I borrowed cash from my wife and became a laughing stock

Already the amount of money she had given me was public knowledge. ILLUSTRATION| JOHN NYAGAH

What you need to know:

  • As I would later learn, I had made one big mistake that a married man who has any respect for himself must never do – take money from their wife. More so money for a sacred development project like building a house.
  • No sooner had she given me the money that the whole world knew that my wife had given me money to carry on with the construction after I had squandered my loan.
  • Your village must have many sayings but Mwisho wa Lami has one saying that is forever true: That the worst way to keep a secret is to tell it to my sister Caro, the undisputed Minister for Information!

This was supposed to be one great celebratory weekend for my great family and I. And yesterday would have been the day the Lord made for us. The great day of moving into my brand new permanent state of the art bungalow – whose design, size and grandeur remains a dream to many and an inspiration to all the children of Mwisho wa Lami and its environs.

And everything had been done in preparation for the great day: Loan applied, granted and disbursed; professional fundi identified, hired and assigned duties; materials selected, paid for and transported to site; invitation cards designed, printed and delivered to guests, tents and chairs identified, booked and paid for; and food already bought. All that remained was to complete construction of the great house.

But it was never to be. It seems God had other plans for me. A few weeks to the date, you will remember how Nyayo, my trusted and reasonably priced fundi announced that he needed more materials, and that he also needed to be paid.

No problem, but I rushed to the bank only to discover that there was a genie that was also withdrawing a similar (or more) amount of money after every construction-related withdrawal I made. As such, the loan had ended faster that Usain Bolt’s 100 metres run. Next time I take a loan or I stumble upon a jackpot like SportPesa, I will withdraw all the cash at once and properly manage it from my house, out of the genie’s reach.

With no option, I suspended construction, and cancelled the celebrations altogether. I even stopped going near the construction site, and completely changed routes to avoid seeing the condemned construction. I even totally gave up on ever building a permanent house until I get promoted to HM; for it was never in God’s plan that P1 teachers step on a cemented floor every morning. A man must not try to do what a man was not meant to do.

When she arrived from college, as expected, Fiolina was pleasantly surprised to see the progress that had been made towards completion of the house. Though I told her that the project had stalled until further notice (or until funds become available) she was confident that we could still complete and move into the houses this weekend. And to prove that I did not marry a fool, she did not just hope, she acted. Through her chama, she raised some money that was handed to me.

But even before we could count the money, Fiolina went a step further: she called the fundi, and went ahead to remind guests that we were still scheduled to move into the new house this weekend. What was more? She even invited more guests for the “House Entry Ceremony”!  The money they raised was not enough to even pay the fundi but she could hear none of that. She asked me to be a man and top up the difference.

As I would later learn, I had made one big mistake that a married man who has any respect for himself must never do – take money from their wife. More so money for a sacred development project like building a house.

No sooner had she given me the money that the whole world knew that my wife had given me money to carry on with the construction after I had squandered my loan. Your village must have many sayings but Mwisho wa Lami has one saying that is forever true: That the worst way to keep a secret is to tell it to my sister Caro, the undisputed Minister for Information!

The mistake Fiolina made was to tell Caro that she had given me some money. That same day, by the time Nyayo and I arrived at Hitler’s, word that Fiolina had given me money had already arrived there before us.

 “Kuoa mtu alisoma ni kitu mzuri,” said Hitler as he served me my pick up – funded by the chama money. This was uncommon from Hitler. For he always serves customers without speaking to them, unless it was a very sensitive matter. “Chunga usikaliwe,” he warned me.

'SOMETHING SMALL'

“Nyumba hujengwa na mwanaume,” said Rasto. “Ukijengewa na bibi nyumba shauri yako. Utakumbushwa kila siku.”

I told him that I was the one building the house and that Fiolina had only boosted me with something small.

“Don’t accept even one ndururu,” sad Rasto. “Mwanamke ni mwanamke, atatangaza kwa redio vile alitoa pesa yote ya kujenga.”

Already the amount of money she had given me was public knowledge. And since most of the recipients of the information were people whose largest construction project was a four-bedroomed grass thatched house, that seemed like a lot of money.

Tocla, Fiolina’s brother, staggered to Hitler’s shortly after we had arrived. He ordered a drink and told Hitler to ask me for money. I protested when Hitler told me that I was the one to pay for Tocla’s drink. It was a big mistake, for Tocla, loudly said. “Wewe Dre nilipie pompe. Pesa yako unapeleka wapi na hata nyumba unajengewa na dada yangu?”

It was so embarrassing. Despite the fact that no single cent of Fiolina had been spent on the house, listening to people, you would think that Fiolina had brought the house to where it is – and that I had done nothing.

I had planned to leave Hitler’s early that day, but I could not leave until it was dark. I did not want people pointing at me and whispering at how my house was being built by my wife.

As you are already aware, things moved fast from then. Fiolina went to her place. We visited the home for what was a routine visit to receive thanks but did not agree and so we stormed out of the house, leaving her there.

And I made another mistake. I did not tell anyone what had happened. Over a drink, and a promise of more drinks, I swore Rasto and Alphayo who had accompanied me to secrecy.

They never told anyone what had happened. And Fiolina took advantage. She called my sister Caro and told her that we had stormed out of their home after I was challenged on why I had “drank” the money Fiolina had given me to complete construction of the house.

In the absence of an alterative version, this is the version that took root in Mwisho wa Lami. Soon I became the laughing stock of everyone, having fallen from the grace and respect I was receiving just weeks earlier. A man whose house was being built by his wife was not worth his name. But a man who was even drinking the money his wife had given his for house construction was no man at all!

“Nilifikiria wewe ni mwanaume,” Anindo, Nyayo’s wife, told me the other day when we met. “Unakunywa hata pesa bibi yako amekupea ya kujenga.” I could not even answer her. It was too embarrassing.

I have not been leaving the house ever since this story became public. I don’t know if and when Fiolina will return. But one thing is for sure: I will never take or borrow money from my wife for whatever reason. In the meantime, I have to get Sh10,500 and give it back to my wife. I don’t want aibu ndogo ndogo. And I will become close friends with my sister Caro, so that she can also push my stories to the public, not just her mlamwa’s stories!