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Covid-19: Dark Times



Covid-19 was come. Uhuru had closed Nairobi. It had begun as a joke. On the periphery of KOT (Kenyans on Twitter), Wuhan and something something Corona, happening in far-away China. Like Ebola, Swine Flu and Bird Flu, localised diseases that would soon pass. And so, we had gossiped and bantered on matters politics and the tribulations of one William Ruto, isolated and estranged, a Deputy President in name only. His was a tragic picture; a double orphan and widowed, is the apt description by one Kenyan of his then unpalatable situation.

2020, February, I had then begun a job as a restaurant manager. One of those jobs you finagle into with absolutely no skills or expertise in the true Kenyan grind that is hustling. Anyway, through sheer drive and a bit of luck, the restaurant was doing well, considered that it had closed for a long while, then rebranded and reopened under new management (yours truly).

2020, mid-March – schools closed, restaurants closed, churches… On Twitter, that we were in serious times as Sabina Joy was closed too for the second time in its colourful and chequered history. Apparently, the first time was in the attempted coup of ’82 when it had closed for a day. Nairobi ground to a halt.

We were now become the Urban Hungry… muscles wasting, worry and anxiety killing us, jobs lost, prophecies of end times come. Savings had ran out and the curfew was brutal… an acquaintance who hawked shirts for a living had been bludgeoned to death by a police officer for flouting the curfew hours. On the mainstream media, reportage of increased cases of domestic violence and the occasional suicide. Else, the rare landlord/lady waiving rent… on our end, threats of, and attempted ejections from our rented houses which we vigorously resisted.

Ninapo lala njaa, wanishushia manna
Nitokapo chozi, wanipa faraja
Kwenye vita, watuma malaika
Maradhi yakija, wewe wangu mponya.

 

(When I sleep hungry, you avail manna
When I tear up, you comfort me
In times of war, you send angels
When diseases visit, you are my great healer.)

The third day of want, going to bed and waking up hungry, I was listening to John Ndungu’s ‘Gatheri’ – a poignant Kikuyu gospel tune of a family that was at their tether’s end and God sent a saviour. A knock on the door, Dickson Salano and Humprey… Why was I incommunicado? I gave my excuses. Anything we can eat in this house? Nada. An M-Pesa transaction was done that had me wearing my face mask and scurrying off to the local butcher for half a kilo of beef, and other essentials at the grocer’s and at the shopkeeper’s.

Later, these two gentlemen topped up my M-Pesa account, enrolled me for government relief food, among others. Wherever you are, may you never lack and may you continue to be a blessing to others. A while later, with the relaxing of Nairobi’s lockdown, my brother came calling. Indeed, I am testament that those who trust in the Lord will never lack.

Elohi tembea, tembea nami
Usiku wa kiza, tembea nami
Jua kucha-kutwa, tembea nami
Nikiwa nayo pumzi, tembea nami.

(Elohim walk with me
In the dark of night, walk with me
As the sun shines and sets, walk with me
As long as I have breath in me, walk with me).
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