The driver went on and on ranting about the state of the Nation and how the much hyped bottom up looked like an M turned W. Kīrīmi felt like closing one eye and looking at the driver with only one in the hope that this would scare him and shut him up. More so he felt like masking his mouth with cellotape or better still hem his lips with a needle and thread. This way his home science would yield some goodness. They say talk is cheap and this guy was pure talk. He however didn’t want to ignore him completely since he hoped to get directions from him once they arrived at the big city. He therefore listened half attentively even as a migraine began to register somewhere in his forehead. He knew that the pangs of hunger were now sending various transmissions to his brain that he better be armed with Ugali because they were not going to be cooled down by anything else. His stomach rumblef and he remembered the rambling fever episode which transpired after he ate Kawīra’s chicken. Remembering that ordeal sent shivers down his spine. That day he almost cursed the day he was born. They were now approaching downtown Nairobi and he could tell this from the increasing human and car traffic. Past the Ngara roundabout they joined Kīrīnyaga road and them Mūrang’a road which spewed them at Tea room. He gathered his backpack threw it on his back and thanked the driver for the journey albeit hypocritically then smiled from ear to ear in a bid to get directions from him. He did not want to use Google maps since he knew phones were much sort after goods by the, ‘eaters of the farmed’ ‘tūrīa nīme’ He began walking down river road, but no sooner had he taken the first step than he felt the air gush out of his throat and lost consciousness, now he was definitely at the pearly gates……

To be continued.

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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