On Tuesday evening, I received a call from Bensouda.

| John Nyaga | Nation Media Group

Bensouda’s bid to broker talks with Kuya stalls

Following Kuya’s attempt to murder me by strangulation the other week, I vowed to finish him completely. As you are already aware, I immediately reported the matter to the police, who sent me to the health centre to get a medical examination, commonly known as P3.

The nurse at the hospital, my former student at Mwisho wa Lami Primary School, indicated in the forms that had I not visited the hospital quickly, I would have died ‘incognito’. I also decided that dealing with police alone would not be sufficient. So, I drafted a letter to TSC, reporting Kuya’s attempt to murder me, and why the fellow should not be allowed near a school. Any school.

“If a teacher can attack a Headmaster, HM, is there anyone who is safe?” read the letter. It was a carefully crafted, it took me two days to draft, with every sentence smelling of the violence that is Kuya.

I planned to personally deliver the letter on Wednesday. But on Tuesday evening, I received a call from Bensouda. “Long time no see you my dear, Dre!” she started. Given that it was the first time she had referred to me as dear, my heart skipped a beat.

“So, what are you doing tomorrow? Can we hook up for lunch?” she asked. I told her that I had planned to go to Kakamega to deliver a letter. “What is so urgent with this letter?” she asked.

I agreed to have lunch with her the next day at Kasuku Bar and Rest, Mwisho wa Lami.

I was there 30 minutes before the appointed time. At 11.50am, I could smell Bensouda’s sweet fragrance. Fresh, young and stylish, she walked into the room, and you could feel her personality occupy the entire room. She hugged me; a warm, tight, sweet, affectionate hug. No, she squeezed me. I felt different, alive but not alive.

I ordered my favourite food, ugali matumbo and Stoney Madiaba, while Bensouda asked for chips and a quarter chicken and a Sprite. We were having our drinks as we waited for food.

“How is school?” she asked. I told her all was well, and even added that I was to be building on the strong foundation she had created. “Since you left the school in good shape, I did not make a lot of changes,” I said, then went on to tell her how the HM job is not a joke. “I really thank you for mentoring me so well.”

“How is Kuya?” she poseed.

“Worse than you left him,” I said. “He is a big pain to everyone in the school. And very disruptive to teachers, students, parents, everyone!”

“What do you mean? Kuya was bad, yes, but not that bad.”

“Dear, you do not know Kuya. That guy has been sabotaging me since the day you left, he believes that he should be the HM, yet he is not qualified to be even a deputy!”

“But I thought I heard from my TSC sources that he had been promoted?” she asked.

“By clueless people in Nairobi who do not know who the real Kuya is,” I said. “I wish they had consulted me.”

“So, he is not your deputy?”

“I will make sure it doesn’t happen.” I however could not explain how.

As we were talking, Bensouda received a call. “We are at the main restaurant, just come. I am with him.” She did not say who was on the line.

To my surprise, Kuya joined us. As if that was not bad enough, Bensouda hugged him, a little tighter than she had hugged me.

“Dear, are you now feeling better?” she asked him.

“I am a little stressed but much better,” he said. It was clear these two had been in touch for long. Kuya then sat down without greeting me.

“Aren’t the two of you going to greet each other?” Bensouda asked. No one answered. “A school cannot run effectively if the HM and the deputy are not on talking terms,” she said. “If Dre and I were not on talking terms, Mwisho wa Lami would not have achieved what we achieved when I was in charge. No wonder the school is headed to the doldrums...”

“But how are you referring to me as deputy when I have not been appointed?” asked Kuya.

“So, you tricked me here only to invite someone who wanted to kill me last week? Is that what you have been planning?” I asked.

“Gentlemen relax,” said Bensouda. “I am here to help you reconcile for the sake of Mwisho wa Lami School.”

“Why does the success of Mwisho wa Lami concern you?” I asked her. “I am not ready for your talk with someone who tried to kill me.”

“I will only talk once my promotion letter is handed to me,” said Kuya “No promotion letter no talks.”

Bensouda’s attempt to calm us down bore no fruit. Upset, I left. It was not easy to leave when we had ordered Ugali Matumbo that had not been brought. I still have not forgotten that to date.

That evening, Bensouda tried to call me, but I ignored. She however reached me on another number on Thursday.

I set the minimum conditions for us to have any talks. First, Kuya must pay me Sh10,000 for me to withdraw the attempted murder case; he must write an apology letter to me for sabotage and being a nuisance and thirdly, he must commit to remain a disciplined teacher.

I gather that Kuya also made some demands before we could talk. The first one was that I must issue him with the promotion letter, withdraw the police report as well as commit to respect him. I can only do this over my dead body.

As of Friday, none of us badged. Bensouda has tried to convince me severally, but I have my foot down. Kuya also refused to climb down. The advantage is that as all this goes on, Kuya still has not received the letter, and the police case is on. He may get jailed as he waits for dialogue to begin!