Mr Survivor: After that political beating, I have resumed taxi business in full swing
Luckily for me, the rains are here with us and only my weather-hardened and tested Concorde can make it in the cow tracks that pass for roads in the countryside.
When recently I made the grievous mistake of quitting my first calling by lying to myself that there is quick cash in political campaigns, I had hoped to kiss a final goodbye to my perpetual empty pockets. I have since come to believe in the mantra that politics is a dirty game.
As you very well know, the would-be third governor of our great county had a head on collision with the deep state. You see, after sensing a humiliating defeat, the deep state issued a direct nomination certificate to the incumbent. And just like that, my dear candidate and I were left high and dry.
Well, yours truly is a financial gymnast. I am bouncing back to my beloved Concorde and what we best know how – taxi business. As our people say, the first wife, with all her imperfections, is always better than any other woman, facial expressions notwithstanding.
Now, going back to taxi business was not that easy. The first roadblock came from the most unlikely quarters—Queen, my one and only queen of my heart and mother of my, nay, our boys, alias, future leaders. That, coming from her, is not very unexpected despite the abnormality of it. I have told you in the past that Queen is a proud holder of a Phd (put him down) in marital and husbandly psychology.
For the short period of time I occupied the strategic and lucrative position of the chief campaign strategist of that beautiful woman, Queen neither gave me peace nor had peace herself. That is in spite of the fact that she is also working for a man and I have never questioned where she comes from when she is dropped at the Palace by the county’s black monsters at ungodly hours.
Queen’s celebration of the end of my political-cum-financial road was heartbreaking. “Haiya, some people have eyes for decoration,” she said. ‘Some people’ is Queen’s lingo for referring to yours truly when she wants to hit hard at my male and husbandly pride and prejudice. “What have my eyes done this time?” I meekly asked.
“You need prayers! You claim to be a man and a head of your family but you are following a woman!” she shouted. For the sake of marital peace, I did not respond. I knew where that kind of talk was headed. She was spoiling for a war so that she could expel me to marital Siberia.
The second reason it has not been easy to resume the taxi business is the hostile political environment. You see, at the height of the political campaigns, I had made more than my fair share of enemies. The thing is, it was obvious that my candidate was going to make minced meat of the incumbent and all the other political Lilliputians in the forthcoming elections. In our people’s lingo, she was going to pour their ugali and therefore anyone even remotely associated with, leave alone actively campaigning for, her was an enemy number one.
“Hehehe-he-he! Kwani what happened to the money from women?” taunted Mhesh. He is a chief campaigner of the incumbent, hoping to earn some tenders if and when the latter wins the election. “Where is the money written woman?” asked Mrembo on my behalf. “Place the male money on the table, we badly need it,” shouted chairman, Mrembo’s partner in crime. From that day, no one else has dared harass me within the precincts of Happy Valley Grills.
The issue now is on the country roads where my enemies shout insults. But I am a survivor and life must be lived. Luckily for me, the rains are here with us and only my weather-hardened and tested Concorde can make it in the cow tracks that pass for roads in Aberdare countryside. Both friends and foe have to use my Concorde if they are to make it home in one piece.
Those who had written me off financially are in for a rude shock. With the Concorde having been given a fresh breath of life by Mama County, I am good to go. The insults will not be written on my face. For me and my Concorde, we will dutifully and faithfully serve our esteemed characters better than best.
As for my Queen, there is very little I can do about her. She remains the best woman and wife I have and will ever have, her Phd notwithstanding. Her time of waking up to the truth that politics is a dirty game is coming soon. My only hope is that by the time she learns the bitter truth, Slopes Supermarket will still be worth the piece of wood on which its name is written.
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