What was I hearing?

I woke up this morning, to some funny sounds whose origin and meaning I could not comprehend.

I am not the kind of a person who gets up early but today I had to. It is actually the last dream I had that woke me up.

I was walking along the corridors of a certain hospital when I accidentally spotted a lady patient receiving treatment in one of the wards. She was screaming in pain as the nurse continued to dress her wound on her left thigh.

To me, the whole thing appeared normal because that is exactly what one would expect in such areas. So I ignored and moved on. However, the more I kept moving away, the louder the noise became and the clearer I heard it. This caught my attention. I stopped for a few seconds and felt like it was necessary to go back and see the suffering woman.

I therefore walked back quickly and almost entered the ward when a security guard stopped me. He claimed that no stranger was allowed in before the official time of visiting patients, which was a few minutes later.

As I stood with the guard, the screaming was growing louder every second, to an extent of slightly disturbing the guard too. Soon the visiting bell rang but before I could make any move, I woke up!

Surprisingly, I could still hear the lady screaming. This really confused me because first, I was in my room not hospital and second, the hostel is for men only. I quickly raised my head, just to confirm that I was not still asleep. That is when I got a clue. The noise came from my neighbouring room.

For about two minutes, I tried to understand what was really happening in that particular room but found out that I would not. The sounds then began to fade and finally stopped.

Until now, I am still in darkness. The lady was screaming as if drowning in water or having some jiggers removed from her toes. What exactly was I hearing?

Whenever it rains at Moi

One early morning of a normal campus day, I wake up. I do not expect anything new or better. As usual, every day begins on a morning of hardship that might subject anyone to mourning in hardship.

After making sure that electricity is still present in my room, I quickly get up and think about breakfast first! However, milk and bread or maandazi are not found within. You must walk a certain distance to get them. It rained at night and it is still very cold now, am a bit reluctant to go out. But my final decision is; I am going!

As I walk down slowly, I am joined by comrades from hostels D, G, J and those that reside with me in C. I usually admire their look, men and women of great ambitions, who managed to pass over all the previous academic bridges and finally landed on main campus. They too want to keep up their strength and energy in preparation for another busy day. They walk with me towards the selling points for different breakfast items.

Some of them divert into the SOWETO MESS. I look at them curiously, wanting to find out whether they have remembered to carry extra sugar from their rooms that would add taste to the light-white hot water in the name of tea. I also pray for them that once they consider coming back for lunch in the afternoon, they would arrive as early as possible. Get there behind the first twenty customers and you will be forced to wait for a spoon from the early comers as your rice-dengu gets cold.

Anyway, mine are just prayers and wishful thinking. I hope salvation will come from whoever was/were lucky enough to reap the highest number of votes for the catering docket in the recent September 13th MUSO elections. Rumors have it that the director(s) may go an extra mile to advocate for rescheduling of the MESS operating hours that will favor even those who may not be awake before 8am, whose lunch hours may fall beyond 2pm and those whose wish is to take supper after 7pm.

After the long time sympathy with the MESS users is when I remember that I have my own issues to accomplish, about 50 meters away from the maandazi baking centre and the milk vendors. Now getting to the place is not a big problem, how to get there is the real issue. Just a few strides off the MES building and I am welcomed by several pools of brown stagnant water! Between any two adjacent pools is clay soil soaked in rain water, hence sticky mud.

How do I walk past all these? I ask myself. I do not have the long black boots like most of this area’s residents. But as I stand here confused, several comrades pass, go and come back holding their favorite items for breakfast. They struggle to walk on the muddy path without even complaining. They seem to have adapted to the situation, but I am not. In fact, they too, are not supposed to – at least according to me.

I slowly bow down to fold up my pair of trousers to a level that I suspect will be free from the dirty water and mud. Like the rest, I also want to try walking past. I look around and spot a few ladies around their hostel J. they are busy washing their clothes between the two wings. Something comes to my mind. 'Once I lose stability, slide and probably fall off, these people might laugh at me. I do not want to take chances. So what do I do?'

I remember of another place where hot maandazi and fresh milk are also sold. It is behind hostel H. my watch tells me that I still have around 50 minutes before the morning lecture begins. I know I will not get late by running all the way to that alternative place, for fear of the slippery mud ahead of me. So I take a reverse and stroll on a concrete path between hostels J and G, towards the better place.

To my surprise, the same problem that I was trying to avoid is also here, so it is not better. I realize that as long as I want to take breakfast, I must walk on pools of brown water and mud! The only consolation I see here is that the distance of doing so is slightly shorter.

Due to lack of any other better alternative, I resolve to join yet another queue of comrades and walk on the hard way, the only way. I wonder whether there are any hostel residents around main campus who do not face such troubles whenever it rains at night or very early in the morning. What about those residing in K, L and M; do they also get frustrated at such times? One of my classmates lives there, I will ask her.

What plans do the security and accommodation elect(s) have in mind that would at least reduce such problems among others? I wish I asked the aspirants this question during the cross fires prior to the elections. But still, I will ask them some. I have no reason to blame the outgoing director. His term is over and is no longer concerned about this, although he would have done something little, only if he wanted to.

Megabytes' New Unruly Rule

The Megabytes cafe, situated behind Hostel H poses a new rule to curb competition, a rule that seems far away from being comrade-friendly.

It has always been my thinking that all the shops, chips cafes and other food stuff selling points around main campus exist strategically to benefit the student population, by means of availing goods and services as conveniently close to the students as possible. This assumption remained true until yesterday, Sunday morning.

Saturday's inter-university sport event was a major one. Although I missed out on direct participation, I was engaged in related activities, tiresome enough to cause a difficulty in early waking up the following morning.

However much I tried, I only managed to get up at a time when you do not expect to find breakfast from either the SOWETO MESS or the one inside the Students Centre. A quick resolution therefore struck my mind, a decision to visit the Megabytes Cafe that I suspected would not let me down. There, you find a variety of food stuffs including different types of fruits, but I was only going for one thing - tea.

Adjacent to Megabytes is another cafe that specializes in chips, smokies, maandazi and chapatis. So I passed by and collected around four maandazi that would serve as a light escort to the Megabytes' tea.  I never knew that was the first mistake I was doing on a day of worship. I then proceeded to my destination and asked for tea that costs nothing more than ten shillings, at least twice its price at the MESS. I almost went through. The man in a black jumper kindly received my coin, dropped it into a drawer and instructed me to get a mug from the other side because the thermos flask was right with him. Unfortunately, he was only doing that because he had not realized what I was holding on my left hand.

It was until I was going for the mug when he got a clear chance to spot the four pieces of brown snacks, hiding inside a small transparent polythene bag. His mood suddenly changed and as if only half-serious, he quickly asked, "Hiyo ni maandazi ama chapoo?"

As soon as he confirmed that I was carrying items which he also sells, and worst enough, bought from his nearest competitor, the man reacted with both words and actions. He recollected my coin from the drawer and gave it back to me while furiously clarifying one of the cafe's rules, "Hata sisi tunauza maandazi hapa..."

In other words, Megabytes Cafe does not operate that way. If you want to buy tea, do not walk in there with your own snacks; you must purchase what is available on their counter, whether it suits your taste or not. After all, they are after one thing - to increase sales and maximize profits.

Is 'Nyumba kumi' real?

Sometime back in March 2014, my friend and I were called by our area assistant chief. We did not hesitate.

The meeting took place in his office, not too far away from my home. Our task was simple. Typing names of household clusters, the so-called 'Nyumba Kumi' for the whole of Nyari sub-location which has a total of eight villages. Of course we would not have rejected such a simple task- with Ksh. 1000 waiting.

In the process, we realized that some information was missing. During data collection, the field workers had forgotten to note down the number of people in each household. We quickly reported this observation to the boss but he was never disturbed.

"Just type what you have but make an empty column for what is missing," responded the chief. We obeyed, accomplished and submitted the script.

I was interested in knowing whether he would summon his team of field workers and resend them back to the villages to collect such vital details. Instead, what I saw really left me surprised.

In just about ten minutes or less, he had completed the form. He simply guessed figures like 4, 8, 11, 3, e.t.c, without any reference. So the total population of my area according to the information available in that office is totally wrong.

Something else that caught my attention is the issue of grouping households. I tend to think that the field workers never visited the homes. They simply sat round a table and did the whole thing. How can you have a 'Nyumba Kumi' cluster with households as far apart as 2km in such a densely populated area?

The funniest part of it is that some mature people still do not understand which cluster they belong too, their head and even fellow members!

Government Too Busy

As the government focuses its attention on major issues such as development projects for a better Kenya, it must also remain conscious about a population that is apparently like a tree being eaten from the ground.

Some of the things going on in the rural side of Kilifi County where I reside can never be considered as signs of national development, at least according to me.

Old is gold, they say. However, this means nothing to people from this area, particularly the youth. Old men and women of Kilifi have a narrow chance of celebrating their old age because according to most of our youths, they are all witches. They live a life full of fear due to the brutal punishment predetermined for whoever is found, or even suspected, to practice witchcraft. The criteria for detecting witches is one that is only known to the ‘anti-witch campaigners’ themselves, but the reward for such victims of circumstance is very straight forward – death by swords, axes or fire.

Somebody once said, "not all murder cases associated with witchcraft are due to witchcraft. Most of them are as a result of scramble for family property..." Does the government allow this or is it too busy?

Robbery is another enemy of development in Kilifi, especially to business people. The final two or three months of last year were not very friendly even to religious institutions. Apart from the video kiosk near Cassava market of Sokoke ward that was broken into and valuables stolen from in October, at least three churches also suffered from the same crime. Some lost musical instruments while others chairs, none of which was recovered. Now which investor will be ready to start a business around such an insecure area? Who knows, may be the government allows this or is too busy.

Education is the key to success, as a certain school badge reads. If this is true, then success is already out of bounds for many families in Kilifi because the number of students who drop out of school is always on the rise. As if only half-serious, lack of school fees is still being attributed to this phenomenon, at a time when am told bursary funds can be accessed ‘easier’ than ever. I was not convinced until they mentioned the other reason – early pregnancies. Girls from Kilifi no longer see this as a taboo, but just an accident. Such ‘accidents’ have unfortunately become something normal, like the order of the day.

The ‘enlightened’ ones try abortion as a cover-up, as opposed to the rest who simply leave school and get married as soon as they suspect themselves to be expectant. Education is therefore being paralyzed at a shockingly high rate in this area. If the government does not allow this, then it must be very busy.