A FRIEND INDEED.

A FRIEND INDEED.

I stay in Kawangware along Ngina road, about 300 metres away from Precious Blood Riruta. Every morning I pick matatus to Dagoretti Kona near the Shell petrol station at

the junction where the road to Kawangware 46 bus stage meets Naivasha road. In the evening I am dropped near the Shell Petrol station located opposite the former just after Kinyanjui road. From where I drop there is a queue of vehicles operating towards Kikuyu, Uthiru, Waithaka and Limuru immediately after Kinyanjui Road all the way to the Riruta Police Station.  There are these particular matatus that always catch my eye. In the list of places it operates, is Kamangu. Yes, Kamangu. Kamangu is the reason why I would never miss to observe the matatus. Kamangu rekindles memories. Memories we shared together with a close friend Gideon.

Gideon Owour, alias Jokothing’o, is a Geography Religion teacher. Tall and medium built in stature. He has a bit sunken eyes with protruding cheekbones and is light skinned. He is a staunch Christian and a fierce critic of tithing. Back in college, he was very hardworking, at times waking up in ungodly hours to study and during the day he is making peace with his bed. An eloquent speaker, a great debater who had a wide command of vocabulary that was decorated with a conspicuous foreign accent.

Despite sharing a similar background, our relationship was cordial. We were in the same class and we played as defenders in the football team. He was the goalkeeper, I was the fullback. He was naïve though when it came to social life. Maybe it is my skewed judgement but we once brushed shoulders. Our friendship was not well defined then, even though we never failed to assist one another especially when seeking emotional support. We shared similar dreams and ambitions and we had almost similar energy towards our ambitions. We even faced each other during the race for college representative.

Fast forward to almost eight months after graduating in college, I was miserable at home with no job. Gideon called me with the good news that I report immediately to a school in Kamangu. He was aware of my situation and having a good will to help me, he beseeched the director of the school to consider me. A phone call was enough to be interviewed and immediately I was on my way to the school. The school was young considering the population of the girls and the year it started. The environment was cold that at times we walked to school rattling our teeth but having a job was more important than the cold we felt.

Our meagre salary could afford us a double room house. We used to pay 2500 monthly. The house was located about a kilometre away from school adjacent Moi Girls Kamangu. We had enough space but little items in the house. Apart from a mattress that we shared, we had a couple of utensils and a small jiko for cooking. We used to use charcoal as fuel. We made a meal once a day since we were provided with breakfast and lunch in school. No fancy clothes, no furniture, no electronics.

One of my memorable days in Kamangu, that tested and cemented our friendship with my friend Gideon, happened on one Thursday evening. We had left the school as usual but our journey to the house was a bit longer. We walked hesitantly and silently. Both of us were buried in deep thoughts. Our pockets were dry and our food store was almost empty. We had the most important. Maize Flour. No vegetables and no charcoal for our jiko.

We had to eat. We made a few calls with a hope of getting M-Pesa notifications in vain. Problems had been piling our way but this one was heavy for our muscles to handle. We pondered in silence and deliberated on the options we had. It was not luxurious but we had to do it. We decided to unclothe the teachers in us and act completely different guys.

To execute our plan, we waited until it was pitch dark. We tiptoed into the darkness to fetch firewood. We literally picked any stick on our way in haste so that we could minimise the chances of being found doing such at night, yet we were strangers in the vicinity. Lighting up the firewood in our jiko was pretty easy because we had accumulated expertise over time doing the same. Because of shame that we were hiding, we decided to lit the fire inside the house.

A bigger percentage of the firewood we collected were still green and produced a lot of smoke. The fire was not lighting well but we were on its toes forcing it to behave. The smoke was unbearable. It was suffocating. But we were determined to finish our mission soonest possible. Mid our cooking, we heard the hoot of a car at the gate and soon enough the car entered reversing. A brand-new Isuzu Dmax. The flashlights were blinding. It made the entire compound bright like midday sunlight. Whose car was it? The landlord. And what was happening in our house? Wisps of dark smoke curled and danced their way through the thick, hazy air as if excited to escape through whichever opening of the house to announce to the entire public what was happening inside our house.

Struggling in the smoke-filled air, we ate our meal, comprised of smoked ugali and fried onions only, in grave silence.  We retired silently to bed feeling embarrassed but with satisfied stomachs. It was not a nice experience but we bargained our survival. We never worried about our clothes perfumed by smoke. We never worried about what the landlord would say. We were determined to deposit something in our stomachs.

That night my ratings for my friend hit the maximum possible. He earned my total respect and our friendship was cemented. His determination, his courage, his focus to ensure that we achieve our goal melted my heart. No amount of gold or silver would I have given him to equal the feeling that he had made go through. Kamangu, after all, helped me learn a lesson.