How I adopted my grandfather’s name to pursue dollars

With Maftah Yusuf

Mtu nguyaz!” says Kitunda, my driver, when I go to check on the matatu, which has allegedly blown a gasket and requires immediate attention.

“We need several mandovus (thousand shilling notes) to repair this thing. And you, as my boss, need to ensure my daily bread is not interrupted while it is at the garage.”

The shameless fellow has a funny way of asking for an advance, I must say. However, he is fortunate I am in a generous mood. I am working on a deal that is set to make me peer at the world through rose tinted glasses for the rest of my life.

All I have to do is play my cards right and squeeze my name edgewise into the list of recipients awaiting a great payday from the British in the form of Sh2.6 billion in Mau Mau detainee money.

Luckily for me, I am getting loads of help from a certain fellow by the name of Thiaka, whose grandfather was shot by his mzungu master for collaborating with the legendary Dedan Kimathi. The good Thiaka is willing to swear an affidavit saying that I am a second cousin of his, twice removed.

In fact, the innovative guy has even hinted that he might imply that I am the only surviving descendant from a spinoff lineage of his freedom fighter grandfather and I, therefore, qualify for full compensation.

As any prospector will tell you, real gems are dug up in manure so to get a diamond and gold, you have to prepare to get dirty. I raised this guy in the seediest part of town and immediately knew that there was something special about him. All I had to do to get his unique story was buy him a decent meal and ‘Voila!’ and I was the owner of a million dollar secret just like that.

“I have no problem including you in the payout that I am to receive as you are a very kind soul,” he said, concluding his sad story.

“I am the unsung Sonko of the ghettos,” I assure him. “Anytime I see another human suffering, the milk of human kindness overflows in my heart and I have to help just like I was extending a hand to my own brother.”

 Polishing for purpose

The guy, however, requires polishing and a bit of brushing up for purposes of giving his long story credibility in front of whoever it is that will be determining how much descendants of the victims deserve. I take him in my car and drive him home to show my latest catch to my wife Michelle.  “Did you come in with him or was he dragged in by the cat?” Michelle promptly asks.

“Shush! You mannerless woman,” I thunder, partly for his benefit. “This guy is worth at least a million US dollars and a cousin of mine to boot.”

“He doesn’t look like he can fetch a dime if you auctioned him at a throwaway price,” she proceeds. Clearly she has not heard of the Mau Mau money.

“Just welcome him and I will fill you in L8TR. OK? There’s going to be a haemorrhage of cash, just follow my lead,” I am almost screaming.

After introducing him to his sister in law (twice removed as well) we decide that the homeless Thiaka will stay with us while I institute proceedings to claim the money.

Firm instructions

I give firm instructions to Michelle to ensure that our guest is fed, clothed and kept warm. She plays along but is not too happy.

“Come for him soon as I don’t like your prodigal cousin crawling about in my house,” she calls after me. “Something about him is not right.”

“Your judgment of people has always been jaundiced,” I shoot back at her. “Will you let me begin the process or do I have to sit here and absorb your negative energy all day?”

She lets me drive away and my first stop, obviously, is a lawyer’s office where I swear an affidavit to adopt the name of my late grandfather Thiaka into my official name.

The lawyer administers the oath at a fee. I am now a bona fide Thiaka descendant who can legally pursue the money that is due our family name.

I put a call through to the secretariat of the Mau Mau War Veterans Association after getting putting all my papers in order.

“Hello, General Shapshuta speaking,” a gruff voice at the other end says. “Jambo, my name is Timbuktu but I am the only surviving grandson of Thiaka,” I quickly explain.

“Which Thiaka?” Shapshuta wants to know.  “You can’t forget the gallant gentleman. He was circumcised with the late Kimathi and was his most trusted undercover lieutenant,” I remind him.