Growing up, my sibling (just one those days) and I would sit under our father's feet as we listened to Bible stories. At a tender age we knew that we were to treat every human right and that we were all created in the image of the most divine. The way dad just explained everything made us anticipate for nights. Called for a yearning. Despite all these, i would be lying if i said my brother and I were best of friends. There was sibling rivalry of course but over the years i can attest of how our friendship has been on a steadfast growth.
Back to our father. It is not right to make an angel out of a human being but what if that human is your father! He definitely earned himself a soft spot in all of us and the people he interacted with. Let me take you back to 2007. A year where a large percentage of population went gluten free!
The year where we almost lost my dad. My brother was just an year old. We lived in a place called KITI Mawanga in Nakuru. On a certain day i left home with my 20bob coin to get mutura. My mum was and is still a fan of it so she let me go after assuring her i will be back in a few.
The distance was a short one just 5 minutes. On getting to Mawanga, a friend to my mum who owned a kiosk called me in and i didn't hesitate because she used to give me mandazis and balloons. Its interesting how our memories can dig deep into our childhood, right? There was worry written all over her face. Something was definitely a miss. She locked the door immediately i got in and called my mum. All i can remember was 'mungikis' being mentioned and taken home without the mutura i had gone for!!
Two days later, we headed to Baringo and left our dad behind. What transpired is repeated story in our home. On a fateful Friday, mungikis knocked out the gate. They were asking for peoples ids to know the tribe. Immigrants wouldnt be touched too. Luckily enough, we shared a compound with Sudanese. Dad had to act fast to save himself as it was a matter of life and death. The number of deaths recorded in Nakuru during the post election violence was so high. A national disaster.
He ask baba Deng (the Sudanese neighbour) to open the gate and he would wear the white kanzu and pretend to be a Sudanese. The neighbour opened the gate and the armed mungikis saw no need to enter as the melanin extra dark skin clearly shouted an immigrant from Kakuma or rather sudan. but again they needed to confirm. They entered the compound and searched the premise. Dad came out dressed in kanzu and wearing beaded necklace around his neck. I dont know if you have ever seen the sudanese beaded necklaces. They are usually black and white. My dad is also dark skin so they assumed he was one of them.
The mungikis left but dad wouldn't stay there. It wasn't safe. The streets was chaos and violence. Roads were blocked and you wouldn't travel. He decided to call his cousin who was in the military at Lanet to seek refuge. In as much as the cousin wanted to help him, he couldn't come for him because of road blocks.
KIGUU NA NJIA he made walked all the way from KITI to Lanet in the kanzu. Gathered all the courage he could. Figuratively speaking he wasn't disturbed on the way by mungikis. If you are familiar with Nakuru area you know how long that distance is. To cut the story short that is how he survived.
it is the ogre of creation that would want to wreck havoc in our lives. It may take the things we treasure most. Or maybe you've been an ogre yourself. Like how many times do you purposely hurt someone because maybe you've had a bad day? You are robbing the person a peace of mind for your selfish reasons. Or better yet, ask yourself this: are you a good person doing bad things or a bad person doing good things?