At nine-fifty on Friday morning, Mariam and Tunu were already standing beneath Block C.
Tunu tipped her head back until her neck hurt. The building had small balconies, sand-colored walls, and black metal grills. Some windows already had curtains. Others were still bare. A technician’s van was parked near the entrance, and several bags of cement remained stacked against one side after final repairs.
“Third floor,” Tunu said.
“Yes.”
“We are carrying the sewing machine up those stairs?”
“Do not start.”
“Does the lift work?”
“Yesterday’s Mariam would have asked after moving in. Today’s Mariam asks before.”
Tunu stared at her.
“You have versions of yourself now?”
Mariam did not answer. She was trying to smile without giving herself permission to celebrate too early.
Rukia arrived with a technician named Peter and a clipboard marked SNAG INSPECTION / C-308.
There were no balloons. No handover photographs. No sales staff waiting to congratulate them.
Mariam liked that.
“Ready?” Rukia asked.
“Ready to inspect. Not ready to sign until we inspect.”
Peter nodded. “Fair.”
They climbed the stairs because the lift was still running a testing cycle and had not officially opened to residents.
The moment they reached the third floor, Tunu hurried to the balcony before Mariam could stop her.
“Mama.”
Mariam followed.
From there they could see the bus road running toward the school side of town. It was not the old Mto Mdogo route, but it was much shorter than the journey from Salma’s house or the bedsitter.
“The morning bus goes there?” Tunu asked.
Rukia pointed toward the gate.
“Routes 4 and 4B. The stop is close to the entrance.”
Tunu gripped the railing with both hands. For several seconds she said nothing. Then she turned her face sideways as though the wind had blown into her eyes.
Mariam did not touch her immediately.
Relief also deserved a little space.
“Let us see the inside,” Mariam said at last.
The unit had a small sitting room, two bedrooms, a kitchen with a short counter, and a corner beside the main window that Mariam instantly saw as a possible sewing-table space.
Her tape measure came out of her handbag before she even realized she had reached for it.
Tunu laughed.
“You have not even accepted the house and you are already measuring it.”
“That is why I carry the tape.”
The corner was wide enough for the small table without blocking the window. The larger sewing machine would need to be shifted when visitors came, but it was possible.
Peter started the checklist.
Walls: acceptable. Tiles: acceptable. Windows: opening and locking. Electrical sockets: test. Water: test. Bedroom locks: test. Meter numbers: record.
When he opened the kitchen tap, water came out strongly for three seconds and then the pressure dropped.
“Building pressure is still stabilizing,” Peter said. “It will be fine once occupancy increases.”
Mariam looked at him.
“Write weak pressure.”
“It is normal commissioning.”
“Then write commissioning pressure weak.”
Peter looked at Rukia.
“Write the observation,” Rukia said.
Peter wrote.
In the second bedroom, the lock refused to turn smoothly. Tunu tried twice.
“It catches.”
Peter took the key.
“Just alignment. I can spray it and adjust later.”
Mariam said, “Write it.”
“Madam, we can fix this today.”
“Good. If you fix it today, tomorrow the record can say fixed. Today the record should say it catches.”
Tunu stood behind her, silent.
Rukia said, “Add bedroom-two lock alignment snag.”
Peter wrote it down.
Mariam did not want to become difficult for performance’s sake. She had learned the difference between complaining and recording. The sitting-room socket worked, so she marked it acceptable. One window frame had a small cosmetic scratch that did not affect use; she did not list it as a snag.
Tunu pointed at it.
“What about this?”
“Cosmetic. I can live with it.”
“And the lock?”
“The lock stops me securing the room properly. Different problem.”
Rukia heard the exchange and made a note in the margin.
They recorded the electricity meter number. Mariam photographed the meter reading with permission. The water meter went onto the form too. The service deposit appeared on a separate sheet.
There was no unexplained top-up.
“And the allocation letter?” Mariam asked.
Rukia handed her a copy.
“C-308. Two-bedroom comparable remedy. Linked to BM-AUD-118 and the flagged-row framework.”
“Closure language?”
“Final closure after unconditional handover and appeal acknowledgment.”
“Good.”
Peter held out the inspection form.
“You can sign now.”
Mariam read the options.
`UNIT ACCEPTABLE FOR HANDOVER` remained unchecked.
Below it was another box:
`CONDITIONAL — SNAGS LOGGED`.
“I sign conditional.”
Peter said, “You could still move in today. The water works. Electricity is live.”
Mariam looked at Tunu.
The bedsitter rent ended that night. One more night cost real money.
Tunu saw the question on her mother’s face.
“Where do we sleep tonight?”
“If we go back to the bedsitter, we pay one more night.”
“And here?”
“The bedroom lock still catches. Water pressure needs retesting.”
Tunu moved toward the balcony again.
“I can sleep in the sitting room.”
Mariam knew she could. They could bring one mattress, use bucket water if necessary, close one bedroom, and begin living.
That was the final temptation: after everything they had survived, to decide that two small defects did not matter.
But that was the same language of later they had been fighting all along.
“I have waited a long time for this home,” Mariam said. “That is exactly why I do not want to begin a new life with ‘we will fix it later.’”
Tunu’s mouth tightened.
“One more night?”
“One more night.”
Rukia said, “The lock can be adjusted today. Water pressure test tomorrow at eight. If you are satisfied, the handover becomes unconditional.”
“Written.”
Peter laughed softly.
“I know. Written.”
He added the deadlines:
Lock adjustment by 5:00 PM. Water pressure retest Saturday 8:00 AM.
Mariam signed the conditional inspection. Tunu did not need to sign anything, but she added her initials beside the meter readings anyway.
“You are learning bad habits,” Mariam said.
“I was raised by a housing spreadsheet.”
When they stepped back into the corridor, Tunu brushed the wall beside the door with her fingertips.
“Is this ours?”
Mariam still disliked the word ours unless paper supported it.
This time the allocation letter was inside her folder.
“It is assigned to us under the remedy. Handover is still conditional.”
“Can you say yes just a little?”
Mariam looked at her daughter.
“Yes. A little.”
Tunu smiled.
Downstairs, Rukia gave them two copies of the snag list. Mariam filed one in the housing folder and placed the other in an envelope marked MOVING.
Peter walked away to find the locksmith.
Mariam’s phone rang.
Kesi.
“Mother Tunu, U-052 came early.”
“Send the pickup-window message.”
“She says she is traveling.”
“Then release it. Make sure the balance is paid.”
“Okay.”
Mariam ended the call and looked up at Block C again.
Life had not stopped because housing was finally becoming real. Orders still existed. School still existed. Rent still existed until tomorrow.
That made C-308 feel more real than any celebration could have.
Rukia approached with a small white envelope.
“There is one more thing.”
Mariam did not reach for it.
“What is it?”
“The unit key. Because the assignment is formal, we can issue access under conditional handover. It allows inspection access and supervised moving preparation. You can still choose not to sleep here until the snags close.”
“And the tag?”
“The tag records the status.”
Tunu moved closer.
Rukia opened the envelope and took out one key attached to a white tag.
Mariam did not extend her hand immediately.
She read first.
Rukia places the key in her hand, its white tag reading: `C-308 / JENGO / CONDITIONAL HANDOVER`.
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