The Grey Suit of Trials

That is Joycita now after the rain came. Beautiful no? 

I thought you'd want to know that Joycita is quite happy. It has been raining and she is all leafed and chlorophylled! Yes, I like to create words. Also, I like to put in a picture and I had none of the suit in question. 

Onwards onwards! One or two of you may have realised that this post concerns a grey suit ;). You are right! My mother has this skirt suit. It is, well, grey, and is quite nice on her. She calls it the 'Suit of Trials'. Yes, that is an unabridged translation. I have tried to think of the proper English translation, but I have failed. Anyway, let us focus on the story rather than the language. That reminds me of the people who would go to present a song in church and begin with the disclaimer, "listen to the words not the voice." Well, why not read out the song as a poem then? Where were we? The grey suit. This story has so many twists and turns that I am not sure that I can tell it without missing some detail or the other. 

So my mom bought this grey fabric and took it to this tailor. As we all do when we buy fabric, she pictured just how it would look and she described the design to the obliging tailor and left. When she went back to the tailor, she discovered that the tailor was a member of the IWillListenToYouAndDoWhatIwantToDoAnyway Club. My sister and I had previously seen this in the tailor but she had been nice to my mother's clothes till now. My mom told her to redo it. She redid it but with terrible results. My mom was obviously getting quite annoyed. They discussed ways to remedy the various wrongs done to the poor suit. When she went to get it, it was worse and the tailor had even gone ahead to burn a hole through the coat's lining and fabric. She could not take it any more and she took her ruined suit home.  She presented it to another tailor who we've known for years.  Apparently that does not count for much. Well, the dress' trials were far from over. This other tailor deserves her own paragraph (book?) so do walk with me to her paragraph.

This tailor, received the suit and its accompanying tale sympathetically enough and promised to deliver a satisfactory result. I suppose you have guessed that this was not to be. She redid the lining admirably and that was it. She did nothing more for months! Then she is the sort of person who opens her business late and leaves early so it was really hard to find her. My mom sent everyone, from me to my dad, to go see if her shop was open and to get the suit back. By month  four or five, my dad was as involved in the tale of the grey suit as my mother. He decided that the only solution was for them to go to the tailor's home and have her produce the suit. Habeas Suitus. The tailor's assistant saved her some embarrassment by producing and handing over the suit to my mother. The suit was there for almost six months! Long enough to plant, weed and harvest maize of the slow growing, high yielding variety. 

Here was a suit, rescued from the tailor's shop. I know I digress a lot but what is the name of that place where the tailor works? We usually say 'kwa fundi' or 'the tailor's' but what is it? A shop? A workshop? Tailory? . But let us go back to the rescued garment. It was taken to yet another tailor. I'm sure the poor grey thing had had quite enough of tailors' erm... workplaces. These tailors however patched it up then created loops and a belt to cover the offending patch and the dress was FINALLY done. AND the belt actually makes the suit look better! The Suit  of Trials is therefore also a nice suit. 

Well, I leave you to draw the moral yourself but here are helpful hints - being disappointed, not getting what you want, not getting it when you want it, waiting, despairing, beauty at the end of it etc etc. I'm sure you are well guided ;).