Innocent looking village schoolteacher displays true self

The Village Wire with Man Man

Jessica, the innocent looking village schoolteacher, was like a girl in a music video and, as it turned out, an avid drinker. I discovered this during my trip to Kisumu with her, using funds I got from Mheshimiwa to take some villagers to Nairobi for a function.

I know you are dying to hear it. My trip to Kisumu with Jessica was a success. We had four days of pure unadulterated fun. We visited the national museums, took boat rides in Lake Victoria and even went to a wildlife sanctuary.

But that was not all. We made sure that we topped it up by hitting the clubs every evening where we drunk and danced till the small hours of the morning.

To be honest, I didn’t know Jessica loved fun this much. People of Mambo Moto should have seen her. I don’t know which would have been more shocking. The daughter of Mwanga wiggling her waist like a girl in one of those music videos that are shown in Maili Sita video halls, or the fact that she drinks like a fish.

And here I was thinking I have been there, done that and got the t-shirt. The image of an innocent village schoolteacher was shattered the moment we stepped into our hotel suite.

Jessica assured me she was no naive woman. She told me she has been drinking since she was in high school.

Femme fatale

I know you’re thinking as a villager this is exactly the kind of a girl I should be fleeing from, very fast. On the contrary, I think my admiration for Jessica grew tenfold with this revelation. She became my instant femme fatale. She was a star wherever we went. Men kept turning heads to look at her.

I had made sure that during our stay in Kisumu there would be no interruption and so switched off my phone. If you recall, I was supposed to take some villagers to Nairobi for Mheshimiwa Pora Mali’s governorship election strategy. But as it is, I had taken the money meant to finance the endeavor and diverted it to other more important matters, namely this outing.  

Even my most trusted friends like Pascal, the village story teller, could not reach me. I did not tell Pascal where I was going when I left, although he saw me off. Naturally it would have been fodder for his cannon. He is my best friend but I know he can’t help announcing my latest exploit. He’d take so much pride in saying that I had beaten the primary school teachers and bagged Jessica. 

We had so much fun that by the time we realised it, it was time for Jessica to go back home as the time she was given for her supposed college Christian Union reunion had elapsed.

I wonder what might happen if someone asked Jessica for photos of the Kisumu meeting. If someone went through the photos in her phone all he or she would see is the handsome me and beautiful her in various bars and other attractions in the city. Luckily, there is a remote chance of this happening as Jessica is one of those people who have installed a secret code on her phone.

Travel separately

Our journey out of Kisumu would be done in the same fashion we entered... we would travel separately. Jessica went back on Sunday morning and I decided to stay in the lakeside town for two more days.

Once I had seen off Jessica at main bus stop, I switched my phone back on.  I was now ready to engage my friends and enemies. Immediately the doodad was on, a flood of text messages rushed in. Mheshimiwa Pora Mali had tried calling me 30 times. My mother had tried five times. I wondered why, she rarely talked to me after I deliberately dropped out of high school and crowned it by refusing to become a farmer.

Lately, she had taken to sending my sister to urge me to get married. At some point she had even identified what she considered a perfect match for me. That was the day I found out that my mom knew so little about his son. The girl was a disaster even by village standards.

I told my sister to tell mom that I didn’t know that she thought so lowly of me. I mean, here was a girl with five illegitimate children and someone had the nerve to interest me in her. We have never talked much with mom after the incident.

So it came as surprise that she had tried to reach me. I would try and call later, but first there was an almighty fight to do with Pora Mali. I didn’t have to wait for long. No sooner had I reached the hotel and was sprawled on the bed than the call came. The guy was fulminating. “How could you do this to me?” he asked in anguish. I must admit I almost felt sorry for him, unfortunately, I was about to break his heart some more.

Desperate query

I told him I didn’t find a single soul, except Barasa, the village thief, who was willing to accompany me to Nairobi for the meeting. I thought I heard a howl escape his mouth. “No one?” He queried desperately. “You mean no one in Mambo Moto was willing?” He was starting to get hysterical.

What is one supposed to do with a hyperventilating politician?  I had to think fast. I reassured Pora Mali that all was fine and that he was still on course to becoming Kimbilili County’s first governor.

I told him that come next Saturday I would be in Nairobi with 10 of his biggest supporters. All he needed to send was an additional Sh10,000 as the previous amount had been exhausted trying to convince the villagers to come to Nairobi with me.