Thursday, 10 January 2013

Home and Away: But the Villagers Are Still Unhappy and Hopeless and Other Reflections


[For Frank and Mercy]
(Now Departed. So Young to Die).
          The cliché that goes: East or West Home is the Best still rings true to the fancies of heart and soul when one arrives in the village. Back in my village, I harbor a few hopes – a handful of it in order to cushion against the myriad disappointments that characterize it. It’s the silly season as a columnist noted in one of the local dailies and politicians hop from one scene to the other to blaspheme, slander, dupe, and manipulate the hungry electorate. They promise heaven. They promise honey and flowing milk that their predecessors promised in the last electioneering period. They tell the ‘compact majority’ who are more than eager and willing to listen to their mendacities but come delivery nothing will be heard of.  Political calendars are pinned on the cracked walls of most households. At our grandmother’s I see a few MP contenders bedecked in black suits with the Coalition for Reforms and Democracy (CORD) presidential candidate, Raila Amolo Odinga displaying his resplendent grin. CORD is an amalgamation of three political parties namely ODM, Wiper and Ford-Kenya. On the flipside is the Jubilee coalition that is giving CORD a run for its tribal arithmetic and pseudo national interests. That’s Kenya for you. Ethnicity comes alive than ever in the asinine season. Hunger for power is manifested from the national level back to the village market.
          Young men are still jobless and hopeless. By the roadside they while time, a saddening indication of the few employment opportunities. Politicians love them more than anything. In any cheap print out of the contenders, youth are glowingly promised in colorful words expanded polytechnics, additional motorcycles and improvement of the sporting prospects among other glossy things. The village youth is still susceptible to handouts including women. Wazee (Elders) I understand love their tea. Every political candidate is in the flirting game with his people and impressing the ‘wananchi’ is not an easy task. Mother tells me an aspirant tried to convince them with matchboxes bearing his mug shot but he got it rough and tough. The matchboxes were hurled back to the sender and eventually hounded away. That’s the state of affairs. Politics in a third world nation can be dirty and devoid of meaningful interrogation on ideas and manifestoes.
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           The state of crops is sickening. In central Nyanza, my ancestral home, a majority of farmers depend wholly on rain. The last season the weather was awfully disappointing and people will not get any produce to sustain us the city dwellers. You see, it is the festive season and many an African, Luo to be particular, must visit the home of his ancestors to see the extended family. Home in the sense of being where one gets buried. The place of return when things get awry in the city. A debilitating sickness. Job loss. Payment of dowry is traditionally a preserve of home. The Village. Dala. And people come from far flung areas but most prominently Nairobi and Kisumu.
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            Orphans litter the village in ragged wears. Almost every home has a painful gap left by their son and his wife who got swept by the HIV/AIDS scourge. Numerous tales abound of scattered children of former close knit families that lived in Nairobi, maybe Nandi, sometimes Kisumu and on certain occasion, Mombasa. Children who gloried in the good life but suddenly thrust into the savagery of village destitution. The inadequacy of essential needs and degradation of schooling standards. One looks at the state of affairs and gets deeply depressed of things one cannot do. The suffering that affects most orphans and their grandmothers – their sole caretakers – and an intensity of welling emotions that choke the heart and the indefinable terrors it evokes. One comes in contact with raw existence in a cracked circumstance that leaves a distasteful angle in it even as you book your next bus for the city. It follows you there and pricks you, imprisons your conscience and makes you constantly question: what can be done? Or, what can I do in my capacity to change their situation? And in God damned scenarios, it is what you did not do even with the chances and opportunities. It howls and wants to swallow you whole!
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            What about self identity? The issue of belonging. One asks self, where do I exactly belong? Am I living my purpose? And if not, then am I chasing after phantoms? The city with its bright lights and the superhighway and the parties – is there any meaning to be derived from it? What about the tranquility of the rural community? May be I am asking too much. Perhaps the alertness of my conscience is my greatest folly but where is the contentment of life? Not good education. Not an excellent pay. Not even friends. It is all a winding tunnel of darkness that light is not promised at the end. You keep searching for meaning everywhere. Some of us resort to drinking to find the reason for their being. But it becomes hard to grasp. This elusive form of happiness that has no name but has got us panting in artificiality of polished accents, skinny jeans, weekends parties, ivory tower intellect and all other designs to look cool. We want to lie to others we have found it. But the void deepens. Others get salvation, backslide then return to salvation and back again. The futility of searching for the thing. This nameless thing that evokes gloom and a terrible loneliness in most of us. You can keenly spot it on the streets if you keenly stare too long at others. A disturbing distantness mixed with forced plastic smiles, patting of backs or trembling whispers. People are even frightened of folks they have known for years.
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Back to Nairobi. The first sight that hits you like a rock is the steel-faces of Nairobians. The faces are diverse and sallow, pathetic, some happy, others just there- vague in the hubbub that marks the city centre especially when coming from the Machakos Bus Station. The funny thing is: fellow pedestrians start pushing and shoving you immediately without warning (as if they warn people) and you still try to maintain the rural mentality of avoiding this typical game of the city. Walking on, you meet sadder and tighter faces bogged down by the city pressures and it is these fellows you should be wary of. My regrets to all who do not own automobiles and are compelled to do the ‘Great Trek’ constantly across the city avenues, dingy and spacious streets, crowded alleyways dotted with cons, fake pastors, magicians, pickpockets and open ware businesspeople. Inside the bus headed for the estate, earsplitting music welcomes the ears that have known only calm. By calm I mean only the barking of famished dogs, chirping of night insects, slurring of harmless drunks who do not rob people of phones, gossip of women from the market and mooing of cows. The saving grace is that the bus does not play these riddims that always want to burst the eardrums with their bawdy-charged lyrics. Reggae carries the day and it is Mighty Culture belting his consciousness tunes. But the pressure is still overdrive beside me inside the bus. A woman is flipping and jadedly reading a corporate book with investment risk subtopics and inwardly I cringe at what awaits me this month. All the busloads out of the city comprise of competitors and folks chasing after a dream. The reason for the clammy and pallid expressions written all over the faces of most Nairobians I pass by on the small climb behind ‘Jack n Jill’ Supermarket.

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