MR SURVIVOR: The day Queen and World Cup 'widows' stormed Happy Valley

Drink

Unlucky for me, my favourite table is deliberately near the entrance for the convenience of my work. That made it easier for Queen to identify me.

Photo credit: Fotosearch

When the World Cup came around, my coffee became red ripe, and my trips per day tripled. In short, I have been eating life with a big spoon. By sheer coincidence, Makena, our house manager, alias C.P.A. (comptroller of palace affairs), has also been eating life with a silver spoon after stealing from Queen’s supermarket.

Since last Sunday, she has been beautifying my already coloured table at Happy Valley. I want, however, to be sincere; I have not met her. But I have been receiving her messages of generosity from the ushers at Happy Valley.

You certainly remember how I was shocked to near death when I met Makena at Happy Valley and she went ahead to not only come to my table but also to buy me my throat’s favourite desires. If you know my Queen well, you will understand why I kept quiet about the whole issue. I am doomed if I talk and I am doomed if I do not. I chose to keep quiet and enjoy my peace.

In the ruling and reigning celebrations, I forgot two very important points. The first is that the countryside wireless has reduced the expansive Aberdare countryside to a small village. The second is that due to my phenomenal social, political and economic rise, I have acquired more than my fair share of enemies. In that regard, Queen has been receiving every bit of the happenings at Happy Valley through her numerous ‘ears and eyes’.

Last Sunday, a day when Makena was supposed to resume work at the palace, Queen stormed Happy Valley.

“Uuuui! Uuuui! Come and see the devils shaving each other! Come and see!”

I raised my head to see what was happening only to be met by a crowd of women, among them my Queen, shouting at the entrance of Happy Valley.

Haki yetu! Haki yetu! Shetani ashidwe!”

The women were on a mission to smoke out their husbands who had committed various crimes. And because I was at my place of work, I counted myself lucky to be in the right place, in the right time and for the right purpose.

Unlucky for me, my favourite table is deliberately near the entrance for the convenience of my work. That made it easier for Queen to identify me.

“Where is that devil of a girl? Where have you hidden her?” Queen asked me.

By that time, my enemies of marital bliss were celebrating.

Sema kimeumana! Ushikwapo,shika mana!” shouted Short man. Short man is Aberdare wives’ informer and men’s enemy number one.

“Who are you talking about? And what have you come to do at evil valley?” I asked Queen.

“You think that I am a fool? You steal from me and come and drink with that dirty girl just here under my nose!” Queen retorted.

“Imagine! That is soooo bad,” shouted a woman in the crowd.

Pandemonium broke out as various women who had accompanied men dashed for safety through the back door. Some of the men forgot about the World Cup and fled as their wives shouted from the door.

Ndio hao wezi wa mabwana wa wenyewe. Shetani ashidwe!” the women shouted.

At that moment, I was sure I saw Makena being whisked out by Omosh through the back door.

“I have not seen the devil you are talking about. Now you have come to mess with my business yet you know very well that I have kept off your supermarket,” I told Queen.

The mention of the word supermarket seemed to have opened Queen’s verbal deluge. Real and imagined sins that I have committed to her in the ten years of our marriage were read out for all who cared to listen. As the clever man that I am, I never defended myself against any of the accusations. That would only fan her raging fire.

“Madam, please listen to me. I am an honest ‘men’. Your house servant has been in the company of his boyfriend. Your husband is an honest ‘men’. If he were not, I would have told you,” said Mhesh.

As a former MCA, Mhesh has a touch with the ground and particularly the women. After saving me from what threatened to turn into a crime scene, he sweet-talked the crowd of women not to destroy someone else’s business because it would turn into a police case. With the mention of the word ‘police’, the women grew thin and left.

As you obviously expect, Mhesh may have saved me for that moment but that did not stop Queen from sending me to marital Siberia. And from the look of things, I am likely to remain in the marital cold-room until such a time that I shall earn enough redeemable bonga points to warrant my reinstatement to marital bliss. As usual, I shall withstand the suffering without bitterness.

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