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Baby Jesus in Kawangware

 


Really, our story begins in heaven. An enterprising Kenyan had found his way there – sweet words, some Kenyan ‘chai’ – he was now past the Pearly Gates and in God’s hallowed courtyard. There – more sweet words, more Kenyan ‘chai’, some ‘kahawa, the best in the world he had left behind – he was now part of God’s kitchen cabinet.

It was a silent night – for a few interspersed minutes, at least. It was a holy night – for an hour, or so – when the blaring speakers from the ‘kesha’ brought church to homes, by force, by fire. Now, the stars could be seen. The cause? Kenya Power had done their thing – blackout across the city.

With the security lights – hoisted on masts high above -  out, the stars twinkled as prophesied in that children’s song of old. More, Bishop Kimani’s House of Covenant Biblical Church had been quietened. Again, the occasional shouting for help as someone was parted with their valuables added flavour to the night.

Jose, he was a deeply unhappy person. A few months before, he had been sacked from Njoro’s Future Furniture. This as some tools had gone missing under his watch. Taking a loan, he had started his own workshop; but business was slow and the Kenya Small Business Financier was threatening to auction him.

Jose, he was a deeply unhappy man. For now, Mary had decided to catch a pregnancy and pinned it on him. Jose, he had thought of going MIA – into exile – in Jericho, Eastlands. Then, again, the financier would be on his case, probably engage the police to arrest him for theft or something. Make an example of him.

Johnte was a happy man. In the last two months, he had been the recipient of two donations – cash and kind. It was just as well – for he was almost being locked out of his two-roomed house. He had three months’ rent arrears then, and only his connection to the Member of Parliament of his constituency had the landlord hesitating. Plus, his association with political goons. Again, the landlord had half of his property astride what could be termed as riparian land.

With fortune having smiled at him, Jonte leased some of the landlord’s idle land – now, the two become fast friends. There, he set up a greenhouse, a hen house and a cowshed. Some Maasai guy had sold him a calf at a throwaway price. Most likely, stolen. But, John was a man who took calculated risks. Again, push come shove, the MP was there to bail him.

It is in these circumstances that Baby Jesus is born. But before that, the county medics had gone on strike… something about a dishonoured Collective Bargaining Agreement. Trust Mary to go into labour this very night, prematurely. Perhaps, the shame of their house (now living as man and wife for there was evidence of sin) being locked had induced this.

Jonte, ever kind… truthfully, for a small consideration… lets them refuge in the cowshed. The manger, the only habitable zone for the Christ child. He phones the MP about these constituents that need immediate help, quoting his cut slyly. Ever vigilant, the MP sends three staff members from his office – wise and worldly – to verify this. In their vehicle, always some gifts for exigencies.

Merry Christmas folks!

                                                                     **********




NB: Meanwhile, I have a small ask:- I am running a campaign that will enable me launch my two books in February, end, 2024. I humbly ask of your donations of 20KES/20Kshs/20bob, towards this. The campaign is dubbed #20BobSanaa. Thanks in advance. You can also support by liking and sharing this content, or by buying these books using the following links:

‘A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta’ available at: https://nuriakenya.com/product/a-funeral-dress-for-nyasuguta-by-mark-mwangi/

‘Love Told, Poetry Souled, Family Bold’ – available on Amazon Kindle at  http://shorturl.at/hzALY

Buy Good Till Number: 9080911, Gatere Mwangi
Send Money: 0708 276 622, Mark Gatere


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