CANDID TALK: Jenny a in a pregnancy scare, I wanted to kill the boy
Did you know that my straight “E” daughter Jenny managed some admirably division II in her Form Four exams? We are celebrating for we expected worse than her usual “E”. When she was selected to join Uswaz Secondary School in a school that posted results in ten ‘best’ position from the bottom (I mean from the last) nationally, we are openly elated.
Even my sister Joanista Kokuteta showed up at the door very pregnant, resembling a hot air balloon or python that had swallowed a whole buffalo for dinner all the way from Katerero to show solidarity.
Lately, however, since I spotted my Jenny in a daladala hanging out with a young man that looked more like drug peddler, I am not sure whether I have not been wasting money and time paying fees in that lousy school. I was tempted to jump from speeding bus over this. I would have rendered the offending bloke barren by chopping off his you-know-what for spoiling Jenny’s chances in life. Anyway, that is story for another day.
A couple of weeks ago, I felt raving murderous. I was bent on wringing someone’s neck, until a qualified doctor from Muhimbili Hospital confirmed him stone dead. A certain Uswaz thug has been ogling Jenny, my baby girl, with suspicious interest. You see, when your seventeen-old form five daughter starts “opening Champaign” (eh…I mean vomiting) every dawn you have every reason to convert a boy or a teacher or whoever it may be, into minced meat and have him for breakfast.
What if her dietary habits change from eating the usual rice and beans to eating school chalks, pencils, erasers and soil like a snake? How about if she develops craving for crazy foodstuffs like prawns and crabs. She even demanded for pizza and pepperoni, something I believe is eaten only in Mars.
My concentration at work hit the lowest nadir with me procrastinating deadlines, threatening my livelihood and that of my household. My one-and-only Bisho Ntongo has been planning a trip to Tamwa. Since it is un-African for a man to ask his daughter if she “saw the moon” that month, I assigned Bisho Ntongo to do it. Little did I know that for budding girls, the “moon” business can be very erratic.
The whole affair added a few more grey hairs besides my trademark grey patch on the left side of my skull. Bisho Ntongo aged overnight. None of is ready to be called grandpa and grandma – at least not so soon. All that time, I was figuring out how to kill the guy but was afraid. Only after tests in different clinics that confirmed she was suffering typhoid and malaria. We sighed with relief!
