Easter is here and in Kenya we aren’t in the mood of it since all parents did was go to city mortuary to identify the bodies of their children killed in the Garissa attack.
My faculty though had already organized a trip for the volleyball team and captains in other sports so we traveled to the coast region of Kenya. The idea of traveling to this area freaked me out and my cousin made it worse by asking if it was safe. I actually don’t know how safe it is, since there are lots of differences between the Nairobi people like myself and the coast people. One, they speak pure Swahili which the Nairobi people have taken pleasure in corrupting. Our Swahili is pathetic. It’s like slang. The coast dwellers take advantage of that and they insult us every time we talk to them.
Second is religion. Coastal areas are full of Muslims while most of the Nairobi people are Christians.
Those are the few differences, but I decided to take the risk anyway. We spent around eight hours on the road and when we got here we were so tired. We booked rooms, showered and my friend and I went out to sample the area foods. Everyone from here knows we don’t belong especially when I open my mouth to ask for anything. Trying to buy shoes had the price hiked by almost three hundred percent and we just left.
We wanted to sample street fish and when we asked if it was fresh, the vendor gave us a harsh tongue lash and ended up calling us ‘ people from the dry land’ which is considered a very big insult.
By the time we are getting to our rooms, we have made two enemies and three friends. We met a great guy who directed us in simple Swahili where to get food. We also met a woman who was selling street food and learned that such joints are known as ‘ mama ntilie ‘ translated as ‘woman serve me’.
We are ready to retire but then Lydiah wants something to eat and I also want to go to the supermarket to buy some milk. We are joined by another friend Faith. As we walk in what we consider a safe small town, my friends are chatting in what’s app, and I not having any messages, am trying to convince them that we should go to the beach tomorrow night.
Suddenly some guy snatches Lydia’s phone and she screams ‘ mwizi ‘ (translated to thief) and runs after him. We could have out ran the guy if Faith and I; who are sports people, had understood what was happening. In like one second, I stood there then splintered after the guy just that I went to the other side of the minivans hoping that the guy would bump into me now that he was running from Lydia. I actually saw the guy disappear in a dark street and wondering what had just happened, I went to find Lydia who is already in another commotion surrounded by guys who look high on something. I know I have to get her out of there but I can’t open my mouth since my Swahili is darn corrupt and she has better chances of getting herself out of trouble. Some guy advances towards her and I am sure he will beat her up with Faith standing helplessly at the side. I do what I do best. Put on a serious face and put on that administration police walk my dad always did. I gather all my courage, go past a few guys who are actually intimidated by my size and height and pull my girl away. They hurl insults at me but I hold my head high and hold my friend tighter ready to drag her along with me if they run after us. In my heart I am sad I convinced my friend to go to coast with me since she got the Coastal accent.
Day two is up tomorrow and I hope it’s a better experience.
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