“Kuja hapa nikuue, jinga hii…” Well, this one statement has never left my thoughts years on.
Thingithu Phase 2 has colored my life, pretty much more than the colours of the rainbow. It taught me so much including appreciating diversity, sharing and most importantly journeying into manhood. It’s nostalgic each time I go by Silver Beam to have my Mutura in the evening or pass by the kiwanja where we used to play ball with kina Francis Karobia Pin or ride the rich kid’s bike with kina Gitonga Martin. Am not going to remember playing cha mama, since all the tugirls I used to play ‘baba’ with got married (see my life, or is God saying to me that ‘Cyrus you were married in your childhood, tosheka na hiyo?) It is in the same estate where we used to go watch TV in people’s houses and just when the food arrived on the table, the line, “Kiarie umefanya vizuri sana kututembelea leo…enda usalimie mum na tuonane kesho, sindio baba..?” and just like that, in the middle of a very interesting wrestling match on the black and white Great Wall, I could miss the tantalizing rice with nyama…even after being turned on and wetting my glands, woi! Yaani, here you are, so close to giving your intestines a New Years party for nyama and rice but the reality sinks in when you hit the neighbor’s door frame, look back and believe that you’re going back home….your tiny house to a dirge of white cabbage and Ugali ya brown!
Lakini, we survived! Mama Kiarie was upbeat and relentless on making us comfortable in her own special way. If you’ve never eaten ugali with salt and you’re reading this, well done, your parents must have supplied something to the NYS! I mean, how wouldn’t you have eaten githeri without beans and with only Kanyuria? Lazima there was a Ngirita or Waiguru in your family! Just to let you know, by the way, bread and cabbage tastes really good, well am not sure if it still does but it did then! This once you have historically made chapati. There’s only enough for the four of us and a few halves to carry for lunch the following day. You eat the round thing with the humility of Babu Owino asking for the forgiveness of Uhuru Kenyatta, you further do not wash your hands after eating so that the smell keeps you alive each time you sniff your hands. You sneak a piece of it into your blankets to nimble through the night, ofcourse the old blanket’s scent of urine becomes a non-issue that night so you cover yourself head to toe – you’d rather die, just like Hon Amos Kimunya. Sasa, the pain; you carry your chapati with cabbage the following day to school for lunch. That day you even want someone to answer your questions in class and reward then with a piece of chapati during lunch break. You make noise in class but you can’t be written as a noisemaker, speak in Kiswahili against the rules but you wouldn’t be given a monto since you’ve given them all a promise to ‘see them during lunch’ you are the real OG!
During break time, you do not even want to play outside that day. You choose to stay in class and keep guard of your ‘kingly dish.’ This is the day that every lesson feels like forever and nothing seems to hit your brain, not even CRE! You cannot wait for lunchtime! The magical bell rings! Everybody dashes to the back of the classroom to pick their dishes! You’re there, heart beating with lots of excitement and anticipation. You grab yours and rush outside to devour your meal. You sit strategically where every one can see you, yaani at the high table! You open your dish…see, those dishes used to have two compartments; the top white one that hosted chapati and now the rest of the dish atleast to house the ‘stew’…you cannot believe your eyes, the first floor is empty! You have been outdone in your own game! Someone had smelt chapati from a distance in class and had made their move, inside your dish! How it happened and when, you cannot tell! You sit there in depression, you curse the devil and his entire family….but that doesn’t return your chapati! You stare at the cabbages on ground floor and curse them (Sheila Reine do you see why they don’t like cabbages?)…..the pain lasts longer than a heart break!
My first job after highschool, working in a Posho Mill in town (My God rest the soul of Mr. Gichinga in peace). Carrying heavy sacks of unga and mahindi, loading and offloading used to be my job description. I used to go to work as a very neat and brown-skinned handsome yeng mehn only to return in the evening a white-skinned and white haired yeng old man, smelling like uncooked ugali especially on days when I got rained on! Worse still, some of those days I would apply Kimbo as Vaseline, so when the unga stuck on my arms and tulegs, I needed to remove the layers with a hard object! So this night, I had just been paid that day…bought myself a nice pair of fake Timberland boots and a pair of my very first jeans (and just like that my salary reached its end) and am so excited that I prayed for Sunday to fika so that I unleash my new look! I had gotten home exhausted and decided to wekelea myself on bed, I fall asleep! At some point in the night, I see very vivid torch lights in my karoom but I turn and imagine that am dreaming. The small dim torch light does not go away and I decide to wake up…alas! There was someone in the house! A thief! When I wake up, he dashes out of the house and I attempt to follow him. He stands and turns to mulika me on the face and says, “kuja hapa nikuue, jinga hii!” Weh! I value my life, so I run back to the small house, bolt from the inside and scream, “mwiiiiziii!” Well, foolish me, everybody in Thingithu minds their own business, especially in the night! Just like that, my first investment in Timberland and Jeans drinks water due to me leaving my door unbolted at night! Thieves in Thingithu are that bold!
nikiarie 