FICTION : The untold story

Last December’s holiday was the longest for holiday makers. Many children went upcountry to pay visits to their relatives. In order for Kabare to save his head from getting bald at a faster rate, he sent his son “ daddy” alias domestic looter to his grandmother. This boy was allergic to seeing anything around their home. He took and sold spoons, plates and other household items to raise money with which to show off at school. “Oh Lord! Why did I give birth to this domestic terrorist? Oh Lord! I wish I gave birth to a sack of potatoes that I would feast on,” he said to himself. He also sent his daughter Dushimiyimana alias Miss Asset to her grandmother. With the growth of ‘cabbages’ on her chest, he felt the need to cut her off from these young men who had grown a habit of whistling near his compound in a bid to call her out of the house. These men are so stubborn that, even after he coughed to register his presence, they would not burge. This made him think of giving them a lift to their graves. On the other hand he was not ready to accept an invitation to the most secure place on earth where one gets free food, clothing and a twenty-four hours security. It was for this reason that he sent his daughter upcountry. However he had a justifiable fear of not winning a tender to exchange Miss Asset for cows and some valuable paper printed by the National Bank of Rwanda. Another reason that made him send them to exile was the fear of the illegal coalition they were forming with their mother to frustrate all his projects. His wife had forgotten that these two youngsters were visitors who would soon go to form their coalition elsewhere leaving them divided. He concluded that she must have been chopped from another man’s rib. Two weeks ago he came home very late. When he knocked at the door for about half an hour, this Amazon never opened. She was either in the others’ side of the world or pretending to be sound asleep. After some time the level of his sugar rose and the cup of his anger overflowed and he threatened to fly in with the door. On hearing this, his wife cleared her throat and opened her mouth at the top of her voice as if she was talking to a person in the furthest end of the estate. “What time of the night are you coming when even the devil himself is deeply asleep? I have officially permitted you to go back to where you were!” she yelled. He felt betrayed by this sharp reproach. Meanwhile he had had a very vigorous game of hide and seek with the papers that are printed by the National Bank of Rwanda. Whenever he came close to these papers, they flew as if he had the deadly swine flu(HINI). Since he had no money for a taxi he had to walk for many miles making him to arrive home later than usual “I cannot sleep outside like a lorry,” he said to himself. He decided to seek for mercy from his daughter Miss Asset. He knocked at her window. Alas! Like mother like daughter. “Did you marry me or my mother? Damn aren’t you ashamed? You want me to be your concubine?” she spitted. In no time this lioness and the she-cub opened the door and grabbed him like a hot Imyumbati. Before he could say sasa they had spinned him in air like Ronaldo’s shot. What happened later is only found in the latest Chinese movies. His grey matter found in his forehead “brain” quickly told him that the two must have been taking some Judo Karate lessons at Kabuga social hall without his knowledge. After a prolonged encounter with this lioness and the cub, his head resembled a dehorned rhino with blood oozing like hot springs in the Great Rift Valley. Meanwhile the other members of their extended family like cockroaches and rats were greatly surprised by this strange behaviour and so they all ran for their safety. Why did God design that a man must form a condition with a chip chopped from another man’s limbs? Is this the same woman who hugs me at the end of the month when my wallet is loaded with papers that make everyone smile? She would invent and combine vocabularies they used during their courtship. She would ask “what would you like to eat my honey? What temperature would you like your bathing water to be, hot or lukewarm?” She would remove his coat while feeling the weight of his wallet. What is more, she would not notice the smell of his stinking socks. The other days of the month, his wallet was also loaded but with cuttings of old cartoons and other related rubbish. “Is there any manhood in you? Oh, our highest God of Abraham, this is the cruellest man born of a woman. How could he send Ishmael his first born son in the desert without any packed lunch? Oh lord of Noah, who invented the first Kanyanga, the spirit that could start and drive a dilapidate tractor that was abandoned in Lebanon forest during the catastrophe of the Noah’s flood. You are the same lord who humbled the famous grass eater, his Excellency Sir, Nebuchadnezzar, the first cousin of the gorilla by sending him to the forest for seven years. Oh lord you made a great mistake by giving us this half of a man if not a quarter man. He only invests in Kanyanga and ichyayaje’s bank account. He drinks this men’s Juice as if he was paid to clear the remaining stock before it goes bad…” Kabare’s wife’s tirade would go on and on. Miss Asset, when Kabare’s wallet was loaded, likewise could come running holding an old end of term class report form of her best position in her class. She would come armed with sweet words to bribe him to buy her three bars of milk chocolate and a packet of sweet straw berry yoghurt. “Surely love in my home is measured by the weight and the content in my wallet,” Kabare lamented. On the other hand his son disappointed him. When the lioness and the she-cub join to work on him, this domestic terrorist “ daddy” would quickly assume the role of referee by cheering and counting the scores as the two opposing teams fought. “Son what kind of a man are you that you cannot give a helping hand? I swear in the name of Biranto my ancestor that I will never give you any share of my land in Isinya and the two plots in Kimironko and Kibagabaga,” he threatened. “This has nothing to do with inheritance. Surely there is no manhood in you if a man like you who looks like a retired wrestler can be beaten by these two,” his son answered. “Son, I bet yours will be ten times worse and you will remember me,” he told his son. The combination of all these frustrations, the domestic looter, miss asset and the Amazon made him wet his throat as if it was his last day on earth. To minimize this he sent his two children to their grandmother for dehorning. Meanwhile he was left with one major assignment of dealing with the real lioness. Surely homes are like a burning fire that can explain the magnitude of suffering without bitterness at home. You will agree with me that no man goes in public to admit that he was beaten by his wife unless he has a loose nut in his headquarters. This is the untold story. iruxnjau@yahoo.com Mobile phone : 0785644367/ +254 722-222-957