I
landed at Kisumu International Airport (KIA) – at 0945HRS in the same week a
section of the writerly community was traveling to Kampala for the Writivism
Festival. It is always a relief to return. Nothing redeems my heart like a
return ‘home.’ Forget about the landing thing – I was just playing the JJ card.
You see, being a JJ is such an expensive affair, in fact, it is a burden
especially when the city is as ruthless and cruel as Nairobi.
So
sometimes one disappears to the Lakeside and listens to the swish and swoosh of
the waters – hear the chirping of birds and mooing of cows in the mid-morning –
literally watch the sun set (I am not romanticising anything by the way). The
drudgery and endless pandemonium of Nairobi makes small things matter a lot
when one is in the village. Maybe I miss the village life so much for its quiet
and blissful innocence.
But,
again, for the time I stayed there, it was never easy. What with sometimes
sleeping hungry, selling firewood to get money for the posho mill, teaching at
the local primary schools with a meagre pay of less than $8 – I am serious!
Less than $8. And the days when we would eat mahanya – githeri without beans – only maize accompanied with black
tea without sugar.
In The
Champs, a documentary that chronicles the rags-to-riches-back-to-rags
stories of Mike Tyson, Bernard Hopkins, and Evander Holyfield, Tyson talks of
one never forgetting poverty no matter the money one gets thereafter. It
surmises the entire feeling.
Let’s
forget the talk of poverty lest I get accused by fellow contemporary writers of
propagating ‘poverty porn’, and you know under the Western eyes, it degrades
us. Instead, let’s get to serious business. My observations will fall in a list
as follows:
1. IN KISUMU CITY
most businesses close around five p.m., according to my cousin who recently
re-located there from Nairobi to sell mtumba
clothes. Thereafter, you will find the Kisumu folk in supermarkets – Tuskys is
a favourite. (I prefer the books section). Apart from supermarkets, it is the
bars where Luos rest while swallowing absinthe after absinthe after absinthe
waiting to watch ‘Baba’ speak on either KTN or NTV. Sometimes Citizen TV.
Hardly K24.
2. THE HEROES AND HEROINES are
those we left in the village. Those who run their businesses and never give up.
And thrive in spite of the extreme poverty – what with the ever rural-to-urban
migration. Young men and women always running to the city in droves because of
the myriad job opportunities, educational chances, and the sense of curiosity
to break the village monotony. Therefore, it sounds rather foolish for some of
us to go back to the village and start saying things like: ‘Kwani here in the village you guys don’t
develop. Only stagnation. Bado hamna
stima. Hakuna cyber.’ You can
smell the pretensions of a first-timer when they return 10 KM away. What have
you done in your capacity to bring that development and stop the stagnation? It
is easier to theorize and romanticize and complain and go hammer and tongs on
social media tucked in the city, oblivious of the real shit back home than to
take some drastic action. Say go and work in the home county and use one’s education
and skills to develop one’s people. Or even participation in community
development by making contributions – not only financially, but offering advice
where necessary and keeping tabs on the village progress.
3. CDF STILL DOING WONDERS in
alleviating poverty and posting visible development such as building of health
centres, primary and secondary schools, provision of water tanks etc. We can
say how MPs sometimes in the past have embezzled the funds, but, still, the
trickle-down is better than the nothing-at-all scenario of the ‘Nyayo Error’.
4. ‘TEDO’ OR MARRIAGE
amongst younger girls still rife because I don’t know the reason. I will not
pretend I know the exact truth. But I can speculate on poor parenting
occasioned by misinformation, inability to provide for the family, therefore,
girls are forced to get married with the hope that the husband will provide for
the family-in-law. Lack of role models closer to the young girls and even boys
is another factor that I suspect increases the pitiful cases where girls as
young as 15 years get married.
5. AND FINALLY, MISSION TO AKALA market with my father to buy sheep – ram to
be specific on Saturday. Encountering ‘brokers’ kwenye mnada called Jo-chumbu. My father told me if one bypasses a
Ja-chumbu (singular), the person will not buy any livestock at a fair price
because a Ja-chumbu spikes the market and poisons the mind of the seller.
Safari Ya Kisumu
apart from giving me a front-view observation of our pretentions and the shit
we load upon the village folk with the know-it-all attitude and the aloofness
of kings deserving crowns when we land; I got to read peacefully and reflect. I
fantasized mapping out my life with a few sins, fucking some wonderful woman –
by wonderful I mean intelligent and nonconformist; doing something for the
community and enjoying shit as it comes!
