Mr Survivor: The day Omosh and Makena narrowly escaped mob justice

Having stabilised to a reasonable level, I realised that those supposed thieves were actually Omosh and Makena, but I chose to keep my thoughts to myself.

Photo credit: Shutterstock

The palace, as I have told you in the past, is home to all kinds of drama; some ugly while others are just hilarious. The last one, however, caused a scare in the palace, threatening to destroy my handshake with Queen. I had been caught in the right place but in the wrong time.

You will remember that Makena, alias CPA – comptroller of palace affairs, is indispensable in my home. Rather, circumstances beyond our control have made her so. Queen is very busy in her Slopes Supermarket and countryside chamas while I am even busier in my nocturnal human transport business. Makena therefore rules and reigns in the palace like a peacock.

You will also likely remember that Omosh became a regular and welcome member of the palace on account of my Volkswagen’s need of the constant company of a mechanical doctor. The two immediately copied our good example of a blissful couple and got themselves into a handshake. This is an open secret known by everyone in the neighbourhood, apart from Queen, who, going by her strict religious inclinations and for the sake of everyone’s peace, was better left in her blissful ignorance.

The two have their off-days on Sundays and they have exploited the coincidence to the maximum. Their last Sunday’s explorations, however, seemed to have taken so long that they found themselves in the right place but at the wrong time. Omosh didn’t turn up to pick me at Happy Valley as usual. After numerous calls to his phone went unanswered, I put two and two together. I could not wait for a young fellow to finish up his business, especially as I was not sure of when he would be done. In consolation, Mrembo, the proprietor of Happy Valley Grills, identified a friendly boda boda rider to take me home. As you may expect, I am not in very good books with boda boda riders; they accuse me of stealing their customers.

I arrived at the gate of the palace a shaken man. The drinkables in my head had either frozen or evaporated and I thanked my God that I had arrived in one piece. As I was paying the young man, he held my hand and my mind told me that I was just about to be robbed.

“There are thugs hiding behind this house,” he said pointing at the kiosk that is Queen’s supermarket. I had heard such stories about boda boda riders and I made a desperate effort to jump over the fence and into the palace.

While on the fence ready to jump, a figure leapt from behind the shop and made for my house. In the confusion, I froze and remained suspended on the fence like a trapped animal. “Huyo! huyo!” shouted the rider.

In the confusion, I joined him in calling for help from the safety of the fence. Within no time, Queen was shouting for help through the window of our bedroom. “Wezi! wezi!” shouted Queen. Shortly after, Makena’s yells tore the night as she shouted through the window of her room on the backside of the house.

Within no time, a crowd formed outside the gate of the palace. At that very time, the warrior in me, boosted by a heavy dose of drinkables, went into action.

“Tokea hapa kama wewe ni mwana mume (Come here if you are a man)!” I shouted.

I led the group inside the compound in search of the thief. “Huyo! Huyo!” someone shouted from behind us. Another figure had emerged from behind the kiosk and dashed for dear life through the gate which we had left open.

Everyone was left stranded in the middle of my compound wondering whether to follow the one who had disappeared into the thin air or to continue searching for the one who had gone towards the house. A thorough search in the compound bore no fruits. We concluded that the one who had gone inside the compound must have jumped over the fence on the backside of the house. “They were waiting for you at the gate,” someone offered an educated observation.

Having stabilised to a reasonable level, I realised that those supposed thieves were actually Omosh and Makena, but I chose to keep my thoughts to myself. “How did they know you were going to use a motorbike?” Queen, who had come out of the house and had been following the observations, asked.

The search was suspended and the crowd started dispersing. As I thanked them for a timely response, Queen had her own ideas. “I have always said that some people will one day bring disaster in this house,” she lamented. “Why can’t one go home early?”

I felt like telling her that I had already discovered that the figures lurking in the compound had not been thieves but our own employees in our compound at the wrong time, but sanity prevailed. That kind of information could only make a bad situation worse. For the last one week, Omosh has said nothing about the story which has been trending in Happy Valley, thereby confirming my suspicion. I also chose not to raise the sensitive issue in the spirit of his handshake with Makena. I only hope that they will in future plan their escapades in a more romantic fashion and avoid creating disturbances that breach the peace in the palace.