that’s my son right there!” echoed in Mr. Equals his left hand slightly shaking as he reached out to take a bite of the mandazi he was eating. Allan accepted everything he was offered as he took in the staffroom. Most teachers had bicycles and the ones who could not afford them relied heavily on their feet. Their questions about life in the city came at him like rainfall. They asked and he answered, sometimes he would look them in the eye, sometimes he would be too embarrassed to do so. A loud metal sound hit them and he saw the teachers get up and walk to the wall each armed with pieces of chalk and books. All but Mr. Equals left the room. The table tipped to one side and he reached out hoping to hold it in place, but his hands were not fast enough and soon his knees found the floor to collect the books, papers and cups.
“How long has it been like this Mwalimu?”
“I remember the first time you came to school. You had orange shorts and no shoes and you told us that you could add things up in your head. It was funny; a child who could not write but could add things up in your head, so we asked you, five mangoes and ten oranges comes to what? You said, they are just that five mangoes and ten oranges, but if they were five mangoes and ten mangoes then they would be fifteen mangoes. It was known to you as Math, but it was Algebra to me and I told your Father to let you study. Your old man was an ox. He paid on time and would visit me every Saturday with some tobacco to ask how you were doing at school. When you were punished he never intervened. He trusted us to mould you, but looking back at the times my boy, nothing has changed. We have more pupils but no books. We have some paper and children who can hold pens but no pens. The government places new teachers here but they leave as soon as they can. This is the only school in the district that had the best boy go to a national school. Yes, my boy, we have pupils who pass but they go to Provincial schools, none has ever beat your record, but look at us…we are here by six and we leave at six. I am a Teacher and knowing that some of these children will sleep under iron sheet roofs and never go hungry because of what I taught them is enough to keep me here. Now, what did you ask me?”
“How about the CDF?”
“CDF is money politician spend in hotels and bars. A few women, a few drinks and waiters who say, ‘yes, sir,’ that is what CDF is.”
“Micheni has grown, there are businesses here that never were and we have a good road and a dispensary and a police post.”
“Businesses are for profit, the road leads our children away from home, and the dispensary stinks of spirit but if you want Panadol, you have to pay for it and our young mothers die before they bring forth life. The best one is the police post, how can you arrest a hungry man?”
“Mwalimu?”
“You live in the city and you have just found a woman to call your wife, look around Micheni and tell me would you like your children to grow up here?”
Allan looked at his hands. His old Teacher’s cough filled the room and he did not have to look up to know that the old man was looking at his grave. “Have you been to the Doctor Mwalimu?”
“I have been to Doctors and I am yet to join my wife, but I cannot stop coming to school. So, will you walk with me as we wait for Anna’s double lesson to come to an end?”
“Yes, Sir,” and he got to his feet and followed the teacher around the school looking at the classes and compound. There were three classes spread out in the field under the trees. It may have been the sight of the school or the working conditions for the teachers at Micheni that ignited the fire in Allan, but he could never be sure. He returned home and when the time was right, he drove back to Nairobi with his wife and so many questions for their area MP.
He took half of his salary the next month and bought building materials for the school. He asked the community to offer laborers who would construct a new administration block and in three months, the school had a new look. The teachers had desks and a stable table. He asked his colleagues to contribute towards the project and by the end of the year, Micheni Primary looked like that new academy past Langa’ta; new buildings, clean water, clean toilets, a gate and most of all happy parents and children. The enrollment doubled and the teachers were pleased for they had enough books and writing materials to go around. Whenever Pamela asked him why he was giving away most of his earnings to his people, Allan would tell her that the same people gave away their earnings to send him to school. He gave and she frowned. Allan knew two things: he could share what he had and he could also save for his children.
One Sunday afternoon while they were talking to their Pastor, a man in a green suit approached them. Pamela found it odd that such a tall and very black man would wear green, but Allan saw the man’s eyes and posture and knew he was a messenger. The man led him to a Mercedes Benz parked three meters away from the church’s main entrance. The back door was opened and he was asked to step in for a brief meeting. He adjusted his tie and stepped in.
“It is good to give thanks Wakili, and how is your wife?”
“She is fine Mheshimiwa.”
“Your first child is it?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Yes, my wife was as big as a cow and she kept saying things and changing them every second. She wanted chapatti and Coke baridi, sometimes chicken, like one time I lost it! I was in a meeting in Parliament and she calls me to say that she wanted yoghurt and deep fried chicken. I snapped and told her to send the maid but see, that was my mistake, I could have said I was going to get it and not answer the phone, but when I told her to get the maid, and she never talked to me until she delivered.”
“They are crazy but how can I be of service Mheshimiwa?”
“I like you Wakili. You do not walk around the house when you can knock on the door. So, I hear you are from Micheni. It is a small village. The road is like a hunter’s path. Do you know your member of parliament?”
“Caleb Mabisi.”
“Yes, but you are doing what he should be doing, have you ever thought of representing your people?”
“I already do enough Sir, besides they did not choose me.”
“You did not ask them to, but still, you can always do more once you join Parliament.”
“No thanks, I love the law.”
“I also love the law Wakili, nothing is as sure yet obsolete as the law here in Kenya, but that is between you and me. For is it not intriguing how the law can change in favor of the one who has many papers bearing the picture of Jomo?”
“I still love practicing.”
“Of course you do, but listen; here is my number we can keep talking about this because if there is one thing I know it is that people never stop demanding. You can feed the hungry today but not forever. You give and they still ask you for more, and as a representative you can do that without digging into your own pocket. You have a wife and child to think about, Wakili, so, enjoy your Sunday and please do bring your wife to some of the parties I host. She is too beautiful to stay at home.”
“Thank you Sir.”
Allan stepped out of the car and walked back to the church where Pamela was waiting for him. He took her hand and led her out of the church towards their car. “Who was it sweetheart?”
“It was the Minister for Finance.”
“You mean the Minister wanted to talk to you? What did he do now? Does he want you to defend him?”
“He invited us to parties he would be hosting in the future, apparently he likes what I have done for Micheni.”
“How does he know about that?”
“I do not know, but with these people word always goes around, let’s get something to eat.” Allan would think about the Minister’s offer for a year before his own people asked him to represent them. He thought about it for another year. Pamela had little to say on the matter for it was not known to her. They had a baby and she was caught between dealing with his tantrums and struggling to button her skirts. When Henry turned five, Allan approached Pamela with the details. She kept his eyes on him as he talked about the people in Micheni and the projects that he had done. He to
ld her about the boundaries of every village; the type of soil, climate, and the number of deaths as births as though it was a strategic plan that needed her approval. When he talked about the children in Micheni his eyes strayed from her and went to the ground before staring right through her. He talked of running from home to school bare-feet to get a serving of porridge and running back to school only to realize that he was hungry when he arrived at the gate. He shared a pencil with Godfrey, Jane, Mwila and Thomas and the teacher would give each one a word and wait for them to pass over the pencil like a baton. Micheni had rains, but he hated the rains because when God opened the clouds they could not make it to school. They would stay home during the month of June because of the rains. The words flowed out of his mouth and into Pamela’s heart and when he was done; she looked at him and said, “I will support you, as long as you stay true to your people.”
“Thank you.”
V
When Election Day arrived everyone in Micheni went to vote knowing their son was to join bunge. He would speak for them.
Forty thousand votes and Allan was sworn in as a Member of Parliament representing Micheni. He was the youngest member and his pictures graced the daily newspapers and glossy magazines in the country. His learned friends called him Moses. His marriage to Pamela and ascension to power were feats they believed