The school van arrived at the compound without warning at 9:40 in the morning.
Mariam was still on Mama Chiku’s veranda, finishing two cuffs, when she saw Pendo running in from the road.
“Mama! They’re here.”
“Who?”
“The school.”
Mariam stood so fast the chair toppled behind her.
A white van bearing the Kijani Bay Primary emblem had stopped outside the Mbuyu Street gate. A man in a grey shirt and a woman holding a clipboard stepped out. Pendo recognized them as the procurement representative and the school matron.
“Did they call?” Mariam asked.
“They said they were nearby and decided to see production.”
Mariam closed her eyes for one second.
“The samples?”
“Ready.”
“The batch?”
“Half of it is inside.”
That was the problem.
Mariam went to the gate carrying two finished samples. Elias was home that day; his motorbike stood beside the main house.
The procurement representative, Mr. Kaseke, greeted her without much warmth.
“Mrs. Mariam, we wanted to see the samples and the production progress.”
“I have the samples.”
“Then let’s see the workshop.”
Her throat dried.
“There is an access arrangement that has not been finalized.”
“Still?”
“I have a formal request for temporary access today.”
“Our order is not temporary.”
“I know.”
The matron took a sample and examined the stitching.
“This is good,” she said. “But we need to see production capacity.”
“I can show you the stock list, production sheet, and equipment records. The workshop itself requires the key holder.”
“Who has the key?” Kaseke asked.
Mariam refused to say, My dead husband’s son, who is trying to put me out.
“The family’s estate representative.”
Pendo lowered his eyes.
Mariam crossed to the main house and called Elias.
He emerged several minutes later. His face changed when he saw the school visitors.
“Who are they?”
“My client.”
Kaseke introduced himself.
“We have a uniform order. We need to see production.”
“The workshop is part of an estate dispute,” Elias said.
“I’m asking for twenty minutes of supervised access,” Mariam said. “You stay present. No machine leaves. We show them stock and work in progress.”
Elias shook his head.
“No.”
Kaseke looked from one to the other.
“What exactly is the problem?”
Mariam answered before Elias could turn it into a family argument.
“Ownership and estate access are being structured. My business orders are inside. I’ve requested an interim arrangement.”
“She hasn’t told you the workshop room belonged to my father,” Elias said.
“I said it is under estate dispute.”
Kaseke raised a hand.
“I’m not here to decide your family matter. I need to know whether my order can be delivered.”
“Yes, if controlled access is allowed.”
“You cannot promise access you don’t have,” Elias said.
Pendo took an angry breath.
Mariam stopped him with a glance.
“Elias, twenty minutes. Witnesses present.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because every one-off visit becomes a precedent with you.”
“And every refusal damages the business.”
“The business is not the estate.”
“But it is physically inside the estate.”
“That is your problem.”
Kaseke shifted his clipboard.
“Mariam, the sample quality is good. But your supply risk is high.”
“I understand.”
“The committee agreed to a first batch because you told us you had an access path.”
“I have a temporary-access hearing.”
“When?”
“Today.”
Elias stared at her.
“What hearing?”
“Community dispute office. You’ll receive notice.”
“You went there without telling me?”
“I intended to tell you this morning. The school arrived first.”
He laughed angrily.
“This is what you call family?”
“Family did not stop the order from reaching the gate.”
The matron returned the sample.
“We need a solution, not a fight.”
“So do I,” Mariam said.
“How many units can you deliver without the workshop?” Kaseke asked.
Mariam looked at Pendo.
“Twelve within two days. More requires stock and machine access.”
“The original order was one hundred.”
“I know.”
“The committee can reduce your allocation and give part of it to another supplier.”
The words struck Mariam like several months’ income being cut away at once.
“Don’t cancel all of it.”
“I’m not canceling it. But the school cannot carry all the risk.”
“Give me until the end of today, after the interim hearing.”
Kaseke thought for a moment.
“All right. We hold cancellation. But your first allocation drops to forty units. If you obtain access and prove production capacity, we can review the balance.”
Pendo shut his eyes briefly.
“Thank you,” Mariam said.
It was not the gratitude of someone who had won. It was the gratitude of someone who had lost sixty percent and not lost everything.
Kaseke wrote on his clipboard.
“What are you writing?” Elias asked.
“Site visit. Sample accepted. Workshop access unavailable during visit. Supplier allocation temporarily reduced pending capacity verification.”
Mariam looked at Elias.
For the first time, the damage was not only in her own notebook. An outsider with no stake in the family had recorded it.
Kaseke asked Mariam to sign the visit note. She read it first.
“This makes it sound like I blocked the contract,” Elias said.
“I didn’t write your name,” Kaseke replied.
“But you wrote access unavailable.”
“Because access was unavailable.”
Mariam said nothing.
When the visitors returned to their van, Pendo spoke quietly to Elias.
“That was my wage.”
“I’m not discussing the estate with an employee.”
“The estate discusses itself with me every day.”
“Pendo, enough,” Mariam said.
He turned and walked back toward the veranda.
Mariam remained with Elias near the gate.
“The hearing is at two.”
“I won’t come.”
“That is your choice.”
“And if you get an order?”
“I follow its terms.”
“And if it says open the workshop?”
“Then we open it under rules.”
Elias pulled the workshop key from his pocket and spun it around one finger.
Mariam watched him.
“Twenty minutes ago, you could have prevented the contract reduction.”
“And tomorrow you would bring another client. The next day a supplier. Then suddenly the estate would be your workshop because you kept creating witnesses.”
“That is why I asked for a written temporary arrangement.”
“You want everything on paper.”
“For now, yes.”
His hand closed around the key.
“Do not make this about who can hold a little piece of metal in his pocket,” Mariam said.
“You started this by saying your key no longer worked.”
“And now I am asking for process.”
He stepped closer.
“Your order does not turn my father’s house into yours.”
“I never said it did.”
“Then stop making me the guard of your business.”
“Open the door for twenty minutes.”
Elias slipped the key into his trouser pocket.
“Your order is not a command to the estate.”
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