Landlady and I

Stories have been written about landlords. Most of them centered on poor relationships between them and tenants. A leaking roof, faulty door, burgled house, unpaid rent among others have led to cat and mouse relationships you have heard about. My story could be different.

I secured a room in Woodley Estate, fair enough to be called a house. That is three years ago while I was a year less in campus. The agent took me to a kayapa fenced home, a colonial constructed house and I looked around to see extended structures- that is where I belonged. I saw myself trimming the hedge around and wished landlady treated me as a son.

It came to pass that I got tired with my source of income. By then her and me had seen what could conflict us. I am not that person who looks at long grass with one eye. She knew that. When the gate screeched she saw it later oiled. ‘I know it’s you who did it.’

When I told her that I’d be leaving because I couldn’t manage rent she asked me not to. She saw me graduate at the compound and she knows Kenya is but a consumer nation. She had two sons, not less afflicted and like any parent, seemed to care. ‘I call you a son with a reason.’

Capricorns are hard workers. When afflicted they can be lazy. As I waited for a job I needed to be doing something constructive apart from coiling in books. I mended what I could, did away with the old, asked her to have me dig the garden beside- which she regarded demeaning.

When my friends asked me how I survived without a job, I told the close ones that ‘Landlady had not sent me away.’ It was later followed by ‘Is she your sugar mummy?’ We are used to an unfriendly world and some happenings are interpreted as crafted. I do not like being helped. Unless I have called upon your assistance I’d rather experience my hurdles alone.

One day when she was away for a funeral, I dug the garden. Before the rains I had spent a good time at the place. My neighbours at the extensions saw themselves eating fresh vegetables in a while. When all the plots had been attended to, a wooden bench raised for meditation, a murandikizu was thrown in the fire. (murandikizu is a herb that when a wife burnt in her fire she never stayed a night longer in that family. It chased away people). My neighbours, the friends I had come to define my life with shifted all in only a month.

When the landlady asked me to shift to one of the houses that had been vacated I interpreted to mean ‘you have exploited your points.’ I had done much to make my room awesome. The shifted ones were full of complains. There was to come a time when I could shift. Could I have let the day tarry longer? My refusal to accept the other room may have been interpreted as lack of thankfulness.

I waved the garden bye.