Today’s Prompt: Where did you live when you were 12 years old?Which town, city, and country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home? An airstream or an RV? Who lived there with you?
The morning adhan, a call to believers to rise and pray. The birds chirping. The buses rising, the beginning of yet another day in the lovely town of Eastleigh; a small town within the great city of Nairobi. The hustle and bustle of this little place knows no bounds. People everywhere. Rushing. Wheel carts (mikokoteni) carrying various mizigo (luggage) to the various many vendors around. Spanning all the way to Garissa and its various shops and all its many clothes. The many clothes and designs you get from there still amazes me.
In this little yet not so little town did I grow up. I would walk all the way to School. Harambee. In my green checked uniforms and my small little shoes and my green canvas bags. Passing through the bridge that separated Section 3 and kimathi, then the well structured houses of kimathi then to the many estates of uhuru ( that all looked the same) on to the education heaven that was Harambee.
Along the way and as the years progressed I would make friends with people of so many ethnic backgrounds and all religion. Yet we were all friends. I remember at one point in time my best friend was a boy named Mohammed who taught me words such as ‘naiya’ _(little girl) and who would joke that he would marry me.
How I miss such days! They were beautiful, no worries. No clashes. All of us just relaxed and anticipating when next we shall go out and play. It didn’t matter that our playing field was near a bus station or that we would have to climb seven floors to get back to the house. And the cane! The cane that followed had you gone home late. Yet that also didn’t matter much.
Times have now changed and we have long since moved. All the same I am grateful.
Sweet sweet sweet young days. How I smile upon you. And you too Eastleigh :):)