I believe that at my age, there are some things which are supposed to be beyond me.
I believe that as I age (not gracefully I might add), I should be enjoying peace of mind as I wait patiently for the day when I will retire and receive my measly pension.
But as I have been telling you time and time again, it seems that nature in so many forms conspire to make sure that I do not live in peace, and one of those forms, unfortunately, is the mother of my clan.
You see, the day I met mama Boyi, I was a young, handsome fellow who had just started working as a clerk in a certain government office, and she was a shy girl from the hilly sides of Mbeya who looked as if she could never hurt a fly.
But as time progressed, I have to admit that the young handsome fellow who was yours truly transformed into a bald, potbellied chap who can compete with any fish when it comes to swallowing frothy liquid.
On her part, mama Boyi graduated from a sweet, loving girl from those hilly areas of Mbeya into an expert in hand to hand combat, to such an extent that a veteran soldier who has seen bloody battles first hand can cower in front of the mother of my clan.
The first time that woman landed her favorite weapon, the greasy frying pan on my head, my head was full of hair, and she has been doing that up to now when I spot a shiny bald head that can easily be used to signal approaching planes.
I am saying that I believe at my age there are some things which are not supposed to be happening, like being summoned by my in-laws because the mother of my small clan has decided to seek asylum at their place.
Two days ago I was forced to go after mama Boyi after she took my daughters and fled to her sister, because she claimed that I was spotted coming out of a hotel in the company of a beautiful daughter of Eve, who did not in any way resemble any of her relatives.
This rumour of course was spread by none other than Oscar the Hawker, who has a habit of cooking up weird stories when he is sober and bored.
Before that as usual I returned home after a tough day in the office which was followed by a drinking spree at Zakayo’s Pub, and by the time I stumbled home in the company of a Maasai Moran as an escort, it was heading to 1 am.
The house was unusually quiet, apart from loud snores coming from the room of my son, the domestic thug, and heading to the bedroom, I was shocked to find it empty, with no sign of mama Boyi or her dreaded frying pan.
I went to the boy’s room and opened the door, and the first thing that hit my nose was the smell of burning grass, and I knew for sure the boy had smoked his ‘holy herb’ before his lights went out.
I shook him violently until he woke up, muttering things to the effect that one day Jah will strike down the Babylon system and rescue Jah people.
I asked him where his mother was, and the boy looked at me as if he has never seen me in his entire life, and I watched in amazement as his expression changed and his eyes finally registered recognition.
He told me that his mother had convinced him to go with her and his siblings to her sister’s house because, as she put it according to the boy, I was ‘the beloved son of Satan’.
I asked him why he did not go with his mother, and he looked at me as if I was a five-year-old boy and told me that because he was a man, and men always stood together… to be honest, I almost shed a tear, because for once the boy proved his loyalty.
I tried calling mama Boyi, but his phone was off, I tried calling my daughters, but their phones were off too, and against my good judgement I decided to call my sister in in law.
That old battle-axe picked the phone on the first ring, and she embarked on a string of words which included statements like I did not deserve her sister, and that God should have given me a woman who brews illicit alcoholic drinks as a wife because that is what I deserved.
I told her that if she had a husband she would have been asleep by now, and she practically hanged the phone with a loud bang.
I had no option but to go to bed and wait for morning before taking any action, but not before I realised that apart from taking some of her clothes with her, the woman had also taken her greasy frying pan!
By the time I arrived at my sister in law’s house in the afternoon, I was surprised to find two of her brothers were there and another elder sister who always looks like a retired wrestler.
I have never had any trouble with my wife’s brothers, actually as I was trying to convince the mother of my small clan to return home because her son was missing her (which made her laugh hysterically), one of them sent me a text message telling me to hurry up because he was thirsty and wanted to go and irrigate his throat.
My sisters in law gave me a murderous look when my daughters said that they wanted to go back home, and one of them practically spat on the floor in disgust when my wife told her that she was ready to return home.
The two old spinsters who happen to be my sisters in law appeared ready to strangle me when their brothers said that before I left with my family we should go to the nearest pub and celebrate the rescue of one matrimonial home.
