I
went ones again to stay with my step mother at Mamboleo. I was then an
adult with national Identity Card. The moment I reached Mamboleo -
Kisumu, my step mom, Elsa found it unnecessary to have a house maid. I
took over the household chores, against all odds, with vigor and
enthusiasm. The first task was to make sure that the kitchen was well
stocked with mura (saw dust). We had a jiko that used mura for
fuel. I had to get at least two huge loads of mura every evening, after
college, before embarking on splitting firewood for the preparation of
Nile Perch for resale. Elsa was a vivid fish business lady who
transported fish to all the markets from Kakamega, Kitale and Eldoret.
It was also my responsibility to transport these fried fish to the
roadblock, about one and a half kilometers away, where a market bound
matatu would pick them. The fish were so heavy to an extent that I had
to embrace them and do some careful balancing act as I literally dragged
them, on my bike carrier, to the road block. I used to do two to three
trips every morning from around 5am to about 6:30 am.I had to wash my bicycle, prepare breakfast for dad and the little kids, take bath and ride to college located in the City Centre. It was always next to impossible to catch up with the first lesson.
Gorety
had already eloped, three years earlier, with a guy who was supposed to
be her trainer in tailoring. She was to join Utali College for some
hotel management courses but marriage seemed to be her first priority
then. I tried talking her out of this relationship to no avail. When I
first appeared in her new home without notice, I saw a severely
malnourished woman whose beauty had disappeared from hard labour and
food related stress. There was no way I would endure seeing my best
friend and sister in such a state but there was very little I could do
to drag her out of that situation. She later quit relationship, under
pleasure from the man’s parents, as she could not produce any offspring
within a given grace period. She hooked up with another man who though
was not that educated but at least he was very sensible. Then is when, a
disease, which had no punctuation marks, caught up with her.Gorety was a quick witted woman who knew nothing about giving up hope. Her new husband and I were always by her side notwithstanding the whole of our family. The hospital made great profit margins from her predictable frequent visits. I prayed for her in several occasions but the disease grew worse. It was like my prayers were contributing to the multiplication of the viral or bacterial effects. Got Abindu (Abindu Mountains) knew me by all my names as I used to disappear in those caves for several days praying to God by faith for her healing; but she grew worse. When things became very thick, she was sent back to her parents to take care of their daughter. That was not the time to remind her of the past mistakes but dad being who he was could not let this opportunity pass by. Dad with a soft loving way gave her the whole Quran. Parents would never leave their children to suffer no matter what. She started developing some flesh in her skeletons. I glorified God for answering my prayers.
Got Abindu was not a place to go to casually. We had to prepare ourselves for tough weather conditions coupled with meeting some unfamiliar human beings notwithstanding crawling animals. Peter, now a Pastor, was the one who introduced me to this secret place. We arrived at around 6:30pm in the evening. It was a cold evening; the clouds were thick and dark. The birds of the air were already fondling to each other in their nests. The cows in the nearby homesteads had already been milked and the chicken had returned home to roost. We climbed up to the dry rocky mountain in anticipation for a great week before the Creator. As soon as we reached the top, the heavens opened pouring rains cats and dogs. We dashed into a cave which was full of men and women dressed in white, blue and green robes. They were surrounding a faire place which was keeping them warm in the chilly cave. Peter and I moved closer to the fire place to have a share of the warmth. “Hii!! Hiii!! Mmm!! Awinjo muya marach odonjo ka – Hiiii!! Hiiii” (Hii!! Hiii!! Mmm!! I feel the presence of an evil spirit here – Hiiii!! Hiiii) one long bearded old man exclaimed. What he was trying to say was that our spirits were not agreeing with theirs. We both insisted on sitting by the fire place despite their loud prayers and casting of “muya marach”
When the rains stopped and the rocks dried up, Peter and I left the noisy cave to the rocky top where we prayed later slept. We realized that those in the caves were Legio Maria people who had been fasting in the same cave for close to twenty one days. After a week of prayer and fasting, we left for home leaving the Legio Maria guys behind. They were to continue in their prayers for another ten days. After walking for about twenty minutes, we saw ripe paw paws on one of the compounds. The owner handed over a few to us. We ate seriously to the full, forgetting the fact that we had been fasting for seven days. Wait a moment – the pawpaw refused to settle in the empty stomach but rather preferred to move directly to the exit point. That was the day we understood that one can diarrhea raw pawpaw live-live.
The following Monday, I headed to
college where I noticed some very vital health issues which I addressed
at the Superior College Kamkunji. “Mr. Principal, there is no way both
men and women can share toilets” I began the complaint. “I once went to
the toilet and both the doors were engaged. When I knocked some funny
soprano voice replied ‘I’m inside’ but she refused to come out for close
to fifteen minutes” I continued. “These ladies do not leave the toilets
as soon as they realize it is a man waiting outside and they don’t
continue with work in progress as they fear the one outside will hear
them farting” I added “Sir, that day I had to rush to the privatized
city council toilets only to realize it was a mere ombulumbuso
which I could have gotten rid of in the college toilets were it not for
the two soprano ladies”. At the mention of ombulumbuso, everybody went
into uncontrolled laughter. Ombulumbuso is that small portion of poop
that comes last when you’re already done; if you do not understand the
art of exhaustively pushing your exhauster until that part leaves your
system you’ll be surely walk around with it wherever you go. “The money I
paid for the Ombulumbuso was meant for my lunch. I did not take lunch
that day sir” the students continued laughing as I smiled softly. I knew
my point was hitting the principal squarely. I went on and talked about
the dumping of sanitary towels in an appropriate manner. Severally, the
principal tried to stop me but the male students couldn’t allow it. In
fact Mr. Ocholla, our Financial Accounting teacher asked the big man to
allow me to express all my sentiments. The management had no otherwise
but to act. Those ladies had very big bad manners, sticking in the
toilets forever! For them to come out faster, we had to pretend that we
were walking away only to bump into our handsome faces when coming out.“Mr. Principal, the other issue is what we sit on – timber!” I continued amidst crazy applause. “The last time we sat on such was in primary school and we do not expect to suffer the same way in college” I continued with the fully blown pregnant points. “After sitting in those things for two continuous hours, our buttocks refuse to be ours and our legs follow suit! Even standing becomes a problem sir” I continued amidst laughter and applause.
I do not know whether my eyes were deceiving me but our class for full of faces which looked like Al Qaeda. They were always on toes even during photo sessions. It was like CIA agents would strike any moment. Damian Guda would have been different were it not for his cheek bone which resembled that of my donkey. He liked chewing so much until one day his supposed girl friend lamented loudly “Stop chewing! Chewing makes your cheek bones look funny” We laughed to near death. This Damian guy was either breeding snakes or leopards; his ties were either spotted or pythonish and the way he used to make them long..
Charles
Lwanga was another one; very smart and handsome but never used to
socialize so much with the ladies. He was never inclined to making fun
of anything. His neck was always patterned with a shiny golden rosary.
Those day’s ladies feared such religiously adorned men. He worked as an
Accountant for some time but later joined the seminary and became a
catholic priest. The talents bestowed on his God given apparatus were
buried. I, on the other hand, was carefully very outgoing, with the
gospel well knit on my loins. I used to preach at Oile market together
with Jasper Mose and Musa Juma. Musa was one hell of a faith guy; his
faith was so much, the faith the shook the kingdom of hell. He was
brought up in an Islamic family with both his mom and dad being very
strong Muslims. When he decided to be born again, he was kicked out,
literally; his dad chasing him away with a machete.Those day’s suspenders were the order of the day whether the trousers were loose or fitting. It was part of fashion – students, teachers, preacher, parents and even the touts were all in suspenders. The craziest thing about this was that most of us were wearing suspenders with belts! What a fashion disaster!
Lazarus and Musa Juma, my friends, were always in suspenders at every opportune time. I couldn’t also lose out on the fun especially when everybody was going that direction. My dad was the best fun of these fashions disaster items; his made the stomach protrude like a baby’s bottom but he was very happy in it.
Yours in suspenders,
Migingo Awat
No comments:
Post a Comment