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The struggle with many a rigid Logooli cultural practices

  The Logooli community is one of the deeply cultured societies – with near everything supposed to have been done as per custom – to allow another custom to follow. One example is that for a mature man (with a child or more) to be buried, there must be a house structure at home. Another is that a boy must be circumcised and nursed in father land. If maternal family decides to, the boy will have a hard time reconnecting with father people - a dent on his masculinity. There were two children who got burnt to death in a house in Nairobi. The single mother had left for night work. Elders were told that one of the children was Logooli. The other, the woman had sired with someone else. The Logooli family wanted to burry their little one and long discussed the do’s and don’ts. Of a man who died childless and the grave was placed as if he had died as a man with children. It should have been dug on the sides, the grave. A real thorn should have been thrust in his buttocks, his name go...
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NEVER FAINT IN NAIROBI STREETS

Yesterday at 10pm there laid a man in a death position at Ken-Com. People who were late to their destinations were hurrying in different thoughts. Three policemen stood beside the man in a critical position. What came to my mind is that he is a robber and that is his end. If you become a liability to the world, the world will do away with you.

The man had not been shot. He must have convulsed or a similar happening. There wasn’t a ready bus and so when I took a turn, I gained courage to see the man. I could have gone too. He was turning his head slowly sideways on the cold pathway. The police walked away grudgingly knowing that it is top of their responsibility to contact any help.

If you fainted in Nairobi, it will depend on a number of things for you to access care. Nairobi is a busy town, full of motorists and John Walkers. Ladies knock your stomach sideways as men use their muscles to hit you pretty hard. When I was a young boy, walking ahead while looking sideways, I bumped into a man that slapped me squarely on the cheek. I was alone. I doubt if he would be prosecuted or bitten by my dad if he saw him- or whether he would beat us both. In the city under the sun, humans walk like robots.

Depending on your attire, people will recognize the kind of person you are. If they help, you may say a good ‘Thank You’. In the city, the elites and semi-elites put on suits, business people do a casual expensive wear of loafers and Mr. Price Jeans. Their T-shirts have expensive choreographs. They carry big phones. Cheap ladies struggle to show their fronts and hinds in tight outfits. Bachelors and hustlers are in simple open rubber shoes, old jeans a second-hand T-shirt and a bag on the back. The urchins and related families walk aimlessly around doing simple luggage carrying tasks and surrounding any funny activity like of a conning magician.

Before-I-help-you-I-should-know-who-you-are is the silent talk in the diverse no-friend no-relative capital. We live funnily. We sound strangers every time to even the best of our friends. We do not meet to talk for the sake of talking. We meet to spearhead goals. So, when you faint in Nairobi, in fright, the ones near you will run away and stop two legs ahead to look as the seizures work on you. Your wallet and phones will be aimed at first- to steal or save them for you. Mostly to steal. The city is full of semi-skilled people and only a few who seem not to be busy may get concerned.

We are very suspicious in the town. I will bump into a lost child who starts to explain where her home is and before I take him to a police station, I will be charged with child trafficking. If I stood near a shop holding my phone, maybe waiting for a friend, I will be asked to step aside, far into the sun and wait from there for I am not trusted. A poem I wrote sometimes ago says how I was sent away from a neighbouring court where I had gone to read a novel from an open field. The place is just no one’s loving home.

The way we treat others is what we least expect from them sometimes. I have walked from many needy people on the road and questioned self what if it was me. I have not shown a good example. Secondly, I have no resources to help. When it comes to outsourcing, for instance calling for medical attention, I am confidently sure Nairobi will hit that mark in future. Not now. The authority to assert help for a person is out of reach. What if he goes to the hospital and doesn’t get attention because he is but a street urchin?

Do not faint on the streets dear one. Keep your seizures and stress under control. This is a world where having a disadvantage is a definite guarantee to embarrassment and you can’t access some resources. You will enter a matatu bus whose people do not speak up when the thing fills to maximum. Day by day we continue to be less of humans and even minding less about ourselves.

For If you faint on the streets of Nairobi you might die there. The people do not know you just as they do not know themselves.

Picture source: www.dailymail.co.uk. A man walks past a lifeless body in Liberia. Opposite is an ongoing bussiness.



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