I know you are used to big stories about people flying to the Bahamas and Mauritius, I’m sorry to disappoint you, this is no such adventure. In fact, I have never come near an aircraft. Neither have I crossed the borders of this beloved country 254, except to Uganda, on a bicycle. Uganda is about 50 kilometers from my village.
The only time I came close to boarding a plane is when the company I once worked for decided to fly some staff to Dubai for a 14-days holiday after a profitable year. Like the typical Kenyan company owned by a Kenyan, all top management belonged to the same ethnic community just as the directors. So don’t be surprised why my name was missing on the final list even after initially being fronted by my department as the most deserving. Any way, that’s a story for another day.
Back to my story, growing up in the village in western Kenya, it was considered a huge achievement if and when one visited Nairobi city. To make matters worse, for a boy of my age then, it was almost insane to imagine a coveted trip to the city under the sun when almost all elders in the family, extended family and even the entire village were almost going to their graves without seeing how a tarmacked road looked like.
At 12 years of age, I was the youngest and smallest in size in my class. In those days, boys and girls got married in class five. So you can imagine my classmates in class seven. Nonetheless, by God’s grace (I don’t want to say hard work), I was on top of my class at the end of first term. That is what earned me a trip to the city. Excellence and discipline was adequately rewarded then. My uncle who had become a ‘city dweller’, courtesy of another uncle offered to take me with him during holidays.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night of the D day for obvious reasons. We had to leave the village by 4.30 am to the nearest shopping center along the highway where we were to catch the first bus to the city. ‘Lembus’ was the name of the bus. By 5.30 pm, we alighted and I set foot for the first time in Nairobi!! We proceeded to what I later learnt was Railways stage and boarded Matatu number 125 to Rongai. That was where I was supposed to spent my school holiday for about a month.
What I didn’t tell you is that the uncle who offered to take me to the city was himself dependent in every sense of it on another uncle whom he didn’t consult before carrying another ‘burden’ with him. I was rejected on arrival!! My host had to take me with him to his rented shack about two kilometres away. Unknown to him, his extra curricular activities with someone’s daughter had yielded unwanted fruits and she was waiting for him with bated breath when he traveled to the village. She was camping at his door when we arrived.
I had to be taken to a friend to my host for the night as my uncle figured out how he was going to fulfill his promises of visiting KICC, Nairobi National park etc to me. Despite all these, I was just elated that I was in Nairobi after all.
Now, now, now… I don’t know why all dreams except one hardly come to pass!! That one particular dream that always come to pass even before you wake up..nkt. I was woken up in the middle of the night soaked in my own pee on the bed that I had shared with the owner!! He sent me back to my host in the morning with a warning never to show up at his place again.
With limited/no place to sleep, quick arrangements were to be made to send me back to the village. I was put on the bus the following morning. I had not gathered a single story to tell my eager peers back in the village. I had not seen any wild animal except zebras grazing by the roadside along Naivasha-Nakuru highway!!
What was I going to tell my friends the reason for my short stay in the city!!!
