My landlord

 

I am thinking of visiting Kitui. Or Mombasa. Or Tanga in Tanzania. Should I visit, it will not be a friendly visit. My landlord, he does not wish me well. These past few days, things have escalated quickly to my disadvantage.

Monday. On Monday, he cut off electricity to my place. Normally, I incur power bills to the tune of 5000 shillings before he comes, in banter, to remind me to clear the bill. Not on Monday. He came with someone whom he said is from the utility company. He said the government had a shortfall, that teachers needed to be paid. And police. And soldiers. That roads needed to be built. The bill was only 600 shillings.

Tuesday. On Tuesday, the landlord cut off my water. Again, he came with someone from the water company. Could have been the same person from the power utility – I was groggy, for they came in at early dawn. I normally operate at debts of 2000 shillings, water, before I clear. The excuse? The water company needs money to lay the new pipeline and dig trenches for sewerage. I owed them 200 shillings. Anyway, I did clear the two bills.

Wednesday. On Wednesday, the landlord started digging at the back of my house. It is his property, after all. He was doing renovations, he said. Again, the same man was doing the digging. Soiled all the clothes out at the back. Unfortunately, my neighbour had ‘borrowed’ my clotheslines for his clothes. He nearly fought the landlord in the evening. The landlord apologised, then gave his wife the clothes to rewash. I was almost tempted to proclaim that God works in mysterious ways, but for Thursday.

Thursday. The day was overcast – heavy clouds. El Nino rains. I was in for the day. The landlord, he said, he needed to repair the leaking roofs. He started with my rooms – exposed for the better part of the day. Again, the same man. Well, the rains did not fall. Even the government apologised for its weather mis-forecast and scaled down its El Nino operations. Things we know – some government officials, too clever for their own good – are in trouble.

Friday. I came in late at night. The gate’s lock to the compound had been changed. Fortunately, there was a man – a silhouette of a man – who had business here. He opened the gate and we both went in, to different houses. Me to my house, he to Caro’s. His voice, guttural, sounded familiar.

On Saturday, the landlord came in, very early in the morning. He had two policemen with him. I was handcuffed and taken to the local police station. He accused me of having a master key to the gate, to the other houses, that I was a robber. Otherwise, how had I gained entrance to the compound? He wondered. He does not wish me well, my landlord. Jealousy does that to a man.

Caro. She is three-week old to the place. Single, petite, charming, lustful eyes, Delilah’s laugh. My landlord, he caught me making her laugh. Really, she had requested that I help her tie her own clotheslines as she did not want trouble from the womenfolk – at least those whose husbands had philandering eyes. Meaning all of us men in the vicinity – feeble creatures that we are in the presence of beauty.

On Sunday, my landlord, he came with his man… I am getting tired of this. He came with the man. The man who knows the curves and contours that is Caro intimately. The man used to persecute me. My saviour on Friday night. Lord, I am weary and tired and need a-savin’. My landlord, send thunder and lightning his way.

Ah, come end month, I will visit Kitui, Mombasa, Tanga. Get me some love charm. Charm my way to Caro’s heart. Charm my way to Caro’s house. Seems like she is a generous person and can accommodate both of us. My prosecutor – my persecutor – and I. Maybe, even the landlord. We can agree on a timetable. Monday, Tuesday – me. Wednesday, Thursday – the man. The long weekend – the most expensive days that are Friday’s song, Saturday’s dance and Sunday’s jazz afternoons – the landlord can foot the bill.