Matata, the civil servant was wondering how he would survive January; to him it was the worst month on the calendar. He hasn’t cracked any deal so far!
The cold drink came as a relief to Matata’s dry throat, the thirst had kept him yawning the whole afternoon.
Before he put the bottle back on the table, he read the slogan on its label, ‘Your tireless efforts deserve to be awarded. After a day’s hard work, relax while congratulating yourself.’
Well, he found the words bit weird, the day wasn’t over yet and he had no good reason to congratulate himself, working in the DC’s office was really boring, he thought, especially these days.
Matata, the civil servant was wondering how he would survive January; to him it was the worst month on the calendar. He hasn’t cracked any deal so far!
There were just too many bills that had to be catered for at the beginning of the year.
Even having that drink instead of lunch showed how frustrated he really was. “If only Pombe’s new government would stop its holier-than-thou attitude and start rethinking about the civil servant’s monthly pay,” he thought regretting.
He had to consider the water bill, luku-Tanesco, TV watching rights, Mama Kayaii’s house rent, and the kid’s school fees and so on and so on.
Of all the obligations Matata had, he hated paying school fees, and it was probably his worst nightmare in January. In his inquisitive mind he always wondered if those children of his will ever pay him anything back.
He picked the bottle and took a long drink; the thirst-quencher was a little warmer now and tasted even better. When he placed down the bottle on the table it was only a fraction of the stuff left.
If it wasn’t for his wife’s Thatcherism he would have taken the children to the cheapest school possible.
But Madam Superior as he calls her, was from the capitalist class.
She bullied him into taking them to those expensive private schools, he reflected bitterly.
To Matata who was a believer in free education, this was ridiculous.
“Education was a government’s responsibility, surely. What are all the taxes we pay for?”
Though the drink tasted so sweet, he knew it was time to head back to work.
He sipped off the little that was left. It tasted so delicious. Suddenly his mind and body were taken off this planet.
“Just one more for the road,” he pleaded with his conscious.
He felt warm and cozy as he ordered another cold one.
He went on thinking of all the things that had happened in the country recently, Matata son of Majura Mtabe was fascinated by JPM’s declaration of free education.
He grabbed the bottle and drank hastily as soon as it was placed before him. What frustrated Matata most was being on the wrong side of the fence.
The “saint nani hii” private schools where his children get their education won’t be beneficiaries of JPM’s grace of kazi tu, they aren’t in his executive picture.
He believed what was being done by JPM was the right thing that was supposed to have been done since the days of siasa ni kilimo!
“Bring that damn glass!” Matata ordered, he felt that drinking from the bottle slowed him down. He had to get to the office; lunch time was very much over.
As he was thinking he remembered that his wife once referred to public schools as nothing more than a children’s displacement camp.
“I say Matata,” it was his friend Magiri who had materialised from nowhere speaking to him. Embracing his shoulder the man went on ordering a drink for him and another for himself. At that moment Matata felt jubilant meeting such a super friend.
Time lapsed by.
Magiri was such great company from Matata point of view. His limit for drink during office hours somehow forgotten. The drinks kept coming.
“The guy was a true friend who always had a drink to offer. He talked lot of common sense on almost all topics.”
Suddenly, Matata realised evening was encroaching; well past office hours.
He checks his phone there had been some six missed calls from the boss at his office.
