Unit 2 Assignment (ENG130)

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Money, the least of his worries

Hilda Gathanga

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time must come when a man knows he should get a wife. Wambua knew that time had come. He had prepared himself financially. The wedding show on Citizen TV had filled girls

nowadays with expensive options on how the cake and food should be served. His head ached when he thought about what the flowers and tents and chairs would cost him. Nowadays the girls wanted sleek cars in the entourage, the rovers and limos. Those would cost him heavily.

… The wedding expenses were the second concern, unfortunately.

He was concerned about the traditional or cultural financial obligations he had to cover. His girlfriend had just informed him of the introductions. He had to go to her home to see her parents and, no, it would not be advisable to go alone. He should go with one or two friends. One should be a married man. He is the one who will talk and introduce him to the family. Why did things have to be so complicated?

… Then there was the visit with his parents and siblings. The

cultural name for it was Family Introductions. Then there was the Kuhadaithigi, where he was expected to put a small deposit to secure the girl. When Wanja had suggested the amount that would be required for the deposit, he had laughed out loudly. Fifty thousand Kes! Clearly, it was one of her small jokes. But her face had remained solemn and she actually looked hurt and disappointed. He had redeemed himself quickly and smiled at her. The joke had been his laughter; of course, that was the range of the deposit nowadays.

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C o p y r i g h t 2 0 1 5 . H a n d e l B o o k s .

A l l r i g h t s r e s e r v e d . M a y n o t b e r e p r o d u c e d i n a n y f o r m w i t h o u t p e r m i s s i o n f r o m t h e p u b l i s h e r , e x c e p t f a i r u s e s p e r m i t t e d u n d e r U . S . o r a p p l i c a b l e c o p y r i g h t l a w .

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… The next step was the Ruracio. Why had he fallen for a girl

from Kiambu? The area was known for greedy parents who asked for high dowry amounts that had caused several couples to break up. It was as if the parents were looking for money to buy land or finish the construction of their houses. One would be told how the girl was educated and working, as if the man was not educated and working. He had made sure he had a serious talk with Wanja about this process. She was to control the greedy aunts and uncles. He hoped his point had been clear. He would pay the necessary amount over the years, as they said, dowry never quite ended. It could be paid over the years in order to encourage relations between the two families. If not he would pay, yes, but the woman would regret it the rest of her life. She would pay for it indirectly every day they were married, he thought mercilessly.

… The last step should be the Itaara. Wanja’s family would come

to visit and see the place where their daughter had gone. He would be covering the food bills for all these visits. The bill would be high since Kenyans loved indulging in food. He loved food anyway so on that part he could forgive them.

Wambua thought of his dad and a smile came to his face. Wambua Senior! Now that had been a wise man. He had convinced his wife to live with him and ignore all those traditional processes. The relatives had been mad, the parents even madder. However, he had convinced his wife that they should hold on to their stand. With continued practice of such traditions when would Kenya become modernized? Such mentalities were what continued to hold us back. He wanted to do the same, but he had fallen in love with a Christian girl who could not live with him without a wedding. Her family and relatives would not attend the wedding without due processes being followed. He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

He jumped in his seat when the vehicle behind him blared for him to move forward. He had been caught up in his thoughts and the

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lights had changed. His lane had ninety nine seconds to move before the lights changed again. He pressed on the accelerator and moved forward. Traffic on a Kenyan road was always a nightmare. No wonder he had been lost in his thoughts. As he approached the roundabout the movement become slower as the lanes decreased. He felt like hitting someone. It was now thirty seconds left. When he was just about to enter the Nyayo Stadium Roundabout the time was up. The lights gave a warning orange and turned to red. He did not care; he moved forward, jumping the lights and managing to go round it just before the next lane picked up. Once on Mombasa Road he was on high speed, manoeuvring in and out of the lanes, past slow moving cars and following the drivers that were obviously in a hurry like he was.

There was a slow, white Toyota Premio on his lane. He needed to overtake it and move to the farthest land but it was a close call. He was the master of taking risks and if it did not work out the owner of the car would have to do an emergency brake. The driver was already slow so Wambua reasoned that he should be okay. He accelerated and cut in front of the car. He could not make it to the other lane in time. A black Benz was already on the lane at high speed. He braked suddenly to avoid hitting the white lorry in front of him. He heard the high screeching of brakes from the Premio behind him and tensed. Then a loud bang from behind almost caused him to hit the car in front of him. He cursed as his car jerked to a stop. Clicking his tongue he got out to assess the damage on his black Subaru.

A dark middle-aged man with a small pot-belly got out. He was also clicking and looking at him in disgust.

“Look at what you have done!” “You should keep to the left if you know you will be so slow on

the road. It is not fair for a slow vehicle to be in the middle of the road,” Wambua responded rudely. He was already calculating the cost of repairing the two bumpers. His had the worst damage.

“Don’t be rude! I saw you jumping lights at the roundabout.

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You think you own the roads of this country?” the old man asked. “How much do you want?” “Fifty thousand Kes,” the old man said without even thinking

about it. Wambua clicked his tongue as he removed the money from his

wallet and gave the man. He got back into his car and drove to his house in Imara Daima.

He would have to hitch a ride to go for his own introductions tomorrow. There was no way he could go to his future in-laws with a banged car.

The next day was busy even at about eleven when he went to

Capital Centre with a cab. He did a lot of shopping for most of the foodstuff that were bound to give him a lot of points from his in- laws. He waited for his two best friends, Otieno and Kariuki, to come pick him up. The January heat was already making him sweat profusely. He felt light-headed just from the heat.

They arrived Wanja’s home on time. The two men in the world who understood him and the crap he did all the time. Otieno was a Pointy, the son of an American woman and Luo man. He attracted all the women in their world. Kariuki was a small, coconut-brown man who talked excessively. They had taken a bypass and arrived in Kiambu by three in the afternoon. Wanja had already called seven times asking where he was. It was getting boring. His friends were already teasing him for tying his neck to one tree. He was committing to one woman for the rest of his life. They approached an area in Kiambu that used to be uninhabited but now people had bought land. There were unfinished constructions scattered across the area. Very few families had moved into their dream homes.

Wanja’s family was one of the lucky ones. It was a massive house that was painted in hues of brown and orange. Wanja, of course, would have made specific descriptions on the shade of brown and orange.

The house girl opened the door and welcomed them in. As they

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entered the house and greeted the people inside, Wambua felt his insides going numb. The only man in the house was the one he had hit on Mombasa Road. Was this Wanja’s father? As the man turned to him in shock and outrage, Wambua knew then that money was the least of his worries.

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