New frontiers

The great thing about Njaanuary is people are pretty non judgemental. Or maybe they too are wallowing in their own misery that they can’t look at you under their noses. For example you are allowed to not only have a bad hair day, but also a bad hair month because people seem to understand that money is somewhere in the outskirts of the city and no sooner do you seem to get near it than it disappears and zooms further like a mirage.
My friend and I decided to put our business acumen into high gear and capitalize on the Njaanuary poverty. You know that hypocritical craving for cabbages and everything vegetarian coupled with claims of not wanting anything meaty near you cause it’s making you nauseous. Yeah pregnancy signs are all over.
So we asked around and found a willing seller in a remote village on the slopes of Mt. Kenya. It’s us those in the wee hours of the morning. You know with the first cock, ‘ngūkū ya mbere’ and bundle ourselves in his brand new pickup. It’s not brand new but a vintage Chevrolet that has seen better days. It’s new to him though and since I don’t want to bruise his ego I go with the ‘brand new’ title. Furthermore it also has a fresh coat of mustard yellow paint perfectly mixed by Mūthokinju paints, so again there’s that.
It’s us those negotiating those bends like a new river creating its own course and within no time we arrive at the farm to find the overzealous workers have already downed half the farm. We count and tally both cabbages and money and the chirping of the phone signifies a closed deal. We are ready to cruise off but the owner tells us of a new road being constructed. Well construction hasn’t began yet but there’s been a lot of digging happening and on a sunny day like this it will be nywee except for the dust. I being the , ‘opposed to change type,’ try to convince my friend that it’s better to use the tried and true route but my friend is this spontaneous, highly spirited being who wants to live life to its fullest, explore new frontiers and have fun while at it. I can’t argue with him so we take to the new route and it’s us those enjoying the mountainside breeze mixed with the dust. We are listening to country roads take me home by John Denver singing at the top of our voices not a care in the world. Marikiti here we come. Kanairo guys, here comes būthi 😉 and we’ll be smiling all the way to the bank.
Someone says it always rains in the mountains, and I add when it rains it pours. My granny said, ‘igūrū na mūka ūrī ihū matimenyagīrwo.’ And just like that, pitter patter raindrops. Visibility becomes an issue and we have to stop. I’m beginning to think that I’m seeing those cats and dogs.
After what seemed like hours and hours of torrential downpour, the rainbow and voila what a sight. Our moods lightened for a while only to be dulled by the sudden realisation that our doors couldn’t unlock. We were stuck way deep in the mud with no sign of civilization ahead. Ooh Lord is this how you planned our dust to go back to dust🤔
A moment to ponder.
To be continued
#StillTheChronicler.

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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