 |
As
a child, we used to live in a house where the garage served as a pantry. My old
man was kind of a peasant farmer and hence ensured there was plenty of grains
in the house so that his kids never went hungry on any given day. As such,
stuff like githeri and beans were forever in the fridge because they only
needed to be boiled and stored amass using freezer bags (a better name for
clear polythene bags). Also the fact that we were living in a rural like
neighbourhood meant we could boil the stuff using firewood and no one would
enter our compound to question why we were polluting the air. Those were the
days when firewood was not expensive and my dad used to buy them from a sawmill
owned by a certain Indian because there was no place we could go to fetch
firewood. However, the travails of environmentalists and the increasing population
figures resulted in felling of trees being declared illegal and soon, we had to
shift to gas and charcoal.
Again,
we had a small garden where we grew kales and some osuga which were in
plenty while living in the sprawling plateau within the Uasin Gishu where the
weather was quite affable and lovely. Those days, the flourishing flora that
had greened the aura meant that it was like a routine that it was cold and wet with
a brisk wind sweeping the rain across the land most of the days. When I
left for school in morning, the sky would be as dark as slate still and the icy
north wind would blow the rain straight into my face. That was before our
school bus started picking us or when my old man was out of town to take me to
school.
I
hence learnt to tolerate the conditions given that it was something that I
could do nothing about. That did remind me that the July weather may be having
similar traits, only that it does not have severe effects given that the
Nairobi weather is quite erratic.
Given
that we had several sacks of wheat, maize and beans, we did harbor rats in our
garage and dingy rooms with no lights. Since it was a bungalow, the rats would
shift base to the ceiling and start doing their thing in most of the rooms.
Once, when I was back from boarding school, I found one of the mattresses I slept on nibbled
on and in pieces and decided to overturned everything in the room. The silly rodents had also gnawed
books pages and even wires of different household appliances. When I stayed
still I heard scratching and movement both in various parts of my room and
beyond (perhaps in the floors, walls and the ceiling). It was a the fuckin rats. I found one and killed
it right away. Luckily, I couldn’t find any evidence that they were
nesting or trying to nest anywhere in my room, however, I strangely found traces
of their fecal matter under the bed.
Obviously,
for a seasoned rat killer like me, I have never felt guilty killing one. But
most guys fear rats. My family is an immediate example. They may pretend they
want to kill a rat but they will jump when it nears them shouting as if they
have been attacked instead of the other way round. As for yours truly, I never
let them go. If I have no weapon, my shoes become the weapon. Only those that
are lucky escape from my sight, terrified because even animals fear death. But
I ensure most of them never survive the onslaught of facing me.
So
the other day while leaving for home after an onerous day’s work of convincing
still quite elusive clients, I saw some animals menacing on the stretch from
Wakulima Market to the roundabout near Bomb Blast, on Haile Selassie Avenue. I
was seated next to the window, some few seats behind the driver. While looking
outside I saw “mutant” rats that
have plagued the streets of
Nairobi for long. There was a time more than six thousand were killed in
Wakulima Market but they have still resurfaced and they dared hover around even
when the sun sunsets have been glorious lately, all rosy and as the few
thin strips of clouds on the horizon turn shimmering gold.
What
I saw were gargantuan rats racing as if they had seen some new cheese. Which did
remind me of the story of who moved my cheese. If you have read the book, those
rats that never stuck to routine were able to quickly look for new ways of
finding cheese as opposed to sticking to routine which had no results. However,
these were wild rats. Those that have known how to survive on the streets of
Nairobi and certainly go berserk given that they even looked at me without
blinking or running away. But food does not look like a struggle for these
breed of animals that once raided my room as a pupil in primary school. Without
disturbing them it would be quite impossible to tell how many were there. A
certain street urchin was walking where the rats were and they still never
bothered to escape. Only once did I see them bolt apart faster than a
shoplifting gang in the market place.
That
are so many rats in Nairobi town is not a lie. Once while doing rounds in
houses along Kirinyaga road, I also came face to face with them. Those people
who live in those houses have harboured so many they have become like
housemates. That was close to half a decade ago. Probably they were experimented
with different traps and different baiting techniques or they called a full-on
exterminator because I have never heard of incidences of plague or diseases
associated with the animals.
Hasta
La Vista Baby.
[Photo
Source: Google Images]
