Written by Patrick Mukada
The reasons why comrades who come from the village and study in the city, find it uneasy to go back to the village for the long holiday.
It is true comrades at the end of the year find it hard to go back to the village, squeezing blood out of a guava is a much more easier task of I was to compare the two. The residents of the city have justifiable reasons for the same. The ones who have graduated and secured jobs move out of the village and don’t go back unless they are going to bury a close relative. In worse cases, they just send sadaka and the deal is done. Let the dead bury the dead, right? This piece is both personal and a reality for other people’s experiences too.
Back in the village there are these annoying, chang’aa sipping, cigarette smoking villagers who will be on your neck from the moment they set their eyes on you. It is quite unfortunate that they are the ones you meet first when you set foot in upcountry. Only God knows how one feels at that moment. You curse the devil for the bad things that happen in your life and try to smile at the same time.
” Look who is here, the son of Mwami Lakolo, Mr. Wambani! What have you brought us from the big city? We know things are great for people who go there.” They’re probably not aware of the floods killing people in Nairobbery. Even if I was to hustle, the only thing that would give me quick cash this season is a canoe,which I don’t own.
You will be told how you have disappeared for a whole decade. You will be given praise and be worshipped like a god. All this is extended to you with the hope that you will dig into your pockets and give them the remaining coins. Hey! In this hard economic times, a shilling is budgeted for.
One thing this guys don’t understand is that comrades in campus don’t work, and if they do, the little they have can barely sort bills for a light skinned mama in the city and themselves. I’m not a mean person,in fact more than once my mother gets mad at me for being extremely generous. Just ask Papa Joseph, the king of retweets and future Teso North MP, and he will tell you kindness will get you killed one day.
” Give me something, you are our own, ” they will not quit! ” you know right now I’m just going on air.” Haha. This guys really know how to go deep in your pockets. If you are the guilty conscience type, you will most definitely give them something. But I will not relent. I’m just not convinced that this guy is surviving on oxygen alone. What if I had not showed up, would he have died? The twenty shillings in my pocket is supposed to buy me airtime, but for them it means a cigarrette. No I won’t give you cancer. Goodbye.
My old man in the village was in the city when beer was two shillings and fifty cents. (Just ask someone who used to drink in the 70’s and you’ll know I’m not lying). So he thinks the helb loan is a lot of money and I will have savings to buy mboga from the butchery and not mama mboga for the season I’ll be home. That’s probably another reason to stay in the city. And oh, the transcript with a few D’s in mathematical units. He wouldn’t be amused that I was a genius in form four, made it to campus then became stupid.
One thing with the village, you can never escape the piercing eyes of the up country villagers. Everything about you amazes them; what you wear, how you walk, your hairstyle…and if you are a lady and you have taken the campus trendy wears to the village you become a slut. Mothers will tell you to stay in doors away from their evil gaze so that you are not bewitched.
Either way, I have no love lost for my village. I yearn to go back and chew sugar cane that has been plucked directly from the shamba. Yams and githeri are the best for breakfast. The livelyhood of the villagers is awesome. The spirit of ubuntu thrives and even a stranger will not suffer on the watch of the elders, unlike here in the city, where a knock at a relatives door might go unanswered. May the heavens open for the villagers and the city residents.