BAKE Tracker

Monday 6 April 2015

THE CHRONICLES BEDBUG EDITION....EAST-LAND LIFE BEGINS

From "Kunyuni (Pirating in hostel) to "Kunguni" The chronicles of a Fresha the Easter Edition.


For those who have been following the tribulations of been an illegal student in the Hostel, know that i was given marching orders in full glare of the public. With all my belongings packed in a green paper bag, I was ready to start a new life. I decided to die for three hours and resurrect more lively and vanished from the Hostel compound just like Jesus Christ did a day like today.

Final destination, HURUMA a.k.a sympathy, a.k.a Nairobi half life a.k.a Dandora ni hapa tu, a.k.a bedroom ya Mathare na Korogocho a.k.a live at your own risk. Huruma is a swahili word that can be loosely be defined as sympathy. It is used to describe people who have lost hope and they are living by the mercies of others. Wait a minute bruh, do not get it twisted and think of Huruma as a place for the dead. Actually, it is among the most populous areas in Nairobi accommodating an array of individuals from all walks of lives. It borders the Moi Base Air-force, the one and only Eastliegh estate, MFA, Drive inn estate, and the home of counterfeit products, Kariobangi. By now you know why Huruma was my place of choice, the cost of living is next to zero and living standards are substituted to leaving the standards. You simply get what you want at any cost,even women.

Securing a room was easier than finding a washroom for only $20 a month. One major problem is that i paid for the room without physically visiting the area. Chineke, never try this at home. There are numerous placards placed by the roadside advertising vacant rooms at very affordable prices. You are only required to call the phone number left on that placard. Since it was getting late, bearing in mind that i was chased from the hostel by mid-day, I had to do things in a rush. The matatu number en-route to Huruma is 46 but you can board any vehicle that uses Juja road past mathare slums. The first thing that caught my eye was the vastness of mathare slums or lower Muthaiga if you like. It is quite a populous place that embraces the face of sympathy and needy people who are requiring aid. I held my head up high thinking that Huruma was a better place, but to my shock, the situation was a simultaneous equation.

Back to the room, I quickly rang the phone number that was on one of the boards. "Njitagua kamau urenda atia", Jesus who told these house agents that Kenya has only one vernacular language that they address everyone in their mother tongue. After the dilly dallying, we agreed on a single room that i could be paying 2000 Kenyan shillings a month. Due to the urgency involved, I had to send him the money in order to avoid any other customer surpassing me. It was a sweet offer, i thought, i voluntarily sent him the money. On top of that, he needed 500 shillings so that he can escort me to the house. Why should he be paid extra money and yet it was his work, was he a tour guide, or was it a bribe? i pondered. This was robbery without violence just like Willy Paul and Bahati chronicles. ("I hear that Willy Paul has become a professional thief stealing people's songs even the book of songs of Solomon from the Bible, that is a by the way). However, since i had paid for an unknown and imaginary house, i had to comply with the rules for he was the only lead to it.

One problem solved, i felt refreshed though the foul odor kept on disturbing my nostrils. The next agenda was to secure an object to be sleeping on. My deteriorating financial stature could not allow me to purchase a mattress from the shop. But i was advised that Kariobangi was the home to any human need, so they sold second hand products which were ferried to a certain point in Huruma and i was directed to the specific place. With a feeling of ecstasy that i was soon going to have an independent room, i swung like a pendulum or the bell gong during the lunch hour back in high school. Jesus Christ, the so called mattresses looked older than my grandparents. They had changed from, beige, to brown to a reddish color that symbolized the highest level of unhygienic conditions. Their prices ranged from 200 to 2000 depending on their sizes and their level of  dirt. Since OMO says dirt is good, i purchased one. I carried it on my shoulder towards our rendezvous with the house agent. To my surprise, he was already there waiting for me. Before he even greeted me, "I hope umebeba pesa yangu." I hope you have carried my money...Ukikuyu itatua watu wa nyumba..

We accompanied each other as i was being escorted to my new home. A place to lay my back without anyone disturbing my comfy nature. My eyes were juicy with tears of joy as we approached a well refurbished flat with a mix of colorful paint that ware eye-catching. it looked well furnished and very clean. It had a well kept environment and a strong perimeter wall. I felt much better as we approached the purple, gold coated with a silvery lining gate. The soldier opened it warmly as he received us, my heart felt relaxed.

OMG, Kamau was going to pick something from the soldier, that was not our apartment. I felt really depressed as we left the apartments and went to an old, dirty environment that had accommodated a lot of people. The place was very noisy and everybody stared at you as if you had a swollen forehead. On the corridors, kids were playing, their parents stretching their legs on the way without acknowledging the presence of a visitor. The place looked disgusting as the drainage system was not working properly and a funny stench could be felt from far. I was shown my room which was dustier than a rough road. When i went to fix a bulb, that is why i noticed why everybody was seated outside. These are the houses where the caretaker switches off the electricity during the day in order to save costs. I was completely misplaced and my mind was building up with anger as i remembered that cheap is expensive...

If you want to know what happened next as we enjoyed a deluxe night with bedbugs, keep it The Chronicles..


























No comments:

Post a Comment