CHANUKA NA MFALME

My tireless efforts of waking up at 3 am to study, drinking porridge aka punda each morning, eating boiled sukuma wiki and boiled githeri alas Osero or theng’a finally landed me in one of the best Universities in Kenya. Scoring a strong B+

in my village, was something unheard of, if not an abomination. Am saying abomination because students from my village always evaded any grade above a D+. My passing meant either a cleansing ceremony or an appeasing ceremony, whichever it was. A bull was slaughtered and the ancestors talked to by the toothless elders in my village, the words they said I can’t tell. The only thing I could pay attention to was the movement of their tongues in their toothless mouth as they blessed and spited some good amount of saliva on me. (Not forgetting that most of them were good Kiraiko/tumbaku smokers). Anyway, in the name of the blessing, I had to put up with the thick cream saliva that they continuously spitted on me as they uttered some words only understandable to them and the ancestors. It was a send off blessing for me to go into the city and join my fellow intellects so that we can study and build the nation. (Only wondering who is to paint the same nation)

Elders blessed me with several coins and old notes from their 1963 handkerchiefs and old lessons. The money had been tied in in those lesos and vitambaas, not forget the ones that came from K an B Banks (Kinyasa and Bra Banks). Each elder woman, as they lifted their dresses to pull the notes and coins from Vinyaa, explained to me where she had gotten the money and how am supposed to spend. “Hii niliusa chokoo yangu. Mchukuu wangu ununue kitapu” one woman said. “Hii niliusa mayai yangu yote na rumaindi kitoko. Mtoto yangu ununue kitapu na kalamu.” Everyone told me about buying kitapu and kalamu, I wondered whether in university people ate kitapu and kalamus. Anyway, I had to receive the ‘blessings’. Before I left for school, I was richer than Kanyari I guess. All the mbengus that the wazees had given me to buy kitapu na kalmu, plus the money that my father, the best kuku seller, had given me, made me richer than mama Nafula, the tycoon brewer in our village.

“Huko utaona makari makupwa. Ile inapepa kila kitu! Hayo makari yanaendeshwa tu na mitu iko na mapeni. Mitu tachiri” I remember my grandpa had told me once. Alas! His words came true. In the university, I came across the ‘makari makupwa’ that my grandpa had told me. The karis that carried everything. Hind capacity (haga, as the goons born in the city called them. For me, it was simply haka or matiapa), front capacity aka nyonyo and not forgetting the beauty (usipuu), though mostly not natural. But the karis looked sweet. As my grandpa had told me, “makari inaendeshwa na mitu iko na pesa”, so it was. I had money from the harambee that the old men and women had done to fund me. Little did they know that at the University level, I only needed at 2 fitapus and 2 kalamus( pen and penis). So I had a lot of money at disposal, nothing could stop me from driving the kari kupwa kupwa, despite of my ushamba of adding suffix ‘KO’ after every word (kuchako, endako, shikako, kamatako) and being unable to differentiate between P and B. To me, Pata (get) and Pata (where shoes are sold) were the same thing. The difference was the meaning. Never mind, even Putako and Matako to me meant your daddy and Mummy.

So with little Ndovus in my pocket, I was able to win one of the most coveted ‘karis’ in the Campus. She was in her third year while I was one week old in the campus. She played had to get, always ignoring me, but as Luhyas, we don’t believe in failing, “hata ukikosa ka ukali, kula mikate tano ulale njaa, kesho ruti kutafuta unga.”. So I did not give up. I ate with eyes (kukula na macho) until the day I won her. I laughed at myself when I realized how stupid I had been. Something that I could have achieved in second, took me days. Little did I know that only lunch at the best restaurant near the school could have relieved me of the shame of exposing my KOis and Pism in the name of kutupa mistari. “kumbe kari kupwa hasikuli mess! Sinakula pissa (Pizza) inn na chicken inn.” I told myself. The first treatment I gave the lady made her stick to me like a momo’s thong. I could give her money to buy anything she asked for, not forgetting my endless statement, “Ekako change” (Keep change). It was on that day that I received the first kiss. My heart beat while I sweated, hoping and hoping beyond hopes that she did not notice that I had not brushed my teeth on the morning of that day despite of eating Ukali mbili, sukuma na madondo the previous night. All in all, mwanaume ni pesa, Jasho, ushamba na kunuka mdomo watavumilia.

By A Mfalme.

To be continued...

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