Why my jealous colleagues call me Illuminati

Whoever said misery loves company must have been referring to my colleagues at school. I don’t know about your colleagues, but I want to declare here that I have the meanest, the most wicked, and the most jealous colleagues anyone can ever find. In fact, were it not for the fact that I am a God-fearing, forgiving person, I would never survive in this staffroom — I would have written to TSC long ago asking for a transfer.

A few months ago, I would have said that I have amazing colleagues. Little did I know that my colleagues seemed happy with me because they saw me as just another struggling teacher who, like them, lived dreaming of that elusive promotion from TSC.

And to prove they had wicked hearts, they always seemed to like me whenever Bensouda and I had differences. But any time I would be in good terms with Bensouda, whenever things seemed to be going my way, whenever it seemed like TSC would consider promoting me as HM, I would start having serious problems with my colleagues. Accusations would start flying around and even letters would be sent to TSC.

So, when my lifestyle changed a few weeks ago due to my wife’s big salary, I never thought this would put me on a collision course with my colleagues. Yet, Fiolina and I had decided that we would share whatever she had with my colleagues. This was after learning that there were better paying jobs out there.

“I think our messenger earns more than a primary school teacher,” Fiolina said one day when I shared with her my plans to ensure that I become a HM before the end of the year.

Good cover

“Even if you get promoted, how much more would you earn, is it even Sh2,000? Is that even enough to buy a good cover for my phone?”

Realising that I felt the teaching job was despised, she said: “All I am saying, Dre, is that you should not be worried. With my salary, we will just be fine. And she was already proving it — she was doing everything to make me feel comfortable.

Seeing that I always came back home covered in dust, Fiolina attributed it to low-quality chalks. The next day, she bought me a packet of dustless chalk. She also brought me a bottle of 'Jug Daniels', which she now calls JD.

“Dre, always be good to your colleagues at school and never show those below you that you are the boss,” she said. “My boss is so kind and good to me. He is like a big brother.”

“By the way, feel free to share chalk with your colleagues. It is just dust and I can buy more,” she insisted.

And so I started sharing dustless chalk with everyone in school – everyone except Kuya and Alex. And last Saturday, I invited Sapphire and Kuya to my place to help me deal with the JD. I am sure you know why I invited Kuya.

Things were going well, with teachers not minding sharing whatever we had. Well, until last Tuesday. On that day, Lena came back from the classroom covered in dust. Her dress was full of chalk dust.

“Kwani Dre amekunyima dustless chalk, Lena?” Asked Nzomo. “You look like a ghost.”  I said I had enough chalk. “She should just have picked it from my desk, no need to ask.” I said.

“Vitu za Illuminati mimi sishiki,” she said. “I would rather have dust all over my body than use chalk whose source I do not know," she said.

Smell of chicken

It was noon, and the smell of chicken was already hitting out nostrils. You see, this term we agreed on a weekly lunch rota and after weeks of teachers feeding us on tasteless cabbage, kunde and sukuma, it was my turn to feed them. Fiolina had told me to leave it to her, — she would organise with the cook to give teachers a treat.

On Monday, we ate chapati, rice, waru, and beef. On Tuesday, the day Lena rejected my dustless chalk, we were to have chicken and ugali, and a crate of soda to 'take the chicken down' had already arrived. All teachers were looking forward to it.

Half an hour before lunch, as the chicken aroma wafted through the entire school, making it impossible to learn or teach, and as teachers started streaming into the staffroom, Lena said she would be going home for lunch. Alex wondered how anyone could miss such a sumptuous lunch.

“I will not eat devil worshippers’ food,” she said. “Fiolina is now a devil worshipper. Yeye na Dre ni Illuminati.” I did not expect anyone else to join her but Mrs Atika did.

“Yenyewe, how can someone who didn’t have even Sh20 airtime in January have so much money?” She asked.

Alex said he suspected it was BBI money. “It could even be Tangatanga money but who cares, mimi kuku nitararua.”

Madam Ruth also declared that she would not take my lunch until I stated clearly where my wife was getting the money.

“Your wife is always taken home in different cars. Kwani ni pesa gani hii? And if its men, si she should just stick to one?” I tried to explain to them that she was using Wasili Taxi but they could not even understand that one can use a phone to hail a taxi.

“Fiolina alipata a Covid millionaire-sponsor,” said Kuya, as he served three pieces of chicken.

He was joined my Saphire, Alex and Nzomo. The rest refused.

For the rest of the week, Lena, Mrs Atika, Madam Ruth and Anita refused to take my lunch and also shunned my dustless chalk. By Friday, Alex and Nzomo were also avoiding me. Only Sapphire stuck with me, with Kuya only taking lunch, but avoiding me.

I am not worried for I know it won’t be long before they come back for goodies. Misery may love company, but you can’t keep one from honey for too long!