My parents stage ‘soft coup’ to turn  Fiolina’s harambee into a cash cow

My mother had another issue that she wanted addressed. “This harambee, is it ours alone?” she asked. “There is not even one guest from Fiolina’s side yet they will benefit from her salary.” ILLUSTRATION | JOHN NYAGAH

What you need to know:

  • I still do not know how Overseer Apostle Elkana became a member of the Steering Committee; all I know is that although no one invited him, he started the week as non-member and ended it as one.
  • Although we had agreed that the venue of the harambee would be Apostle Elkana’s THOAG (The Holiest of All Ghosts) Tabernacle Assembly’s church , my parents would have none of it.
  • My mother had another issue that she wanted addressed. “This harambee, is it ours alone?” she asked. “There is not even one guest from Fiolina’s side yet they will benefit from her salary.”

As the whole world already knows, today is D-Day for Fiolina Dre’s harambee, and all roads lead to Mwisho wa Lami.

For the past one week, I have been doing nothing but plan for this event.

As soon as I printed cards and distributed them to people who I believed would come through for me, I sat down with a few committed friends to plan for the day. The committee was composed of Saphire, Nyayo, Kizito, Fiolina and I.

My dad attended the third meeting and immediately made himself a member, bringing his strong opinions on almost every issue. My mother, too, appointed herself a member, and kept herself busy opposing our plans and suggesting her own. She had problems with some committee members and repeatedly advised me against working with Nyayo and Saphire.

“Kizito does not look at you well,” she kept reminding me, and would dismiss anything that Kizito came up with.

I still do not know how Overseer Apostle Elkana became a member of the Steering Committee; all I know is that although no one invited him, he started the week as non-member and ended it as one.

WASTING MONEY

Our first agenda was the budget. We asked Kizito to draw up a tentative food budget, which he presented to us for consideration last Monday. The budget came to about Sh22,450 without soda, and Sh28,680 if we included soda.

“This is very high, Kizito. Can’t we reduce it?” said my father.

Kizito took us through every item and we considered each and dropped what we did not think was important. My mother feigned surprise when every item mentioned.

“Atse! Kwani ni hoteli?” she asked when Kizito said the number of onions and tomatoes he needed. “Watu wakule chakula kavu, hii ni harambee, si hoteli.”

“I know, Senje, but we can’t take flat food to the high table,” said Kizito. “Other people can eat flat food but the high table must get good food.” Nyayo, knowing that he would be sitting at the high table, nodded in agreement.

Although we had agreed that the venue of the harambee would be Apostle Elkana’s THOAG (The Holiest of All Ghosts) Tabernacle Assembly’s church , my parents would have none of it.

“Mnapeleka harambee kwa kanisa, kwani sina boma?” piped my father.

“We need this event to happen in God’s anointed place to be successful,” said Apostle Elkana.

“Plus, THOAG is easy to get to and people coming to Mwisho wa Lami will not get lost,” I added.

“If anyone can get to Mwisho wa Lami then he can get here,” said my father. Someone just needs to ask for Caleb’s home,” mother supported him.

After prolonged arguments, during which Apostle Elkana threatened to leave, we agreed that there would be a church service in the morning at THOAG, but the harambee would be held at our home in the afternoon.

“If the harambee is done at Elkana’s church you won’t see the money,” my mother would later tell me. “Atasema hiyo ni sadaka yake.”

Next on the agenda was chairs, tents and public address system. Kizito had assigned around Sh9,487 for this. The Public Address system was dropped immediately. “You people like wasting money!” exclaimed my mother. “Why do you want to pay for chairs when you can ask the pupils to get desks from school and bring them to our home?” We reminded her schools were closed.

“You are the deputy; get students to bring chairs and tables,” she said. That afternoon, I called the headboy and told him to get me about 10 students who I assigned to carry desks to our home and return them to school once the event was concluded.

OUR HARAMBEE

My mother had another issue that she wanted addressed. “This harambee, is it ours alone?” she asked. “There is not even one guest from Fiolina’s side yet they will benefit from her salary.”

“That is not important,” I said, although I knew it was. I had even approached Tocla, Fiolina’s brother, for assistance but he had been clear that their business with Fiolina had ended when I married her.

On Thursday evening, my parents told me to see them. I wondered why they wanted to see me as I walked to their house after attending a special planning meeting at Hitler’s.

“We are really supporting you,” said my father after I sat down, as my mother nodded eagerly. “And we hope that you will raise enough money for Fionila’s fees.” I know there was a catch somewhere, as my parents rarely support anything I do.

“But after the harambee, before you take the money to Mosoriot, there are some things we want you to do for us first,” he went on.

My mother then handed me some piece of paper, on which were prescribed some drugs. “You know about my sickness. I went to hospital yesterday and, as you can see, I need Sh7,800 to treat my back problem.”

“I also need to buy a bull so that in case something bad happens, we are not shamed,” said my father, adding that a good bull cost around Sh12,000.

I told them that the harambee was strictly for Fiolina’s fees.

“You mean your wife’s education is more important than my health?” asked my mother. “You want to tell me I can die as long as your wife goes to college? Get money from this harambee for my treatment or hold a special harambee for my bill,” she said.

“This girl has never given us a grandson and you are spending a lot of money on her,” said my father. “You know the only bull I had we used it to pay for her dowry. If I died today, what will people eat at my funeral?”

But I was not going to be swayed, and held my ground that he harambee was strictly for Fiolina’s college fees.

FAMILY BUSINESS

“Even if it meant my death?” posed my mother. “Kwani huyu msichana alikupikia nini?” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. Getting affected by their emotional blackmail, I had to agree that I would give them some money from the harambee but that would depend on how much we raised.

And although the Steering Committee had agreed that Kizito would be in charge of counting the money, my parents insisted that role must be done by somebody from our family. “We can’t trust strangers with our money”.

Since my sister Caro is around, it was agreed that she would take charge of that role. My mother also pushed to have my sister Yunia oversee the food preparation as opposed to Anindo.

Yesterday the committee met to finalise the plans, where the final shopping budget was determined to be Sh18,230.

Although the local shopkeeper gracefully accepted to give us all what we wanted on credit, he said he would be at the harambee to take his money immediately. He also took my TV as insurance.

Apostle Elkana proposed that members of the steering committee each get Sh1,500 after the harambee, and the proposal was approved.

Once again, I hope to see everyone at Mwisho wa Lami today with their generous contributions, of course!