My Huduma Day escape plans turn too dangerous, costly

I know the Division of Revenue bill has been signed, but for goodness sake, let the money come! Or else we, MCAs, will have to go on exile.

Imagine some scandalmongers have spread rumours that our pockets are already full. It is these ugly rumours that spoilt my Huduma Day on Saturday. 

Last Thursday, I got some intelligence that a group of students was planning to find out how charitable I could be on Huduma Day.

They would come and ask for the bursaries I had promised, now that learning institutions were reopening, and county funds had been disbursed.

Well, it is true I had promised bursaries to some needy students in my ward, but that was for January 2021! 

I was further alarmed when I was told that alongside the students, some youth would also flood my residence demanding that I demonstrate charity by unleashing to them instant economic empowerment.

Although the mastermind of this heinous plan was not known, I could see the hand of my bitter rival Alfalfa, the man whose only ambition in life is to dethrone me.

Clearly, he and his gang of miscreants were out for hujuma on Huduma Day!

Feeling very worried, I decided to compare notes with MCA Matayo to see whether he, too, was facing same threat.

“Bw Gwinso, Hizo ni kimbelembele zako tu. Who told you to make the promises?” My colleague scoffed at me.

“So what do I do?” I asked him desperately.

“When did you last take Madam out?” he asked. 

I was baffled speechless by this sudden change of topic.

“Huduma Day is a perfect day to give Mama a treat. That way, you will also avoid those students. So you will kill two stones with one bird(sic)!” said my colleague. 

He then suggested a holiday resort which he swore had the most romantic environment around.

That evening when I broke the good news — or so I thought — to Mama Hirohito, she gave me a cynical look. 

“You want to take me out just to avoid that crowd? Yaani I am just a by the way?” she asked. “Anyway, we have a prayer meeting on that day. If we finish early, I will see what to do.”

Despite the spurning, I was determined to be away from home on that holiday. So come Saturday, I made my way to the holiday resort. 

I found the place as welcoming as Matayo had said. I wished Mama Hiro was here. I chose a seat in a corner and ordered my favourite drink, having ensured all my phones were off. I did not want any disturbance.

A short while later, I saw a familiar woman strutting across the floor to a seat opposite me. On taking a closer look, I realised this was Madam Kitoko, the principal of a secondary school in my ward. Our eyes met and she, too, recognised me. 

“Mheshimiwa, so you also know this place?” she asked, flashing a broad smile at me. “Can I join you?” 

Naturally, I could not refuse. 

A few moments into our chat, I opened up and told her the real reason I was here all alone.

“That makes the two of us!” she said. “Imagine I, too, have come here to hide from cash-strapped parents. They are flocking my place with all sorts of requests before the children report back to school on Monday (today).”

As she spoke, I did not know whether to sympathise with the teacher or the parents.  

“What makes things worse is that the parents know we received the free education cash,” she lamented. “So they are unwilling to chip in.”

“Eh? The Free Education cash? When did you get it?” I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.

“Yesterday,” she answered. 

Immediately an idea formed in my mind: Supposing I borrowed some cash from her and promised to refund it as soon as we got ours? Just as I leaned forward to make my request, Mama Hiro, daughter of my mother-in-law walked in.

“The prayer meeting ended early so I decided to come. I am sorry for interrupting you,” she said, taking a seat two tables away from us.

“Please join us,” I said guiltily.

“No. I don’t want to interfere with your privacy,” she said. 

On her face was a disturbingly expressionless look. 

Needless to say, we did not speak much after that. Moments later, Madam Kitoko excused herself and left. We also drove home shortly after.

Since that hujuma day, I have been at pains to prove our meeting with the school principal was a pure coincidence.  Sirikali saidia... – a.otieno@pu.ac.ke