So, in this part one, my laundry services were withdrawn without notice. We trudge on…
I never really had problems washing my own clothes, but I was concerned about the message the sudden change would send across the plot, where I was quite respected for my purchasing power and generosity. I would have done it if we had an indoor laundry room, but the one we had was communal and so, asone of my circle friends would say, I would have to, uhm, wash my dirty linen in public.
True to threats, my clothes were not washed for two weeks. So on one particular Monday, I found myself at the end of the re-use and recycle system and thus unable to go to driving class – and/or work. I picked all my clothes one by one trying to find the one that would come last in the competition of most dirty, but all of them appeared eligible to win. I took them outside and repeated the same exercise with little success.
So I sat on at the door (Our plot was that design of two rows facing each other and a rough cement floor) and started pondering my next move. It was while seated at that door that a godsend solution appeared.
One of the neighbour girls- pretty to a fault, stay at home and of unknown economic ventures- passed by on the way to the washing sink. She wasn’t overly light. She had this colour that appears at the top of a cocoa mug as you stir. Some winding curves that would have a speed limit of not more than 50 Kph if they were on a highway. They still had that limit, as no man could look at her in a hurry; you had to do so with eyes turned to full brightness and tongue sweeping the floor.
I never had the courage or chance to rope her into my purchasing generosity for obvious plot factors. But I said hi whenever we found ourselves at the tap at the same time.
Noticing how miserable I looked, she inquired about my well being.
Aren’t you going to work today?
I don’t have clean clothes.
Si unilipe nikufulie?
How much?
We nunua tu sabuni, hiyo ingine najua hatuwezi kosana.
Never before was a business deal sealed so fast! I was especially glad she didn’t ask why the woman of the house wasn’t doing my cleaning. I was asked for a hundred shillings to buy soap. I said no, that’s too much. Not that I would have had problems parting with even a thousand, but I wanted to make conversation. I was told she would also need omo and jik for whites and sta-soft for rinsing. I said health, afya!
Suffice to say that evening I was one of the cleanest and best smelling folks as I walked into the local. As people came in sweaty from the day’s hustles, I walked in with freshly cleaned, sta-soft rinsed clothes. Complete with that fresh ka-cold of clothes fresh off the hanging line. And a promise from Kagwiria, the neighbour who washed my clothes, that I would pay her when the time was ripe. She would show me when, she said. I had a really nice time at the bar that night- so much so that I didn’t leave until 1 a.m, almost totally wasted.
The sight that met me when I got to the plot almost brought me back to full soberness. A ghostly looking figure sat right at the entrance to my door. After summoning up courage for 15 minutes, I approached slowly.
All my clothes lay in a heap outside the door. As did my shoes. I was at least glad that it was not a gaing awaiting me, but that relief was shortlived.
It made zero sense. Yes, I was late, but then what? I knocked on the door without even trying to be violent. No way could my first knock have woken a sleeping person, but the reply was prompt. ‘Enda ukalale kwa Kagwiria!’
It all made sense at that point.
Blame it on the alcohol, but I actually considered going to seek shelter at Kagwiria’s. A pair of Safari Boots outside her door complete with a smell that signified a quite fresh arrival, however, changed my mind. The sounds coming from inside closed that case.
My second, third and fourth knocks went unanswered. So I decided to waste the night away and get things sorted in the sunrise. I went through around six drinking stations before the sun tossed its blanket the next rise.
By the time I staggered back it was almost seven-thirty and madam was on her way out. My clothes still lay outside. I thought it perfect that she was leaving as I arrived as we wouldn’t get to argue. But she had different ideas.
‘’Where do you think you are going?’’ she asked as I held onto the door frame.
‘’To bed.’’ I murmured.
‘’Your bed is in Kagwiria’s house. She who does your cleaning must handle your everything.’’
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I again considered going where I was being told my bed was, but a side-eye glance revealed saunya-guy was still around. It also provided the estimate of the shoe size to be about nine-and-a-half. So I did my best to contain the situation.
‘’Just let me sleep, I will explain later,’’ I pleaded.
‘’There is nothing to explain. Na unanichelewesha kazi by the way.’’
Before I could respond, she spotted the landlord’s goon, who would be called a caretaker today, entering the plot. ‘’Soldier, huyu mtu hapa ananiwastia time, anataka kuingia kwangu cha nguvu na naenda kazi,’’ she shouted.
Soldier didn’t need a second invitation. Within a fraction, he was on me like a bulldozer on an X-marked building. The awakening neighbours opted to catch the drama through their slightly parted curtains. Not even those who had benefited from my alco-philantrophy tried to intervene.
I really think Soldier had a long-standing dislike for me because my assertions-turned-pleas that that was my house for which I paid rent did nothing to make him ease the grip on the of my now not so sta-soft trousers. I’d be lying if I said my toes touched the floor of that pavement as I was whisked out.
I tried to take a rest on a bench outside the plot once Soldier dumped me outside, but he informed me that I was not welcome there either, or anywhere in the vicinity.
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So I stumbled back to the local and played move and shift with the cleaning lady as I tried to catch some sleep and she her washing.
I don’t know how the story got back to my old man but, two days later, after hiding incommunicado, I was at the back of his jalopy headed home.
And that is how I learned that what you think are your rights are only your rights as long as those who wield power share the same thinking.
The General has fallen.
PS: The said period is a grey area of my life until now unknown to even my closest friends. No corroboration whatsoever can be made independently.
