Late last year around
November, there was an event back at home that required several printed t-shirts.
So I set off for the capital city of U.K (Ukambani); Machakos where I was to
meet my cousin who would then add some feminine magic to the t-shirt shopping
thing.
We began our task immediately after I arrived at Machakos.
We were warmly received at the first shop where we quickly
stated our problem. The t-shirts were
there alright but they cost water and firewood. At that cost the sales from
those t-shirts could significantly fund the construction of the new Machakos.
We got the hell outta that shop as fast we could and decided
to try the open air market.
We soldiered on to the New Jerusalem .I think the previous
sentence sounds weird. In my defense I’ll quote what Pilate said when the Chief
priests asked him to change the writing on Christ’s cross: “What I have written,
I have written. “Most of you will protest that there’s no such statement in the
bible.Tsk! Watoto wa Ibilisi.It’s John 19:21-22.
Back to the t-shirts. We made a stop at the first stall in
the market and informed the vendor that we needed more than 20 t-shirts.
Emphasis on 20.He went berserk.He started ransacking his own stall and then took
off like a bee-stung farmer. We took some seats still in shock and eagerly
waited for his return.
I couldn’t help but eavesdrop to a hilarious conversation
which was going on a few stalls away. Classical gossip. A lady was talking
about some guy called Muendo.From what I was hearing Muendo didn’t like it his
children being served food before him. The story teller went on to quote
Muendo-“Watoto watakulaje mbele yangu na mimi ndio hufanya kazi ngumu?Eh?Na ata
huyo mtoto ashibe na apate gunia ya mahindi kando ya barabara haezi beba.Wallahi
siku yenye nitaamka nipate hakuna chakula kwa hio nyumba nitanyonya mama yao
kwanza ndio nipate nguvu ya kwenda kuwatafutia chakula."
”
Well I knew some grown up Kenyan men nyonyad for fun, but
for nutritional purpose?!Man that was new.
I was still smiling when our vendor appeared carrying a
mountain of t-shirts. All kind of t-shirts. Some were so huge that they could
be used as curtains while others were something between a vest and a bra. We
shook our heads in obvious disapproval.
Other vendors come to the aid of their colleague.”Si mnataka
t-shirt plain, moja ndio hii”, said the woman who had been gossipping about
Muendo .Plain must have several meanings because the t-shirt she was holding
had a huge label of Hugo Boss written across it.
There was no way we were buying t-shirts from that market,
even if they called the local chief to convince us using his rungu. Mind you,
being struck with a chief’s rungu is one of the most painful things one earth.
This is no chance statement said in the by going; it’s something I say having
witnessed several people get hit with the rungu. I will give you two
incidences.
The first incidence happened back in the village many years ago.
Some lad who had smoked something very potent disrupted a women Chama meeting.
The irate women then threatened to call the chief on him but he seemed unfazed.
Assuming a cool-as-a-cucumber facade of togetherness, he boldly told them to
their faces that he was only afraid of two things under the sun; uji moto (hot
porridge) and mbwa ya jirani (his neighbor’s dog).After the chief was done with
him with his rungu, I am sure he had a third thing to be really afraid of.
The other occurrence where I witnessed the magic of the
chief’s rungu was when the former Vice-President Uncle Moody Awori visited a neighbouring
primary school. It was also many years ago; I think I was in class five. Uncle
Moody ensured that before his chopper took off there was something left behind
for the people to feast on; tones of loaves of bread and a sea of soda. The
pecks of having a Luhya Vice president. In case Kenya gets a Luhya Deputy
President and he visits our place again he daren’t bring soda and bread this
time round. You see, we are no longer in primary school; we grew up and went to
campus and in campus we interact with cool kids. According to them 'taking soda
and bread is kinda gross. Who does that?' He he.
Back to the chief’s rungu. Some guy decided that he wouldn’t
queue and wait for his turn like everybody else. The chief descended on him
with his rungu and abracadabra! The guy’s impatience and unwillingness to queue
instantly vanished.
But not even the legendary chief’s rungu would make us buy
those t-shirts. We left the market empty handed despite the vendors putting up
quite a show.
Later in the evening we encountered some herbalist who was
selling “ndawa ya pimples”.He looked at my face suspiciously and I felt my serial killer
instincts start to kick in. All of a sudden I wanted to punch him in the heart.(Alright, I know I have a few pimples here and
there but they are non pathological, It’s just my underutilised awesomeness trying
to escape from my body.) Seeing that nobody was interested in his concoctions the
herbalist took off but not after threateningly informing us how we would have
to cough 3 k if we were to visit him in
his “headquarters” in Kangundo. He also told us that he would be on Citizen TV the
following day teaching the nation about his herbs .We acted shocked by such kind of revelation.
Honestly you can’t just buy stuff from strangers and apply it to your
face. God knows what might happen to you. You might wake up with a face that looks
like a matomoko fruit or a chapatti.
Hawkers, open market vendors, roadside sellers etc. are
significant to our economy. They also sometimes make shopping way much more convenient.
