Fiolina is well educated, period!

“Ask mum who her classmates in Form Four were?” I whispered to Branton. “Who was your classmate in Form Four?” he innocently asked Fiolina. Her face went blank. But mothers will always be mothers. Fiolina skilfully avoided the question. ILLUSTRATION | JOHN NYAGAH

What you need to know:

  • “Which sciences did you take by the way?” I asked, pretending that the question had just come up randomly. She tried to avoid the question but I think she knew I would become suspicious.
  • “Can I remember really? Ni kitambo sana,” she said, yawning, a sign that she wanted to sleep. “I think it was civics or chemicals.”
  • When I got home, Fiolina forgot everything else when I told her that she would go for the interview the next day. Later the next day, Mr Maina called me to tell me that Penina had passed the interview and that after one month on the job, he would consider her for not just Deputy Headmaster, but deputy Director!

You by now must know how enemies of development have been spreading rumours doubting the education qualifications of Fiolina, the laugh of my life. Despite the lack of logic in her explanation on how her name changed from Fiolina to Penina in high school, she used other irresistible means to avoid further questions from me.

But once I woke up, the obvious hangover cleared and I was able to start reasoning. That morning, I called Mr Maina, the owner of Sharp Shooters Academy, asking him to postpone the interview as Penina had something personal to attend to. Yes, even I referred to her as Penina, as I did not want her to lose the job.

“No problem, I can wait,” he said.  It was important that she gets the job. My real intention for postponing the interview was to investigate the matter.

“Maina has asked that you go for the interview next week,” I told her that morning. She was disappointed, but what could she do?

Once I had the time, I did not know how to begin the investigations. As you know, I have spent many years in classroom at Mosoriot and Kenyatta University learning how to teach, not how to investigate.  I only confided in Saphire. For some reason, Saphire came to school that day. We left early and went to Hitler’s and sat far from others.

“You see why I am not married?” he asked once I had told him my situation.

“Why?” I asked him, trying to get the connection.

“Open your eyes Dre,” he said. “All women are liars.”

“Even they say that men are liars,” I reminded him, although deep down I wondered what I could learn from a man who was not married and had never had a girlfriend. All I wanted from him was how to investigate the matter.

“Women are the liars. Even your Fiolina is a liar,” he said.

CLINICAL QUESTIONS

“Ok Saphire,” I said, trying to bring order to the discussion. “How do I investigate?”

“Hapo lazima uwe mjanja,” he said. “Give me some money I investigate for you.”

“Saphire we are friends so you can’t be asking for money from me,” I said.

“Hakuna cha bure Dre,” he said. “But before I do that, there are a few things you need to ask her.”

“I am listening,” I said, as I ordered Hitler to bring him a second pick up. I could not take a second one as my mind was not thinking straight. The big matter was not her education, but the rumour that Fiolina could have been married before and could even be having a child.

“Find out who her classmates were, the subjects she did and who her chemistry teacher was,” he told me. “Based on her answers, we will know whether to investigate further or not.”

I could not wait to be home to ask those questions, but I could not get a good environment. Until last Monday. Fiolina was at home waiting for me. Food ready on the table, and warm water ready in the bath tent behind the house. She was jolly as she welcomed me – like a proper educated woman. For a moment I wondered if I should proceed with the questions.

I took a bath then joined her for supper, together with Branton. I asked Branton about his classmates at Mwisho wa Lami nursery and he freely discussed. I also talked about some of my classmates in school, including Saphire, Nyayo, Kizito among others.

“Ask mum who her classmates in Form Four were?” I whispered to Branton.

“Who was your classmate in Form Four?” he innocently asked Fiolina.

Fiolina’s face went blank. But mothers will always be mothers. Fiolina skillfully avoided the question.

“Why are you speaking with food in your mouth. Bad manners,” she added. Branton had been silenced.

There were still two more questions and I had to be tactical. I asked her what secondary school she went to and if it was a day or a boarding school.

“Wewe Dre wachana na maswali ya clinic,” she said. But noticing I was serious, she went on. “I went to school kwa Kima Mathe, I am sure you have never heard of that school,” she said, then cleared the table. There was more than met the eye. 

She then came back and we talked for some time before we went to sleep. I told her how I had met Juma – not Juma the former HM. Another Juma who was a class ahead of me and who had been so good in sciences.

“He is now a Lab technician in Nairobi,” I said. I then told her how I wasn’t so good in sciences. “I loved languages - Kiswahili and English.”

I did not need a Police P3 Form to know that she did not like the discussions we were having. But that was my only one chance.

“Which sciences did you take by the way?” I asked, pretending that the question had just come up randomly. She tried to avoid the question but I think she knew I would become suspicious.

“Can I remember really? Ni kitambo sana,” she said, yawning, a sign that she wanted to sleep. “I think it was civics or chemicals,” she moved closer and told me good night. Only a fool would have asked further questions. Since Saphire did not come to school the next day, I went looking for him late that afternoon. As expected, he was at Hitler’s.

HIGHLY QUALIFIED

“Kuliendaje?” he asked me. I told him that she could not answer the questions well.

“I am not surprised,” he said. We agreed that the next day, Saphire would go to Fiolina’s village to carry out investigations. He would see me the next morning so that I could give him money to travel to Fiolina’s village, even though it was a walking distance.

“Mimi ndio Jicho Pevu mwenyewe,” he bragged.

I was in no mood to drink so I went home early. Fiolina was not at home. She arrived at around 7.30pm very furious: “You are paying a drunkard to investigate me?”  

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I am not a fool Dre,” she said. “Kwani hautaki pia mimi nipate kazi?” she asked.

“Saphire is out there singing how he is Jicho Pevu of Mwisho wa Lami and how you will give him a lot of money after he tells you about me,” she said.

“Wachana na huyo mlevi,” I said.

“So what will you benefit if you are told I am not educated?” she asked.  It was a tough question. I left immediately to go find out. I did not walk long before I heard Saphire singing. He then fell on the road side, and could not even sing.

I went to Hitler’s where I was told how Saphire took drinks on credit saying he would soon be rich after investigating my wife. I was so disappointed with him. I went home very late that day. But not before calling Mr Maina, who agreed to interview Fiolina, sorry, Penina, the next day.

When I got home, Fiolina forgot everything else when I told her that she would go for the interview the next day. Later the next day, Mr Maina called me to tell me that Penina had passed the interview and that after one month on the job, he would consider her for not just Deputy Headmaster, but deputy Director!

An uneducated woman would not have passed such a tough interview, let alone be considered for promotion to such a high position. Think what you want, call her Penina or whatever, I can assure you that Fiolina, the laugh of my life, is not only beautiful, but also a well-educated woman. End of topic!