By George Mungai
Thank you very much indeed for according us the opportunity to air our grievances regarding malpractices and bias in the Kenyan media
I in the first instance, direct my rage and dissatisfaction at the overrated Nation Media Group
I have for a long time now, made numerous fruitless story submissions with the Daily Nation’s Friday magazine “Weekend”. I however sadly note that the Friday “Weekend” magazine, continuously publishes the works of one Paresh Morjaria, as if he is the only Kenyan capable of writing and submitting stories to the said “Weekend” magazine.
The Daily Nation’s “Weekend” magazine has on numerous occasions published lengthy manuscripts of Paresh Morjaria’s works, and on at least three occasions, in different installments, meaning that they appear on two or three different consecutive Friday editions of the “Weekend” magazine. In total, at least nine different “short stories” belonging to Paresh Morjaria, have been published by the Daily Nation’s “Weekend” magazine.
Is this fair? Are Asian-Kenyans better than Native-Kenyans? I thought we were all the same. How can we all love our country in such circumstances?
My conclusion is that the editor of the “Weekend” magazine is on the payroll of Mr. Paresh Morjaria, and receives generous regular kickbacks.
This kind of acts are replicated all across the Nation Media Group. I for instance note the regular publication of articles by renowned civil society activist, Okoiti Omtatah. Is Okoiti Omtatah the only Kenyan with strong views on a number of issues afflicting the Kenyan public?
My below story of 4th September 2008 (“My Life with the Maid”), was contemptuously dismissed, and it beats me why! It’s based on my experience, and that of many Kenyans of my time and indeed, of today.. Why was it rejected? Was it considered too explicit? Doesn’t it address an important social issue?
I humbly ask you to read through “My Life with the Maid” below, Dr. Mutua, and tell me if it deserved to be contemptuously dismissed. Doesn’t it delve into a face of Kenya little addressed or little discussed?
Kenyan media in general is being overtaken by events, because of it’s insensitivity, it’s inability to read the mood, it’s inability to adopt, and it’s inability to “revolutionize” it’s way of doing things.
How do you for instance explain the inactivity of the Nation and Standard blogs, when other Kenyan blogs such as www.kenyanlist.wanderi.com are thriving…? Take a look at www.kenyanlist.wanderi.com for yourself, to see if I am exaggerating. Take a specific look at the high volumes of traffic to the site at their link http://www.kenyanlist.wanderi.com/klist-most-viewed.php
There is something drawing numerous Kenyans around the world to sites like www.kenyanlist.wanderi.com and the Kenyan Media needs to establish what this is.
This was also the case at WWW Kenya Newsgroup (http://kenya.rcbowen.com/) in the 1990s, before WWW Kenya Newsgroup (http://kenya.rcbowen.com/) fizzled out in the early years of this decade. I for instance thought that WWW Kenya Newsgroup (http://kenya.rcbowen.com/) would crash during the 2002 elections (not that shenzi, upuzi election of last year), the 2002 election… I have never seen that kind of intense activity on any website. Kwanza when the results started rolling in…? It was like the whole of Kenya was either behind a PC or a laptop, and specifically logged onto WWW Kenya Newsgroup (http://kenya.rcbowen.com/)!
I have never seen anything close to that on any other website, Kenyan or otherwise, including www.kenyanlist.wanderi.com, www.nation.co.ke, or www.eastandard.net
Please therefore address the issues that I have raised above Dr. Mutua, including the contemptuous dismissal of my below submission, “My Life with the Maid”.
“My life with the maid”
Yeah, that same old pet subject of “sex with the maid”… I just love it!
Allow me to share my own rather long, interesting, inter-linked personal story with you… it goes back to the 1979. Yes indeed the 1970s; Kuguru Noodles, Cinzano Bianco, Viva magazine, Pussy cat chewing gum, Peregina Peremende, Starlight Club, Ronald Ngala Street’s notorious Imani Day & Night Club, the equally notorious Club Somberero, Lady Gay beauty lotion, Susana pomade, Abaluhyia Football Club, Luo Union, GEMA United, Orchestra Les Mangelepa, Ilunga wa Ilunga (Baba Gaston), Mercedes Benz 450 SLC, Renault 12, Tusker Export beer in stout green bottles, the Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO), Voice of Kenya (VOK), Comedians Mama Tofi & Baba Zero, the first rap song ever, the Sugar Hill Gang’s “Rappers Delight”, and it’s memorable phrases such as “Casanova fly” and “Guess what America… We love you!”, and of-course, some of the hottest VOK disc jockies of the time, such as Mick Ndichu, Leonard Mwashegwa, Fred Obachi Machoka, Abdul
Haq, and the Sunday morning duo of Mahanja Mike (Mike Andrews) & Easy Lizzie (Elizabeth Omolo, mother of leading Citizen TV anchor, Louis Otieno). The year, as mentioned, is 1979, the month November, and the setting, Nairobi’s Jamhuri Estate, where we stayed in those days. I had just cleared my primary level Standard 7 CPE examinations (Standard 8 ya nyakati hizo yani!)
I was thoroughly excited at clearing primary school, had time, had energy, and had a somewhat eager desire to break my virginity! We used to have a maid in those days called Mama ZZZZZ and I have to admit that she wasn’t exactly attractive by the standards of either yesterday or today! She had one of those typical figures that Kikuyu women had in those days… big boobs, an equally big bust, and legs like hockey sticks! Halafu she was crude and uncouth…! Bwana, when I think back, it beats me where I even got the courage to make a sexual pass at her! It must have been the base animal instinct in all of us.
Like I say, I wasn’t attracted to Mama ZZZZZ and the two of us went about our business without getting into each other’s way. What drew us to each other was a Kikuyu record called “Murata” (i.e. “Friend”) by the MJ of Kikuyu musicians then, D.K. Kamau. Like many middle clas families in those days, we had a Grundig record player cum radio, the equivalent in later years of owning say an Aiwa, a JVC, a Sony, a National, a Hitachi or a Telefunken.
So it was the Grundig and “Murata” record that initially drew my attention to Mama ZZZZZ. It did not catch my initial notice, but after what must have been a week, I realised that she used to blast the record player every week-day morning at about 11.00 a.m., after she had completed with morning work. It was a combination of the volume, plus her loud, crude excited frenzied shrills during the chorus i.e. “…Woi, woi murata, nigwendete… (i.e. “…Woi woi my friend, I love you…”), that first drew my attention.
This ritual took place in the sitting room, and I observed it for about three days from a vantage point at the back of the house, without getting noticed. Apart from “Murata”, she also liked playing two other records i.e. Fadhili Williams’ legendary “Maliaka” and one of the lesser known Kool and the Gang hits of those years called “Jungle Boogie”, a semi-instrumental jam with an African theme and African beats. She traumatised “Maliaka” lakini, with her heavy Kikuyu accent, mpaka one of my own personal nicknames for her, still remains “MaRaika”!
So after kitu three days of me observing her gyrate crudely to “Murata”, with semi-unbuttoned blouses that revealed her boobs, I somehow gathered the courage to make a move on her, join in the crude motions and possibly get laid! I had heard one or two of my primary school classmates discuss the thrill of sex, and like I say, I had a semi-eagerness to experience this thing called sex. I never however dared make a sexual pass at girls my age then, imagining that I would end up in big, big trouble! I never hit it off with girls throughout primary school, I must admit.
Her big gyrating ass must have given me the courage to make a move on Mama ZZZZZ. A gut boyish feeling in me must have interpreted this as an “invitation”.
So on the fourth day, I believe it was, I in my own crude way, zeroed in on Mama ZZZZZ from the back entrance of our then place. The timing though, wasn’t bad, I must say! I timed one of the choruses i.e. “…Woi, woi murata, nigwendete… (“…Woi woi my friend, I love you…”), to grip her from behind. It must have been really clumsy, when I think back!
Mama ZZZZZ didn’t stop grooving, though I could tell she was somewhat surprised and taken aback, by this unexpected intrusion… she stopped singing, but continued dancing, as I lustily rubbed my crotch on her ass. We must have looked like two baboons in a bizzare and clumsy mating ritual…!
After what must have been about 30 seconds, she began repeatedly asking me in Kikuyu, “Ahhh, now what are you doing?”, “Have you gone mad?”, “Do you have a good head”? She kept asking the three questions like a broken record, as she continued to dance and hum to the song.
At that point, I considered myself somewhat in between big, big trouble, and the point of getting laid for the first time in my life. The fact that she didn’t stop dancing, turn round, and given me the slap of my life, or something similar to that, certainly encouraged me on. I was in Cloud 9 lakini, bwana… the rubbing of my boyish inexperienced prick on her big fat ass, was so pleasurable! I still remember it like it was yesterday.
After the song ended, she still continued lustily rubbing her ass on my prick, as she asked the three said questions i.e. “Ahhh, now what are you doing?”, “Have you gone mad?”, “Do you have a good head”? At this point, I realised “No, I am not in big, big, trouble”, though I didn’t know what to do next.
Mama ZZZZZ did though! She began moving to the servants quarter, as we as I say, continued with our bizzare and clumsy mating ritual. We must have looked like two baboons honestly! We even forgot to switch off the record player.
When we got to her room, she shut the door behind us, as she continued asking me, yes, you guessed right… “Ahhh, now what are you doing?”, “Have you gone mad?”, “Do you have a good head”? All this must have taken not more than 5 minutes.
I then saw her slyly unzip her skirt, and I knew, something’s going down today, I don’t know what, but something! I’m getting laid to-morning! When her skirt fell to the ground, she stopped the three sentence delight i.e. “Ahhh, now what are you doing?”, “Have you gone mad?”, “Do you have a good head?”, and instead grabbed my hand as she gently pulled me to her bed. She was now moaning rather heavily, as she looked at me with desire. As for me, I was just excited, horny and eager i.e. those ones of “What next?!”, “What do we now?!” “Where does it go from here?!”, my own three sentence delight!
The first shot was as clumsy as our bizzare baboon-like mating ritual… I suppose the same applies to all guys, actually. It was arkward. I had heard that sex is “sweet”, so I expected the kind of sweet sensation that one gets from eating chocolate or sucking on sweets. I’d sort of describe it as a “short-circuit” of expectations and sensations. I thought to myself, “You mean that’s it”…?! It was much more fun rubbing my prick on her ass, I further thought.
Mama ZZZZZ wasn’t surprised though… she must have fully known what to expect! She used her underwear to rub her juices off my now limb dick. She then began blowing into my ears, as she rubbed my balls and my prick, and as she gently told me in Kikuyu, “It’s not done like that… it is supposed to be slow and nice”. Actually that lady had finesse in bed… it came as a big surprise to me, given the crude brash behaviour, we knew her for. I couldn’t reconcile this, with for instance, the wild gyrating and dancing to “Murata” and the violation of Fadhili Williams’ “Maliaka”! I’ve had sex many times over the years, but made love very few times. One of those very few times ironically, was with Mama ZZZZZ.
Yeah the second round was good. That I think, was when I got the feeling/sensation of both sex and an orgasm. It must have lasted about five minutes. She guided me along, periodically telling me to stop and just lie there, periodically telling me to blow into her ears, and periodically telling me to rub and massage her on certain parts of her anatomy. She was enjoying it as much as I was, as she gently whispered into my ears, “Yes, that’s the way it’s supposed to be done… yes, now you are getting it”. Her moans made it all the more pleasurable. After the second round, she once again rubbed her juices off my dick with her underwear, and politely dismissed me, telling me that that was enough for today.
We did it several times after that for a period of about two weeks. She was very naughty. She would clear her morning chores, sometimes by as early as 8.00 a.m. in the morning, to enable us have ample time for the “forbidden fruit”! I remember us going four rounds on at least two occasions. She was a good teacher, and I suppose I must have been a good student.
I reported to Form 1 (boarding), in mid January 1980… in those days, student populations were much smaller, so things like selection and admission were much briefer affairs. Three months is a lifetime to schoolboys and schoolgirls, and I looked forward eagerly to the school holidays after my first school “lifetime”!
I was however somewhat disappointed to find that Mama ZZZZZ had been fired for petty theft and rudeness to my mum. This I got to know from my younger sister, after discreetly enquiring about her whereabouts. Infact for many years after this, we didn’t have a maid on a full time basis, with my mum preferring maids that reported in the morning when guys were leaving home, and left in the evening, when guys were coming back from shuguli za mchana.
The story doesn’t end there… no, not by half a mile!
I didn’t realise the superb & worthy role that Mama ZZZZZ played in initiating me to sex, until many years passed.
The first somewhat mild realisation was after Form six, and just before reporting for pre-University National Youth Service (NYS). In those days, it was compulsory for all State Univesity students, to undergo three months of pre-University training at the NYS college in Gilgil.
Our neighbours at the time were Kisiis, who had this plump, horny and rowdy maid, whose nickname was “Borabu”. The partition between their place and ours was pretty much “see-through” at the time, so we could quite easily see what went on in each other’s compounds. Yeah, “Borabu” was naughty… We had a small time gym at the back of our compound those days. So I would wake up at about 7.00 a.m. in the morning, jog to Dagoretti corner and back, then pump weights kidogo in our small time home gym. At the time kwanza, we had a house boy who would come asubuhi, and leave jioni!
“Borabu” noted this, and would at the opportune moment, emerge with the morning laundry, singing loudly, and then proceed to lavishly bend over and do the laundry. Yes, she made sure that she wore short skirts, and yes, she had great thighs and a nice big round ass!
By day four, the punishment had become overbearing, and I succumbed to the allure of the “forbidden fruit”. I squeezed myself through a gap in the fence, like it was the natural thing to do, and re-enacted a more refined version of the baboon-like mating ritual! There was no resistance (though I wasn’t surprised, I must say), just a lot of giggling and mild protestations of “Ahhh kwenda… rudi kwenu”.
The strokes were not bad when they lasted yenyewe. She on three or four different occasions also remarked “ Sija wahi pata Kikuyu ana jua game ka wewe”, but I didn’t think much of them… I thought she was just flattering me.
Halafu in those days in Jamhuri Estate, there used to be a open space near an electricity transformer, that was nicknamed “Stima Club”… “Stima Club” was a joint where guys would hang out over weekends beating story, as they played e.g. draughts, chess or poker. During weekdays of the school term, it was maids, houseboys or guys like me on a break of one kind or another, who would normally hang out during afternoons at “Stima Club”.
When I passed “Stima Club” on a number of occasions back then, when it was occupied by maids, there were loud giggles and knowing glances in my direction. Women talk. I don’t know why I didn’t get it, why it didn’t register that “Borabu” had told her colleagues about our escapades, and that they were desirable for a “piece of the action” too! Not even the friendly greetings I got from maids at e.g. kiosk za mtaa, made me realise what this was about. I must have naively been thinking to myself… “What a friendly neighbourhood”?!
That there was something right that I was doing in bed, however dramtically dawned on me in my second and third years at campus. It was infact at this point that I made the connection between “Borabu” and the friendliness of maids towards me in Jamhuri Estate.
There was this lady lecturer of ours at the time, called Miss ZZZZZ (she is Prof. ZZZZZ nowadays), who took us for ZZZZZ ZZZ in semester one of second year.
She took a liking for me, and used the pretext of wanting my assistance in firming her body muscles through weight-training. There was quite a nice campus fitness centre at the time, with both weights and aerobics (aerobics was then known as keep-fit!). It was not segregated, and students, lecturers & other campus staff, worked out together, mainly in the evenings. Miss ZZZZZ was a regular at the fitness centre. She took her aerobics workouts seriously, hence her great figure, complexion, and general health. I did both weights and aerobics, so we regularly bumped into each other, both in the gym and in class!
One thing led to another, and soon we were munching each other in bed! The sex was initially vigorous (I enjoyed that, actually), but with time, she just lay there, enjoying the motions and the “ma-lovings and ma-touchings” shown to me years earlier by Mama ZZZZZ.
The extent to which she enjoyed it however, did not occur to me until about one and a half months before attachment. Attachment in those days was very convenient… the University organised everything. All we were required to do, was submit our towns of preference, at least one month before attachment was due to commence. Conflict was rare, with students deciding amongst themselves on which towns to go to. Halafu, there was always someone to welcome you, wherever it is that one had been posted for attachment. Prior arrangements for accomodation and payment points for our allowances, was all done by campus administration. It was very convenient yenyewe.
I had really wanted to go to Naivasha for second year attachment. I fell in love with the town and lake in primary school… we went for frequent trips there then. What’s more, no one else in class was interested in Naivasha, so it was a done deal.
Two weeks before the deadline for submitting our names for attachment , I confidently strode into the Registar’s office (i.e. Registrar, Faculty of ZZZZZ). I didn’t expect to be in the Registrar’s office for more than five minutes, actually… shock of shocks! The friendly office clerk, a regular at the University fitness centre, looked at me with a cheeky bewildered smile on his face as he said “Lakini chief, si rafiki yako alikuwa hapa juzi na aka kujaziya ZZZZZ”. You can imagine how surprised I was…! Rafiki yupi…?, I asked, taking every care to conceal my surprise and equal bewilderment. “Si yule wa gym… Miss ZZZZZ”. He then went and opened a filing cabinet at the corner of the office, and pulled out a green file. He perused through it for about 15 seconds, before turning to me with a smile on his face, and showing me… “Si hapa”.
Like I say, I didn’t want to reveal both my surprise (and now rage), at what I had just been told, so I just continued with my little show… “Ohhh kweli, na kumbuka tuki panga akuje hapa on my behalf”. I could however tell that he hadn’t bought one bit of my little charade. He infact gave me a look of “Kwenda huko! Who doesn’t know that the two of you are screwing”!
I was livid, infuriated, and extremely insulted. It didn’t show lakini, ’cause I’ve always been pretty good at controlling my temper and emotions. Whatever feelings or emotions I had for Miss ZZZZZ, were at that moment, dealt a very devastating blow. I didn’t want to see her anymore, let alone sleep with her. There is nothing for free kweli… there’s a price for everything.
I brought up the subject with her two days later, being careful though, to both control my temper and conceal my rage. She didn’t treat it as anything big, all along acting like a young excited damsel in love… “Sweetie, we need to spend quality time together”, I remember her saying, “I can’t bear the thought of you being away from me for three long months”, she further went on.
I couldn’t believe it. It was my first experience of how manipulative women could be. I knew that I wanted out, though… how is what I didn’t know. I also knew that I was in a dangerous situation, where I needed to tread carefully. I mean, if she was capable of determining where I would go for attachment, then she was also equally capable of getting me either suspended or expelled from campus. In those days kwanza, unlike today, once you were expelled, that was it, kaput, finito… Nowadays I regularly read of expelled University students at local State Universities, being re-admitted after appealing to the Senate, ama after a Court directive.
Luckily for me, I didn’t have to bust my brains day & night, figuring how I was going to get myself out of the situation I now found myself in. Miss ZZZZZ was very ambitous, enterprising and manipulative of-course, and it’s no wonder that she is today Prof. ZZZZZ. After one month of attachment, and one month of involuntary sex on my part (actually I personally consider it one month of emotional, mental and physical rape, because I no longer felt anything for her, and was only doing it to buy time), Miss ZZZZZ told me that she would soon be leaving for Canada, after securing a scholarship to do her Phd. I can’t tell you how delighted I was to hear this… I didn’t show it though. I feigned sadness and shed “crocodile tears”.
She left about a month and a half after she broke the news to me. I am extremely relieved that there were no cell phones in those days, otherwise she would have had a tighter and longer manipulative grip on me… control freak!
The story doesn’t end there though… no, not by a quarter of a mile.
Miss ZZZZZ gave me an “A” in her unit. I must admit that I didn’t at all deserve an “A”. The unit that she took us in has never been a strong point of mine… infact, I could even have missed going to campus on account of this particular subject, were it not for some good intense revision that I did on it in second and third term of Form six… When I got to Campus, I became lax again, and didn’t pay much attention in the subject. I got a “C” in first year… kwanza nili hata “D” na kitu kidogo sana. So I knew very well that I did not deserve the “A” that I got in her unit. At best, I should have gotten a “C”, kama hile tu ya first year, kwanza!
Our first semester, second year results were available to us towards the end of attachment, as I recall. Miss ZZZZZ had just landed in Canada, at the time. I think the first thing I noticed on my first semester, second year result slip, when we began receiving them, was Miss ZZZZZ’s “A”. I was still deeply angered with what she had done and relieved with her departure for Canada, so my immediate and dismissive reaction was “Good riddance…”. I only came to appreciate the heavy significance of that “A” during graduation, one year later… there is nothing for free yenyewe, and there’s a price for everything, but there are also two sides to a coin, two sides in every situation.
We didn’t know (and by we I mean our class at campus), that there was an ongoing project to start a Masters degree programme in our field at our campus. It was an ambitious and expensive undertaking that was being funded 70% by the Canadian Government, and 30% by the Kenya Government. The Canadian High Commissioner to Kenya at the time, even paid us a visit in semester one of third year, and gave staff and students of our Faculty, a short talk on the strong cordial relations between Kenya and Canada. I don’t however think that any one of us knew that this was a prelude to the commencement of our Faculty’s Masters programme, that was to be funded by both the Canadian and Kenyan Governments. The University administration was very excited about the whole venture, and was eager to use it as flagship to showcase our campus in the East African region and beyond. A certain number of us would form be the pioneer class of the Masters programme.
The news was broken to us about a month and a half before the completion of our undergraduate degree programmes. We were told that selection would be on merit, and that the top eight of us would be selected for the Masters programme. The eight would be on full academic and boarding scholarship, complete with an allowance paid every semester (boom!). Yeah, there was quite a bit of excitement after the announcement!
My mind wasn’t quite on the Masters programme though, as I had made other prior plans. The attachment move that Miss ZZZZZ pulled on me one year earlier, had sharpened me and made me street wise, without me even realising it, just like I hadn’t made the connection between “Borabu” and the Jamhuri Estate maids, years earlier.
During attachment at ZZZZZ & ZZZZZ East Africa, I forged friendships with guys in personnel, with the future in mind. It was by then clear in my mind that there is nothing for free, that there’s a price for everything. ZZZZZ & ZZZZZ East Africa was a very prestigious outfit to work for in those days, unlike today. The pay and opportunities were good. So I let guys of personnel use & misuse me, with the knowledge that it would pay off at a later date in the near future. I was not snobbish and aloff like others of my kind at ZZZZZ & ZZZZZ East Africa. Those guys even used to send me for nyama choma, beef burgers and chips! Me I used to go without a problem.
Before the end of attachment, and before leaving ZZZZZ & ZZZZZ East Africa, a number of guys in personnel told me to prepare a letter of application for employment and leave it with them. They liked me sana yenyewe. They used to call me Mr. ZZZZZ, because of my muscular frame!
What I didn’t know was that ZZZZZ & ZZZZZ East Africa had secretly sought a recommendation on me from the University administration, and that the University administration had secretly sent back a positive encouraging recommendation. All this was happening in the course of our final year at campus. Every now and then, I passed through ZZZZZ & ZZZZZ East Africa to say hello to guys, without the slightest hint that things were in progress. It was around this time, and around the time that the news of the inception of the Masters’ programme was broken to us, that two guys of personnel at ZZZZZ & ZZZZZ East Africa, discreetly told me that my stuff was in order, and that I was just about certain of being employed at ZZZZZ & ZZZZZ East Africa, on completion of our studies.
I was so thrilled and excited…! This was worth skipping attachment in Naivasha! My anger towards Miss ZZZZZ mellowed at this very point. I had her to thank for this! Little did I know that my anger towards her would mellow even further, and that I would have to thank her for even more!
We did our final undergraduate campus exams on schedule, and got our results about a month after this. Wonder of wonders…! I was ranked eighth in the classs on account of those results, plus the other exams we had sat in our three year programme. I couldn’t believe it! It was that “A” that Miss ZZZZZ gave me in semester one of second year… that “A”! It was a border line Upper Second Class Honours kwanza.
I did my computations, and realised that had I got a “B” in Miss ZZZZZ’s unit, I would have dropped to Lower Second Class Honours, and would have been neck-and-neck, with the guy who was ninth. I don’t know what criteria would have been used then. Had I got a “C” in Miss ZZZZZ’s unit, then I would have been ninth or even tenth. Like I say above, I feel I rightfully deserved either a “C” or a “D” in her unit. I couldn’t believe it, but was nevertheless pleasantly surprised. From being my No. 1 enemy, Miss ZZZZZ was quickly becoming my No. 1 star, in absentia tena! In my own private & personal jubilation, I also remembered Mama ZZZZZ… she also had a hand in this.
I had however made up my mind to join ZZZZZ & ZZZZZ East Africa, and immediately took them provisional copies of my transcripts/final award.
I got my employment letter from ZZZZZ & ZZZZZ East Africa and my admission letter for the Masters programme at about the same time. I politely and formally declined the invitation to join the Masters programme, much to the shock and disbelief of Faculty staff, and much of the University administration. A meeting was hurriedly arranged between myself, and both the Dean of Faculty and the Academic Registrar. I explained my decision to them and they seemed convinced. But no it didn’t end there…
A further meeting between myself and both the Academic Registrar and the Deputy Vice Chanchellor, Administration and Academic Affairs, was scheduled for a week after this! I really felt like a star…! I think these guys wanted to be completely sure about my decision and were avoiding any incident of any kind that would have in any way upset the venture, and by extension, the Canadian Government. There was a lot of sensitivity and caution in those early days of the programme.
The then Deputy Vice Chanchellor, Administration and Academic Affairs, had a reputation of being a man of few words, and he fully lived up to that reputation when we met! But he was also a pleasant warm guy, with a sharp sense of humuor, much to my surprise! When our meeting concluded, I could tell that he was convinced there were no side issues. He concluded by saying that he only hoped that “I would not regret my decision in future”. I haven’t… so far, anyway. My place was therefore given to the guy ranked ninth. He was so thrilled… he is an Associate Professor these days, and still has quite a liking for me to this day (understandably).
Miss ZZZZZ was however not the least bit impressed. Yani the lady was monitoring my movements all the way from far off Canada. She wrote me a viciously hostile and insultive letter from Canada dated 17th January 1990, in which she called me all sorts of names for turning down the schorlarship to do a Masters. I didn’t destroy the letter, and still have it. I didn’t reply to it though, despite her renewed celebrity status in my life. She wrote me another less hostile letter in the mid-90s, which I also ignored, and which I still keep. She was then based in Italy. That was the last contact we had with each other. I later heard that she moved back to Canada, and is now married to a Canadian.
I have never known what became of Mama ZZZZZ however, but i’ll never forget her, for sure. The introduction she gave me to the murky world of sex and love making, has been quite useful to me.
Yep, that’s my rather long, interesting and intertwined story regarding “My life with maid”. Interesting, huh…?
—————
Published by African Press International – API