My Maillu, after '4.30' and our precious little dove

Her living room is lined with bookshelves. Piles of newspapers compete for space with living plants. A resilient violet and a vase of roses complete the picture of reassuring tidiness and order in the house in Otiende, Langata in Nairobi.

Sculptures, carvings and oil paintings adorn the walls. Three African drums are on the wall dominated by books. The couple has lived in this house since 1972.

Hannelore Maillu, the wife of author David Maillu, first set foot in Kenya from her home in Siemensstradt, Germany, in 1967.

She looks back with pride on the 44 years she has shared with one of Kenya’s most controversial, if not outright eccentric, writers. The man she fondly refers to as ‘David’ has always been her friend and comrade.

WEDDING DAY

When on January 30, 1970, Hannelore walked down the aisle, she knew she was fulfilling her dream. The chic bride wore a fashionable long-sleeve, flared mini with white pumps as she walked towards her love waiting at the altar.

Maillu, in a white turtle neck and light green slacks, cut a dashing figure as the groom.

She chuckles at the memory. “He wore a cloak just like the one a pastor wore!”

Maillu, too, still remembers being disappointed at the missed opportunity to flaunt his full regalia. “The fellow (officiating pastor) wouldn’t allow me to wear a hat inside the church!”

Hannelore explains that the groom had had a hat stitched by his tailor to complement his cloak on the day he quit the bachelors’ club. This sacrifice of love was, perhaps, the only time Maillu ever complied or attempted to conform.

By then, Hannelore, an efficient administrator at the Christian Council of Kenya, knew she had married a maverick.
“I first came to Kenya in 1967. I was sponsored by a German organisation — Service Overseas — and I was invited by Christian Council of Kenya to work as an administrator. I worked three years in Nairobi then moved to Limuru Conference Centre, now Jumuia Place, next to St Paul College that trained the clergy of various protestant churches. While I was not a missionary, I needed my pastor’s introduction to get the position.”

NO OPPOSOTION
She did not meet Maillu in church. One of her colleagues introduced them, leading to the fruition of Maillu’s dream.

“I met him outside the church. He was friends with some people who worked with the church. Then he worked at the Voice of Kenya (VoK) and was already a published author.

“David had a dream in the ‘50s — when whites did not mix with Africans — that he would marry a white person. He made an effort to talk to me. We had lunchtime get-togethers and coffee dates.”

Their relationship did not face much opposition as Maillu took Hannelore to meet his mother and persuaded her to accept his intended wife.

“His mother was the most important person in David’s life and he managed to convince her. My family also accepted that I had decided to make my life here and my happiness lay with David in Kenya,” she says.

With this, the couple, with the support of their friends and in the presence of their family, wed in the little Lutheran Chapel near St Andrew’s, Nairobi, setting the stage for the most explosive era in Kenya’s literature.

“The wedding was simple. Wives of my colleagues at Limuru chipped in by bringing drinks and scones to the reception at the YMCA. We did not have cake. Weddings by then were a simple affair whose highlight was the exchange of the vows,” she says.

A PACT
After their wedding, Mr and Mrs Maillu moved into a little flat in Limuru, and it is here that the prolific author completed and published his most famous works: My Dear Bottle, After 4.30, and Unfit for Human Consumption, among others.

It also marked a time the couple experienced some strife in their relationship.

“In Kamba and other cultures, adults could talk about sex without children understanding it. But here was a man who was direct about sex. I failed to see why he couldn’t be subtle about it.”

The couple then made a pact that they have preserved to this day, a pact Hannelore says still puts Maillu at an advantage.

“We decided that he would write whatever he wanted and would only show me his work when the book was complete. But by then, it would be too late to protest!”

And write he did. The prolific writer wrote all day long as long as the electric typewriter was plugged in. However, publishers were few and hard to come by. Even rarer was the publisher willing to take a chance with an African writer.

LITTLE OR NO INFLUENCE
“I have read many books and seen many films and plays in theatre. I was, therefore, not shocked at the content of his books that had become wildly popular. My only problem was the vulgar language and the use of cuss words.

“But I was not so offended as I took his works as cautionary tales for people, especially young women who came from the village to the city. After 4.30 was for them to read and beware that the city was not the same as the village where everyone knew each other. In the city, they could fall prey to exploitation by unscrupulous men.”

The cause of women in his books is one that she protests as she considers his female characters are treated unfairly. For even though she is privileged to be always the first person to see the completed manuscript, there is little she can do to change their plight.

She cites Catherine in his yet-to be-launched book, Mwanzo, the Nairobian, as Maillu’s latest victim. She couldn’t give details of the plight of this character, only quipping: “Wait to read and see for yourself.”

A GREAT FATHER
Early in their marriage, Maillu’s books became a commercial success across East Africa and the couple, who by then had a baby daughter, decided to open their own publishing house to keep up with his output.

“David had a vision to make literature popular and accessible to everybody. He came up with small books that could fit in a shirt pocket or a woman’s handbag as people liked to read.”

The political climate of the late 1970s, however, put paid to their plans and they lost the publishing house to auctioneers.

“It was a most difficult time in our lives as we had people working for us,” Hannelore says.

She, however, counts herself lucky for Maillu, who continued writing from the house, was a great father to their daughter, Kavuli.

“Most men feel that they would rather stay outside their homes with their friends, but David is different. He prefers to stay in. He is committed to his family and for that I consider myself lucky,” she says.

MISSING HOME
She says she is fortunate, too, to have worked for the German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD), a non-profit organisation which helps Kenyans pursue higher education in Germany.

“At the DAAD’s 40th anniversary recently, I met professors I had met years earlier as students. That gave me great joy,” she says.

Her other joy is her daughter, Kavuli, a name which in Kamba means little dove or pigeon. She is an interior architect.

Kavuli, the most African person in the Maillu family, according to the writer, is now home in Kenya and is thankful to Ms Victoria Mbolu, the sole nanny who has been with the family for almost 40 years.

She raised Kavuli and taught her Kamba language, a tongue Hannelore has still not quite mastered.

For all her time in Kenya, she misses home but she has found solace in the small congregation of the German-speaking Lutheran Evangelical Church on the German embassy grounds on Riverside Drive, Westlands, that caters for Germans, Austrians and Swiss resident in Kenya.

She also hangs out with other white women married to Kenyans from time to time, one of whom recently gifted her with a Kindle to read e-books on.

HAPPILY EVER AFTER
Hannelore, a voracious book reader and her husband’s biggest fan, doesn’t own a mobile phone. However, she is happy with her Kindle gift and is trying to read her books on it.

“But it’s all new to me,” she says.

A lady doesn’t tell her age, but with the passage of time, the dashing girl who sought to bring German standards to the operations of Council of Churches Kenya, has considerably slowed down.

Their little flat in Limuru was safe and they had a small car. They occasionally went out in the evenings, attended interesting talks at the museum, watched films and dined out.

The camaraderie is apparent in their affectionate exchanges full of warmth and care.

The chic bride of 44 years ago still shines through in the lilac cardigan with a matching lilac batik skirt.

When her husband walks in in an embroidered shirt with a lilac detailing, it is rather obvious that the maverick met his match and that theirs may yet be the tale of married happily ever after.