Pineapple projects continued

Were it not for the fact that this is a continuation of the previous post “The pineapple project” I would have named it the “Hague proceedings”

I beg to continue. 

So I was a little uncomfortable with my mother handling the case. The main reason being, the list contained the names of Kuguru and Wanje our neighbours.

 We used to go to school together though we weren’t the best of friends. Their father Mzee Mkonofupi was my dad’s number one enemy. The real cause of their enemity is not known to date. But rumours has it that it dates back to their dating days. 

The two would always look for the slightest opportunity to confront each other. It was so bad that none of them would hold any elective post in Kijiji village. Each would campaign against the other to the benefit of none. They would also never drink in the same bar at the nearby Mungethu shopping centre. 

My mum a member of the Kijiji’s church mothers union would want nothing to do with Mkonofupi. She would therefore declare the case nolle prosequi. 

After these considerations I handed the envelope to Mzee Viboko. Unlike what they do in the Netherlands the proceedings were to be different. There was to be only one prosecutor, one  judge , and one chamber. 

The old man like his peers in the village had a thingira on one corner of the compound. A small one roomed house where he used to entertain his drinking friend with local traditional beer. I guessed he would use this to prosecute, hear, confirm, judge and punish the suspects. 

My mother was not happy with my handing over the envelope and did not give up on the issue. she embarked on shuttle diplomacy to ensure that the case was thrown out by her husband.

 Failure to which she would mobilise everyone to withdraw their free labour from mzee's farm. She blamed my project as having brought disunity within the home. 

Luckily enough, in mzee's quest to settle old scores with his neighbour he would here none of that. The first suspects to be summoned were Mkonofupis sons.

It is after these summons that I realized what my project had brought to our family and Kijiji village as a whole.

Mzee kiboko and his neighbour would go drinking and discussing the matter with their friend in different bars in Mungethu. They would latter come home to call each other names from their farms none daring to cross the boundary.

My mother and her compatriot Mkonofupi’s wife would both hold prayer meetings in their respective homes to pray for peace with their neighbours and Kijiji village as a whole.

The matter was threatening to get out of hand. Some sort of post election violence was about to erupt. Only that this time there was no form 16A. 

It took the intervention of the area headman to calm the two sides.

You can tell by now that my project was no more. 

Njagi Munyi

The pineapple project

Mzee Viboko my father controlled 90% of what he called family business. It involved plantation farming of maize and beans in our 3 acre piece of land. My mother was supposed to ran the remaining piece by growing such stuff as millet, yams, sweet potatoes e.t.c .What they call a kitchen garden in Nairobi.

 Having seen my great potential my mother decided to allow me to manage a small portion of her portion. There was a condition though, I was only to work on this personal project after providing free labor to Mzee’s farm. Failure to do this would result to a Syokimau situation.

To avert demolitions or destruction I promised to comply with the directive.
Before I could embark into my farming project I did my maths to make sure the project was viable. I therefore considered the following.

1. Market.
I used to like pineapples so much and unlike many other fruits that were locally available these ones were scarce. Everybody else at home liked them and I assumed this was the case in many of our sounding households. To me this was ready market.

Another market was the class nature table. Let me introduce this first.
I attended primary school at Pitasana primary school. It wasn't a very good school but at least we would beat the nyakiminchas of our time.

In Pitasana we always maintained a table at the back of our classrooms where we displayed the gifts of Mother Nature. We used to call this bench the nature table. We would clearly labeled every item in English, Swahili and Kikwetu languages.

The idea was to perfect our linguistics but it ended up being more than that. I intend to leave the politics surrounding this table for another day. I will only focus on the fact that supplies to this table formed part of my target market.

2. Source of raw materials .
There was a jamaa who my sister Gatune insisted that we refer to as Uncle yet the blood relationship couldn’t be traced. This guy had secured a job in Thika – or rather his influential relative had done it for him. Something to do with a pineapple growing and processing firm but from the size of the pineapples he brought with him, I could tell it was neither Delmonte nor Kakuzi.

 Am also confident that he wasn’t involved in any processing let alone the office job he claimed as his face was always relaxed into the insolent smile that is the mask of the insecure and uneducated.
This guy used to pay as regular visits.

 At that time I thought he was just a philanthropic pinapple guy. Only to learn later that he was trying to convince Gatune that he had the genes of a good husband. Since Gatune’s engagement and subsequent marriage the guy has never stepped foot on our homestead.
 All the same whatever his interests were he brought with him a number of pineapples during his visits.

What remained after consuming the fruits was what I would plant in my farm.
3. Competitors
I knew I was getting into the same business with such big names as delmonte and Kakuzi but I hoped nitapita katikati yao. After all, our target market was different.

The plant took enough time to mature and the end product wasn’t very encouraging due to the dwarf species type and poor crop husbandry.

There was one thing that never occurred to me during the planning stage, security. Since I did not have a security budget I decided to take it up myself. It wasn’t easy though. Despite my regular patrols to the farm a few fruits would still go missing.

 In one occasion I suspected my Gatune  was carrying a number of my fruits and I decided to search her bag as she left the homestead. I wasn’t lucky though she pulled my nose and asked me to know people.

 To prevent further loses I decided to take 2 measures. Start an operation I dubbed Linda Matunda and form a commission of enquiry to investigate the past loses. Unlike Linda Nchi , Linda Matunda was to be secret. I would hide on top of a leafy Jacaranda tee and watch over the farm all day.

The operation was very successful. I compiled the list of every one I had saw setting foot on my farm. I put these names in a envelope, sealed it and started threatening everybody that I would hand it over the envelop to Mzee Viboko.
 By the kind of debate these threats elicited I could tell my list was not comprehensive enough.

My mum was of the opinion that I go slow over the matter. She very well knew that all my siblings were in the list and therefore she was opting for a "local" solution.

 She wanted to be left to deal will the case herself.
My brother Kazimingi was very sure he was in the list and he knew he was not in my mother’s good books. He therefore insisted that the suspects should be tried at the Hague , I mean by Mzee.
He also knew that Mzee Viboko was always busy in the farm i.e. when he is not away drinking and therefore he would have no time to deal with the matter.
To be continued....
Njagi Munyi

millionaire land

    

The journey to millionaire land is probably one of the longest. To make it worse the direction doesn't seem to be common sense. In my case am either not in fate's list of expected guests to the land or there is a problem with my approach. Worst still could it be something to my family tree.

From my grandfather to my father and finally myself we all have not found the direction to this land. Well, my father considers himself a very successful man but from what is left to inherit from him it’s clear he either lacks ambition or he simply doesn't want to admit his failures.

I refuse to draw my mother Katuku into this. She does not hail from Nyeri and therefore my father cannot blame physical injuries for his problems. In addition his opinion has always been deemed to be the truth regardless of the democratic space he claims to exist in his party, I mean his home.

I do not want to judge him harshly as I don't seem to be doing any better. My son Ngacha may also not have much to inherit if at all there will be anything.  I just hope I haven't passed these broke genes from my forefathers to him.

I want to stop this blame game but I still think my late grandfather (his soul lest in eternal peace) would have done better.The guy was working in Nairobi in pre independence times. He claimed to have been a milk vender under a mzungu's payroll.

This must have been the same time that Njenga Karume was selling charcoal somewhere in Kiambu. By all standards selling milk is more lucrative than selling charcoal. The unfortunate thing is that while Njenga was accumulating his million and the likes of john Kean and Nguba were accumulating land titles  my grandfather was accumulating sons ,daughters and off course their mothers.

No wonder we are so many you can confuse our family’s get together party with a prayer rally for the Hague 4.

I will call it legacy, forgive my forefathers and focus in this difficult journey to the land of millions. Am a bit worries because I just celebrated my 35th birthday and according to the bible I have a similar number of years to vacate this earth unless there is an AGM in heaven to award me some bonus years.

The biggest question is where have I been all those years and why isn't there enough to show for it.

The easiest answer once more is to hide under my family tree which I have already done. Secondly am tempted to blame the un proportional manner in which the national cake is shared. For your information none of my clansmen has ever been to city hole let alone parliament.

The best we have had is my uncle Mr. Matari who is a primary school teacher and every year he accompanies STD 8 pupils to parliament for the school's annual Nairobi tour. You should hear him describing the august house. You would think he is the one who drafts parliamentary standing orders.

It’s obvious that Mr. Matari does not bring back home a piece of the national cake and therefore we can only plead serikali itusaidie.

Unlike my folks I have not been waiting for the govt. I have been having 'mega' project since I was introduced to the shilling.

It’s rather discouraging that none of these projects have landed me to this land of milk and honey and why this is so remains the question. My first project could shed some light. Look out for that in “The fight over pineapples”                                                                  ----stevemunyi@gmail.com