Why I am moving in with Fiolina

I went straight to Sharp Shooters Academy. Mr Maina welcomed me warmly, and took me to his big office. He, however, looked disappointed to see me. “Welcome but I was expecting to see Penina, not you,” he said as he gave me a visitor’s book to sign. ILLUSTRATION | JOHN NYAGAH

What you need to know:

  • “I never promised anyone anything,” I responded. To avoid further disturbance, I switched off my phone, and ordered another round for Saphire, Kizito and yours truly. At some point Kizito gave me his phone. “Someone wants to speak to you,” he said. It was too late for me to say no.
  • It was late that night when I returned home. To my shock, only Yunia had gone home with her son Branton. Caro, Tocla’s wife and their children were still around.
  • What had angered Fiolina was that I hadn’t gone to Sharp Shooters Academy as I had promised. I promised to go the next day. We spent the rest of the evening talking and bonding. It was a good day as for the first time in weeks, the house had few children.

Although I had, last week, committed to visit Sharp Shooters Academy on Monday and assess the viability and ability of Mr Maina affording the pedagogical services of Fiolina, I could not make it that day. A few things conspired that made me so busy.

I had left early morning to walk around Mwisho wa Lami village to assess development projects. When I realised late in the afternoon that I could not make it to town, I decided to go back home. You know  Monday was that day for the “nursery” of children that has been at my place to go back to their homes.

Despite having spent a fortune on feeding them to Nairobi standards, on Sunday, Honda, Bedford, Electina and Caro’s son all gave me a back to school shopping list. A keen look at the list showed me that they had been coached. Bedford has asked for shoes, Electina for two pairs of uniform, Honda wanted three pairs of socks while Caro’s son wanted a toy car.

It was not as if the kids had been so good during their stay that I needed to reward them. Besides draining my pockets, they had been so difficult to deal with. The boys had been nothing but rowdy! I knew their parents would be coming to pick them with great expectations.

So rather than go back home, I went straight to Hitler’s. At 3 pm, my phone started ringing nonstop. It was first the wife of Tocla, then Yunia, then Caro. I was not a fool. I replied each call with a message that I was in a meeting. Half an hour later Caro and Tocla’s wife called again. I ignored. Fiolina also called. When I did not pick, she sent me an SMS saying: “We have guests who want to go. Caro, Yunia and my Mlamwa — the wife of Tocla.”

BIG SCHOOL

“I am far away. They can just go,” I answered.

“You had promised something to the kids. Tocla’s wife and Caro also need some money for boda boda back home,” she responded.

“I never promised anyone anything,” I responded. To avoid further disturbance, I switched off my phone, and ordered another round for Saphire, Kizito and yours truly. At some point Kizito gave me his phone. “Someone wants to speak to you,” he said. It was too late for me to say no.

“Bro, it is Yunia,” my eldest sister spoke in an ordering tone. “We are stranded here.” I told her I had no money.

“Kwani pesa yako imeenda wapi na hauna school fees na watoto wengi kama sisi?” she said, boldly. “Kama hauna ya shopping tutumie ya boda basi.”

I told her I had no money and disconnected — and instructed Kizito not to pick any call from numbers he did not know. It was late that night when I returned home. To my shock, only Yunia had gone home with her son Branton. Caro, Tocla’s wife and their children were still around. The children were quite happy to see me and each asked me if I had bought them what they had asked. I told everyone who was awake that I was tired. “Let’s talk tomorrow,” I said.

On Tuesday morning, the official opening day, I left very early. I wanted to ensure everything was okay in school before travelling to town. But I got other engagements for a whole day. When I returned home, Tocla’s wife and Caro, and their children had left. I was relieved.  But Fiolina was furious. “I borrowed some money from Mr Lutta, you will pay,” she said. Lutta is a very bad shylock and I wouldn’t advise anyone to take loan from him.

What had angered Fiolina was that I hadn’t gone to Sharp Shooters Academy as I had promised. I promised to go the next day. We spent the rest of the evening talking and bonding. It was a good day as for the first time in weeks, the house had few children. I was in town by 11 am the following day and went straight to Sharp Shooters Academy. Mr Maina welcomed me warmly, and took me to his big office. He, however, looked disappointed to see me.

“Welcome but I was expecting to see Penina, not you,” he said as he gave me a visitor’s book to sign.

“Who is Penina?” I asked, then remembered that was the official name of my lovely wife. “She will come soon.”

“What do you mean soon?” he asked. “School opened yesterday and I need to have all my staff.”

“She is attending to something and will come soon,” I said.

“This is a big school. Class 6 is our highest class,” he said. “Let me walk you around.” He took me round the school. The classes were not so full but the students were immaculately dressed in their pink and blue uniforms. Each class had about ten students.

CONFIDENTIAL MATTER

“Don’t worry about the number of students,” he said. “These are the children of the rich, they pay well.” He added, allaying my fears. Looking at how the teachers were dressed, I doubted they were being paid well.  Most of them were women.

“And I hope you will pay my Fiolina well?” I inquired.

“Of course,” he said. “I pay my teachers well.”

“How much?” I asked him.

“It will depend on how she works,” he said. “But since you are not the one who will be working, I can’t discuss that with you.”

“But she is my wife,” I said.

“You didn’t even know she was called Penina until I told you and now you are here telling me ‘oh she is your wife’,” he said, getting exasperated. We walked back to his office.

“Look here Dre,” he said. “There are many qualified teachers out there begging me for a job. If you don’t want your wife to teach here, please let me know.”

“Penina is very lucky to get a job here,” he said.

“I understand, please give us one week,” I said.

“I am sorry I don’t have that time. If by Monday next week Penina will not have reported, I will get someone. And you will regret that.”

“If the problem is getting a house, I have several rental houses and I can give her one for free until she settles in this town,” he said, ushering me out.

As I left the school, I was still confused. But knowing that Fiolina would be eager to report immediately, I found a two-room place for her and paid deposit.

If Mr Maina thinks there will be some games, he is in for a rude shock. I will be moving in with her and commute to Mwisho wa Lami every day!