Lights always look good on dusty road… always.. At the sides of the road are trees and live fences.. The sun is long gone. It’s 9 p.m. East African time.
The small shops at the roadsides are still open.. I quickly buy 3 eggs and head home… I will quickly shower and sleep.. Food will wait until morning.
The only people on the road are guys and kiosk women carrying babies on their backs and the remainder vegetables on their sides.. They look tired..
Am almost home when I see a man and a woman standing next to a kid nearby a ditch.. I walk directly to them when I realize the kid is crying.. The side that greets me is heart breaking.. On her hand is a brown bag and a cap.. in the ditch is the owner of the cap.. Her father. He is too drunk to walk.
‘Give us your mum’s number girl’ the woman is trying to convince her.. The father on the other hand is warning her not to.. She is shaking.. and crying.
Her father tries to rise on his feet and falls. He can’t move.. We all want to pay a motorcycle guy to take her home but she is adamant.. She can’t leave her father..
I look at the guy and all I feel is disgust… The urge to continually hit him is soo high.. This is so wrong. The man and the woman share my sentiments but we can’t beat up a guy with his crying and apparently sick daughter watching..
I honestly don’t know what to think. When we agree to get a few policemen, the guy gives up his wife’s number and the kid speaks..
The father is the good guy. He went with her, bought her food and some medicine after her mum said she can die for all she cares..
Am hurt for this girl… I can only imagine her pain … This is unfair. Soon as the mother arrives, she hustles them to hurry and get home.. She refuses to talk…
We stand there and watch them leave with the girl… it’s raw pain.. it’s nothing I can comprehend..
It’s 9:45 East African time when I get home.. Nothing looks as beautiful..