A few meters from her gate, we found women involved in a shouting match. It was Fiolina and Lena on one side while Nzomo, Sella, and others were on the opposite side.
Although we have lived together for about a decade, Fiolina — the love of my life — has never really been in love with me. Make no mistake, Fiolina is a perfect wife, a great mother, and an amazing in-law to my family.
When she’s in a good mood, she takes care of me as a good wife should: cooking for me, washing my clothes, cleaning the house, et cetera. But deep down, I know she looks down on me, sees me as someone who doesn’t know much, and considers herself better than me intellectually. She thinks she has more abilities than I do.
For the years we’ve been together, Fiolina has never really defended me on anything. She stays in her lane, and even when she hears people talking negatively about me, she keeps quiet. She would just casually tell me what she heard people say about me.
“And what did you do?” I remember asking her a few years ago when some misguided parents wanted me transferred from Mwisho wa Lami.
“What could I have done?” she asked me. “I’m just informing you so you know what people think about you. It’s up to you to know what to do,” she added. “I’m not the one they want out; it’s you. It’s your problem.”
That surprised me, but didn’t shock me.
A part of me thinks she would love to see me fail so that we could be equals — or so she could feel superior.
So, when Fiolina returned from her village a few weeks ago, I was happy because I knew she would support me at home and give me the energy to face my adversaries, knowing everything back at home was sorted. I didn’t expect her to fight for me, defend me, or speak positively about me anywhere.
The events of last Saturday, therefore, shocked me.
As you know, the female teachers of Mwisho wa Lami have a chama where they meet regularly to do what women do in chamas. If you ask me what they do, I don’t know, but every month, without fail, they meet. And every month, without fail, I give Fiolina money for her chama, if I want peace in the house.
The members of this chama include Sella, Lena, her bad hair in tow, Mrs Atika, Madam Mary, Nzomo, among others. Not everyone consistently attends the sessions.
What happens in school often affects the happenings of the chama. If all is well, there’s usually good attendance, but when one teacher is affected, some members miss out. Last year, I told Fiolina to always attend the sessions, no matter what the situation is. I wasn’t just doing it for her; whenever she missed chama, her mood was foul, so it was better when she attended.
For those wondering how she is a member, remember that Fiolina is a well-trained teacher who graduated with honours from the prestigious Mosoriot TTC. She just hasn’t been lucky to get a job yet, but she will get one soon. She must get a slot in the thousands of teachers to be employed that the government has been yapping about.
When she left last week to attend the chama, it was just another meeting that would help me relieve stress by staying at Hitler’s until late without anyone quarrelling with me when I returned. In fact, I knew what usually happened — whenever she went to the chama, I usually returned home before her — and I don’t come back early.
I was, therefore, looking forward to a long, uninterrupted day at Hitler’s last Saturday. It was not to be. Around 6pm, Nyayo arrived at Hitler’s on his motorcycle. He seemed to be in a hurry.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Mambo ni mbaya huko nje. Watu wanauana.”
He didn’t tell me where, but I accepted. Just before we left, he quickly gulped down a glass of Hitler’s poison.
Rasto arrived just as we were leaving and wondered where we were rushing to. Nyayo told him that things were not good at Mrs Atika’s, where the women were meeting.
“Leave women’s matters alone,” was all Rasto said.
We ignored him and sped off.
We didn’t even reach Mrs Atika’s place. A few meters from her gate, we found women involved in a shouting match. It was Fiolina and Lena on one side while Nzomo, Sella, and others were on the opposite side.
“Let’s face each other like women. Leave our husbands out of this,” said Lena, adding that she also had a husband.
“Who started?” Nzomo asked.
“It was Fiolina who started by telling me to tell Kuya to stop harassing her husband. How can Kuya, a deputy, harass a full HM (headmaster)? What kind of HM is harassed by their deputy?”
She went on: “Fiolina and her husband should grow up and face the real people causing their problems, and it’s not Kuya.”
“It’s your man, Kuya, who is the problem. Why is he still the acting HM when Dre returned? What should...”
She stopped speaking when she saw me.
“So, you’ve called your husband to do what?” Sella asked. “What about us whose husbands aren’t here?”
“I’ll call Kuya too,” declared Nzomo as she made a call.
Mrs Atika then came out of her house.
“If you want to fight, go far away from here. Don’t do it in my house,” she warned.
None of the women were listening to Mrs Atika, with Sella telling her that they had left her home and were on the road.
“This is a public place,” she said. “Wait till my husband arrives, then you’ll know I also have a husband. Let’s see if you’ll repeat what you said about him.”
“If Kuya comes, let him come face-to-face with Dre, who is here! We won’t get involved,” said Sella, pretending to be neutral, though she was clearly on Nzomo’s side and therefore Kuya’s.
At that time, I tried to convince Fiolina to go home, but she wouldn’t listen.
“That woman thinks I don’t have people in my corner to defend me. I’ll show her,” she said. “Let Kuya come; I’ll tell him mundu khumundu (person to person),” she said, moving towards Nzomo.
She had tied her leso around her waist, ready for a fight. Nzomo was ready too and took off her shoes, preparing for an attack.
It took the quick actions of Lena and Sella to separate them.
They then literally carried Fiolina to Nyayo’s motorcycles and asked him to leave. Just then, Kuya arrived.
“Wewe ndio nataka kukuambia uachane na bwana wangu,” she said as Kuya sped off.
Not knowing what to do, I apologised to Kuya for the incident. Kuya took Nzomo and left. I went back to Hitler’s to enjoy the rest of the evening.
“Hawa watu wasikuletee,” Fiolina told me when I got back home. “Ungeniwachia ni deal nao mundu khumundu.”
This was a new Fiolina. Not the same meek woman I had married. And I must add that I like the new Fiolina.
