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Baba tembea, tembea nami (Walk with me Lord)

 

It was end month and I was down to my last thirty shillings. Truth be told, you can easily starve here in this mean Nairobi of ours. Of course, I looked slimmer and had lost considerable weight. A malicious neighbour would have said I was sick while I kinder one would have sympathised with the rising cost of living. My immediate neighbour would have advertised to everyone in the plot that there were days I wasn’t cooking supper. And how would she have known? Because there was a small gap that separated our two single rooms constructed out of mabati (iron sheets). On days I didn’t cook supper, she didn’t’ complain of sneezing caused by my frying of garlic and pepper – which made me drink lots of water to fill up the remaining space in my belly after I had done eating my skimpy supper of sukuma wiki and ugali.

Despite skipping supper for a whole month, here I was, down to my last thirty shillings. The year was 2010.

My audit, meal-wise: the Toss container still had some tea leaves in it. The Drinking Chocolate one had about a quarter kilo of sugar left. Swirling the kerosene stove about confirmed it could do two more meals. A healthy onion and a somewhat overripe medium tomato completed the picture, gazing at me scornfully. The thirty shillings was good for two cups of boiled githeri, a small avocado and a mandazi at the neighbourhood shopping centre. I said a small prayer before consuming this delicious meal (fried githeri with avocado, accompanied by strong tea and a mandazi), knowing that life was going to get very interesting from now on.

Baba tembea, tembea nami
Usiku wa kiza, tembea nami
Jua lichomozapo, lituapo
Kusini, kaskazini, magharibi, mashariki
Katika misimu yote Baba
Elohi nakusihi, tembea nami.

(Father walk with me
In the dark of night, walk with me
As the sun shines and sets
In the South and North, West to East
In all seasons Father
Elohim I beseech, walk with me)

I switched off the single bulb in the room, the time now being some minutes past 8pm, saving on electricity.  From my neighbour’s house – Teacher Anne be her blessed name – came the tantalising smell of beef, taunting my belly, complementing my basic meal. In my mind, one of the Abunuwasi stories, about the poor man taken to the king’s court on charges of eating his ugali with the smell of cooking beef from the rich man’s house.

Some background. Then, we had a youth group, being funded by some civil society type on this or that project. We had implemented a program for them for three months now without pay, same program winding up. (Eventually, they made off with our dues… a crucial business lesson that you haven’t been paid until you have the payment reflecting on your bank account. Otherwise, it is all null and void.) Of course, we were all courteous with them, thinking long term in case they came back with a similar program. How naïve of us…

The phone rang. A strange number. I got your number from so and so… Could you do some facilitation (as a trainer/facilitator) for us tomorrow? Yes, definitely. It is scheduled for three days. Yes, I can manage that. Payment is such and such an amount, paid within a week after completion of the same. No problem. Venue? Such and such a place. Ok. Thank God (in my mind) that it was a walking distance from where I resided.

New plan needed now: borrow iron from Teacher Anne and be presentable for tomorrow. Of course, after giving her ample time to done finish her beef and ugali supper (sweet is the aroma of slightly burning ugali too), else, I be the neighbours’ discussion for the rest of the week. Then wake up very early in the morn and trek to the venue. Anyway, I did partake twice of every meal (10 o’clock tea, lunch and 4pm tea) for the three days the training was held, sorting my meals concern there. Fortunately, the payments for my facilitation was done after a day - worth two months of rent and household shopping.

 

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