The county of Nyandarua is very rich agricultural-wise, but the road network there is terrible. It’s so bad that the most popular mode of transport is an FH lorry, designed to transport people. Taimajin!. There is a time I went to the interior of Nyandarua for supplies to re-sell in Nyairofi, and witnessed firsthand the challenges people face there. During that time, fresh supplies were very scarce in Nyairofi and the price of commodities was crazy. Someone tipped me that the only place cabbages were available at a good price was Nyandarua, and that if I was able to get to the interior, I would make good margins when I got the product to Nyairofi. Being a Greek who specializes in trading for a living, I embarked on the journey. I got to the interior of the County early in the morning, and the first sites I witnessed were shocking. Despite scarcity of supplies in Nyairofi, I witnessed rife rife a farmer feed 10 fresh cabbages to his cows for breakfast. He was even generous enough to remove the outer layer of the cabbage before feeding the cows. I witnessed this in several homes as I went around, and once the vehicle was full, I started planning my journey back to Nyairofi. Now, Nyandarua is one of the few places in the country where we still have rainmakers; whether fake or real. A man approached me and said that if I started the journey at that time, I would not make it to the tarmac because he had consulted with the gods and was sure heavy rain was about to fall. He strongly advised against leaving at that time because roads there are impassable after a short downfall. A few minutes after that conversation, water was flowing there like a river. Someone said they can organize for a place to sleep as long as I could afford the price. The price was ksh. 250 for “bed” and breakfast, and breakfast there is tea with 90% milk and only 10% water. So I decided to sleep there and try to make my journey the following day. That evening, I made sure the local bar was a happy place. Anyone who dared look at me would be answered with alcohol. Only a local school principal and I were consuming beers. The rest were consuming something they were calling “bradress” which I later came to know they meant brand-less alcohol. The alcohol is supplied in a 5-litre kibuyu which has no brand name and no sticker. It is the typical definition of you won’t know what ate you. I bought the 5 litle kibuyu at 400 and kept it at the counter, and would signal the waiter to serve anyone who requested me for a drink. It was a happy night.
Unfortunately the following day, the rains were even heavier. The rainmaker, who had been part of the drinking the previous night, advised me not to leave again. He said two FHs ferrying people from Nyairofi had gotten stuck, sembuse me with an old bikafu. I decided to stay for another night. One thing I forgot to mention is that Nyandarua is fery fery cold. Now, another cold night at my luxurious ksh. 250 room was not something that was going down well with me. Having known the village dynamics by now, I consulted with a bodaboda guy, who was my local compass and asked him if there was any form of help available, for a man with “money” who was feeling very cold at night by himself. He said we can meet at the local joint at 7pm and he will have the answer. At exactly 7PM, I walked into the bar to cheers of previous-day beneficiaries of my generosity. Once again, I did as the day before and requested for bradress for them. Shortly after, my boda guy arrived there with two kienyejis, who were quickly introduced as his friends and former classmates. I told them to ask for a drink as we got to know each other, and to my surprise they asked for tea with a thermos. This initially got me worried, but as the night went on, and as we got to know each other, I realized that I was dealing with village-hardened kienyejis, who knew very well what they were coming for, based on our conversations. It was also clear that the boda guy had given them a very good brief, and I did not need to explain myself that much. At around 1am, I was ready to go to sleep. I went to the counter and asked the barman if he had ‘weapons.’ He shook his head slowly and told me that those ones are only found in a local shop owned by one Wa-Kigo, who was by now closed. I went back to my boda guy for more advice. He told me that since he knew Wa-kigo, he would try to call him. We went outside and made a call, but Wa-Kigo did not answer. The boda guy not wanting to let his ‘boss’ down told me that we can ride to the shop, and try knocking and calling from there. At that time, temperatures are usually freezing there, and riding on a boda without a helmet felt like my face was being cut with a razor. We arrived there, and after calling and knocking, we provoked the dogs which started barking and scratching the gate, wanting to come out and pounce on us. There was one particular black dog that was surely a reincarnation of my ancestors, because it was growling so aggressively, as if telling me to give up on the mission. All this noise woke Wa-Kigo and he answered the call. He was put on loudspeaker and my boda guy first apologized for waking him up that late.
“Nikii murenda utuku ucio wothe? (What do you want that late?)”
“Eeeh, turendaaa….kiria aah…, noh uke tukwirire haha nja? (Eeeh, unaeza toka tukwambilie hapa nje?)”
Wa-Kigo insisted that if we didn’t say what he wanted, he can’t come out.
“Aaah, tukwedaga indo cia andu agima (we want to buy adult stuff).”
Wueh! There was a pause from Wa-Kigo, and just when I thought he was coming, he said “kubaff ici noh munjukirie thaa mugwanja ni tondu wa waganu? (Kubaff hizi mnaeza niamsha saa saba sababu ya tabia mbaya?) Nyinyi hapana adabu ata kidogo!”
He cursed a few words and said that if we were not gone from his gate immediately, we would see kanyoni wa ng’ethe. My boda guy told me that Wa-Kigo was once in the military, and he had actually showed several people kanyoni wa ngethe in the past for rattling him. Honestly if I had known he was an old man, I wouldn’t have agreed to the idea of waking him up to buy weapons. As we headed back to the bar dejected, the boda guy told me that he has a friend of his in the boda sector, who could be having some stock. He called him severally to wake him, and the guy agreed to help. He however said he would charge double the price, because sharing his stock meant he would have to forego an important morning session. I said bad is bad and we went to collect the ‘weapons’. By the time we got back, it was almost 2am, I was freezing, the bar was closed and the kienyejis gone!
These are called the negative social impacts of bad infrastructure.
Heheeee
:D:D:D:D:D
Nice hekaya
Hio ndio masaibu ya @propesa na @Motokubwa
Jamaa walinunua shamba pale Kinangop expecting to take over the potato and carrot market by storm.
Ole wao probox zenye walichukua na loan zilienda kukwama huko.
Hekaya safi sana ya kufungua mwaka
:D:D:D
Hapa ni 4x4 or nothing
Good stuff.neo African short stories
Chifu tafadhali acknowledge source. Tunajua handwriting yako … hekaya iko on point still.
Safi sana … kuna place huko interior huitwa Kaheho cz ile baridi ya pale ni gori sana.
Ole Weru
:D:D:D:D:D:D:Dthe end kali sana
Nyandarua should be made part of Nakuru
Rather it should be split up among the neighbouring counties
nice hekaya