Tough as Fiolina declines househelp

When Baby Sospeter, whom Branton still calls Probox, calmed down last week, I looked forward to some great time.

I thought that I would now have time on my hands, and even get opportunities to go to Hitler’s to celebrate the arrival of my baby.

The biggest challenge we had been having was his incessant crying, but which had now come to an end after we managed to decode that the baby did not want the name Probox.

How wrong I was, for Fiolina seemed to still need me around. I have no idea if she was just missing me but she wanted me in the house so that every time she called “Baba Sos,” I would immediately say “Yes dear…” I still haven’t learnt to call her “Mama Sos,” so dear is safer.

It started with small things like “Pass me the towel, give me the napkins, pass me the oil” etc which I didn’t mind doing, as long as it was scheduled. But instead of scheduling it for example saying that I would be needed in the evening, or morning or afternoon, Fiolina needed me all day and night.

And with visitors coming around in plenty, the assignments increased. “Go and get us milk at the shop,” I would return but even before I sat down, “Baba Sos, hakuna majani,” and I would hear “usisahau mkate,” as I left.

These are roles that I would have assigned Branton, but for those who know the negotiations I had to initiate and conclude with the shopkeeper to get anything out of his shop on credit (given the amount of debt I still owe him), you will understand why I could not delegate such tasks. But even if there was no debt, I can’t send Branton for something like bread. He can eat half the loaf on the way!

Last Sunday, I invited a few family friends for lunch to celebrate the arrival of baby Sospeter. It was a simple lunch after church. “To God be the glory for the safe arrival of the beautiful boy, just as I had proclaimed three months ago,” Apostle Overseer Elkana Manasse said as he entered the house. He then asked everyone to stand up for prayer. He prayed for about 15 minutes. The prayer was more of him praising himself for the role he played in praying for the safe arrival of our baby.

“The parents may never know this God but I am happy that you listened to my daily and hourly prayers and wishes for the safe arrival of our son. I am happy that you used me God to bless this family with a baby,” he went on. The women in the house: Fiolina, my mother and Caro would answer “Amen” or “Halleluiah” at everything the Apostle said.

“Go bring the baby,” Apostle Elkana said. As Fiolina went to the bedroom to bring the baby, he opened his bag and pulled out a small bottle. “Such a great gift from God,” he said, when the baby was brought to him. “The boy will need anointing oil to be able to grow into an amazing God-fearing child.” Then looking at us, he asked: “Should we proceed with anointing oil parents?”

How could we say No? Who doesn’t want their sons to grow to be God-fearing? We accepted and he went ahead to pour lots of the anointing oil on the baby. Starting with the face, he then removed the clothes and poured on the whole body. He placed his hands on the boys head and prayed yet again. He then went to sit outside, and I was surprised that even after my guests left, he was still there. It was only later that I learnt that the anointing oil he had poured on the baby cost Sh1,500.

“But you never said?” I protested. “What do you mean? I asked you parents whether I should proceed and you said yes, didn’t you?” I reminded him that he never mentioned anything about money. “So you wanted me to say that before everyone?” he asked. “You were a member of this church and you remember how we charged for anointing oil,” he reminded me. Since I knew it was just common oil, I bargained with him and he accepted Sh300 and left.