A TEACHER'S DIARY: Will Xtash help me deal with Alex?

As soon as Fiolina, the enviable laugh of my blissful life, visited Alex at school and they were seen walking together, word quickly spread that our marriage was sick. And no one could see any hope of it recovering. The people of Mwisho wa Lami love such opportunities; they give them something to speak about.

“Nilimkataza kufanya harusi,” I hear Lutta told other patrons at Hitler’s. “Never trust any woman, there will always emerge someone younger and better.”

“Makosa ya Dre ni kuvalisha mwanamke vizuri na kumpea pesa ya salon,” added Nyayo. He went on to say that his wife, Anindo, was faithful because he would never allow her to do some things like dressing well, going to the salon and generally looking good. “Hii dunia imejaa mafisi.”

So when Alex was seen picking Fiolina from our home and dropping her later on his boda boda, with Fiolina holding him tightly, something she has never done with me, in the mind of the people of Mwisho wa Lami, our marriage had moved from sick to dead. Completely dead.

And this could not have come at a worse time. It happened when my sister Caro, Mwisho wa Lami’s undisputed Minister for Information and Broadcasting was around, and to make matters worse, when she had differed with Fiolina over shoes.

“Niliambia watu kitambo ndugu yangu hana bibi,” Carol told anyone who cared to listen. “Huyu mwanamke ni pesa tu alikujia na ya Dre imeisha sasa ameona ingine.” By last Saturday, helped by Caro, word had already reached my in-laws that I wanted the bride price to be refunded.

All this when I had said nothing. But the talk was too much, and wherever I went, I could see people pointing at me, talking about how a new junior colleague was taking away my wife as I watched. I was so stressed that last Monday, I found myself at Hitler’s. I had not been at Hitler’s ever since I joined Apostle Elkana’s The Holiest of All Ghosts (THOAG) Tabernacle Assembly.

“Karibu sana Dre,” I was welcomed with cheer by the usual suspects of Saphire, Nyayo, Alphayo, Rasto, Lutta, and Hitler himself. The good thing with the crowd at Hitler’s is that they say it as is. “Ungekuwa bado unakuja hapa all would have been OK,” started Alphayo, reminding me that every patron at Hitler’s had a stable marriage.

“Your problem is this church you go to,” said Saphire. “Do you realise almost every man who goes there has had a problem with their marriage?” He then listed to me several cases.

“But why should I listen to someone who has never been married?” I asked Saphire when he finished giving his marriage lesson.

He was quick to respond: “Must you be HIV-positive to be able to treat or tell people about HIV?” I had no response. I however told them that my marriage was stable, and that Alex was only helping Fiolina get a TSC job. Everyone laughed at this.

“First of all, you wasted your money by taking your wife to college, now you want to lose your wife by getting her a job,” said Alphayo, telling me that I was lucky I was not his son, otherwise we would be talking about a different story. “Ningekufunza kuwa mwanamme kamili.”

Rasto had a simple solution for my case.

“Dawa ya moto ni moto,” he said, then elaborated. “If Fiolina is going for this boy, you also get someone, like that girl you really liked. What was her name again? Eshitasi?” He was talking about Annastacia, a former student of mine in whom I had interests that went beyond academics.

Xtash, for that is what we called her, was hated by Fiolina, but loved by my mum. When Fiolina had been away in Mosoriot college, Xtash played an important role in my life.

“Or you can bring in Catherina, Brandon’s mother,” suggested Nyayo.