THERE is somewhere I read that there is a fellow somewhere in this country who walloped those guys who were wearing yellow reflector vests and who roamed the streets and back roads of Tanzania for more than two weeks.
These are the men and women who went around knocking on people’s doors and asked them weird questions, like whether you are an albino while they can see that you are as black as they come.
When I heard that one of them was thumped by an angry fellow, I guessed that it might be because that unfortunate chap might have asked the fellow if he was a man or a woman.
When they turned up at my place, I have to admit that I was too wasted to be able to thump anyone, although it reached a point I felt like strangling that young lady in her yellow reflector vest.
You see, the first day of the census I was ready to receive the census fellows as early as 6am, but as the hand of the clock ticked, I knew that maybe they have decided to pay me a visit the next day.
I did what any sane man would have done under similar circumstances, I went to Zakayo’s Pub to irrigate my weary throat, because I don’t know what happened, but waiting for those fellows in their yellow reflector vests made me thirsty.
I found mzee Zakayo in a very jovial mood that day, and I became suspicious when he ushered me to his favorite corner and allowed me to sit on his favorite chair.
“Baba Boyi, it is only yesterday that I was reflecting on where I have come from in my humble business, and I realised that among all the people who walk in and out of this place, you are the longest surviving customer, and I told myself that I should make an effort of appreciating your support,” he told me as he summoned Fridah, the pretty bar maid who a few days ago caused a commotion when she claimed a certain drunk made her pregnant after kissing her on the lips.
I knew the old man was serious when four hours later, my table was still straining under the weight of very cold, brown bottles, and by the time a fellow called Deo the Don joined me, I was happily singing Nyamwezi circumcision songs at the top of my voice.
I really don’t understand where Oscar the Hawker appeared from, but a few hours later I saw him shoving my phone in my face and telling me that someone saved ‘Battle Axe’ was calling.
It took me several seconds to realise that the Battle Axe in my phone was none other than mama Boyi, the mother of my small clan in Manzese.
“Wewe mzee, so you now show me that your beer is more important than your family? I have been calling you and you decided I was not important to receive my call, where are you?” she screamed in the phone, and it took me several more seconds to realise that I was still at Zakayo’s.
I told her that I was in a wedding meeting at Zakayo’s, and she told me that I should drag myself home because she had just talked to our Mjumbe and he told her that the census people were on their way.
Because I left home without my collection of metal I call my car, I had to tell Fridah to summon a boda boda fellow who can rush me home and wait for me while I handled the census people.
Fridah told me that there was a boda boda fellow outside, and I found him sitting on his motorbike, shaking his head to some silent music in his helmet.
“Welcome mshua, before you tell me where you want to go, will you need element?” he asked me, and it took me several seconds to realise that by element he meant helmet.
I told him I was okay and gave him the address to my home, but although I was plastered, I thought that there was something very familiar about the young boda boda fellow, and my fears were confirmed when he kept shaking his head up and down to some music playing in his head.
It was the domestic thug, the boy who is supposed to be my son, and I knew that because the boy can never be accused of possessing a smart brain, it might be catastrophic if I tapped him on the shoulder and tell him I knew who he was.
I think the boy’s brain suddenly became operational when we reached home, because as soon as I stepped on the ground, he shot off as if he was being chased by bandits.
I entered the house and found my wife in a murderous mood, and I knew that to avoid the greasy pan landing on my head, the wisest thing was to shut up and act innocent.
Fortunately, the census fellows had not arrived, so I went to the sofa and stretched myself and promptly fell asleep, which lasted for a few minutes when mama Boyi shook me violently and announced that the fellows in yellow reflector vests had arrived.
The effort of sitting up was too much, and the young census lady was quick to tell me that it was okay even if I responded to the questions lying down.
I did my best to answer their questions, until when the lady asked me about my children, and I felt like telling her that I had a son whom I suspect does not belong to me.
I got a bit worried when the census lady asked my wife whether she was married or not, because even in my state of mind, I can swear that mama Boyi hesitated for a very long time before she answered.
I was still asking myself why my wife hesitated, and the census lady was asking her whether she has ever given birth to children who were still alive, when Oscar the Hawker and Deo the Don stumbled inside and demanded to be counted.
