Mr Survivor: How I lost my palace to the Queen
When I resumed normal husbandly and fatherly responsibilities at the Palace after three weeks of emotional absence and technical, physical visitations, I found the Palace different from the one I had left.
As you certainly remember, I was out on serious business, escorting my friend up to the mountain of peace.
If your memory serves you right, you will remember how my Queen has recently become poly-titled. This is to say that she has acquired more titles than the degrees of a thermometer. And those are the ones I know. As a recap, Queen is variously called super secretary (church), C.E.O, (Slopes Supermarket) Chairlady ( chamas), Mkulima a.k.a Farmer number one (milk goats), Daktari a.k.a doctor of goats, mama county alias kiongozi, among other sweet-sounding names.
Now, a name means everything in Aberdare countryside. On our side of the world, a rose by any other name makes all the difference. Here, you are treated like what your name means, real and imagined, irrespective of the composition of your heart and mind.
To cut the long story short, Queen has successfully deleted and obliterated me from the short and long term memories of the inhabitants of Happy Valley, not just as a resident but also as the owner of the Palace. I am simply saying that although I am the registered owner of the parcel of land on which the Palace stands, I am not in any way being associated with it when people refer to the development therein. Actually, and painfully so, I am now being referred to about Queen or part of any of her developments in the Palace. That is, I am because Queen is.
In that connection, anyone wishing to refer to my palace is using adjectives associated with Queen. Time is long gone when the Palace was positively identified with such manly massaging terms that made my heart dance in pride such as ‘kwa dereva nene( master driver), kwa wa boki( Volkswagen owner), kwa kijana kobe ( tortoise owner, in derogative reference to my Volkswagen) and
kwa survivor.
In the foregoing place are such Queen praisers such as kwa dagitari( doctor’s place), kwa mkulima bora, kwa chair lady, kwa CEO, kwa mama county among a litany of other descriptions. In fact, a bus stage has just been born at the gate of the Palace and named Chairlady. To make the message sink deeper in to my heart, my own customers have been asking me to drop them at kwa Chairlady. “Drop me at kwa Chairlady.” such customers will say.
Any man with the hot blood of the ancestors of our people will tell you for free that a home is referred to using a husband’s description even long after such a man has been summoned to go home to our maker.
It, therefore, does not require a professor of psychology to tell me that when my compound is being referred using Queen friendly and praising terms, the message is simple and loudly clear; I did not exist in the first place.
That is to say that I have forcefully been issued with a one-way ticket to marital Siberia. This is a cold war marital coup at the Palace. I am not very sure whether my Queen has had a hand at the malicious machinations to malign my hitherto good name at Happy Valley countryside.
But this one thing I know, as I have told you in the past, Queen looks for the slightest opportunity to shout to the whole world that I am a useless man, husband and father.
And because I am not sure whether Queen is responsible for my social, psychological and political embarrassment, I have not taken any step to alleviate the situation so far.
Luckily, I recently redeemed my political embarrassment when I was appointed the secretary to Happy Valley business people.
This pivotal position also comes with good cash, and money is a mood booster to me. That means I am psychologically redeemed.
I now have social disgrace to deal with. And that is why I had no choice but to change my modus operandi and adopt the last out - first in patronage policy at Happy Valley. This also means that I had to adopt the last in – first out policy at the Palace, nay, Kwa chair lady.
This is a survival tactic meant to ensure that I meet with as few people as possible who may have been paid to finish me socially.
But I am putting my enemies of marital bliss on notice. My moniker is Mr Survivor, and I shall certainly survive the current dishonour.
This is not the first attempt to delete me from the short and long term memories of the people of Happy Valley. Watch this space. BY DAILY NATION
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