Taking In The Cards on The Table Part 5

It was D-day; Uncle Mwaria#theStoryteller's birthday was finally here.

I woke up to rousing smells from the kitchen. For sure it was going to be good or as we say, it was finna be lit. There were over 7 different dishes being prepared not to mention over 5 desserts! I could not contain my excitement. 

The last part was getting my Uncle home. That was my one responsibility. Get him home by 12pm sharp. The whole clan was counting on me. I was confident I'd deliver, easy-peasy.

I had already crafted my plan on how to get him home.  My strategy was simple. I was going to pull the - we need to talk urgently card. About what? Business of course. That's the one topic that Uncle Mwaria would drop everything for. He's very passionate about seeing the family business rise back to its former glory and beyond. More so with a cross generational touch.  I had this in the bag.

"Mali, you better head off... Your Aunty is waiting anxiously because Uncle Mwaria can up and go on his wild adventures any time, “urged my dad.

"Alright...alright. I'm leaving just now," I said as I reached out to give him a morning fist bump, "I got this dad...don't worry."

With that, I was out of the house munching on the last of the tasting waffles that had been graciously left on the counter. They were so fluffy. I couldn't wait to down the full meal with the whipped cream and fruit toppings. 

Throughout the drive there I kept rehearsing the narrative and figuring out responses to his quick fire questions. The narrative was simple. We needed to talk because Dad was giving me a hard time in running the family business. I'd express that I needed him to intervene urgently. To inflame it more I'd state that I didn't feel their trust or commitment and that I was on the verge of losing my mind. 

The pressure of the rising conflicts with dad and risk of the business failing due to missing out on opportunities would be too much. I'd feel like I failed again at something so major after the Gathoni saga. It would wipe me out. I'd leave him with an ultimatum that if he didn't intervene, I'd walk away from it all by the end of the week. Being a peacemaker and believer in the vision he'd be wiled enough to accompany me home. 

Uncle Mwaria#TheStoryteller didn't get the hashtag affixed to his name for nothing. He had stories to tell from here to kingdom come. Fortunately, they were enjoyable. He was dad's eldest brother. He was a visionary, a fantastic problem solver but best of all was he was an influential storyteller.

Equipped with these there was no problem he couldn't solve. There was nothing he could not engage on and how he did it, was an art. Twas as if he had a PhD in public speaking and engagement: he was a master at it. With that also came the gift of discernment in sniffing things out, including the fake.

On the other hand I was the son of Njama and his mentee. If there is something I perfected, it was execution in delivery: I wasn't going to be the one to drop the ball. I too knew how to weave stories. I had learned from the best, dad and him. In twenty minutes I had arrived.

"Fix your face. Keep it neutral," I told myself as I did last checks on the mirror. I found him sitting at his usual spot, the verandah facing the backyard.

"Uncle Unc...Hey hey! Happy Birthday to you! Who's younger now?" I teased as I greeted him.

He let out a little chuckle and rejoinder, "You best believe it.” We always loved a little rough housing and his birthday wasn't going to pass just like that. Next thing I knew he had put me in a head lock and I had a few seconds to manoeuvre before he made it worse. He lived for moments like these.

I began to tickle him because I knew he was super ticklish. He squirmed and giggled like a little boy.

"Mali, stop it! Stop it! You're cheating," he shouted over his deep laugh. I persisted. 

"I'm serious...stop it...stop!!" he pleaded as tears streamed his face.

"Ahahaha let me go then I'll stop," I negotiated.

"Never!" he yelled as he tightened his grip and tried to get my hands away.

"Uploading the Tickler 2020!" I yelled as I tickled him relentlessly

"Mali, stop...that's not wrestling" his grip began to loosen and his voice became faint, "Mali...stop...stop...Mali.”

I was winning, that was until I felt him collapse on the floor. He was probably exhausted from all the laughing and rough housing. I couldn't put it passed him not to pull a prank to pull a win.

"Uncle Mwaria, stop joking around. You couldn't take me winning?" I asked as I got off his hold and rubbed my sore neck, jeez he was strong.

He didn't budge nor respond.

"Uncle Mwaria. Unc...are you ok...Unc!" I got a bit frantic because he wasn't responding.  What had I done?