“How dare he questions my ability of being a father.  Ati I can’t take care of my children!” he cursed loudly as he guzzled the pombe ya mnazi from a chipped enamel mug.  His dirty calloused hands gripping the mug tightly, while his cracked and chipped nails tapped on mug irritably.

The frothing from the coconut brew peppered his upper lip.  With his tongue he licked his lip, then with the cuff of his dirty shirt’s sleeve, he wiped the remaining frothing away.   As he took in another big gulp, he bared his teeth, revealing a set of broken crooked yellow stained teeth.  

It was a hot afternoon.  Perspiration beaded his forehead and upper lip.  His upper lip and temples glistened, while his armpits oozed the acrid and musky smell of a man.  He felt agitated.  On his dirty shirt, he wiped his sweaty palms and took another swig of the local brew.  His once white vest was soiled with coconut brew, the dried up juices causing patches of dark stains. 

He was sitting between two mango trees that stood like guards in front of the veranda of his mud house, overshadowing the corrugated roof sheets.  The ground between the two trees was spinkled with sun light seeping from the holes on the corrugated roof sheets. 

            “I can father as many children as I want!  And yes - my brothers will take care of them!  He dares tell me I shouldn’t have children as I’m incapable of taking care of them?  Is he disrespecting my manhood now?  How dare he!”  He cursed again, tightening his grip on his wooden walking stick, he lifted it up then angrily pounded it on the dusty floor.  Clouds of red dust rose engulfing the wooden stick, then slowly descended back to the earth where it came from.

            “Mama Tatu!”  He called out to his wife, “Mama Tatu!  Did that good for nothing son of my brother bring us something to eat?”

Without waiting for his wife’s reply, he went on lamenting loudly to nobody in particular, with a drunken swing of his head.

            “Why does he think my brother took him to school?  So he can to take care of us!”  He waved his walking stick angrily in the air.  “Is what those stupid books teach him?  To become disrespectful?  What does he know about being a father?”

            “Mama Tatu!  I am calling you good for nothing lazy woman!  I kicked out wife number one because of being a disrespectful lazy bum!”  His walking stick and the earth had by then became the best of friends.  Quickly going back to what was eating him, he went on, “besides they are my brothers children so it is their duty to look after me!  It must be a woman who told him not to give me money!  It must be!  She must be the one who told him that I shouldn’t have any kids!  Conniving creatures they are!  Always out to destroy!   Those stupid city  women!  I bet you she doesn’t have a father!  No man would have such a stupid daughter!  She must be barren, that’s why she’s so jealous of me!  Yes, that’s it!  Stupid!”

            “Woman!  I’m hungry!  What’s there to eat?”  He bellowed angrily.

He turned around and looked at the hearthstone stove that was cold as it had not been cooked on.   A stray dog was picking on a maize crusted clay pot - from yesternight’s dinner.

            “Stupid woman!  All women are stupid!  My late uncle’s wife being the stupidiest!  Ati refusing for me to inherit her!  I could have been drinking milk and eating rice everyday if that stupid woman had let me inherit her!  Besides everything she has is my uncle’s, so how dare she!”  The walking stick made contact with the ground again, as he spat on the floor,  “I would have returned this stupid woman who always complains about lack of food to her stupid father!  Stupid woman!”

            “Yeah women are stupid alright!  I mean look at my cousin sister!  Stupid, I tell you!  Stupid!  What is the point of getting married to a rich man if you can’t take care of the family?  Ati she takes her daughters to school!  They couldn’t even give my boy a job!  Ati he wasn’t learned.  What’s the point of being a boss then?  I tell you, it’s that stupid woman of his!  Stupid!  Stupid!”

Three boys who were playing football with old pieces papers that were rolled up into a small ball then binded with shreds of old discarded clothes, stopped and stared at the ranting old man in wonder, as his voice got louder.  Noticing his drunken stupor they started giggling.

            “What are you staring at, you stupid children?”  He started screaming as he hurled stones at them, “your mothers are stupid!” 

Quickly the children ran off, laughing, squealing in delight and ducking the small stones the he was throwing as they ran.

            “Mama Tatu!”  He bellowed again.  “Stupid woman!  Her daughters couldn’t even get men to marry them to give me a decent bride prices!  Stupid useless women!  Mama Tatu, I’m calling you!  Where is food?”

            “Bibi has gone to the mosque to beg, babu,” Lulu, his grand daughter from his sixteen year old daughter, squirmed as she hid nervously behind one of the trees.  Behind the tree she hid, with her skinny hands she hugged her growling bulging stomach, hunger pains stinging her.

            “Go tell Mama Agatha to sell me another litre of brew on credit,” he said as he licked the last drop of the brew, “Tell her I’ll pay her tomorrow.  My brother’s son is coming from the city tomorrow, he will bring me money.”

            “But Babu, uncle Akili said …”

            “Did I ask you tell me what he said?  Get moving, you foolish girl!  Go!”  Interrupting the six years old, he suddenly got up, waving the stick angrily in the air.  “I can see you will also grow to be a stupid woman!  Stupid!”