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It’s that time again when The Chronicles of Nyar Kaheti resurface. Growing up without a brother close to you in age meant that most boyish chores fell primarily on you. Well gakware and the not so gakware Asusena landed the grazing job without any interview. Grazing was awesome because mostly we were left unsupervised. Mzee’s only rule was, ‘oo mūndū aikare mwena wake.’ Lakini nani kama sisi. It’s like rules breaking is embedded in every kids deoxyribonucleic acid commonly referred to as DNA. Or should I say it’s the devil in the details. No sooner had Mzee left than we’d find ourselves next to each other devising how to make the day unforgettable. We’d go looking for gum, wild berries or goose berries. You can imagine the scratches we got and how painful the legs washing nightly experience would be. But who were we, we’d close that bridge when the time came. After filling our bellies with all manner of wild parphanelia, we’d need to burn the resultant energy. Playing tapū (hide and seek), mambrigan (public van) and that gīūthi game, the one you draw on the ground, throw a stone and go hopping from box to box except on the box with the stone. Those games were dope. Not forgetting climbing on a mūtūndū tree (Croton macrostachyus) neither for her healing properties nor for to see the good Lord like Zaccheus, but for playing make believe that it’s the East African Safari Classic Rally and that we were Juha Kankunen or however that name was spelled. That was how I learnt to climb trees. We’d get so lost in it until we heard the signature throat clearing of Mzee followed by ‘no kang’akang’a.’ We’d scamper as far away from each other only to realise that the cows and goats were nowhere to be found. You can only guess where they were. Sometimes it’d so hard to locate them we’d need to spit on our hands and slap the saliva with the forefinger. Whichever direction the majority of the saliva shot we’d follow that direction. Other times we’d have to engage Wakagukua for her shamanic qualities. Either way if the herd found its way in the luscious maize fields the evening would not be so kind on us. You had to tie a Kīhīnga or cross your three fingers or both. But mostly our butts would be sore.


Published by Nyar Kaheti

Born and raised on the picturesque slopes of Mt Kenya, Nyar Kaheti is your girl next door vibe kind of girl. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, and listening to country music among other things.

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