How Fiolina poured cold water on my homecoming plans

When I was made the acting HM of Mwisho wa Lami Primary School, my clansmen, particularly my father, were quite happy for me, and the reaction in the village was positive, from what I gathered.

“Why did it take so long to have one of our own lead this school?” was the only complaint I heard at Hitler’s.

“Having actually run the school since Bensouda landed here, I wonder why TSC are even making you acting, you should be HM immediately,” said Rasto, who complained that Bensouda had denied him tenders. 

“When a CDF classroom was being built, she bought sand from her husband so far away yet my son and I have lots of sand.”

I told her Bensouda did not have a husband. He just laughed and told me to keep dreaming.

Nyayo, too, complained that Bensouda had got people from so far away to dig a toilet yet he was the expert, having dug all the toilets in Mwisho wa Lami. “Anataka tukulie wapi?” 

My sisters Caro and Yunia were also happy to hear that I was acting HM.

But my brother was cautious.

“I don’t work for government but be careful with this thing called acting,” he said. “Even where I work, someone acted on a position for over two years, and they still hired their junior to take over the job.”

“That cannot happen in Mwisho wa Lami,” I assured him, telling him that the person who was bypassed by their junior was stupid. “I would rather die than have any of my juniors become HM.”

Last week, my father summoned me and I went to see him on Wednesday. 

“How I wish your mother was alive to see you as HM,” he said. I wished so too. My mother had been a cook at the school for many years but Bensouda fired her, saying the school needed a younger cook.

No one else had ever complained about her cooking.

“Now that you have been appointed, we need to do a few things or else you will not last as HM,” he said.

He made a few calls. I did not know who he was talking to but I could hear such words as “I am with him, come now.” A few minutes later, Rasto and Alfayo arrived.

“Being a headmaster is not a small job,” said Rasto. “We need to give thanks to our ancestors so that they can protect you and the job, or else you lose it.”

“We also need to protect you from you many enemies,” said Alfayo.

Shortly after, Reverend Overseer Apostle Manasseh Elkana arrived.

“As discussed, we need to have a ceremony to celebrate Dre’s promotion,” said my father. “I have called the wazees and Apostle Elkana so that they can explain both the cultural and Christian aspects of the ceremony.”

“All we need is a bull to be eaten at the ceremony – for the ancestors and visitors – and a black sheep whose blood we will use to cleanse you and protect you from enemies, and two crates of beer." 

Rasto even said he had heard my enemies at Hitler’s plotting to overthrow me.

“The sooner we do it the better!”

“For me, I will just need little sadaka to share with my fellow pastors, and a litre of anointing oil. I would wish that you take up a project at church. For example, we need help to cement our floor,” said Elkana.

Having built a permanent house, I know how costly it is. I just laughed in my heart!

We quickly drew a budget for the ceremony, which we scheduled for Christmas Day. The budget came to about Sh25,000, excluding the bull that I already have.

“I can’t wait for this home coming,” said Rasto. “It will be so big that Dre will soon be promoted!”

Alfayo reminded me that my wife must be present as we would both need to go through the cleansing ceremony.

“This is to protect both of you in your jobs,” he said. “We should have done this for Fiolina long ago; otherwise things will never be smooth for her at work.”

I almost told him about Fiolina’s tribulations but kept quiet.

“And by the way we cannot slaughter an animal in your compound in Fiolina’s absence.”

When I called Fiolina to inform her of my plan to host guests on Christmas day, she asked for more details. I explained to her.

“Over my dead body!” She declared. “My home will not host such primitive functions!”

I tried to explain how it was important for both of us and our jobs. 

“I got my job competitively, and can only be promoted due to my hard work,” she retorted. “And if I do something wrong I get fired. I don’t need blood smeared on my body!”

“Okay then come and let’s do it for me,” I pleaded with her.

“Did your salary go up?” She asked me. “Do you have any letter appointing you acting HM?” she asked.

She laughed loudly when I answered.

“Then why are you telling me that you were promoted with no letter and no salary increase?”

She even laughed more when I told her about the budget.

“Are you nuts Dre? Are you so rich you want to waste18k? Why don’t you give me kama pesa inakuchoma I invest?”

When I told her that I was expecting her to fund the ceremony, she laughed even louder, saying I was day dreaming.

And with that, it looks like the greatest Home Coming to be ever seen this side of the Sahara will not happen.

If it doesn’t, I will still find my own traditional ways of pushing TSC to appoint me HM and keep the job for long! Watch this space.

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