Victims or Perpetrators?

My landlord is accusing me of eating chicken before paying rent. That it is his right to receive top priority in my budgets. Well, he may be true but where is it written?

We all know that when there is a conflict between what is moral and legal, the law usually wins. That is why I am not going to pay rent until I enjoy these broilers somersaulting in the kitchens of Nairobi hotels.

In the meantime, I am waiting for the low interest capped loan from my bank. Once I get this the Uber Helicopters will know they were right to start the airlifting business.

I have seen a lot. I am the same guy who in his boyhood times used to have sleepless nights when mama had made chapatis.

Like, there was this day, 18 years ago; I tried all my best to catch some sleep. I rolled and rolled in my bed covered by the Robin blanket but it was all in vain. There was no way I was going to sleep and the chapos to see the light of the next day.

I made up my mind to make a move and tip toed to the sitting room where the celebrated goodies were kept. As soon as I landed there I sensed danger like Chuck Norris. Dipping my right hand in the basin I felt something heavier than the chapatis.

I retrieved the hand and made a step or two backward. I gathered courage. Back to the basin my hand went and I was sure that I had touched the hand of a human being.

So my brother was on the same like mine mission too.

"Nani?", I asked.

"Ni mimi", he said.

"Ooh I thought you are deep sleeping?” I asked as he sighed.

"I am looking for some drinking water, I feel thirsty", he said in a low soprano tone. The tone had to be minimal lest mama would have woken up and what would have followed is a-come-and-see-war

That was not true because no water was stored in the cypress cupboard that had been baptized: Wall unit.

When my younger brother asked me what I was doing in the wee hours of the night, I had to act smart. The boy was always my enemy when it came to favors from mama. He was sure to report me and mama would have listened to him more than she did when we were making submissions in the homemade courts.

"I am sleep", I told him.

"But you are walking, I don't understand", he enquired and I could see his pupils enlarging albeit the dark darkness.

"Yes , there is something called sleep walking, and that is what I am doing, in fact, I am dreaming, give me that rungu, I want to hit someone", I told him and instead of doing what I told him, he had called mama.

Mama came so fast that I could not prepare my defense submission in good time.

"What is going on?” she asked and I told him that I had had a dream that someone was corrupting our chapos.  I had to try all means possible to stop my brother from talking because if he talked before I did, he was to be considered the victim.

 

In this world, it is either you are a victim or a perpetrator!

Anyway mama gave us a fair hearing although to this date I believe that her judgment was far from just.

On that night she left us drinking the water and left with the chapos to her bedroom.  And from that night, any sweet meal was kept in the bedroom.

What was more painful is that a few days to that night, my brother had pretended to be sick. After learning on parts of the tooth in school, he came home saying that his enamel was in pain. Mama had forced me to give my little brother all pieces of potatoes in my kitoweo leaving me with the maize grains only. My brother had jovially taken them.  Like he said, enamel in pain needs soft things.

And a week after that mzee banned sugar in our tea. When he sent me to the shop to buy sugar for the “big people”, I did what had to be done. I licked more than half and added maize floor. Okay, I won’t say how I survived the beating with all my teeth and ribs intact but was sadder than the Vietnam War.

And now, so many years after my liberation, my landlord in Kinoo-Regen wants to bring back the torture. This won't happen under my watch.

Memories keep running in my mind. As I thought on how to treat Susan I recalled what happened on the first days.

So Eve comes to Adam with a proposal that they eat the fruit of knowledge. And Adam does not sense danger but rather smiles sheepishly. In fact, he stretches his hands and wonders how lazy he had been to notice the tree, leave alone the fruit. He gives his wife a high five hot salaams when she says that the fruit is good for food and a delight to the eyes.

In this light, no one has a right to condemn me that Susan is finishing me economically by the numerous pizzas we enjoy. Am I not the son of my great grandfather-Adam?

With this knowledge, I feel so much at peace, so calm, so confident and in a jovial soft heart. My heart is filled with so much oxygenated blood and no wonder I am in a tranquil mood. As a fact, I have just texted my Suzie, requesting her that we meet at 6.30 pm, at our usual joint along Moi Avenue for our monthly get together building activity for two at the expense of one.

Well, this depends if my mzee will Mpesa the cash after selling my sheep. He is very reluctant. He says that there is a delay although the buyer of my sheep has paid him through Mpesa. I may have to call Safaricom and ask why it is very hard to receive pesa from upcountry….

 

©Mteule