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Baba Susan wants me to pay dowry via PayBill

By Geofrey Nganga | September 5th 2016

Baba Susan is the most understanding man I have ever met. Once I informed him that we, the dowry negotiation team, won't make to visit him to "know their home", he simply sent me a pay bill number. As he put it; the world is a small village. He added that we can even meet via cloud computing. At first, I did not get his point but now I know. He wants me to pay the bride price in installments. As he ended the call, I overheard him saying;

“That young man will know that one does not get a wife for free”, he said. Well, he didn’t think I heard him. And he is right, isn’t he?

Evidently, on my end, it is a price, a cost, but for him, it is bride wealth. I have no hard feelings; my little sister is growing fast. Someone will have to feel what I am feeling. With the faith that by then I will be the Cabinet secretary for Ministry of Society welfare, one will surely know that power can do things.

Let the truth be told, for Susan, I am willing to travel all over the world, just to have her legally and rightfully while following the legal channels.

Susan is my pearl,

A rare jewel to find,

Suzzie is a diamond of Mwandui,

Her personality is more valuable,

Than the pure gold of Transvaal,

She is adorable,

Suzie is naturally lovable.

My Santa Susanna!

Like I told you my little sister is in town. Although her stay here is putting my wallet in jeopardy, I want them to develop a click with her sister in law.

It is good Susan interacts with her; at least she will have a feel of what mama likes.

On Saturday as we were watching some football, I was torn in between whom to support. You well know I am a fan of Chelsea. My little sister likes Arsenal, not for any good reason, though. On the other hand, Susan likes Liverpool. Liverpool is about class. No wonder she rarely walks alone. When my little sister asked if the boys in blue were being trained to play football by those in red, I knew she knew a thing or two about football.

Later in the afternoon, we had a walk in the streets of Nairobi.

"Why are they like this?” my sister asked pointing at a Nairobi girl.

"Like what? “ I answered the question with a question.

"They have few clothes", she clarified.

I turned to Susan. She being one of them ought to know the reason they dress scantily.

"Si umwambie?” I calmly said.

All along I have been a silent guy. In college I was silent and you can’t blame me, it is blood group that has Rhesus factor that agglutinates whenever exams were announced. And now my little sister was putting me to a test.

"Ni sababu ya joto", she answered the little innocent soul.

I looked at them and smiled a cheeky smile.

“Nairobi kuna joto sana”, I added.

kwetu hakuna joto”, she ended the topic, diplomatically so to speak.

My mama had dressed my sister with a long dress that swept the Nairobi roads.  I am okay with that. I also went through that, that’s why I am a good man. Vote me assistant MCA in 2017. I told you before that it was illegal and against the penal code of our home to wear Sunday clothes on another day.

I could not resist a smile when I held her hand as she shouted.

 "Office of the president!" she shouted till the GSU officer waved at her

"Yes the president works here", I told her. For this, I did not need Sue’s help.

"The president works? Can I be allowed in there", she queried.

"Yes, at 18 years you will be allowed to hire the president, why do you want to meet the president", I asked

"So I have 10 more years, na si miaka mingi…I want to ask him why he is not giving laptops to the pupils in the academies", She said and I got to know she was eight.


I convinced her that it was on a Saturday and the president was not around. One day,not far from today, I will take her plea to uncle Ruto. Ruto is a friend of mine. Now you know I am highly connected.

To culminate the day, we enjoyed a sumptuous Swahili meal. I couldn’t avoid asking for ugali saucer, which is by the way, was my right. It is there in the constitution. As we enjoyed I remembered my first day out of college.

I had not made or bought some supper until 10pm. Obviously, I was wondering why my 8.4.4. had ended that soon. The room I was living in was so big, just like a form one west. If you were keen enough you must have realized that all form one west were the biggest classes, in all schools in Kenya. That room had nothing except for a bed and hope, hope that one day it was to be filled.

At around 10.50 I had settled on ugali mayai as a last resort.

I did put water on the gas meko.

I waited, waited patiently.

Water boiled so slowly.

It was after adding Soko unga that I had realized I had no mwiko and all shops were closed. I did what was to be done... I cooked with a spoon. I survived.

We always survive.

In all that we do we have to find reasons to keep winning.

All the time my sister was here, it was a good time. They liked each other; Susan and she are now friends. I am sure my mama was given all information. No wonder, for the first time from June last year, she has asked when I am going home in the large village. That there is a big cock that is harassing some other small cocks. That she wants justice to be served. And she wants me to be the judge….Mama also added that my mzee is willing to allow me have one of the legs. Like you know in my culture, both legs of chicken belong to the father.

I have never been hopeful like now. When the loan gets processed, I will sail home, to be with them. This time round I will be welcomed, mzee will allow me sell my sheep.

But, things are not faring well. My landlord came to my place of residence this morning. In his palms he was holding a padlock. I am hoping that he does not use it...I am a man of faith. If he does I know what Paulo did in prison. Either way I am planning to shift to Kileleshwa and rent a two bedroom apartment with the loan. My bank had promised to send it via phone. As at Monday, I am yet to get the money.


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