Countdown to B-Day

From: Tom Onditi

On the seventh day of Christmas, I thought I’d do something sweet and romantic as a build up to the Big Birthday in Bethlehem. I reckoned that instead of taking the girlfriend out for a quite dinner at my favourite restaurant on the shores of lake Victoria, where there are specialty of the house, soup ya mbuzi costs Ksh 1000 a plate. I’d break the tradition by literally taking things into my hands.

So I went out and bought a goat. Of course the girl wasn’t amused when she came home and found the creature defecating all over the place and singing an opera in whatever language goats sing in. She’s tried blackmail me into getting rid of it, I’m not swing into pressure, spared bedroom or no spared bedroom.

Well for now, she may not be smiling, but when am done with turning on the culinary charm, she’ll be walking on a cloud. And that’s the way I want to keep things till Christmas. Christmas is always a special time in the hood. For a start the highlights of our social calendar is the annual Xmas Eve bash at the house in Nyalgunga (rural home). Everybody who is anybody is invited. Everybody who is anybody in the hoods ends. If you don’t receive your invite, then you know you don’t qualify as a neighbourhood stalwart.

The bash usually starts in the early afternoon with a party for children because as you know December is the birthday of Archibald Franklin junior, who turns nine on Christmas Eve. Let me give some background about how this whole Xmas eve bash started. You see eight years ago Archie and his wife decided to have a Christmas baby and put all kinds of measures in place to make it happen. They painted their bedroom and invested in a brand new emperor bed. I don’t know what else they did, but suffice to say that the little blighter had plans of his own. Fellow decided to make his presence good 12 hours ahead of schedule. Which meant the folks couldn’t wrap him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, complete with the odd goat and named him Jesus and wait for three wise men from Ramogi hills to bring down something as expensive as gold, frankin cense and myrrh.

But this little disappointment didn’t stop them from resolving to celebrate the birth of their Xmas baby in a big way. And for almost 9 years, Archie and ban a Cherry have not been disappointed. Of course, we’ve head a few incidents last year for instance, Jackson Dube after a few drops too many, decided to break dance almost gave himself a hernia in the process Not be outdone, Edward clay the former diplomat and a man about town, thought he’d show us how to do the limbo. Next thing we knew, the other came crashing down, causing himself grievous bodily harm. Fortunately, “Supper Doc Omondi was among the invited guests and was able to administer some emergency first aid. I have a feeling that this year’s party will have its share of surprises. Christmas may be a special time, but for some of us, it is a torrid time. Like they say in the business, uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. Let me break it down for you. As the head of the house of Nyalgunga, my hands are full 24 hours a day, 365 days in a year and 364 days in a leap year. Now that’s all because brother has to juggle so many portfolios. For instance, as life president and paramount chief all rolled in one, I have to create an enabling environment for my subjects to roll out the red carpet, do a song and dance routine for me whenever they see me.

As commander in chief of the defense forces, I have to keep the enemy away from the gates and keep the domestic troops in a perpetual state of battle readiness, even if it means from time to time. I have to ply them with cheap, tax-free booze. In addition, I have to pay the bills, meet our own HIPC completion point in my capacity as minister of finance and ensure that bailiffs don’t come cart away stuff from the house of Nyalgunga for food bought on hire purchase, among other things. It doesn’t matter whether there is a drought of foot and mouth diseases there is always fish by the lake, the home fires must keep burning and I’m not talking about firewood! The family has to eat, and that includes the grain borer, Extra large, Large, medium, small and microscopic. In short, good people, the headache of a minister of agriculture is a big one- one which, sadly all the panadols in the world can’t get rid of.

As minister of foreign affairs, I must ensure that the neighbours are still talking to us and that the girl known to me in those days as “The sugar in my Tea” can go borrow a little salt whenever we run out, even though my dogs have made it a habit to bog at their gates every morning.

Anyway, it was my capacity as Home Affairs minister that two short years ago, I decided to cancel a planned demonstration of some of the members of my household. Ingrates that they are they wanted to picket me in my own home and tell me that they had a right to a balanced diet instead of the starch, chlorophyll and the occasional piece of meat which, they claim comes their way once every blue moon, like twice a year. Once on Easter Sunday and on Christmas day. I found a signed petition attached to a list of unreasonable demands stuck to my work table. The buggers want stuff like cheese, eggs, strawberries, ice cream, swine chops, quails, meat balls, fillet steaks. They even want milk, and I am saying to myself: didn’t these ingrates get to suck enough when they were babies?

For some reason they fail to reason and instead that I give in to their demands before the stroke of the midnight December 31 or else……….

But you see a man in my position does not respond kindly to threats, so I did what was in my power to do. I called on my good friend and neighbour, Archibald Franklin Odhiambo to borrow an item that’s been in his family for as long as I can remember. I am talking about his (Boka Rowa) cane made from the hide of Hippo his great grandfather, the legendry George Washington Omollo killed with his bare hands and passed on to Archie’s grandfather, world war II vet, Thomas Jefferson Omollo who fought the British at mount Kenya and earned himself a couple of medals for his pains, and down the family tree, to my good friend, hubby of the indomitable ba-na Cherry, the disputed queen of Nyalgunga. For now, archie’s is hiding under my bed waiting for the opportune time to bite into some flesh. And don’t tell me anything about human rights violation because frankly, I don’t want to hear it. Not if my authority as head of the house of Nyalgunga is under threat from the forces of ingratitude.

For those who would like to meet me in Nairobi please carry up you hands this is so because I have just few days and I have to meet a large number of you and make you happy by meeting all of you friends so please let me know in good time, so that no one complains.