A writer’s home

Huts in a village back home. Thanks bro (Vitalis) for the photo.

Where is the delete button. Not this one. I can’t have the world feeling pity for my family. We are not rich but, at least we still have dignity. What about that story on Babu Owino’s immediate re–arrest after being released on Ksh. 500,000 bond! I felt the urge to write about it but I remembered one of my girlfriends’ concerns. She think someone might try to harm me for part of the stuff I write, that I should be careful. And it’s not just her, a fellow comrade, the other day while resting in Uhuru Park after an afternoon lecture, warned me too. But good friends, those of you who have read my posts, have you seen any alarming post? Anyway I won’t go ahead with that story. In fact, I’m deleting it now. And now let’s all live like scared chinchillas.

Let’s just sit down, behind monitors and pretend that nothing is going on in our beautiful country. Pretend that everything is in order. Pretend that there’s no problem with the preparation of the oncoming election. Pretend that the economy is thriving, inflation is falling and youth unemployment is manageable. Let’s sit, behind closed doors, ladies and gentlemen, and complain about African Nations Championship (CHAN) board denying us the opportunity to host the prestigious tournament next year. After all we deserved it, didn’t we? (We have no enough stadiums and individuals are looting government resources. Steal from the public coffers and go for the highest office. Some are even now Governors as I write this). Let’s pretend that we didn’t see the police using excessive force on the University of Nairobi students the other day. At the Technical University of Kenya, the same music was playing. (Wish you could’ve seen the scuffle that ensued as two anti–riot trucks pulled up, followed by another truck full with the no-nonsense GSU officers. The scared freshers running amok)

Welcome to my world. You see the conflicts? Don’t worry, you are now home. A writer’s home.

One day, God willing, I want to be remembered like Ngugi wa Thiong’o, writing Matigari — while in asylum — hope it won’t come to that — or the late Chinua Achebe, the Things Fall Apart author, or even professor Ali Mazrui. Maybe like Barack Obama, after a great service to my country, and with one kid already off to the prestigious Harvard — closely following your footsteps — settle down and start writing. Go to some remote place somewhere in Asia, maybe Vietnam or Cambodia, or even in one of those Caribbean Islands like Bonaire and start writing.

Write anything. Write about some of today’s crazy world leaders. The likes of Donald Trump and his North Korean counterpart, Kim Jong–un. And by the way, if these two lunatics are not kept away from each other, I’m sorry to say that we are facing a probable third world war (call me a messenger of doom at your own risk, and equally ignore me at your own peril. Just saying)

Madekesiworld. I know many of you have been wondering what the name even means. Madekesi is our family name, that of my late paternal grandfather. Now you know.

Here to tell you all about the land where the only animal you can have a complete relationship with without being branded a witch, is a dog.

A photo of Bensuuda, that great dog. At the time he was just six months old

Allow me to tell you about my home, a place where a farmer has over ten acres of sugarcane plantation, but is still struggling to educate his offsprings. A place full of resources, arable land and ample rainfall but people are languishing in poverty. A place where most young boys hate school and girls see no incentive of going to school.

How I wish my birthplace was empowered enough so that at the end of the day we’re left with no excuse of coming to Nairobi.

Maybe one day, after all is said and done, I will leave this City —ain’t my home, has never been — not because I have somewhere to go, but because I believe there will be nothing keeping me here. I have a dream (another), and this burning ambition. You know I haven’t completely given up on that agriculture I studied in highschool. Don’t be surprised, I’m just trying to think of ways of helping kick hunger out of Africa. A pigsty here and a rabbit hutch there. Maybe I can even save enough for a Holstein cow. Pure breed with no blemishes and with my Business Information Technology knowledge, can you imagine the impact.

 

I can even build a greenhouse, of course with the help of Amiran Kenya’s expertise in that place where my half-brother Nyerere — don’t mind the name, just think of Mwalimu Julius Nyerere of Ujamaa in Tanzania instead — had his shanty, living with his previous wife and two kids. Unfortunately that marriage ended tragically with his wife burning one of his concubines with boiling porridge. It was an ugly scene, I tell you. Now he has another wife, this one as fat as our neighbour, Odongo’s —the old man who sold grandpa the land we call home, long time ago when baba was still playing okusivo in Kisoko primary school, before going on to become a doctor — cow, Dicholi.

A writer’s home.

I want a mansion with a high balcony facing the Busia–Uganda border. I want to see what’s going on there — like last week when the members of parliament started fighting over a bill to extend the President’s retirement age. Yoweri Museveni certainly wants to die in office, just like his friend Mugabe of Zimbabwe. Finally I have something new to tease mama with.

I want to write about all that, and my family, my friends, my neighbours, without forgetting my beautiful Kenya. The world too. Hope I will have a wonderful wife who will support me all along through all that, just like I will have her back at all times, in sunshine and in rain. Hope she will bear me beautiful kids and then later on, maybe add another wife (kidding), just like grandpa Madekesi or even King Mswati. Can you believe the man recently took another wife! A fourteenth, if I’m not wrong. Another crazy leader who should be stopped before he ends up creating a world wife crisis (WFC).

Finally big up to my homie, DJ Erickolito. Wishing your business success bro. Not everyone likes to be employed after all.

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