Happy New Year, everyone. Unfortunately, it’s not such a happy new year for the Makini nuclear family of two. My wife is still in Shimo la Tewa prison for no fault of her own. I’m deeply sad and almost lost for words.

Sgt Sophia ended up in prison because — in a twist of fortune, it might seem — some bad cops she testified against conspired to put her there instead of killing her.

Like so many other things in life, this particular action makes no sense. I mean, why does a donkey poop inedible sausages, right? Or why do men have nipples? Two of them, in fact. And why would a group of men mired in Appeals Court for a murder case choose to hide the star witness in a jail where she can still testify against them?

I get a partial answer to this from Sophia herself on New Year’s Day when they allow me to visit her.

“I believe they want me to recant my testimony,” she says. She looks so frail and not at all like the forceful woman I married and worked with for so many years.

“I don’t know what that means,” I say.

“Testimony? Oh, my dear slow husband. Testimony is the stuff I said in court as a witness to the—”

“Not that. The other one. Why would you need to recount testimony?”

“It’s recant, honey. It means to say I lied.”

“But that would get you in hot water, no?”

“Perjury. Yes.”

More stuff I don’t understand. “Per jury? What jury?”

She laughs good-naturedly. “You have no idea how I’ve missed your simple mind. How are things back at home?”

“I wasn’t there for long after leaving Mombasa, but Jiji Ndogo is mostly the same as you left it. But Nyaguthii had a mini stroke or something.”

She puts a hand to her mouth. “Our resident chief gossip? How will we be getting our hot burning news?”

“Oh, nothing can stop Nyaguthii. Not even a medical emergency. She’s still touring homes and talking through one side of her mouth.”

“Are you sure she had a stroke or did one side of her mouth just get tired and quit working all together?”

We both laugh at this. It’s not the same as always, but it helps create a little cheer.

“Good news,” I say. “We found the judge who signed the bogus papers to get you in here. Hopefully, you’ll soon be out of misery.”

Sophia then leans close enough to whisper: “Actually, I’m coping well. I even have a girlfriend now.”

“What?” I recoil. “Does she know we’re married?”

“She doesn’t care. Besides, we’re only married under common law and it’s not as if you can protect me from all the other sisters in here.”

“Jesus Christ! Girlfriend? Sisters? Have you become a regular mfungwa now? Why would they bother you, anyway. Don’t they know you’re a cop?”

“Shhhh!” She puts a finger to her lips and looks around the visitors’ room as if afraid someone might overhear us. “No one can know I’m a… you know what. They aren’t very popular in here, for obvious reasons.”

“So, what do they think brought you here?”

Again, she looks around but this time she raises her voice a tad. “Of course, you know why I’m here. You can call me Mapangalee after what I did to those three bastards now in Lang’ata Cemetery. But they deserved it, every single one of them. No one messes with Queen Sophie.”

I don’t know what to make of my wife’s transformation, but if it’s keeping her safe, all power to her.