After 15 years of waiting for book royalties, the spoils are rolling in dribs and drabs

I was pleasantly surprised to receive a princely sum of 11k from a phone number I didn’t recognise, so I immediately did what most Kenyans do when they want to establish the true identity of an unknown contact: I sent a modest amount on Mpesa to that very number.

I was in the process of this transaction when a call from that very contact came through. It was one of my local publishers, I have several, in case you didn’t know, and this was so refreshing because I haven’t heard from this particular publisher for 15 years.

Yes, that’s correct. Fifteen long years. Not a single penny sent in royalties, not a single statement to illustrate how the book has been faring. And now, out of the blue, not just a royalty statement, but actual chums coming through the Mpesa.

The lady on the other end said she made the payment, just in case I was wondering who my magnanimous benefactor was. Before I could get off the phone, another caller from the same firm rang to say exactly what the previous caller had told me. The second caller said she had emailed a royalty statement. It was the third time I was receiving it. I noticed the amount paid was a few hundred shillings more than the amount in the royalty statement.

I looked at the statement anew, and I realised it was the same old document sent last year. There was no way of telling how many copies of my book had been sold, in what period, or the value of the books.

Put simply, there was no explanation of how the figure of 11k was arrived at, so I suspect they used my date of birth to approximate the royalties. Nor could I understand computations. In other words, 11k was probably just a number fished from the air.

Still, one has to be grateful and accept what’s on offer. As we say where I come from, the likelihood of being deprived is much higher than the chances of being rewarded with anything. It’s a roundabout way of saying we should rejoice for the crumbs thrown our way.