Haidhuru

So one of the things that I miss about home are the endless side hustles. Like my mum had kindũ 14 things going on simultaneously. You know? When your primary school life has statements like “When you come from home, remove your uniform and go help Mwĩhaki sort out French beans”? *sigh* . And I see now why we had to do this, as caught up by house notes, car notes, love and doctors notes, it’s kinda hard out there for a chick. Baby girl needs a side hustle.

But to my surprise, it’s harder to get a ka-biashara started here in the States than back home. You know how ati you would be sent ‘abroad’ on the company’s dime (even Dar was abroad BTW—lakini kina UK and Dubai was ‘overseas’. Kenyans!!!!) and you’d buy ‘stuff’ (ermmm… me kwanza I did the Benetton tee-shirts and blow driers thing) and come sell them back home . After all, you blew your salary advance and per-diem on sijui TZ Shs. 1000 pink drinks *smh*. So my no doubt flawed memory seems to be telling me that there was no end to ways in which you could make a quick dime. Lakini here? Yaani there’s like 42 people who’ve come before you with the same idea and they have websites. With flash animation. And RSS feeds. *sigh*

And the reason I mention this is that it’s funny what perspective life gives you once you grown. I remember one of the things that used to annoy the heck out of me was having to report to the chief in campus. You know- students throw stones, police run after students. Students throw more stones. GSU is seen coming in 15 kilometers away. Students run. Then GSU comes, and then they chase you. And then you run and lose one ngoroba – which you see a paper collector picking up – and you know that particular geezer as he and his fellow paper collectors environmental recyclers once tried to chase you and your girls when you were going to Visions for Campus Night. And you know that he will chotesha you for the shoe (singular) once campus re-opens. And you’ll be like “Ehhh kiatu kimoja boss? Sinunui” (Kwanza he’s swapped it for a guys’ Bata Bullet)

PSA:
If you were ever gonna do such a retarded thing as riot (which sucked as I then had to go back to the Bundus as opposed to being in the city!!!!), you better cease and desist if you’re in Kenyatta Uni. Apparently those guys as they have non-porous borders, the FFU/GSU would close the gates & proceed to clobber students like a Swahili mkeka before a wedding…

Sidebar:
Kwanza me the scaredest I have ever been was when my girl who I still love to death but has zero fear glands or instincts (or whatever that ka-thing is where you put fear in) . See during one ‘spring break’, there are red eyed GSUs eying us — since Nairobi Uni had run out of money as evidenced by the fact that they had stopped giving us those egg balls & dialogue (chapatis) anymore as there was only beans and watery coffee in the mess. So the administration closed the school preemptively. WTF?!!. So we’re walking down Box when we see these scarlet-eyed GSU guys packed in a lorry near Nairobi primary and what does my girl do? She picks up a pebble and looks at the guys and tosses it daintily in their direction!!!! And then she smiles at them and says “Me? I’m a stone thrower” and I’m like “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!! Thems fuckers are Interahamwes!!! They have absolutely no sense of humor. Annnnddd your ass can run faster than mine- you’re a size 1 and all of that is legs. I’m a size 6 (OK 6++) and all of that is—well, you know… I’m leaving you”… kwanza she was singled out when the whistle blew and we had to scatter…. Grrr…

anyhoo… after general student disturbances aka riots aka Spring Break in Nairobi Uni happened, the chief became our parole officers and we had to report to him every week. And he allegedly used to come into the office at the crack of dawn (aka “ngũku ya mbere”or ‘first hen’ ) and hang up his coat and scatter. But this could not have been true as I lay claim to having lined up at 4 in the cox at a) American Embassy for visa b) Chief’s camp for ‘parole slip’ (OK, I also lined up c) to pay kadha electricity bills at Stima Plaza and d) to buy white maize during the ‘76 drought).

But back to my main-ish point, the chief thing was kinda fictitious as the guy NEVER showed up. His coat had a Kenyatta brooch -it was that old!!!!! And it was velvet with a ka-leather patch (yes, it was that old). And I hear that the guy could be found selling mbogas and other veggies at the market (whole sale) hukos marigiti as I hear the government stopped paying guys with mapeni and five cent-es in 2005. Yeah- public service. And then, I used to get so mad as you had to show up every gadaamn day till the mofo signed your paper (after giving you a hard time and asking you to go away and come back when you know who your maternal great uncle who came from Kĩanjũgu was…). But that wasn’t even the annoying thing. Can you believe it (Kenya brief-it), that after all that aggro, when we reported back to school, the damn campus admin did.not.ask.us.for.the.damn.slips!!!!!!!!!!!!

Grrrrrrrr….

I think know I’ve changed my mind. So if you happen to be in Kariakor market today, and you see a guy in a ka-corduroy/velvet jacket with a Kenyatta brooch, please tell my chief to go back to work.