Death opens a can of worms.

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Penning my journal.

I think that you never know someone until he kicks the bucket. Death spills a whole can of worms. Now let me bucket you why?

When I started my business journey in the hotel industry in 2010, one thing I hadn’t factored is the hotel business is actually a cleaning & laundry business. Everything about the business is about water. Most Nairobi folks who patronize the hotel probably don’t have running water in their homes but expect a hotel to have it in sea.

The county government hardly supply water, and the water bowsers peddle 5000 litres at a whopping Kes 6000. You can’t ration water for your customers, they expect a good shower. Women spend hours @ the shower, making nonsense of 5000 litres in jiffy. Not to mention water needed for washing the beddings & kitchen.

Without water, a hotel is grounded, believe me, I was caught pants down. I was forced to invest in a borehole, an expensive venture. Once it was drilled had to think of how to pump the water up, a story on its own. I got in touch with Ojwang my electrician, he had successfully installed several borehole pumps, & was a great friend too.

He gave me a list of the apparatus he needed, a pump etc. His total quote for parts was Kes 120,000 labor excluded, his labor was Kes 20,000. Total quote Kes 140,000. I asked him for the list, and said I would buy them myself directly from Davies & Shirtliff (supplier of water pumps etc).

Ojwang said to me,

“Wuod Baba trust me, we have been friends for yanks, I have given you the best deal, am making zilch from the borehole parts. Infact I already got you a discount of 10k. The parts were actually meant to cost Kes 130k.”

Ojwang was a teetotaler, a staunch member of the Christian Union, a family man, & blood is thicker than water he indeed was a member of my very own clan. He said me, “Wuod Baba, how can you not trust me?”

With these credentials, I handed him the money after scrambling around thro’ blood sweat & tears, and bells & whistles, he well did the job! My thanks to him.

Unfortunately, 6 months later my electrician began ailing. His condition went on for a year, and I sure chipped in there for him, but poignantly, the gods had other plans, he was called to rest. As soon he passed, I was called to head his funeral committee. A responsibility I seized, for a friend in need is a friend indeed.

At the same time, coincidentally in serendipity, my borehole pump broke down. With him gone, I called Davies Shirtliff in Kisumu to fix it. Bad hair day, to my horror the very pump I had bought plus accessories spanking new were all costing 40k! I couldn’t believe it, my electrician & buddy who I had trusted had duped me.

Washed by his deceit, my heart pounding with anger of betrayal. With bottled feelings, I could not continue with role of being in the funeral committee. Bite the dust, I stood down for personal reasons giving no one explanation. Members of the funeral committee puzzled why, they knew we had been good pals with the belated.

In this world, we are haunted by deeds, and death opens a can of worms. To bite the hand that feeds you, betrayal by a friend is a peal difficult to heal.

Bottom line, as you live and breathe, never trust anyone in money matters, including those who call you “honey”. And if you engage a handyman to fix you something, buy the spare parts yourself. It will save you a whale of quid.

#OwiriMyJournalMyThoughtsMyWalk

Written by

Dan Okwiri

Afrohemian, Aesthete & Raconteur. Bonitas, Scienta, Disciplina.

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