THE TALL GRASS -Dream of Freedom

The kid in a man

It was time to return home and Dad was already around to pick us, as usual he would grab me and put me over his shoulders and a boda cyclist (bicycle operator) would carry mums’ merchandise as they were always heavy so we would walk home luggage-free as Dad and mum manufactured stories or recycled some that I had already heard from Dad in the absence of her. It would take us twenty minutes to get home. The sky was very clear that night full of stars, and the bright light of the full moon reassured us of security as anyone who might have intended to either attack or pull some prank on us would have nowhere to hide. That was not enough for the moon, I fell in love with it too that I kept gazing in the sky as its soul-soothing effects took toll on me. Though naturally most men prefer blue colors, the bond between me and the sky was so strong that I found myself building so many castles in the air. My grip around my fathers’ head tightened and he had to intervene when it became unbearable. I could not relent from wishing to touch and embrace the sky oh I think that was silly of me. My father’s grandfather had a term for such kids in such situations as I was, he would lament nyathini okethore meaning this child is spoilt. I would disagree because the truth is I was just a little crazy and caught up in a spoilt world that himself and others who had lived before my Dad and me, did little to preserve its values. All is well.
We got home safe and mum went to take shower while Jacqueline my elder sister and the eldest sibling in the family headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner where mum would join her after taking a shower, my Dad would always go straight to check our livestock to ascertain if they were all there and in good conditions to whirl away the hollow night comfortably in their open stable. Jacqueline would set the kitchen and then proceed to bathe me; she would always complain of me splashing water on her clothes and in the process pinch me on the ear. That is the moment when Dad would intervene and someone would be in trouble but not physically. What a spoilt child? Erick my elder brother, of whom to date people think we are twins, would be in our bedroom forcing some sleep. He would time when the meal is ready and emerge with a pile of fresh drawings and everyone would be convinced that he had been engaged in some creative artistic work except for me and Jacqueline who knew his trick. He would be complemented by Dad who would brand him an architect posterity but that was a verdict to be read later in the continued episode of hearings in his court of life. It is admissible though that he was such a creative soul.
Time was moving so fast and we had to resume school so I had to travel back with Dad to Kiambu where my school was situated. Gisagatha School as it was called those days, am not sure if that name is alive to date. It was just some ten minutes’ walk from Sianda estates. The estate was one of the many which housed those working formerly or informally for Njenga Karume, a minister in the then government of President Moi regime. He owned vast tracks of estates which were partitioned into a variety of crops plantations, livestock presence was also felt widely and also coffee factories were not left out in the estates. Would that kind of a person not need the services of my father? No he needed my father and many others at various levels of work to help in smoothening operations. So he got himself a job as a guard through a security company by the name Securicor at that time I would wish to think it changed names later to G4S.
Sianda estate was to become our home, me and my father as my other siblings and mother were to stay home and visit in intervals. The reasons for him insisting I stay around him despite being little at that time, I am or was yet to establish. We were absorbed in the Sianda Estate where my father would leave me deep asleep in the wake of dawn after preparing and keeping me breakfast for work manning the minister’s gate when he was assigned day time shifts, at times he would go for the night shifts and leave me in the house but ensuring that I slept on a full stomach hope you know what I mean. Later in the night he would sneak routinely from his station and come to the estate to ascertain if I was safe in the house taking advantage of its proximity to his station.
I had no difficulty making friends, and within a spate of one full moon I had been initiated into various groups of friends from different parts of the country. It was the beginning of a new experience, life, plays, good deeds and those naughty ones which never went unpunished. Sometimes I would spend most of my free times after school with friends at their houses and Dad seemed to be having no problem with that so I was given that freedom to roam around but strictly with friends whom we were classmates. Did I mention that I was enrolled to a preparatory school at Gisagatha primary? If no, then I just did.
I had adapted to this environment so fast that even my father was left wondering about it. The only challenge for me at that time was weather, in the mornings of June to August and would sometimes eat into better days of September it used to be very cold accompanied by light showers and mist. When it rained, the red volcanic soil of the place would often disappear with most of my moods for school because it meant someone would be punished for playing in the mud or sliding in the mud and falling intentionally; those childhood things. That was to be as weather is weather and despite ruining many plans, some of its elements are fundamentals of life directly or indirectly and life had to move on.
Kiambu was a good place to stay after all. We cohabited with our neighbours very well. Peace, togetherness, love, being your brothers’ keeper and sharing among other virtues were the order of the day and it became a routine if not a requisite. No one treated us like outsiders as we had already formed a common bond with the locals that everyone became family though nothing is always perfect as disagreements are part of any society.
I had friends all over the estate. We did all those crazy things together but among the many friends, one was always my best; Saitoti. Our relationship did not start smoothly, it happened that we were playing around the estate and one lady by the name Mutinda was carrying him on her back. I was not so happy because I thought it was only me who deserved to be in that situation or maybe it was just naught that drove me to pull him hard leading to him landing on his head on the hard ground sustaining an injury on his forehead. Our parents were not around and no one had any idea what to do. We had to wait up to lunch time when his mother would be back to attend to him. I was surprised when his mum threatened to kill me with a knife. I had to run for my dear life. She looked so serious to me so I had to save my tender being by running into one of the coffee bushes that surrounded the estate until she was out of site.
Mutinda being a close neighbour helped me hide in their house until my father returned. Saitotis’ mother was still infuriated with me and came to report to my dad what I had done to her son and to demand justice by ensuring he compensated for the financial damages I had caused them through my act. I felt like a quisling to my dad. He budged and compensated them. Our relationship got on a winter mode state for a while as I was grounded for two weeks. That was the first time I was being punished for a conduct people call gross but which I would try to console myself was that of innocence and ignorance. Don’t anyone think am creating a defense base for mischief ex abundant cautela?  You remain my judge and my mind my barrister.