Pray for my Fiolina who is hospitalised and needs blood

Although some enemies had been spreading unverified rumours that hospital food was bad, I decided to taste Fiolina’s food. It was so good, and within a short time, I had cleared Fiolina’s plate. I also ate all the bananas that Caro had brought her and took half the juice. ILLUSTRATION | JOHN NYAGAH

What you need to know:

  • The pre-Mosoriot Fiolina brought a lot of laughter to my life, and knew that I was the head and king of the home and house; followed my very reasoned instructions to the letter; and never questioned my world-recognised wisdom on anything. But today, other than for the obvious reasons, Fiolina is not the same one I sent to Mosoriot.
  • In the last few weeks, Fiolina has not been herself. She has been staying in the house brooding like a chicken waiting to hatch, rarely talking to me, and basically disagreeing with everything I do.
  • “Just ignore her and pretend to also be sick,” Rasto advised me. “She will heal faster than you expect.” The conclusion was that women always behave like that when in need of attention.

If there is any man planning to take their wife to Mosoriot TTC, my advice to you is that do not even consider it.

Take your wife to any other college but not Mosoriot.

As I have come to discover, whatever people eat and drink at Mosoriot must be something out of this world.

Ever since the laugh of my life went to Mosoriot for further advanced academic studies, she seems to have changed drastically.

As you know, although I had been looking forward to her return for December holidays, it turns out that the Fiolina Mosoriot gave me back is not the Fiolina that I fell in laugh with and married — with hopes that I will laugh for the rest of my life.

The pre-Mosoriot Fiolina brought a lot of laughter to my life, and knew that I was the head and king of the home and house; followed my very reasoned instructions to the letter; and never questioned my world-recognised wisdom on anything.

But today, other than for the obvious reasons, Fiolina is not the same one I sent to Mosoriot.

BROODING HEN

Her mood changes more often than the shape of Nyayo’s mandazi; she questions everything I say, and seems to have been appropriating herself some powers that even the new institution does not grant her.

When Fiolina got married to me, she used to brag to everyone how she had got married to one of the most financially stable people in Mwisho wa Lami and its environs. But, all of a sudden, she now complains that I can’t even afford to take her to the salon.

She is now demanding that I replace her entire wardrobe, yet just three months ago she was the best dressed woman in Mwisho wa Lami and beyond. Fiolina has also demanded that I get another TV, buy new sofa sets; and together with her brother Tocla, they convinced their parents who wrote to me last week demanding that I visit them to proceed with discussions from where we had left. We all know what that means. I won’t go.

Since I have been unable to meet the conditions set by Fiolina, the result is that in the last few weeks, Fiolina has not been herself. She has been staying in the house brooding like a chicken waiting to hatch, rarely talking to me, and basically disagreeing with everything I do.

She  also seemed to have new appetites that changed every hour. She would ask for fish, but as soon as I bought fish she would ask for matumbo; and by the time you bring it, her appetite would have graduated to omena. I actually believed she was keen to impoverish me — even though there is nothing to impoverish an already poor man with.

So when last Wednesday she announced that she was not feeling well, I was not even surprised. That day, I arrived from Hitler’s to find no supper, and Fiolina asleep.

When I tried waking her up, she did not wake up, only answering that she was feeling cold — half asleep. I have lived as a bachelor for long so it wasn’t so difficult to fall asleep just like that.

The next day, she woke up late, and although she prepared breakfast for me, she went back to bed after that.

When I shared the story of her behaviour with my comrades at Hitler’s later that day, I was told not to worry. “Women are always like that,” said Kwame. “Especially when they recently asked you for something that you did not give them.” Fiolina had on Monday asked for Sh490 to go to the salon, which I didn’t have and didn’t give, so I did not need a calculator to understand her behaviour.

“Just ignore her and pretend to also be sick,” Rasto advised me. “She will heal faster than you expect.” The conclusion was that women always behave like that when in need of attention.

“Just buy meat and get her a present like a handkerchief and all will be well,” added Lutta.

MORE BLOOD

That evening I returned home with a kilo of matumbo, and although I called her all the sweet names I know of (including sweet potatoes), Fiolina did not get out of bed. I, therefore, prepared supper myself that day, and joined her in bed.

When the next morning she could not wake up, I got alarmed and called Caro, who was visiting my parents.

Caro went to see Fiolina in her room and was soon shouting. “Dre tafuta boda haraka,” she said.

“Kwa nini?” I asked her,

“Leta boda usiulize maswali.” I immediately called Nyayo. When Nyayo arrived, Caro had helped Fiolina dress. Nyayo could not ride so we held Fiolina on the bike as Nyayo pushed the motorcycle to hospital.

“Had she stayed in the house for another day,” Caro told me as we walked, “Huyu angekua maiti.”  We went to the Mwisho wa Lami dispensary, where the nurse quickly started working on her.

She was taken to the ward, which had three beds. Caro left shortly after to go and arrange some things at our house.

The nurse called to say that Fiolina needed blood. “Do you have anybody who can donate blood?” she asked me.

I told her that I could supply all the blood that was needed; I had been told that if you gave blood you would be given soda and half a loaf of bread and did not want to miss this. So I donated a lot of blood and was happy to be given soda after that. They did not have bread but soda for me is okay any time.

“Do you have other friends or relatives who can give blood?” The nurse asked me. “Why?” I asked, “I gave a lot of blood. I can give more if you want,” I offered, hoping that I would be given another soda.

“We need more blood,” the nurse said. She did not tell me why. I called Nyayo and Saphire but they were not allowed. The nurse asked me to find a female person so that it could match. Later on, the lab assistant told me that my blood could not be used because the blood content in my alcohol was very low!

Since Fiolina was asleep and Caro had returned, I was allowed to leave but came back at around 6.30 p.m. They had served her supper: ugali beef, sukuma and soup.

GOOD FOOD

Fiolina tasted a little but said she had no appetite. Caro had also come with some bananas and juice for Fiolina.

Although some enemies had been spreading unverified rumours that hospital food was bad, I decided to taste Fiolina’s food. It was so good, and within a short time, I had cleared Fiolina’s plate.

I also ate all the bananas that Caro had brought her and took half the juice.

“Very good,” said the nurse when she returned and found the plate empty. “Ukiendelea kukula hivyo utapona haraka,” she told Fiolina. No one corrected her. We later went home with all that friends and relatives had brought for Fiolina.

Whatever you do, please spare some time and pray for the quick recovery of Fiolina, the laugh of my life!