I just realized what a magic wand a mere handshake can be. Things have suddenly taken a different direction after Baba; the enigma himself swallowed his pride and shook hands with the three presidents.Personally appreciated the move when I had my ageing probox branded with a conspicuous graffiti on both sides with the very words, ‘Handshake 2’ just to steal the show. Kenyans can now prepare for the 2022 elections in peace thanks to the ‘golden handshakes’ that have stitched the nation together at least for now before we renew our hatred or whatever it is that gets into our heads during electioneering season, yes its season in Kenya election is a season as campaigns for the next elections begins immediately after the conclusion of another election.
Currently campaigns for all elective positions have began with potential county assembly candidates already appearing in all social gatherings from chiefs barazas,funerals, weddings to the camps of flood victims with donations. Our politicians see us as votes not human beings.
I took a quick check into my life and found out I have a lot of handshakes to do. From Dickson my workmate whom we don’t see eye to eye after he accused me of ‘washing’ him some interns he was interested in for ‘FISIological’ studies after I hijacked them after a lunch date he had paid for to the Whatsapp group admin who messed up with my Seleena, accusing her of posting outdated things and consequently removing her.
Top of my golden handshake list is the Dean of Students of my college Mr. Matata. Everybody who knows me will tell you that this guy made my college life a total nightmare. I was already running a mini bakery in the hostel when he banned the hawking of KDF in the hostels. I didn’t see that as a personal move but the day he declared that my Mpesa outlet was blocking the university administration block I knew he was in bed with the devil to push me to financial oblivion.
As frustrated as I was, scratching my bald head devising the next move he stabbed my back. The students had managed to persuade me to vie for college presidency when Matata ruled that anyone who had deferred more than three times would not vie for anything under his tenure. I had successfully deferred four times. This guy had not only shaken hands with the devil but also signed an MOU to block my star from shining.However,despite all these I think a handshake can erase our misdemeanor thus help build bridges.
Seleena’s parents are going to be my next high profile handshakes after Matata. They hate me for something that am proud to tell everyone, winning Seleena’s heart. The day their only daughter boarded Otange Air Bus at Mwembe Tayari to our rural home in South Mugirango, armed with only a paper bag containing a handful of clothes they were convinced beyond reasonable doubt that I was either an African chemistry practitioner or beneficiary or a combination of both.
Considering the handsome guy I was;I still am, I didn’t need to go that far. Besides, I had treated Seleena like the last molecule of oxygen in the atmosphere and electrocuted her with megawatts of pure love. All I had to do was to convince Seleena that she made me believe in angels and pap; I had the brownest girl in Migwani right on my laps. Abdullahi and the folks have not found a place in their hearts to forgive me yet. Am already planning to give them a surprise visit this year once I finish building my rural home.
I never thought I’ll forgive the Returning officer of Migwani Polling station. The bulky guy with a trunk neck had let all his weight fall on me during the Boresha Party primaries. Though he vehemently denied doing it intentionally, my face accrued a lot of bruises as melee ensued following a report of rigging in the polling station. He should have known that I was the only member of the fourth estate the village had plus the favorite candidate on the ballot was single handedly sponsored by me. Someone should have told him that it is my probox that delivered the ballot papers and boxes yet no one paid me. This granted me the right to walk in and out of the polling station at will yet there I was, dwarfed to queue with everyone else. Right now when the glory of the handshakes is still warm, I really need to find that returning officer so that we can have our own handshake.
The cooks at my wedding were the only undoing, the party would be perfect. First I could only trace a couple of cockerel heads in the stew we were served and then the soup! A pale version of dam water. Seleena noticed that our guests were just eating for us. I had invited high profile guest to dine with me only to lose it all at the table. These folks should in fact look for me to shake my hand or better still, I’ll call them together and wave at them.