Michelle must also take ‘house’ cut to save for our growth

By Maftah Yusuf

After looking through Michelle’s house budget, I came to the conclusion that we have to adopt some austerity measures so that we can save something for development.

I decided to raise the matter with Michelle when she was at her best, otherwise my head could easily get bitten off and I do not want that to happen. “Honey, this month you haven’t given me housekeeping money and I already showed you my domestic budget,” she said one morning while ironing my shirt.

At the end of the month, Michelle transforms into one of the best wives for miles around. She cleans, cooks and fakes love that I would otherwise not get to see. That is why I refer to the woman as a cheating gold digger.

I even get a peck in the morning which is rather unusual. When Michelle gets all loving like this at the end of the month, it is because she is getting desperate. It means that she is about to get nasty.

“Timbuktu dear, don’t forget the gas needs to be refilled and my hair is full of growth. I need to go to the salon,” she said just as I was planning to introduce the sensitive subject.

 “Honey you do not need to go to the salon as I love your hair best blow-dried. That is why I bought you a second hand hair drier,” I told her.

“Gai!” she exclaimed. “Did you just say that?” she asks, getting mad by the minute. “Do you mean I shall therefore never visit the salon?” she says. Her eyes were becoming small slits as she focused all her attention at me. That is when I let the cat out of the bag by reminding her that we hardly ever leave anything over for our ‘growth’ because of her expenditure.

“I shall soon be retiring and will not have any money because you use up all the money I make with good food and vanity projects. This has to stop,” I quipped knowing I was stepping on a raw nerve.

I could see the gears of nastiness turning in Michelle’s mind. Her face assumed a shade of evil and I knew that the situation had gone bad.

“What austerity measures are you talking about?” she asked. I am the poorest wife in the block and yet you want me to make sacrifices. I have sacrificed everything to live with you and that is the asante I get,” she was furious.

I tried to calm her down by reminding her that even Ole Jomo himself and his deputy have taken a pay cut to free up funds for economic development. “What’s more, even Cabinet Secretaries have followed suit. Did you hear any of them calling a press conference to complain? Kwani how special do you think you are?” I asked.

With that, Michelle realised that in spite of all the special attention she had given me, she would not be getting anything in return. “I have been living here like your slave and yet all you do is complain. Is there nothing I do right?” she said. Total confusion followed with Michelle threatening to display our lumpy mattress for our neighbours to see. “No wonder I’m always complaining of back ache,” she said.

I decided that I had had enough and that it was time to read her the riot act. “Listen Michelle, if you do not agree on a cut into your inflated budget, you might as well take a hike,” I told her. “That is the only available option to all those analogues who are resisting change,” I told her.

I then explained to her why the proverbial ‘men in black’ went on a rampage during the ODM elections when they heard the news that their salary would be quartered, a thing they did not take kindly. “Even Eliud Owalo was allowed to hit the road after Raila and his brothers in the CORD coalition decided that everybody must cut costs,” I added.

 “And I do not see what ODM has to do with my wanting to fix my hair like other women,” she said.

Michelle hit the roof saying that cutting the public wage bill is not enshrined in the Constitution. “And if you want me to agree to your austerity measures, you should first and foremost ensure that I have a working microwave oven, fridge and a cupboard filled with the best kitchen wares like other proud Kenyans. That is the only time we can talk,” she said.

She insisted that I give her enough money to shop for all the items in her budget or else hell would break loose. Unfortunately, where I come from, we never allow women to threaten us. I therefore walked out banging the door hard behind me to show my annoyance.

She came running after me. “Timbuktu Dear. Please don’t go!” she pleaded.

“My dreams are valid according to Lupita,” is all I told her. “And as Ole Jomo says, take a pay cut or hit the road,” I warn her.

I left her there wondering how suddenly I had become patriotic.