know what would have happened."
She went on telling anyone who cared to listen. And because she was idle, that meant almost everyone in Mwisho wa Lami. She even told trees. And buildings. Last Monday, while I was in school, I received a call from Kizito, who happens to be my cousin.
I told him I was in school, running a meeting, and could only spare about five minutes.
"Five minutes is too short. I want to discuss something serious. Please create time and call me back."
He hung up before I could even respond. His tone was angry. About an hour later, he started calling incessantly. I was in class. I called him back when I returned to my office.
"I told you I have something important to discuss," he said. "It needs time. Create that time."
"Did you just ask whether someone has died? Now it is clear. You and your family want my father dead today." I was confused.
"What? Is your father unwell? I was with him the other day, and he looked okay. Is he sick again?"
"Not physically. But you and your stupid sister have been spreading rumours, saying he messed up Kakamega Hospital and was chased away. You are saying what he did in Kakamega can still be smelt across the whole town. Why are you doing that?"
"Relax, my cousin. This was just a funny story that even your dad enjoyed at Hitler's. We all laughed about it, including him."
He cut me short. "It is not funny. And the way your sister tells it is definitely not funny. How can she even say my father had a rare COVID disease? How?"
"If Caro wants to exaggerate or lie about people, let her do so with you and your family, not mine. Leave us alone."
"If I had known you would go around talking about my father's sickness, I would never have allowed you to accompany him to hospital."
"Without my permission!" he retorted. "I don't ever want to see you near my father again. Never! Umesikia?"
I couldn't answer because, ironically, that very morning, his father had sent me to buy him some medicine, and I knew I would be seeing him later that evening.
"I know the two of you talk, but keep off my father. You are not his son, and we have never said we are unable to help him. We are able."
"Okay," I said, and disconnected.
He tried calling me several more times, but I did not pick. He then sent me several text messages warning me to stay away from his family, and especially from his father.
Mzee Alphayo, I loved you dearly, but your son Kizito loves you more. For the sake of family peace, I will keep my distance.
