WRITING Part 2; WALK A MILE IN MY SHOES

UUUUUIIII….. WEZI….. WEZI!!!!…….UUUUUUIIIIIIIIIII……. TUMESHIKA WEZIIII!!!!…….. LETA TAYA!!!….. WAPI TAYA!!!!…….LEO LAZIMA WATUKOME!!!…….. TUNAWACHOMA NYINYI MAGHASIA!!!!……LETA TAYA!!!!…

Fracas ensues. Commotion non grata. One moment he felt calm, cool, collected, as he walked into their neighbourhood mini supermarket like he owned it, the next he was kissing the floor, hands behind his head, fingers intertwined, begging for his life. 

“It all felt so surreal Diana. Like I was watching a fast paced movie unfold, the Fast and Furious 7, yet this was all real, happening to me, in real time.” 

.....

He was sweating. He was shaking. He was crying. His school uniform was in shambles. His bag no where in sight. His body aching from the beating he was getting, bruises all over, blood spouting, from which part of his body, he couldn’t tell.  He might have even peed himself, but he refuses to acknowledge that part. All he knew from that point on, was that that was the end of him. He saw death coming at him like a rally driver. But even in such harrowing pain, his mind found a way to think about his short lived life and the people he would leave behind. Brains are funny like that. He wondered if anyone would miss him, wondered if they would even notice that he wasn’t there anymore. Wondered if his mom would shed a tear, maybe two, or be too embarrassed to even go pick his body at the morgue.…What of his little sister, and little brother, they for sure would mourn him right? His stepdad would throw a feast, buy his friends a boti, goodbye and good riddance, one less mouth to feed, he was sure he would say. Was that it? Was all the 15 years of his existence going to be totalled up to, “Alikufa kama mwizi!!”

“Your lips are moving, but no one gives a shit about what you have to say. Whether you are guilty or not. Whether that was your first time or not. Whether you were a kid or not. Your body is being jacked left right and centre, everyone trying to get their hands on you. You’re being spit on, stones are thrown your way, most of them landing, painfully. Unakejeliwa. Unachekwa. Unatusiwa. You are just a lowless bag of meat and bones in their eyes, simple trash, garbage. If they could conjure the resident dogs to eat us up, they would have. A dog for a dog they said. Mbwa aliwe na mbwa mwezake! So many feelings, so many people, and the crowd kept growing with every blink of an eye. Some were watching from their balconies, others kept a clean distance but most had found their way to us, throwing anything they could lay their hands on at us. They were angry Dee, really really angry…they wanted blood, nothing less. They had all come for one and only one thing, BLOOD!”  

MMETUZOE SANA NYINYI MAUBWA!!!!…….. WAPI TAYA!!…… LETA TAYA!!!……. HII HAITOSHI!!!….ONGEZA TAYA!!!!!…….MTATUTAMBUA LEO NYINYI MAGHASIA!!!!!!!!……WEZI!!!…….WEZI!!…… TUMESHIKA WEZI!!!…… SIKU YENU YA AROBAINI IMEFIKA FINARRY!!!……MLIJIONA WEREVU NYINYI SIO??!!!!!HEEEE!!!!!!!……. LETA TAYA!!!…….. WAPI TAYA!!!…… NANI AKO NA KIBERITI!!!…….BOSS LETA VIBERITI!!!……TUNAWAMALIZA LEO NYINYI MAUBWA!!!…… TUMESHIKA WEZIII!!!...... LETA TAYA!!!!.....HII HAITOSHI!!!!!!!..... ONGEZA TAYA!!!…….. THEY MUST DIE!!!!!.......THEY MUST SUFFER!!!......LEO NI LEO!!!! …….MMETUSUMBUA SANA HII MTAA, MNADHANI TUNANG’ANG’ANA HIVI VYOTE NDO TUWALISHE NYINYI???!!!…. NONSENSE!!……BURN THEM!!!!…….LIGHT THEM UP!!!!!!……WAPI TAYA!!!!……. WAPI KIBERITI….MLETE HIZO VITU HARAKA BWANA!!!!…..

“Dee, ushawai ona kifo mbele yako? I watched as my ‘friends’ were being torched to death….you don’t know what that does to a person, a teenage boy. It took me years to eat meat again. I couldn’t even pass next to a nyama choma joint, the smell alone made me want to throw up, most times I did….I didn’t sleep for days after that, the trauma was so intense, I think I had PTSD, I just couldn’t name it at the time. To make matters worse, I had to deal with that all on my own. I couldn’t ati tell my mum I was almost burnt to death by a mob because they caught me stealing, yeye mwenyewe ndo angenisindikiza kwa polisi aki ya nani!!!. It took me years to come to terms with it, to even tell a soul…you were the 2nd person I’ve told this story to…..”

….

“Eeeeiiiiiiii……DJ DJ…PULLLL UP!!!……REWIND SELECTOR….Wait wait wait….hold up! Umetupeleka mbio sana Diana. First and foremost, tunajua unapenda jokes sana, Is this story true?” 

Yes it is Dennis, as real as Baba’a death. RIP to that LEGEND man. Jowi!!!

Jowi!!! 

On the real though, say WORD!!!

I kid you not, Deno….I wouldn’t play with matters as serious as these. It’s an actual description of true events. Real people, real timelines and all of that shebang.

Wah, sawa bas….how does he come out of that whole mess alive?….ebu endelea na story sasa...

Acha pupa Deno, si you know I got you. Ni wewe ndo umenikatizia ata. Make your popcorn, a mug of coffee, your slow jazz acoustic playlist, enda ususu and cozy up for the rest of this piece, I promise you, it deserves it. Now let’s go back to the beginning. The very beginning. ……

.....

What happens the first time you break up with your first love? 

You get back together with him right? 

Oh man, that's the predicament I found myself in. Ebu wacha kunijudge, we’ve all been there. That place where you think moving on would be a walk in the park. Call it off today and and think you’ll be on your merry way the next, kumbe!? 

You quickly learn that when the wahengas coined "can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t breath without you" cliches, they were actually right. Hapo ndo nilijipata, and went back I did. Kujiingiza box tena to be real honest with you coz the effort that was put into winning me back was, well, the barest of minimums. But whereas previously I was all in, this time around, my head was screwed on proper. I went back with my heart sure, but I took my brain along to. Sikuingia iyo box na mwili yote, niliacha mguu moja nje. 

Why do that, I know you are wondering. I can bet that leg, that leg that I left outside, on it. 

Why not just leave that situation for good, there must have been a reason why y’all broke up to start with.

I tried to, walai I did. When I walked away, I never meant to go back. Before I call it quits, I’m one person who does the most, pulls the most. Takes the most. To a point that I look, and feel stupid. After the emotions fade, I normally don’t believe that ni mimi nilivumilia iyo yote. Ati because of love, UPUSS!!… . 

You see, mahali niliblanda was putting him at the centre of my universe. We did everything together. I had no life of my own without him. His friends became my friends. My own friends, I kinda neglected. To a point that they had to come to his house to see me. They’d call him to get to me. They started making plans without me. If they included me, I wouldn’t show up anyway. All the guys on my phonebook, friends included, stopped the Heys na kujisalamia once it sank that shawry was never gonna reply. There’s only so much blue ticks a boy can take no? And guess what, we were in the same class with this boyfriend of mine. Whenever I was free, he was also free. Joint at the hip nini nini. We’d go to class from his place, the few times that we did anyway, then pass by my place, pick a few clothes, then proceed to his where we’d Netflix and chill  all day everyday with our good friend MaryJane, till the next time our class rep texts, “Yoh, we got a CAT kesho!!!” 

My life was hell when we broke up. I was heartbroken sure, but what got to me the most was the fact that I technically didn’t have friends to bitch about him to. No one to take my mind off of him. Nothing to take my mind off of him. MaryJane could only do so much. That was the period I started drinking actually, hard liquor that is, my boy bestie introduced me to it, said I looked like a ghost, 

“Kwani uyu kijana amekufanyia nini Dee? Aiii hapana! We must get your old self back! Do you know how many guys are excited now that you are back in the market?! Ebu vaa vizuri, shots on me, na usijaribu kukata…” 

I didn't, nitoe wapi nguvu?! And it worked great for a while, but only for a while. At the time we were on internal attachment, that was only offered to engineering and computer science students, sasa my roommate and girlfriends were back home for their long holiday. Alafu the attachment thing would only take like two three hours max, in a day. The rest of it, the 21 hours of it, was just me and my broken heart. The amount of pot I smoked those two three months weuh, I’d have given Snoop a run for his money. Nilikuwa mpweke na peke yangu. My phone was as dry as Kerry Martin’s jokes. How do you start a conversation that you left off 9 months before huh? How do you go like, 'opps sorry, ndo nimeona text yako sahii,' 7 months after?!! How do you do that?

Ilibidi nijirudishe box wadau, aki don’t judge me. But this time around I swore to have a life of my own, nikijitoa pole pole. It’s not that I was willing it to fail, matter of fact I really really wanted it to work out, but just incase it didn’t, I wouldn’t be as broken and as alone as I had been previously. So when a particularly nag of a classmate pulls at me to go join his salsa dance squad, I obliged. Not because I found the dance particularly interesting, I mean, who in Kenya dances to latin music even?! I can almost bet that 90% of y’all reading this have never even been in an event where salsa is the main form of entertainment? Cheki, don’t feel embarrassed, ata mimi I had never been to one either. Break dance sure, but salsa, naaah, not in this lifetime.

I went for one and only one reason, to get the dude off my back. There’s only so much ‘Dee, si ulisema utakuja leo to try out’ a girl can take. He used to hound me in class, on the streets, hapo kwa base ya Mose nikinunua smocha, in my hostel….everywhere!!! He was in every nook and cranny, I couldn’t escape him bana. On this particular day, I met him on his way to their training grounds, carrying their music equipment. He stopped me for like 10 minutes straight akinibembeleza I go with him, hadi his mates were clearly irritated, they’d watched him do this dance with me twelve times over, to no avail. “Ah twende bana…kina nani wanatungoja bana!” 

“Urgh, fuck it, twende!” I gave in, to everyone’s shock. 

What was I going to do in the hostel anyway, puff some and watch Big Bang Theory for the hundreth time over? Iniboo nijipate on a mat on my way to my boyfriend’s place uko Kamakwa? Naaah not this brand new Diana! Digehota!!!! 

That choice turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life. There, I met a bunch of misfits. A bunch of degenerates, renegades, machizi. Ah, finally, I had met my clan. I only have fond memories of my time there, with them. Even on the worst of days, and they were many (we hardly ever won any dance competitions), even on that fateful day that mawatchy walituvamia, it felt like home. They felt like home. Having lost a friend young, I’ve learnt to give people their flowers while they can still appreciate them. Here’s to Dekut Salsa Squad, year 2017/2018 y’all saved my life. I know you don’t know this, I know for y’all it was all just fun and games, for me, it was my life on the line. I was getting back to myself. Rediscovering who I was after letting a relationship define who I had been. I was smoking so so much pot, and drinking like my life depended on it. My mental health was shit, and my physical self unhealthy af. I needed friends and y’all pulled up. I needed a squad and y’all took my hand and made me feel like my old self again, that bad B that I used to be. The fun, unserious, curious, outgoing baddie that I forever am. Thank you.

I started to look forward to my evenings. 4.30 pm, a girl was dressed and on the ready. I learnt the dance pretty quick and sealed my spot in the main line up. We’d jest and banter, stretch out and curse out while shaking it to the max. Kukatiana was the order of the day. Kuchongoana came in a close second…….sometimes you’d dish it out, other times it would be you on the hot seat, ukipashwa. If you couldn’t take it, you had no business being on the squad, was the unsaid 1st rule. You’d start off a little shy and reserved, within a week you’d be the one calling everyone “Matako! Umbwa koko wewe!”. Soon enough that relationship of mine was kaput! Forgotten, dead, and buried. A girl had just entered a different and completely new phase of her life. The season of HER! I was balling, I was vibing, I was single and couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone else thought….then enters Davi…

He was a hard guy to miss. And believe me, I tried to miss. Nothing was going to threaten my new found life-of-the-party single life, I had sworn to it. Pinky sworn to it, by myself. But negro just had a way of bulldozing through all my defences. I kept lying that I was still in a relationship way after it was kaput, just to keep my distance, lakini Davi ni nani!? I could say it was about his physic; lean frame, next to zero body fat, them abs, good heavens those abs, kidogo beards that connected with his sideburns, dreadlocks and the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen on a nigga. Eish that smile yawah, it was Tea. Also he could dress. Nigga had style for days. I think what I am trying to say, to put it simply, alikuwa type yangu kabsaaa!!!! Funny enough, that wasn’t exactly it though, the whole squad was build on muscles and off the roofs testosterone  levels. They had to be with all the lifting they were doing. Dare you stamble with a girl's life in your hands mid lift! Wewe kwisha!!! Your life in uni would be hell from then on. Uko ilikuwa kukula tu kwa macho nani. It wasn’t once or twice that I had my girlfriends asking, “Na uyo mlikuwa mnadance na yeye ni nani?” Not once or twice my guy. Not once or twice.

Passion. That’s the word I’ve been looking for. It was his passion for the dance. His obsession. The level of excitement that he had. You'd see it with every swing of his hips, every shine, with every dip and drop. I’d watch him dance and I’d be left in awe, marvelling. He danced with his heart and he did it beautifully. Like it was the only thing that mattered, at least for the two three hours we were practising. Something in his aura, told you that the guy was a great lover too. Could have been his concentration, or maybe his attention to detail, might have been his discipline, or maybe the way he took his time with you, going at your own pace, never giving up on you, as he taught you the dance. He was the team choreographer, and doubled down as the Captain. It wasn’t an elected post, I don’t think the team had ever sat down to say “yeah, iyo role tupee Davi.” He wasn’t even the one who started the dance. Nope, he just showed up one day and the role was taken. It was in the way he carried himself, which trickled down to the entire team. He always showed up for practice on time, in full gear. Led the warm up sessions and the warm downs there after. He hardly ever missed practise, unless it was something to do with his class work a.k.a his project (he was in fourth year) and he dealt with the school’s admin, the dean of Arts & Sports on our behalf. Being Captain fitted him like a well tailored suit. As a rookie, no one had to tell me who the Captain was. I just knew. He taught me everything I know about the dance, and he was patient with that too. 

On one occasion, like was the norm most Fridays after the practice session, we passed by Mose’s, smocha mbili tatu then off we went to kill our livers, at the comrades favourite joint, Afco. Me being me, a tease and a big flirt, having always wondered why he never came with us, broached the subject head on,

“Yoh, you never come with us, why?”

“I don’t drink….”

“No way!!! You’re lying!!!”

“Walai I don’t!”

“Mimi I don’t believe you…”

“Aki ya Mungu Dee….unataka nilambe mchanga ndo uamini?”

“But how???? You don’t look it one bit…Is it that you’re sick or something? Daktari alikukataza kuzitumia?!”

“Naaah…it’s just a personal preference….It’s not like I have never, I used to nikawacha. Ah acha kuniangalia ivo Dee”

You meet someone, he seems so cool, so down to earth, so down to doing whatever you’re used to doing then he tells you he doesn’t partake. Eeiii it took me a minute to register people like that actually existed.I didn’t believe it. Didn’t believe him.

“But si I’ve seen you in Afco before…ama ni mimi naota.”

“Uyo haikuwa mimi…Uliza ata kina Tony…”

“Gai, so you’re not coming with us?”

“If you want me to I will…”

“For the team Davi😌…”

He came, and my tipsy self still couldn’t believe that he didn’t drink. Said he didn’t smoke either….

“Come on, shot mojo tu. Huoni how weird it looks you being here with no tumbler?….Ushafika, might as well….here, take a sip from my cup.”

“Aah Dee, Imagine I’m good. I don’t mind y’all drinking. I really don’t”

“Just a sip…come on boy😏”

“Fine…lemme get my own basi, just a shot lakini”

(Yeah yeah yeah, I was that girl. The shot moja tu girl. I am not proud of it. But si we grow and we learn. Anyway, I never put a gun to anyone’s head. Ata mimi nilifanyiwa ivo hehe)

And there on began a friendship that no one saw coming. I didn’t. He didn’t. The whole squad didn’t. My girlfriends didn’t. 

“Eeeh gai, kwani bado unaongeanga na Davi?!! Waaah…..I never thought y’all would last! Kwanza the way it began….” A friend or two would ask.

Maybe that’s the sole reason we have lasted this long. The fact that it wasn’t intentional. The fact that we gravitated towards each other when we looked like the most unlikely of friends. The universe doing it’s thing sort of thing. What God puts together no man shall lay asunder, he’d like to say. Coz good heavens, we’ve been through it. He’s blocked me once or twice. I’ve given up on him once or twice. We’ve gone for months without talking. Then we’ve talked everyday most of the day. I’ve taken him for granted, he’s dated my friend and forgot all about me. He’s seen me through heartaches and failed business launches. I’ve seen him through brokeness and desperation. He’s seen me though mental breakdowns, addiction, and getting myself out of that mess, and he patiently stood by me. I’ve seen him through family feuds, its resolutions, trying to find himself, and his purpose in life. His journey in faith, losing it and rediscovering it again one two three times over. He’s seen me through a boyfriend or two, a fling here and a situationship there,,,an engagement and its dissolution thereafter, pregnancy and then motherhood. I’ve seen him through a mirage of ladies. Eiiiii, Davi was a ladies man. Iyo nayo sitawadanganya. He didn’t drink liquor lakini wanawake nao, kuwakunywa kuwamaliza. He is a reformed man now, he tells me, he calls it an evil spirit that was in him, like all church men say, we agreed to disagree on that point. I was the constant third wheel that his girlfriends hated, he was the constant man in my life, that the men chasing had to call to ask, “You and Dee, y’all are just friends right?” I watched him become a dad, how beautiful that was, made me crave my own little one. But before the friendship bit though, or maybe because of it, first came a romance that would put telenovelas to shame. Heated, extra, crazy, wild. And maybe a little toxic. Ok, fine, super super toxic. Right on the heels of me ‘forcing’ him to take a shot. 

Kisses in the rain. Stolen stares at practice. Inside jokes that only the two of us could catch, morning runs in the cold Nyeri air, him running, me on his back.... Midnight star gazing....Oh man, it was a whirlwind. We could talk for hours on end. About nothing, then about everything. It was never a bore with him. Up to date it has never been. We are different in a lot of ways, we see the world in different shades of different colours, we’d argue most times, but we always came back to a similar conclusion, Agree to disagree. I respect your opinion just as much as you respect mine. At the end of the day, as long as what you believe in makes you feel better, do better and become a better version of you than the guy you were yesterday, we’d be good. I liked that most about him. That he didn’t judge. Never judged. He’d let you move at your own pace, but he’d tell you his two cents about it nonetheless. You should see the comment he left on my DADDY ISSUES post. Our conversations were solid. Very real, very raw and super super honest. He let me see his wounds, his childhood traumas and the battles he was fighting at the time. His life and his stories took me on a journey of places I had never been. Of feelings I had never felt. Of perspectives I had never thought of. It is because of those stories, of those perspectives that I am penning this piece down. When I sent him a voice note with the questions I needed him to answer for this article, and he took some long ass time to get back to me, nilishikwa na tumbo joto. “Ama he’s changed his mind…ama he’s realised his story is too personal, he doesn’t want to share it anymore???”….Questions and more questions till I finally decided to call him and ask it straight up.

“Mimi I’m not ashamed of my past Diana. I am who I am because of it.”

“Maisha yako ni kama findio, kama ndrama Davi…uko sure unaniambia ukweli ama hizo zilikuwa tu story za jaba?” I asked him. “I felt so connected with you because of how vulnerable you were with me alafu I come to realise that you’ve told a billion people the same lines, or maybe even different versions of it”

“Lazma niconfuse watu kwa hii streets,” he joked. “Not everyone deserves to know who you are,” 

I swear I could feel him winking at me through the phone. 

…..

He was born in the Lake region, Siaya County. His mom was young, his dad a ladies man. In search of greener pastures, his mum sets of for the city, leaving him in the care of her folks, his grandparents. His childhood was fun, he tells me, he didn’t speak a dime of Swahili, but so didn’t everyone else in the region. Duf mpararo was the order of the day. He played games that kids play in the village, football made of polythene papers, climbing trees, stealing sugarcane from the neighbour's farm (their's apparently didn’t taste as sweet). All in all, he was a naughty kid but got all the love that a boy needed at his age. He felt at home with his grandparents. For the longest time as a kid, he knew them as his parents. He called his grandma mom and his granddad dad. Having have had 8 girls and only two sons, of whom passed away, his grandparents took him on as the son they had always longed for. Most especially his grandma. 

“If there’s anyone I want to treat out right now Dee, that would be my grandma. I respect that woman so much. She’s my heart!” He tells me. 

There’s a softness to his voice, a slight pause, as if his mind has taken him back to her kitchen, watching her prepare supper as she scorns him of one misdid or another. (He was always up to no good, all harmless, but no good nonetheless) You feel how fond he is of her rather than hear it.

“I would give her the world if I could Dee. Thing is though, I don’t think she even wants that.”

They had cattle. They had land. They grew sugarcane on that land. Miles and miles of sugarcane plantation, and they had a church on that same piece of land, just a couple of meters from their main house (nyumba kubwa). His grandpa was a pastor, that’s where his journey in faith began, and a respected elder in that community. He had a multitude of cousins, and of course aunties. The house was packed and needless to say, friends were a dime a dozen, and he, the pack leader. 

One day an Aunt from the city comes visiting, she’s full of stories about the giant buildings, towering skyscrapers, the loudness, the hustle and bustle of city life, and he, like all his cousins, was amazed. Their tiny minds couldn’t believe a place like that existed. She also comes with a “Mama yako amekusalimia…” Mama yangu?!! Wachumean ati mama yangu?! How could his mum say hi when she was right there with him in the village?! That info was too much for a six year old to take on. He had heard it before, once or twice, from one of his other aunties in the village, but never payed attention to it. What his mind held on to though, was the thought of Nairobi. He bombarded his aunt with questions. “Do the kids there go to school? Do they speak dholuo? Do they this….do they that?? How do the buildings stay straight? What if strong winds blow, do they shake? What do they eat? Are they next to a Lake? Do they have rivers…” Questions upon questions, all to feed his little curious mind. That entire week he became his auntie’s shadow, tied to her hip, so when the time came for her to set off, back to the city, back to her life and her husband, he sneaks in and hides among the language. The conductor finds him but by that point, they were too far off to send him back to the village, alone. He just had to see for himself what this Nairobi was all about. 

A dove is sent back to village with a message reading, “Kijana yu buheri wa afya, alikuja nami Nairobi. Nitampeleka kwa mamake wakae naye.” Everyone in the village breathes a sigh of relief, and his new life as a city boy ensues. 

…..

How did you find Nairobi, the minute you got there?

“It wasn’t really what I had expected.” He tells me.

“What had you expected kwani?” I press on.

“Not what I got for sure. Maybe I shouldn’t put it on Nairobi as a whole, more of my reception, at my mums. I knew no one was happy that I had snuck off like that, but you know, maybe a bear hug before the beating. She hadn’t seen me in so long…it all just felt a bit meh…”

“Was she living alone?”

“Naaah, there was a guy living with her, my stepdad, and my brother was like one, maybe two years old at the time.”

“Did you feel welcome in that house?”

He goes quiet. The type of silence that speaks volumes.

She took him on nonetheless. signs him up in school nearby, a walking distance from home. There, he finds out that he was different. That not being able to speak Swahili made him the target of all jokes and unsavoury words. Add to that, he was a village boy, with a village boy personality.

“Kids can be mean Dee, si walinionyesha mambo!!….They didn’t want to include me in anything. I sat alone in class, ate my lunch alone, sat alone at the corner while I watched them play…they made faces at me, said that I stank, Imagine going through all that at six, it was a misery. I was miserable. So much so that I refused to go back to school till I got to learn Swahili. That took almost 2 years of me just staying at home, helping mum out sometimes, learning the streets other times. Looking back, I think that’s how my trauma started. Not fitting in, but trying so desperately to.”

“Did it ever cross your mind to go back to the village? To your grandma? I am sure she would have taken you back in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, one thing I might have left out. The day before I snuck of to the city, our neighbour had caught me stealing his sugarcane. It wasn’t the first time either. He had reported me and the hearing was set to be heard the next day (the day that I ran)…I was curious about Nairobi sure, but I was also escaping a beating!…Going back there wasn’t an option, I was still scared of the beating that I thought still awaited me and to top that off, zingine za kutoroka. Plus I think mom would have been ashamed to take me back, I was her responsibility after all, na nilikuwa nimejileta.”

By the time he goes back to school, he is not only fluent in Swahili, but he also picks up school pretty quick. He became the definition of book smart, and street smart. Si he had enough time to familiarise himself with the streets!.

“Was it smooth sailing from then on? Did the kids finally accept you?”

“Ehhh kwanza nikakua ring leader. They all wanted to be where I was, doing what I was doing.”

“What had you been upto the months you were away lakini? Knowing you, you aren’t one to stay put, and I bet that didn’t just start at Uni.”

“Nothing good Diana….eiiii mimi I was a menace, nilikuwa nachapwa almost on a daily. Na mamangu hakuwa ananihurumia, nikupigwa kuvunjwa. For some reason. that made me even worse.”

“Ebu give me an example of what it is that you used to do?”

“Ushaiskia klepto?….I was a kleptomaniac bad bad….Ilikuwa kama spirit. Anything that I’d meet, mimi I would take it. There are things that didn’t even make sense. Nitumwe kwa jirani na nione katwenty bob juu ya meza, napita nayo!” 

I crack up.

"Whachu mean a spirit? Those were choices you were making….is it like you needed the money ama? Ulikuwa unalishwa vizuri home?”

“My life at home was complicated but that wasn’t it ata. Si even back home in Siaya nilikuwa naiba miwa yet we had a farm full of them. Ilikuwa kaspirit walai…the first few days when I got to Nairobi, I saw these toys mtu ameanika chini akiuza, nikapita na kamoja….people started yelling mwizi mwizi….sema kuchapwa!!! Nilivunjwa Dee… I told my mum that I didn’t know zilikuwa za kuuzwa, that I thought zilikuwa zimeachwa for anyone to take but I lied. I knew they were being sold, and yes, before you ask it, I knew that stealing was wrong.”

“LMAO!!! Aki Davi….”

“Ata usicheke Dee….hii ni serious. Ningetumwa kwa mama Mboga, the minute she looks away, maembe ivo kwa mfuko…anything went, nyanya, vitungu….long as I could get away with it, I took it.”

“Do you think you were doing all this to get attention?…Because from my end it seems like no one really gave you enough thought up until they had a cane to your behind…”

Long silence, as if he is reflecting on that question…..

”I don’t know….maybe, maybe not…mimi najua tu iyo ilikuwa kaspirit ndani yangu.”

“Well, ok. So back to school, how was it like? Did you end up finishing school there?”

“Naaah, I changed schools around class 6 hapo….and my mum didn’t even notice, would you believe that”

“Aiiii how now, what about your uniform? And books???”

“Maisha ya slum wewe huwezi elewa Dee….In a class of like 300, do you really think a teacher would notice ati Kevin is missing?….My mum never came for any of those ati parent-teacher meetings, most parents don't bother with those uko ghetto, too busy trying to put meals on the table, bora tu nimpeleke report card at the end of the term, yeye she was easy. That’s how I started skipping classes actually. And hanging out with machokosh. If no one notices whether I was actually in school or not, why would I go?”

“Ngoja ngoja, umenipeleka mbio hapo…..first and foremost, you changed schools, why?”

“Nilikuwa nimesumbua sana, what pushed the teachers to the edge is when I made a hole on the wall to look through the neighbours house when they were busy…well, walikuwa katikati ya twa twa, if you know what I mean..”

“Wait wait wait, hold up….kwani your school was in a residential area?”

“Si that’s how things are in the Ghetto Diana…and yes, ilikuwa ya matope pia. We shared a back wall with residential houses.”

“Sasa after that beating ukaamua uhame?”

“Yeap, plus the headteacher was smoking a lot of pot….everywhere. In his office, in class while he was teaching, at the staffroom….sasa kama the headteacher was like that, imagine what the other teachers were upto….I didn’t feel challenged uko…I wanted more, so much more..”

“But why not tell your mum?…she must have noticed…”

“Iyo haikuwa inamhusu…”

“Ok, fine….around this time, how is life back at home?”

Pause. Long long pause. He doesn’t want to talk about that part.

“Ilikuwa tu.”

“Were you getting along with your step dad?” I pressed on.

Another long pause. This one is a sore topic.  

“Not particularly.” He finally says. In a grunt. A grunt that’s supposed to tell me, “ Argh…Could we move on please…” 

He’s starting to shut down. To close off. So I deploy a different tactic. “How’s your little boy btw? He must be so big now….”

And it works, the tactic works. He’s excited. He lights up. His voice changes, it softens. The little one is his pride and joy, you can feel it.

“Aaah Mwanaume mkubwa uyo…He started school already. Ngoja, I’ll send you a pic of him in his uniform, it’s so adorable….sometimes it still beats me that I made such a human being. Ati I’m a dad…wa wa wa sema waaaaaa….”

“How does that work, coparenting and stuff?”

“It was tough in the beginning but we make it work. We’ve finally come to a good place.On days my shift starts in the afternoon he spends the night kwangu, then I drop him off at school the next morning. My life right now revolves around that little man. Najituma design najituma because of him…I hardly even have a life of my own really….I don’t want him to go through what I went through growing up.”

He jumps. He didn’t mean to say that.

What did you grow through growing up David?….Growing up in the ghetto ama?

He breaths in, slow, for what feels like a millennia. And exhales, for another 99 years. “Yeah, there’s that,” he finally says…”For the longest time I felt unloved. Unwanted. Like I was a bother. A nuisance. A big nuisance…” 

It was as though he’d said fuck it, I’ve already let one part slip, might as well…. 

“I don’t want my son to ever feel that!”

“Is that how and why you ended up in the streets those four five days?”

“Ahhh unakumbaka iyo part kumbe!”

“You know me, I remember the things that matter 😉”

“Well….I had never looked at it that way…damn, when you told me you wanted to write my story, I didn’t think we’d go down this route.”

“Wewe! Aki don’t do that, you can’t change your mind right now, we’re already too far gone…”

“Usijali, irrrizzzwairriizzz”

“Still, you’ll get the first copy…I won’t publish it until you give me your go ahead, cross my heart!”

“I trust you Dee.”

“When I came from shags,” he goes on, his inhibitions finally off, “my mum was already married and I had a kid bro. For someone who hadn’t seen me for so long, so much so that I thought my grandma was my mum, I thought she’d be happy, maybe even shed a tear. Hug me tight, tell me how much she’d missed me, you know……even though I had snuck off, I expected that in the least. Si that’s who mother’s are? But instead, the reception was cold. You try to get it as a kid, you had literally come unannounced, uninvited, but I guess that sticks with you even as you grow. The hidden trauma’s you don’t even realise you have up until it’s too late and it has already boiled over. Ni juzi juzi tu ndo I’ve mended my relationship with my mother, by the graces of God. I came to realise being bitter was only affecting me and anyway, our parents are just as human as we are, flawed and clueless most times. And then there was my step dad. I knew he didn’t want me the moment I got there. The energy just shifted. It was in the way he looked at me, the way he interacted with me. Nilikuwa kama kombamwiko in his presence. Always there but he preferred it if I remained hidden. Never did he ever treat me like a son, we operated on fear based existence. He used to beat me bwana…until I bled. Not once, not twice…a thousand times over…and most times it would be for the dumbest of things…ati why was I breathing the same air as him?!!…why was I even breathing to start with…”

He’s angry. I now get why he didn’t want to go there. It’s like he’s back to that 10 year old kid getting a beating like a dog. A stray dog. Mbwa koko. I feel for him. I wanna hug that little boy so badly, to tell him there there little man, you’ll grow up to be one hell of a person…achana na uyu ghasia…

“Where was your mum when all this was happening?”

“Alikuwa tu…she just let it happen. Sometimes ata mbele yake.”

“Why do you think she never jumped in to help you?”

“Simple, she didn’t want to lose him.”

“Do you hate her for that?”

“I used to, but I’ve dealt with it. I won’t lie, there are moments, especially my low moments, that my mind takes me back to that house, back to Koch, and I remember everything like it was yesterday. I still smell and taste the blood running down my face. And I get angry, really really angry but who is God, He is the redemption I’ve always needed. We talked it out….I might never get to understand it but she’s still my mum….irrizzwairrizzz”

“So that’s how you ended up in the streets, after one of them beatings right?”

“Yeah…plus hao machokosh si walikuwa mabeshte zangu. Every time I skipped school I was with them. I never really liked being home that much anyway…and we were making money eish…mimi kupenda pesa nilanza kitambo.”

“Making money?!!! How??”

“Kuuza tins, this metallic ones. We’d ramage through takataka….I think a Kg would go for 40 bob….40 bob iyo time, as a kid, ilikuwa pesa mingi sana. Iyo umekula chapo madondo imeongezwa supu ya nyama and have enough left for a movie. Imagine sasa you spend the whole day rummaging and get like 10Kgs worth of metal, iyo siku ni sherehe mamaa…”

“Hahahahahaha and you’re not even a Kikuyu…” we burst out laughing.

“If you were loving life in the streets that much, how did you end up back home then?”

“Mbu!”

“Mbu???”

“Yes Dee…Mbu….Mosquitoes….izo vitu si zilinimaliza. I have a theory. That mosquitoes know fresh blood. As soon as they could smell me they threw a party and called all the other cool mosquitos roaming the city; 'Oya oya niko na madrinks, nyi kamuni tu na madame'….eish, on the fourth day nikajirudisha home….ahh wait. actually, I went to my auntie’s, ule mwenye tulitoka na yeye shags, nikalala china ya staircase coz I got scared kunock kwake…The next morning jirani akanipata hapo, so so sick, alidhani mimi ni maiti. My fever was on the roof. She cared for me, nikarudi home…all was well and good from there on, nikaacha kusumbua, I did my KCPE, managed to pass quite well, and I was on my way to high school…bado tu hapo around, day school.”

“What is passing to you?”

“Nilipata 394…I was the best boy in that school. Actually in that entire district if my memory serves me right….”

“Wow, those are good marks, especially for the area and school you were in…sikujua wewe ni chopi ivo. And you were hardly even in class, sasa kama ungekuwa consistent…I knew something drew me to you 😉”

“Wewe imagine tu 😉😉”

“Wait, why not go to a proper school then? A boarding school?”

“Aah Dee, unaulizaaje swali kama iyo….si finances….nani angenilipia?”

“Si sorry bassss”

“Hahaha kwera”

“Please, continue mi Lord…what happens next?”

“High school sasa ndo mambo yalienda mrama. There I met other crooks like me. Better than me actually. I left the petty theft to full on gangsta shit. I joined a gang!”

“Like straight on from form one ama?”

“Yeah, at first they monitor you, waone kama you have the gangsta genes I guess…it was all organic really. You don’t notice you are innit until you are deep deep body submerged 1000m of water above you innit… At first it’s your friend at school, who introduces you to nani in the streets, who introduces you to nani and so on and so fourth…Hizo mabangi nilikupata ndo umeanza kusmoke in uni, mimi I was selling them back then. Ustake jua vichochoro nilikuwa naenda, weuh, I don’t wish that on anyone sahii.”

“Kwani your folks never noticed any of these things you were doing?”

“Naaah….I wasn’t living with them ata at that point. There’s a pastor who noticed me at the church where we used to go, him, together with his wife took me on.”

“Ivo tu….like they saw a kid and said, yeap, we need an extra mouth to feed?!”

“Hahaha hapana….I guess they saw my potential and wanted to make it easy for me to make something of myself. I used to walk for a long stretch to school and their residence was closer….at the start, I think I only said yes to that arrangement because I thought that my people would shtuka and come look for me, but that didn’t happen, it was as though they didn’t care…..that’s how I ended up staying with them for good. They made me feel so loved, treated me like I was part and parcel of their family. Their little son, to date, still thinks I am his biological big bro.”

“Why then go into crime, I thought the gap you had was already filled?”

“Si nilikuambia ni kaspirit wewe unakataa kuamini..”

“Touche”

“Take me through what happened on that fateful day that you guys were caught…was it your first time doing such with a rende?”

“Not exactly but that was the first major one. Ilikuwa imepangwa for a while, the guys had been there two three times already to scout the scene. We were seven, but only the head honcho had a gun. These are all people I knew Dee, maboyz wa mtaa. To be honest, it didn’t even feel like a big deal to me, not at the time. It was supposed to be an easy job, get in and get out within minutes. Vile tulikuwa tumepanga or rather tumepangwa ni, the head honcho, his assistant and secretary were the one carrying out the crime, the rest of us were to camouflage with the other shoppers, keep an eye out for cops, or the security team. We walked in vizuri tu. Everyone knew their role to the Tee. Wakuenda kwa cashier walienda, what we hadn’t accounted for though, was that within that week, between the day we went scouting and the D day, they had installed a security system. Alarms, CCTV cameras and an automatic locking system. Iyo haikuwa siku yetu aki.”

“Did y’all fire the gun?”

“Naaah everything happened so fast…..wait, I honestly don’t know why it wasn’t fired, I actually think that it had no bullets, it was just there for show, as a prop. We thought that that was going to be an easy job.”

Oooooh makes sense.”

“Yeah….no sooner had he pulled out the gun, thrown paper bags to the cashiers, “WEKA IZO PESA HAPA!” than the alarms went off. Commotion here and there, a scream here, another there, the doors being pulled shut, kina Jaymo(the head honcho) on the floor….mimi ata sijui hao wasee wa security wote walitoka wapi, they were on us like mitumba mathees on a new bale. Everyone in that supermarket was a suspect, ata kina mama….down on the ground we all went, the cops were on their way….”

“Wah, sasa how did they narrow it down to the seven of you”

“The CCTV footages, wajinga sisi, tuliingia wote pamoja. At first they narrowed it down to 15 of us, vijana barobaro…wa mathee waliachiliwa and with a 2nd keener look, the seven of us were found. By this time, the crowd was already growing outside and they were mad mad, super agitated. Wee,,,Dee, yani mimi, the thief, was praying that the cops got there before we had to face the crowd, that’s how bad it got.”

“Gaishe, I’m not sure many people can relate to that.”

“I know, later I realised that the cops had already gotten there, only that the crowd didn’t let them pass. Waliambiwa if they tried to help us, ata wao watavamiwa. They were watching from a distance as the fire was lit and life was lost.”

A sombre moment. Silence…

“They picked at us one by one, starting from Jaymo….kwanza with the way he had gotten in, with the gun, na vile alikuwa anaongea, yeye hawakumhurumia, he was barely alive ata wakimvisha the tyres. Aki alilia Dee…it is those screams that kept me up at night for months after that incident. Na watu walikuwa wanasherekea. There were even kids watching. Then the 2nd guy, same same, then the third. Yake was the worst of them coz by this time, taya zilikuwa zinaishi. The first two was quick, this one took longer and he felt it all, slow burns are the worst. When he was taking too long to “go” one guy took a shoka to his neck, that’s when the cops intervened sasa…that’s how my life was saved.”

“Wah, that must have been a traumatising experience, I can’t even pretend that I get it.”

“I wouldn’t wish that on anyone Diana, not even on my worst enemy….ivo ndo niliacha uhalifu. To date, I have never taken a dime from anyone, and I have been in positions where I could, kwanza at work, even the thought of it, ilienda na iyo siku. People talk about their regrets in life, the things they’d change about their past life choices, I used to think that mine would be to have never walked into that supermarket, but I don’t think I’d have ever learnt my lesson any other way….I think things happen to us for a reason, and that was God giving me a second shot.”

“That’s some way to look at it alright. You are a better person than me for sure.”

“Oh, how did you not end up behind bars btw….I don’t think you’ve ever told me that part.”

“Ni Mungu tu walai….iyo siku niliona Mungu live live…..si the cops picked us up, tulikuwa tumabaki wanna. All the while the whole thing was going on, even when the rest had lost all hope of coming out of it alive, mimi I was still begging for my life, insisting that I wasn’t part of that crew. I was the youngest, the only one below 18, and I still had my school uniform on me. You see, mwizi haibangi kwao, the rest of the fellows were not from around that specific neighbourhood, but I was. Nikilialia hapo there were some mama’s who were like, ‘aka tunakaonanga uku akienda shule’…that together with the fact that I had books in my bag, was enough to put some doubt in them. Afu mdomo yangu sasa, eiii Dee, si unajua mimi I was blessed with the gift of gab….niliwashow vile nilikuwa nimetumwa na Mathe, they got her number, thank heavens she didn’t pick up the million times they called her….afu the guys pia collaborated my story. I don't know why, I'll never know why, but each of them, when they were asked if they knew me, walisema they didn't, ati that was the first time walikuwa wameniona. Maybe they thought that at my age I wouldn't survive in prison, maybe they thought that their lives were over and done with, might as well give me a shot at it. Maybe this, maybe that...I will never know for sure. In time wakaniachilia tu, with strict warnings wasiwai nipata tena.”

“Si nilikushow maisha yako ni kama findio ni kama ndrama Davi…eish”

“Hahaha, wee wacha…”

“It’s so true, who else has been through all that and come out of it alive? Come out of it reformed? Is there anyone that you know?…..Wewe you can give John Kiriamiti a run for his money….so how did you end up here, an outstanding man of the community😏….”

“After that I went hard on them books, sikutaka mchezo tena. I needed to get out of that place, out of Koch (Korogocho). I swore I wouldn’t bring up my kids in such an environment, somewhere they could witness people being burned alive, aki nijikute. We didn’t have money so my only way was through school. I got my 80 points A-, got called to UoN for some engineering course but I went and talked to the Dean, explained to her my situation, why Nairobi wasn’t good for me, she was the first person I was that vulnerable with, nilimwambia kila kitu and she helped me to transfer to Dekut…she even helped me apply for scholarships, nililipwa fee, na hostels na upkeep my entire four years in Uni, I never had to ask my mother for a dime.”

“Wow…enyewe angels come in forms we least expect them to…”

“Totally….to date she’s been a great mentor, together with that pastor I stayed with and his family. You know, she helped me get therapy, that’s how I even quit smocking pot btw…ni wewe ndo ulifanya nikaonja pombe tena, aki wewe msichana wewe…”

“Ahh si sorry….how was I to know the journey that you had been on….na wewe pia mbona ukubali..”

He breaks into a song…”Pombe sigara, naweza wacha bila kung’ang’ana, lakiniiii….huyu msichana, vile nilimpenda….eeeiiiii aki Dee wewe, na bado ukanikataa, its ok, its alright, ata sikuskia vibaya….”

“Wee kwera….nikupate red handed playing not one, not two, not even three girls, wanne, afu nikubali kukuwa watano! Iyo pia ziii!!!!…”

“Acha izo, unaexagerate Dee…hawakuwa wanne….si niliwaacha wote juu yako”

“Wewe ata if I was walking down the aisle to you, I’d still be wondering if there is a Njeri somewhere you’ve told that your brother is too shy to stand in front of a crowd that’s why you had to take his place lakini harusi ni yake….I can trust you with my life, not my heart though, iyo ziiii!!!”

“Ouch!”

“I said what I said…….You have no idea what it felt like to be excited, over the moon gashing about this new guy that I liked, even introduced you to my friends only for one to tell me, “Dee uyo ni chali ya nani…” and she came with receipts na bado ulikuwa unajaribu kuruka…you were doing it so well there are many many times that I wanted to believe you. Something like hating the crime but admiring how well the crime had been executed….you’ve got brains for days baba, I’ll give you that…I’m not even shocked that you talked your way out of prison.”

“Ata cell sikufikishwa😎…”

I roll my eyes.

“On the real though, without you, I don’t think I would have opened myself up to people who didn’t speak my language. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to dance with people who didn’t dance to the same beat that I danced to. Without you, I wouldn’t even have known that such people existed. You see it on telly, you know that slums exists, that people come from all walks of life, but I wouldn’t have internalised it, not really. 

I would have remained ignorant, so oblivious to the world around me, contented with my privileged cocoon. I grew up with so much love, so much care, I never lacked for anything. Not that we were rich, but the basics, the most fundamental of them all, the feeling of belonging and being wanted, being seen, being heard and being valued, those I had. For me, adulating has been the total opposite of what my sheltered childhood was. It is here that I can say my traumas began, getting to learn that not all people are innately ’good.’ That not all people return a kindness with a kindness. That most only value you as long as they can get something out of you. That not all people love dogs, would you believe that?! 

I lost my faith in humanity at some point, because my goodness, it all came to me at once; a friend’s betrayal here, a lover’s rejection there, a family’s my way or the high way ultimatum, smack in the middle of my face, landed on my ass, I barely had the energy to get back up. 

Before then, before you, my world was only made of two colours, black and white, no shades in between. Right or wrong, no context in between. You helped me see the world for what it is, not what I thought it was, or should be. I will never take that for granted my G. You changed my perspective on a lot of things David, you showed me that everyone comes with a story. You taught me to approach with grace, with compassion…to avoid pointing out someone’s spec, before looking at my own log, or rather, my own privilege. That given the right setting, the right people, the right mindset, anyone can turn their lives around. And the opposite is also true. That in the wrong setting, with the wrong people, carrying the wrong mindset,….well, we all know how that plays out.”

“Woooow I didn’t realise my life story made such an impact….and here I was thinking that ile simu nilikupea when your’s got stollen is the most that I ever did for you hehe”

“Ah material things hizo, umeisema ndo nikakumbuka ata….you were the reason it got stollen anyway”

“Aiiiii mimi tena….huwezi nipea compliment ata moja bila kuharibu Dee…ni sawa tu, is alright…”

“Relax baba…..it’s coz you distracted me…with that smile😋😏😏…”

“Kwenda uko” he’s clearly blushing.

“Do you know the name of this blog btw”

“Ummmmm….dianafambablog….ah wait….dianafamba.blogspot.com….yeah, iyo,” He feels so proud of himself, I can tell, thinking that he got it right at the first attempt without checking.

“WRONG!!!!….That’s just my URL dum dum…..You helped me come up with the name David, inspired it even….well…at the time it was supposed to be a podcast, not a blog but still…..”

“Oooh ahhh…..WALK A MILE IN MY SHOES!!!” He’s grinning from ear to ear, I can tell. 

“Thattaboy!!!!…Good job!!!!” I can feel him rolling his eyes, he knows I’m mocking him.

“You inspired it my G….You planted the seed of storytelling in me. Human stories, real stories. I have come to learn that human beings are by far the most interesting creatures on this planet, thus my creative non fiction route. Si unakumbuka we were to host the podcast together? And yours was the first story we would have uploaded but well, life had other plans hehe, and here we are. Of course I’ve started out with my own stories, as lacklustre as they may be compared to yours, but interesting stories nontheless, with life lessons to pick from, ata kama it’s just one two new vocabs. Ata kama unasema ati nachoma”

“You are a better person than me Dee, wewe unamwaga mtama yote, that takes courage.”

“I try to keep it as real and as authentic because guys out here are dying of depression thinking their lives a failure because of what they see on social media. Those aren’t real, smokes and mirrors pekee. Life's a mix of the good and the bad, the wins and the losses, and all the shades in between. I wanna tell it as it is, at least then, something positive may come out of it.”

“Oh, I hadn’t looked at it like that.”

“Yeah, that’s my end goal, to not only entertain, but also to teach, maybe even inspire.”

“Like I said, you are a better person than me.”

“Ahhh wewe, wacha izo😊……I got selfish agendas with it too, but that's a story for another day. 

……

Dear gentle reader, let me give you an insight into how my mind works these days, after interacting with Kevin; Take these two boys for instance, both sharp, both quick and with a mind for business. One grows up as Elon’s son, entering every room that his dad seals deals in, the other grows up in Kibera interacting with small scale dealers who also double down as thieves when needed. Those are his friends, his family, his dad, people he trusts, not the vagabonds that we think they are, at least not to him. None of them chose their lives, the families to be born into. Like all of us, walijipata tu. Would you praise one for continuing his father’s legacy with electric cars and shit and fault the other for doing the same thing, only that the dad was a drug kingpin? Aren’t they both businesses? Didn’t they both pick that acumen from their father’s, their surroundings? 

Tafakari hayo mpenzi msomaji.

.....

Also, share with me your thoughts on the comment section down below, and don't forget to share it out, you'd be doing me a solid, a girl gotta eat no?😇 it inspires me to keep writing.

Till next time, asta lavista baby💋