If you haven’t checked out part one, click the link below. If you need to remember what happened last time, click the link below:
Now that we have all caught up,… where were we?
So there I was, next to the acacia tree that bore no significant difference to every other acacia tree around, with only three male strangers for company. I remember when I recounted the story to my brother,he asked me why I did not worry about being kidnapped to go be the moran’s new “moranness” (if at all such a word exists).When I told the story to my mother, she went on and on about how I should worry about my safety, chastising me for not considering the danger I put myself in by being alone with three men. (You would think I went walking half naked, down a dark alley in a neighbourhood full of merciless gangs). My mother was implying that those men would have raped me. To their credit,my mother and brother made valid points and I thank God that He spared me abduction and rape. However, I believe that those two things were highly unlikely for one reason: Isinya in the day time is just too hot for some crimes to be committed (I hope you catch my drift.) Back to the story: there I was, with three strange men, in a strange place, next to a now- very-familiar acacia tree, watching the matatu, which I had paid for, leave us behind with only our legs as transport.
I was now very worried that I wouldn’t get to where I was going in time and so I began to walk. Believing, quite stupidly, that if I was at least moving, perhaps I could make it in time. I learnt another lesson then: My feet are not a car. I know, I know. It’s such an obvious thing, but in my defence, it is very hard to think straight when then sun’s rays have complete access to your forehead, where the frontal lobe resides. (Medical students and practitioners, please don’t bash me if I’m not accurate, I know it’s around there somewhere.) Behind me, the other abandoned passengers tried to hitch a ride from the rare vehicles that passed by… and moved on. (Who could blame them? It’s crazy to pick up random strangers in the middle of nowhere. African hospitality can only go so far.) Soon, they started to walk and very easily, caught up to me…. And then by passed me. At this point, I learnt the next lesson: every man for himself and God for us all.
None of those three men was even about to pretend to fake a knight-in-shining-armour or rather, moran-in-shining-akala moment, just because there was a woman in their midst. However, we must be real, I totally fail at the whole damsel in distress business. For one, I have a hard time being a damsel. That word suggests someone dainty and fragile. Again, if you’ve ever seen me from head to toe, there is nothing “dainty” or “fragile” about me. In short, I look as well-fed as I am. Also, the general expression on my face is often one of boredom that seems to suggest there is nothing new to me. The men must have figured I was “man” enough but I figured I was” me” enough to fend for myself. I decided that if I could not catch up to the Three Musketeers, Ii would at least walk fast enough for them to always be in my line of sight and even if I lost them, I’m friends with the God who created that part of the country, who also happens to be the same God who created the guy who made smartphones and the guy who came up with Google Maps. (God is awesome!) Thankfully though I never had to consider the second option. As it turns out, I am a very fit individual. I caught up to my “companions” (I use that word loosely) and kept up with their pace as we walked to Isinya.
So we walked and walked and walked. I really can’t say much about what was happening around me as we walked, since I was so focused on walking. However, at some point, I felt like I had been walking for too long and decided to call my brother, and ask for help. Please note, my brother was in Nairobi, there was literally nothing he could do. But I called him anyway. Anyone with a big brother would understand that sometimes just telling your big brother about the problem, however unlikely he is to help, makes it more solvable. I don’t know how, but it just does. He gave me ideas on how I could get myself out and suggested that I give up on my work mission and come back home. As I was talking to my brother, a motorcycle rode up!! One of the other passengers had been successful in getting it to stop. (God be praised) The moran jumped onto the back faster than we could take in our next dust-filled breath. There really is no such thing as a moran-in-shining-akala . In that moment, I was scared that one of the other men would jump on after the moran and I would be again left behind next to an acacia tree. However, the other two men let me get on after the moran and assured me they would walk the rest of the way just fine. I know for a fact that they were tired and yet, they gave up a 50% chance of making their lives easier so that I could get the bike ride instead. There are some good people in this world.
Believe it or not, we got to Isinya in less than a minute, had we kept on walking we would have been there in about 5 or 10 minutes. I had actually walked to Isinya. When I got off the bike, I made my way to the stage and began the long process of going back the way I came. Long story short, it took 6 more matatus to get me to Nairobi and back home. My legs were in so much pain, I was sure they walk off my ankles at any moment, protesting the agony I had put them through. My head throbbed inside and outside, seriously, I felt like my brain was aching because of all the heat and stress I had been through in the day. But my heart, my heart was glad. The long day was over and I could finally get some sleep. We all know it wasn’t that easy, it took me a while to fall asleep.This is the stuff long days are made of and I can do without it for a while.
Jack Bauer can have his continuous 24 hour excitement , I now have a deep appreciation for days when there’s not much going on.