Mkulima Moments: The big milk scandal that I helped unearth

Since it was dark and drizzling, I sat in the main house veranda. Surprisingly, Kioko came back from delivering the milk and went to the milking shed, unware of my presence in the veranda, and started milking again, quietly and cautiously. ILLUSTRATION | IGAH | NATION MEDIA GROUP

What you need to know:

  • I started my journey back to Mashambani soon after 2pm, when I was convinced the alcohol had cleared from my head, though I was still nursing a hangover.
  • I thought of how to apologise to Wandia, the girl in my heart. I knew Tesh must have posted on her Facebook page our photos as we had fun at the ill-fated agribusiness camp.
  • Surprisingly, Kioko came back from delivering the milk and went to the milking shed, unware of my presence in the verandah.
  • Surprisingly, he started milking again, quietly and cautiously.
  • We later realised he sells the milk clandestinely to a neighbour.

After missing the date with Wandia due to Tesh’s cleverness, I was a disappointed man.

I started my journey back to Mashambani soon after 2pm, when I was convinced the alcohol had cleared from my head, though I was still nursing a hangover.

I had hoped that everything would go on smoothly after the big mishap but I was wrong. In the bus, I was sandwiched between two well-endowed female passengers, who were squeezing the breath out of me.

The vehicle, City-Mashambani, normally ferries smallholder farmers who feed the city dwellers with vegetables and milk. Every morning, the matatu picks the hard working Mashambani traders, mostly women, with loads of carrots, milk, green peas and sometimes potatoes for Wakulima market.

On its return journey, many passengers are tired and sleepy. The two hefty women and I, were among the sleepy ones.

On arrival, I quietly sneaked through Mashambani shopping centre to avoid the prying eyes. I felt like everyone knew I had taken alcohol. But as fate would have it, I heard someone mention my name.

“Mkulima!” Wakageorge shouted as I made my way down a muddy road.

I ignored him, hoping he would go away, but he shouted and ran after me.

“I have some message from Mzee Jeremiah,” Wakageorge said when he caught up with me.

“He wants to have lunch with you at Check Point.”

“Let’s talk later,” I curtly retorted and walked away, leaving him shocked.

ILL-FATED AGRIBUSINESS CAMP

I thought of how to apologise to Wandia, the girl in my heart. I knew Tesh must have posted on her Facebook page our photos as we had fun at the ill-fated agribusiness camp.

As I walked on, Wandia’s aunt appeared from nowhere.

“Mkulima, Bwana asifiwe!” she greeted me. I wasn’t sure how to respond since I was drunk. I struggled and muttered, “Asifiwe sana.”

“I am from your farm and Wekesa informed me that you had gone to the city,” she said.

“Are you well?” she asked after noticing my mood.

I kept a distance as I felt like I was reeking of alcohol.

“I am fine, just a little tired after the long safari from Mombasa overnight,” I lied.

“I have tried everything but my cow’s milk production has remained at six litres in the morning,” she said, noting in the evening they produce more.

The last time she came complaining of the low quality dairy meal feeds, I proposed home-made feeds of protein supplements that included copra, sunflower, groundnuts, soya, cotton seed cake, DCP and dairy premix, which she mixed with pollard and maize germ. It had worked for me.
“Mkulima even after your advice on how to feed a lactating cow, they are not improving. I don’t know what is happening,” she said.

“Kioko tells me it might be the morning cold that has affected the production,” she added, referring to her farmhand.

To avoid the long conversation, I promised her that I would go the following morning and milk the cows. I think I was still drunk while announcing this.

PROMISED TO BE PATIENT WITH HER

Before the crack of dawn the next day, I arrived and found Kioko had already milked and delivered the milk to the collection centre.

Wandia’s aunt was busy praying. She is very religious. Since it was dark and drizzling, I sat in the main house verandah.

Surprisingly, Kioko came back from delivering the milk and went to the milking shed, unware of my presence in the verandah.

Surprisingly, he started milking again, quietly and cautiously.

I sensed something was amiss as he started milking the three cows.

“But where was he taking the milk?” I wondered.

“Kioko!” I shouted.

The thief he was, he jumped out of the milking shed and disappeared into the darkness.

That commotion attracted Wandia’s aunt who cut short her prayers.

I went to the shed and discovered his trick. You see, he was milking three teats and leaving one, which he would return and milk after delivering the first load.

We later realised he sells the milk clandestinely to a neighbour.

Now, having cracked the puzzle, Wandia’s aunt was a happy woman. She asked me to milk her cows as she looks for another farmhand.

I have been doing it for the last seven days as she keeps me company.

By now I hope Wandia has heard of my heroic deed and that I have been milking her aunt’s cows every morning.

Like the biblical Jacob who worked for seven years to get Rachel, I have promised to be patient with her.