“No one gave him a Platform, It’s why I withstood the colds for one!”
The Climax of this Story will involve me concluding “its damn hard living in a ghetto” alongside some reggae artist i used to admire. Read on to find out why…
May to say the least was all rainy. Media ran stories of calamities resulting from uncontrolled drainage and at the capital city-Nairobi especially. people died, some got held up in traffic overnight, Business stalled just to touch on a few. Am talking of a certain Particular Tuesday of Down pour. What caught up the eyes of many was a school bus held up in murky waters overnight aboard young school kids on what started as a ride home after a tiring day at school. The tremble. The Colds. The trauma of disconnection from home. The fear of drowning to death. The innocence standing on bus seats all night long, these kids must have really had their worst on that night of floods. A near hell experience!
Ok in between, the rains had died off say a week on and we had moved on the Kenyan style. I happened to make a occassional trip to my immediate former home, ending up at the mini-market along Ngong road. The stretch between Uchumi Ngong hyper and the Prestige Mall on the side leading into the populous Kibra. By the way am told that stretch was meant to be a road reserve but that s a story for another day!
There i had gone to meet a friend who runs some grocers. The guy who always boasts that business has been good this days every time you pass by. Even when the surrounding is presumptuously not showing. We talked. Talked and talked till it was now raining and i had to wait on before leaving for home across way away. Its how and when i bumped into a survivor_Musyoka as he identified himself.
We bonded pretty fast but its the rains that got us back in time to the previous weeks heavy downpour a Tuesday ago. He talked with some interesting ascent. This guy can talk. He doesn’t even care as to whether you are listening or you care to respond. Him he goes on and on….
“On that Tuesday, i put my wares in store pretty earlier to go home in time before the rains. No sooner had i left than it started pouring. I took cover but the rains werent promising to cease. I had to walk home amid the downpour. Nearing home, the stream beside our cubes was overflowing and i couldn’t spot the usual wooden bridge. I managed to find my way water above my waistline.” Recounted Musyoka who lives in Kibra-Line saba section as i had figured out from the conversation we had. “Reaching home, i couldn’t see anyone but water was all over the place! I struggled to open the door to my single room house. The more i pushed the more it pushed back. It was like twenty or so well-built people were resisting my push from inside the house. When finally i managed to get in, all i owned was sinking below the waters with just a few stuff floating towards me! The Bed. The clothes. The mattress. All my food stocks that normally rests on the floor. I was wet all over. My trousers were socked in water from waist downwards. Boy I shivered!” It got emotional but i composed myself faster than he would notice and leaned towards him. “I heard things knock my feet on their way out at the door. Knives, spoons, cups i guessed. Then the knock was harder, i could tell, that was my two-battery stereo receiver being swept away. I thought i best stop these movements. I pulled the door to close it and headed to the landlords place a mile away. They too were in a similar scenario only that them, they had found shelter on some raised wooden platform among goats as they struggled to save a few of their belongings from being washed away. I joined them and we waited late into the night. The next day we hosted funeral fires for two neighbours; who were both washed away as thy staggered back home from a local brewery adjacent their home. The bodies were collected from the Nairobi dam and taken to the City mortuary” Musyoka concluded hurriedly. He noticed i had been glancing at my watch over and over. The drizzle had settled and i needed to hit home before it started pouring once agin!
In my mind i concluded….”Its damn hard living in a ghetto. I could hear tunes of Wailing souls sing along from a locale i thought was far enough…”