My Better Half – A Tribute

All I have ever written in this blog is true and is based on actual events. I have put herein, recollections of my adventures and experiences. I have always tried to look at those events from my own perspective since I do not want to give other people’s stories without their consent. All my stories however, inevitably involve other people. In all the instances that I have had to talk about them, I have been anonymous and never mentioned their names. It is however possible for those who know them to deduce their identity. Any harm caused by this recognition is negligible but in cases where a negative effect was felt, I ask the concerned persons to forgive me.

Now that I have given a disclaimer, the person I want to dedicate this blog post to is one whose permission I do not need to seek. I will take it upon myself to disclose what she means to me. She has been in the back ground of all my stories and has often heard about them first hand as they were happening. She has been there as I grew up, learnt and gained experience in difference things. She has often believed in me when I found it hard to believe in myself. She has influenced every sector of my life – for the better.

I married at 24, at a time when I was not very sure of myself. I had nothing then; no job, no money, no experience, and no connections. We lived in a single room and used to cook on a kerosene stove. The only thing I had was a little knowledge in fixing things, and making cakes. I could also make doughnuts and that is what formed our first business. We would sleep at 11 p.m. after kneading the dough, and wake up at 4 a.m. to roll out and fry the doughnuts. By 8 a.m., my wife, then heavy with child, would be out and about with a bucket full of  doughnuts getting people to buy around the shopping centre in our village.

She was a keen student and within no time, she could make a better cake than me and sell more doughnuts too. She even got some doughnut customers at a construction site who would pay at month end. It was her prowess in business which made me realise that she should be in full time business instead of seeking employment. I also came to learn that she was extremely good with people and could make a friend in the unlikeliest of circumstances. I remember one time she was at a supermarket buying some items for baking. The cashier asked her if she was going to make a cake. She replied she was and went further to tell him that she actually did it as a business. They got to talking and by the time she had finished paying for her items, she had gotten an order for a cake – From the cashier!

It is not common to see women who are close with their mothers in law. My sweetheart on the other hand, is anything but common. She and my mum get along quite well. It was not easy for either of them at the beginning, but they both stuck it out until they overcame the usual negative energy that haunts many such relationships. It made me proud to see them go off to India together when my mum was receiving cancer treatment. They talk about their trip together like school girls – Completely at ease with each other.

I have come to realise that the best form of parenting is through example. I am therefore happy to note that my wife has been able to pass her best traits to our two daughters Michelle and Hellen. When I get home from work and the three of them compete to hug me, it makes my heart melt with joy and love for them. I find myself looking forward to those hugs all day. They somehow make all my efforts in life worthwhile.

I have achieved many goals. I have had many failures. I have been through tough times and also enjoyed good ones. Through it all, my wife has always been behind me – encouraging me, supporting me, dreaming with me, celebrating with me, and mourning with me. I am a man today because of her. I can be called a father because she agreed to be a mother. I am grateful to God for blessing me with such a wonderful wife. The space here is not enough to fully describe her but hey, a man can try! I could not have asked for a better wife than Rahab Wanjiru Githombothi. With her, I hope to soar even higher.

The CEO who wanted to be a Chauffeur

I worked for an international organization with a presence in over sixty countries. For ease of management by the international headquarters, the beneficiary countries (known as Program Countries) were grouped into four regions. These were Asia, South America, West Africa, and of course East and South Africa in which Kenya fell. Each country was in the charge of a country director who in turn reported to the respective regional director. The four regional directors reported to the chief executive officer. The donor countries did not fall into any of the regions. Instead, each was an autonomous unit referred to as a National organisation, and headed by its respective director. The National organizations were responsible for raising funds to assist the Program Countries, and the directors reported to the CEO.

Being one of the lead drivers at the Kenya Country Office, I was usually tasked with ferrying any of the directors and the CEO whenever they were in the country. The CEO was never alone. He would always have the Country Director, and often also be accompanied by the Regional Director. This, I think, was because that is what the pecking order was like (Each one had to protect their turf).

The three senior positions of CEO, Regional Director, and Country Director, were not permanent. They would be filled every four years for some, and six years for others (I guess this depended on how much one’s face was likable). Consequently, there were always new faces to these powerful positions and we had to re-acquaint ourselves every so often.

At one time, the big guys at Headquarters decided that the organization needed to reinvent itself in order to fit in better with the modern world. One way of doing this, they decided, would be to hire someone who was from outside NGO world to head the organization. This was in fact the first time the title CEO was used. The previous title used to be International Executive Director (IED in short).

The first CEO of our organization was American (and a personal friend of George W. Bush, no less!). He had been an ambassador in several countries before he joined us. He was a real technocrat with a character remarkably similar to that of Bush. The first thing he had to do was visit as many countries as possible in all the regions. It was during these visits that he would get to meet staff and community members. He of course would come to Kenya. Every new senior staff always visited Kenya, although I suspect our picturesque scenery and wildlife had more to do with it than our effective development programs.

So anyhow, the new CEO came to Kenya accompanied by the Regional Director, whom he had picked up from the regional office in South Africa. Our Country Director was the humble chaperone of this “High Power Delegation”. This is how I ended up having the CEO, Regional Director, and Country Director in my car at the same time.

We had a tight itinerary since we had only two days to visit as many communities as possible in the vast areas of Meru, Embu, and Ukambani. Owing to intense planning and careful execution, we were able to visit all the areas that had been selected. On the night we had to be out, we stayed at the serene Izaac Walton Inn in Embu. The CEO slept in the presidential suite while the rest of us ‘mortals’ had to ‘make do’ with the executive rooms.

I would not have known that our CEO was extremely bored by the visit had he not made it so obvious. He dozed off at every opportunity, including during the traditional jigs that the community members had prepared in his honour. It was worse during the drives in between, when our Country Director was trying to update him on the programs. At one time he answered her (yes it was a lady) with a snore. I really felt sorry for her especially considering how hard she was trying to be nice.

On our way back to Nairobi on the second day of the visit, there was no place good enough for the boss to eat. We therefore carried packed lunch from Izaak Walton. This comprised sandwiches, chicken, apples, and juice. We parked on the roadside against the backdrop of lovely hills in the area between Kithyoko and Matuu, and had our lunch, cocktail style (I did not allow eating in my car). The CEO was once more radiant, but this was because he had come up with an idea on how he could actually enjoy the trip. He wanted to drive!

I had never been in such a situation before, and neither had the Regional and Country directors. It was against organization policy for anyone other than a driver to drive the vehicles. I explained to him as gently as I could that I couldn't let him. Nobody could help me since this guy was the overall boss and they could be accused of insubordination. I however stood my ground. When the CEO finally relented and got into the passenger seat, I heard the Country Director sigh audibly with relief. She had apparently been holding it in. We drove off towards Nairobi but not before stopping the CEO at our Matuu office, ostensibly for him to download his email, but in reality it was to check his stocks at New York stock exchange. The man sulked the rest of the way, much like a little boy who had been denied a toy.

Wine is Alcohol

One of the skills I acquired upon joining a big organization was shopping. I became quite adept at knowing what to pick in the supermarket well within a given budget.  I developed good taste in selecting the best of those products for which I had no prior knowledge in my rural upbringing. Among these products of the affluent was wine.

Every end of year before we took the Christmas break, the company threw us a party. The main food which always included a barbecue of some kind was brought in by an external caterer. I was responsible for the rest of the accompaniments and drinks which I bought in the supermarket.  I would get the fruit juices, sodas, beer, and of course the wine. I always bought sweet wine in a five liter cask and put in the fridge to chill at least a day before the party. This was my forte and nobody had ever complained of my choice.

During one December however, I was rather tied up with work for several days before the party and was not available to buy the wine. One of my colleagues – Whose function was actually purchasing – was asked to buy the wine and the rest of the refreshments. He figured it was not a big deal. He reasoned that the best wine must also be the most expensive. That was the biggest mistake he ever made. Unfortunately for us, the mistake would be discovered when it was too late.

The day of the party arrived and we were all excited. There were many errands to run in the morning before the party kicked off in earnest at around 1 p.m. but I made sure all was done. We started with the barbeque which was interesting that year since it was Mongolian. It involved a lot of juggling chunks of flaming steaks on a large wok by a short whiskered chubby chef.  It was quite a feast and went down well with chapatti and lots of different salads.

For obvious reasons, nobody touched any alcohol before the speeches which thankfully came soon after the lunch. The speeches were usually nice since the setting was usually informal, but they never lacked the occasional boring member of senior management. Nevertheless, we got through the session with lots of genuine laughter and applause.

Speeches were followed by a short session of getting gifts. These were all the artifacts and other paraphernalia that the director and other senior staff had received from community members during their field visits. Other gifts had been brought in by staff or visitors coming in from visits abroad. This particular session was fun because it involved drawing out raffle numbers so as to discover what gift one had won.

The last thing before the alcohol was receiving the Christmas shopping vouchers. The usual joke that accompanied this was a request for all married men to ensure that the entire cache was duly delivered to the legal wife and none to the concubine. After this, the drinking could now start. It was at this stage that the senior most staff – and particularly expatriates – politely excused themselves.

I am a teetotaler owing to both principle and religion. However, I always allowed myself the indulgence of two glasses of wine taken over several hours. The reason I did this was because it was always extremely good wine taken into a full stomach. Beyond the slight tipsiness, I never got drunk in all those parties we had at the office – until the fateful year when I didn't get to buy the wine myself.

The group left at the table was smaller than usual that year since most of the staff had coincidentally left for personal commitments. This was fine by me because the most interesting guy was still around. We settled to our drinks and stories. Apart from me and one other colleague, everyone else was taking beer. The two of us had the wine all to ourselves. We needn’t have worried about running out of wine – the wine on the other hand, had plans of its own to run us out of our wits.

I realized that the wine was not all that good when it seemed to disagree with my stomach. Beyond the extreme tipsiness that I had never experienced before (I guess this is what is referred to as drunkenness), I was highly nauseated. At short intervals I had to excuse myself and rush to the washroom when throwing up felt inevitable. Frustratingly, nothing came up even as my visits to the toilet increased. Finally, I decided to wait for the throwing up – in the toilet. I locked myself in, closed the toilet bowl cover, and sat on it. I then leaned back on the cistern and relaxed.

In addition to tipsiness, someone had omitted to remind me that wine also causes extreme drowsiness. Consequently, in my new-found comfort, I drifted off to slumber land. It was very heavy sleep such that I couldn’t hear my colleagues when they came looking for me one and a half hours later. I could hear them calling but I thought it was all in my head. They called me on my cell phone but the ringtone I had then sounded like a song on the radio in my house. When they had almost given up, I woke up – sober, at least for the most part. We had to call it a day and go home. I was fortunate to have my very own “recovery room” in the toilet. My other “wine comrade in arms” was not so lucky. By the time I was discovered in the toilet, he was hopelessly drunk. It took the cab driver who took him home two hours to find his house, and another twenty minutes to drag him out of the car.

Before that day, wine had always seemed rather harmless to me. I had considered it to be more like fruit juice for grownups. On that day, I came to learn, the hard way, that wine is alcohol – and a very potent one at that!