Visiting the village

On my arrival in the village recently, I could not smile even as my friends cracked their funniest jokes. My face was a clear DO NOT DISTURB sign.
The severe expression was to put off the swarm of friends and relatives who rushed to greet and hug and thank God for my arrival. On arrival in the village, you will be told about all the relatives who had passed away in your absence. You will be informed about all debts that had been incurred and how they had been praying for your assistance.
Friends will be there for you too. They will pat your back and shake your hand in knowledge that you will turn on the taps of beer again. You are still searching for a kibarua in the city. You are ever broke – only eking a living out there but folks down there are stuck to the fact that you are senior officer in some big company.
Thus, apart from buying lots of sugar and maize to relatives, you will also be expected to pay for the bull that was slaughtered sometimes back in a distant relative’s funeral.  
“Though you have a lot of money,” an old friend said to me, “we are only requesting for a glass of chang’aa.”

“You  must do something for us!” another one commanded.

Of course, I was very broke but I could not make a mistake of telling them about it for they could have laughed it off and branded me a great joker. So I told them about my sickness and how was in urgent need of a doctor.
The kids who were playing football excitedly stopped their match and ran towards me when I entered home. They looked excitedly at my rucksack in thought that I had carried foodstuff for them. It was bad for them since it only contained my books and clothes.
  “Go back to your game!” My younger brother tried to order them. I knew quite well that they would not leave. Not when a ring of smoke was coming from the kitchen.
So we took tea together. The bread was not enough but we enjoyed a single slice each. I was happy at last!
We later played together – running around and laughing excitedly. It was nice to be back home. Nice to be a child again.
 There was abject poverty in the village but the kids played merrily as if all was well. I smiled as they began to sing “The sun has gone to sleep” the song I had loved as a child. I sang along loudly. I jumped and clapped my hands only to realize that there were some spectators…
“I knew you were not sick.” Came the excited voice from one of the spectators. He was one of my stubborn old friends. “You must buy the drink…”

 I became sick again. Very sick.

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8 Comments on “Visiting the village”

  1. hi bro,
    thats good stuff. We shall be communicating. We have to start from a humble beginning

  2. good work we shall talk more and support you more on this issues.

  3. Kenneth Says:

    This is very good continue improving.

  4. Jenie Says:

    Wow!Execellent & great realistic…. true!i LOVE it….tukopamoja..

  5. Wangeshi Says:

    Ateka u’ve done it again. Keep going you energizer bunny

  6. Wangeshi Says:

    Ateka u’ve done it again. Keep going. You are the energizer bunny

  7. Macklower Abisai Says:

    Setting The Pace
    Your articles paint the real picture of a wanting village, hopeful dependants, a strugling youth faced with the monsters of corruption, tribalism n the ugly head of poverty punctuating it all. By pressing on, we will defy these odds, We will stand to testify before our distractors and even before God when blessings start to shower! Kudos Man!

  8. urbanus kitati Says:

    That is innovative writing guy .good work

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