Did I ever tell you about the time my two sisters and I were each handed a 20kg bucket of mandazi by our parents and told, “Finish it”? Oh yes, dear reader, it happened. Sometimes, parenting requires a level of creativity (and practicality) that leaves the kids—and their stomachs—forever changed.
I call this one: The Day We Learned Honesty the Hard Way.
Ah, growing up in a family of five is always an adventure—especially when you’re the middle child. Sandwiched between two sisters, I was the perfect blend of “mature enough to know better” and “young enough to be talked into nonsense.”
Take this one time when I was about seven. Our family attended a church two hours away on foot. Yes, dear reader, on foot. You’d think the Lord would cut us some slack for sheer effort alone, but no, Sunday School still came with offerings. Our parents gave us each one shiny shilling to drop into the basket, ensuring we had a tangible reminder of sacrifice and obedience. Noble, right?
Well, my older sister, Dee, had a different take on things. One fateful Sunday, she casually suggested we invest those shillings elsewhere—mandazi. Her reasoning? “Why should God get all the money all the time? Sometimes we deserve a little reward for all this walking and worshipping.” Brilliant logic for a seven-year-old, I thought. My younger sister and I, being the loyal accomplices we were, nodded our agreement. The pinky swear sealed the deal.
Next thing you know, we’re at a small hotel right next to Full Gospel Church, ordering mandazi and tea like seasoned regulars. The owner, a friend of my dad’s, even gave us VIP treatment—hot mandazi, steaming tea, and a warm smile. We wiped our mouths like pros, thanked him politely, and skipped off to church with the smug satisfaction of a job well done. Mum’s the word.
Then came the twist. After church, Dad decided to treat us to lunch at the very same hotel. We knew we were doomed the moment we walked in and the hotel owner beamed, “Ah, welcome back!”
Our hearts sank faster than a deflated football.
Dad’s head turned toward us in slow motion, his eyebrow raised so high it might have flown off his face. “Welcome back?” he asked, his voice calm, measured—too calm.
The three of us exchanged frantic glances, our secret crumbling faster than a poorly made mandazi. My younger sister suddenly developed a deep interest in her scuffed shoes, while Dee, our fearless ringleader, cleared her throat like a politician preparing to spin a scandal. “Uh, well… you see… um…” she began, but Dad’s piercing look was enough to shut her up.
“Yes, yes!” the hotel owner beamed, blissfully unaware of the chaos he was causing. “They were here this morning. Had mandazi and tea—Very polite kids, and so well-mannered!”
Mum let out a long, world-weary sigh, the kind that said, What did I do to deserve these children? Dad, on the other hand, just shook his head slowly, his lips pressed into a grim line. “So that’s where your offering money went,” he said, his voice heavy with both disappointment and the kind of calm that makes you wish for loud shouting instead.
That was the end of the intended lunch treat from Dad and Mum.
The walk home was eerily quiet, save for the sound of our flip-flops slapping against the dusty path. The real judgment began when Dad placed a giant sack of Exe flour on the counter with a dramatic thud. Moments later, he followed up with a tub of Tily cooking fat.
“You like mandazi so much,” Dad said, his voice thick with mock cheerfulness, “then you’ll eat mandazi until you can’t stand the sight of it.”
Dad and Mum went on to knead the dough, then fried the mandazis and in no time, we were called back to the kitchen.
Mum handed us each a massive bucket of freshly fried mandazi, her face a picture of calm fury. “Eat,” she commanded.
Dee tried to keep her cool, grabbing a mandazi and taking a big bite. “See? Easy,” she said, though her forced grin didn’t last long.
By mandazi number ten, the smugness had evaporated. Dee leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach. “I can’t… I’m full,” she groaned, her face pale.
“I don’t want any more,” my younger sister whimpered, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Dad, arms crossed and a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth, simply said, “Keep eating.”
We pushed through a few more bites, but the buckets of mandazi might as well have been bottomless pits. Meanwhile, Mum and Dad sat watching, their disappointment heavier than the frying pan used to cook our punishment.
When it became clear we were defeated, Dad sighed and said, “If you can’t finish, there’s still the second half of the punishment.” We didn’t even have the energy to protest. A thorough spanking followed, cementing the lesson into both our minds and our backsides.
This spanking? It was a well-oiled joint project. Mum would start, delivering her swift justice, then hand you over to Dad for the encore. And just when you thought you were done, Dad would pass you back to Mum for the grand finale.
From that day on, we never so much as glanced at a mandazi without hearing Dad’s voice in our heads: “Finish it.” Safe to say, Sunday School offerings never went missing again.
Looking back at that moment over 30 years later, I can’t help but admire how my dad and mum worked in perfect unity to administer discipline. It was like they’d attended some “Parenting in Tandem” seminar.
Talk about teamwork! They didn’t just spank; they collaborated.
Subscribe to our Newsletter today and stay connected! Receive inspiring articles, exclusive book selections, and the latest updates in Africa's book industry delivered straight to your inbox. Join our growing community—your subscription means the world to us!
Here are my three lessons from the Great Mandazi Heist
- Teamwork Makes the Dream Work (Even in Discipline)
My parents showed us the power of unity, even in moments of correction. Their tag-team approach to discipline wasn’t just efficient; it was a masterclass in parental collaboration. Whether in marriage, parenting, or life in general, unity and shared purpose are invaluable. As Ecclesiastes 4:9 reminds us, “Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labour.” Whether administering discipline or navigating life, teamwork amplifies impact. - Actions Have Consequences (And Sometimes They Taste Like Mandazi)
Sneaking off to trade offering money for snacks seemed like harmless fun—until it wasn’t. The buckets of mandazi taught us that every decision, big or small, has a ripple effect. Choices driven by selfishness or disobedience often lead to discomfort later on (or in our case, stomachaches and spankings). Proverbs 22:6 encourages parents to train children in the right way so they will not depart from it. Sometimes, that training requires creative consequences that leave a lasting impression. - Honesty is Always the Best Policy (Even When it’s Hard)
Our secret didn’t just unravel—it exploded in our faces. What made things worse wasn’t just the act itself but the attempt to cover it up. Integrity is non-negotiable, and truthfulness protects relationships, whether with people or God. As Proverbs 10:9 says, “Whoever walks in integrity walks securely, but whoever takes crooked paths will be found out.” No mandazi is ever worth the price of broken trust—or the fear of being “welcomed back” by a chatty hotel owner.
This story wasn’t just about mandazi or punishment—it was a moment that shaped our understanding of teamwork, accountability, and honesty. Lessons that, thankfully, have lasted far longer than the sting of that spanking!
So, what book is in my hands today? None other than John Irungu Njuguna’s masterpiece, Interpersonal Love & Marital Relationships.
This book excels at unpacking the beautiful (and sometimes maddening) intricacies of love and marriage. With practical insights, relatable stories, and Scriptural truths, it feels like having your own personal marriage counselor on your bookshelf. It’s packed with wisdom that is both profound and practical—perfect for couples, singles preparing for marriage, or even parents who want to refine their joint-spanking strategies (kidding… sort of).
From learning how to work as a team to tackling tough conversations, this book is a treasure trove of guidance. It’s the kind of read that grips you from page one, inspiring you to reflect, grow, and apply godly principles to your relationships. Whether you’re looking to enrich your marriage or just want a better understanding of love’s complexities, this book delivers.
Now, if only Interpersonal Love & Marital Relationships had been around when my parents were crafting their spanking strategies—maybe we’d have gotten away with fewer mandazi lessons. Then again, we’d have missed out on the teamwork inspiration that shaped their marriage (and our backsides). A truly enriching and impactful read, this one’s a must-have.

Meet the Author

Excerpt from: Brewing Happiness: How a Cup of Tea Ignited a Mission to Strengthen Relationships, Njuguna Irungu’s story
In the heart of Kenya, where the aroma of freshly brewed tea fills the air, John Njuguna Irungu discovered a profound connection between a simple cup of tea and the strengthening of human relationships.
Born and raised in this vibrant land, Njuguna observed how tea served as more than just a beverage; it was a catalyst for conversation, a bridge between generations, and a symbol of hospitality.
Inspired by these observations, he embarked on a mission to harness the power of tea to foster deeper connections among individuals.
Through his initiatives, Njuguna has been instrumental in promoting the idea that sharing a cup of tea can ignite meaningful dialogues and reinforce the bonds that hold communities together. His story is a testament to how everyday rituals can be transformed into powerful tools for social cohesion and personal growth.
To read the full article and discover more about Njuguna, his book that was top content of the year 2024, visit African Christian Authors Book Award-ACABA.
With Christian Literature Communications – CLC Kenya
With Christian Literature Communications – CLC Kenya
African Christian Authors Book Award – ACABA

Stop Keeping Up With the Jonases (Dr. Muthoni Omukhango with Nicholas Aruho, Uganda)
Did I ever tell you about Karimi’s neighbour’s quest for a lush green lawn? Sit for this one as I help you, as I was helped, to mind your business and live a queit life. I call this one: The Greener Grass on the Other Side is Lots of Work or maybe, Stop Keeping Up…
Train Up A Child (Dr. Muthoni Omukhango with Dr. Pamela Kariba Muriungi, Kenya)
Did I ever tell you about that time we went to Charity’s house, played with her kids, and ate lunch there when I was six? Oh, it’s a classic tale. I call it: Train Up A Child.
Only the Wearer of the Shoe Knows Where It Pinches Most (Dr. Muthoni Omukhango with Ivy Gikonyo, Kenya)
Did I tell you about the whirlwind of grief that hit me when my father-in-law, Readon (or Fathy, as I called him), passed away last year? Well, brace yourself—not for belly-aching laughter this time, but for some honest musings from my heart. I call it: Only the Wearer of the Shoe Knows Where It Pinches…
Subscribe for wholesome content!