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Mwalimu Andrew: How I shipped Theophilas to my brother, Pius
They released Theophilus around 3pm.
The last time I visited Pius at his Nairobi home, he was staying in a place called Syokimau, which is quite far from Nairobi CBD. At the time, I thought that was his home, but he told me he had bought land not far from there and planned to start building soon.
It was a big house, much bigger than the small apartments he had lived in before. I looked forward to visiting him more often.
But it wasn’t to be. Several things happened that caused tension between us. That December, Pius travelled home alone and stayed for a long time. He would come home every evening for supper, but I later found out that he also visited during the day when I wasn’t home, and other days, my wife Fiolina, would go to his place to prepare meals for him.
What really made me angry, however, was chapati. You see, despite knowing how much I love chapati, Fiolina rarely makes them for me, claiming the process is too long. Yet she would go to Pius' house and prepare chapati for him. By the time Pius returned to Nairobi, he and I were not on speaking terms.
Things got even worse a few months later. As you remember, that year, I prepared the piece of land I always till. It cost me quite a bit because I used a tractor to plough, so us to dig the soil deep.
While I was still looking for money to buy seeds, one day, as I was going to school, I found people already planting on the land. I found out that Pius had paid them to plant, claiming the land was his.
“When I visited in December, Mzee told me that was my land,” Pius explained when I confronted him.
My father was evasive on the matter. When Pius was at home, he took Mzee to Hitler’s every day. Anything could have happened as a result.
Upset, I asked Pius to refund the money I had spent ploughing the farm.
“I didn’t ask you to plough there,” he said. “What were you doing on my land? I should be suing you for trespassing.”
The maize grew fast and looked lush and green, and healthy. Everyone admired it.
But who is God! A few weeks later, we experienced heavy hailstorms that destroyed his crop. Other farmers were not affected as badly because their crops were still very young.
Since then, I only speak to Pius when it is necessary. Whenever I visit Nairobi, I never go to his place, which, as I said, is very far. I usually stay at Xtash’s, place in Kangemi. I never followed up on the progress of Pius’s house in Syokimau. Until he called me last Friday, seeking help.
“How’s everything, bro?” he asked. He then told me he had resumed construction on his house. He explained that he had started building earlier, but Covid forced him to stop. Now he was ready to continue.
I immediately knew he wanted money. And as he spoke, I was thinking of how to tell him I had none.
“Construction is very difficult if you don’t have someone you can trust on-site,” he said. “Last time, I lost a lot of materials to theft because I was away and only visited once a week.”
I didn’t respond. He must have sensed my impatience, so he got straight to the point. “I’d like to get a good boy from back home to stay there, not to supervise the work, just for security. Someone who can sleep there at night.”
I asked what age and education level he was looking for.
“Someone not older than 23. If he finished Form Four, that’s fine. I might ask him to buy some materials so he should be able to count.”
“So, a young man with at least Form Four? Even if he got a D-?” I asked.
“I don’t care about the KCSE grade. In fact, D- is better. Those who pass but don’t stay for long and will likely steal from me. Trust is more important.”
“When do you need the boy?”
“Immediately. Work starts on Tuesday. If the boy arrives over the weekend, I will be a happy man.”
I told him I had someone in mind.
“That’s why I called you, Dre. I know things between us haven’t been good, but you’re still the only person I can trust. I’d appreciate your help.”
I didn’t answer that, but I asked him to organise transport. Shortly after, I received Sh3,500 from Pius. He was desperate. Previously, he would have asked me to use my money first and promise to refund, only to never refund it.
Yesterday morning, I went to the police station where Theophilus, my sister Yunia’s son, was still being held, on my orders. You’ll recall I had him locked up because I didn’t want him staying with me. I had even paid the police a small token to keep him in the cells longer.
Following extreme pressure from my siblings, especially his mother, Yunia, I had gone earlier to seek his release. Shockingly, the same OCPD I paid to rearrest him was now asking for money to release the boy. I had no money.
Yesterday, I returned to the station and asked for Theophilus’s release.
“Nilikwambia ufanye ile kitu, Dre,” he said. “Umetuharibia jina sana.” He then called over a colleague.
“It’s wrong to hold someone in remand for over a week,” the colleague added. “Our boss is not happy.”
I realised arguing was pointless, they wouldn’t budge, so we started negotiating. They finally agreed to take Sh1,500. They released Theophilus around 3pm. We went home, and although he didn’t want to talk to me, he had no choice.
“I’ll never stay with you again,” he said when he saw we were headed to my house.
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I found you a small job in Nairobi. Just shower, change, eat, and go to Msamaria Mwema. You’ll travel overnight.”
His face lit up. “What kind of job?” he asked. I told him he’d learn more once in Nairobi.
I called Pius and told him I had found someone. He said that I put the boy on Easy Coach instead of Msamaria Mwema, saying the latter was too chaotic.
I asked for more money since Easy Coach was pricier.
“Bro, didn’t I send you a lot already?” he asked. I explained I’d used the money to secure the boy. He sent another Sh1,000.
Back home, Fiolina was furious to see Theophilus.
“You have to choose between this thief and me,” she said. She calmed down after I told her the boy would be leaving that night. She even cooked for him.
We went to Lunda, where he boarded a Nairobi-bound Easy Coach – and I told Pius how the boy was dressed for ease of identification.
I returned home relieved. The boy was out of police cells, he would not be staying with me, and I had made a cool Sh1,500 in the process.
Some may say I sent Pius a thief when he had asked for a trustworthy boy—but they do not know the full story. When I had Theophilus arrested, Pius was among those who called asking me to release him.
“I know my sister Yunia well. She is a good person, and her son cannot be a thief,” Pius had said. “Even if he has some bad behaviours, it’s your job as his uncle to guide him.”
Theophilus is a good boy who will do a good job for Pius—but if he misbehaves, as his uncle, Pius, will guide him!