I was about to hop on a matatu to Kawangware last Sunday evening when my cousin Cecil called to inform me that he was on his way to Nairobi town from Kilgoris. Apparently, he had missed me so much aaaw! Cecil. He then asked me to wait for him and being the good cousin I am, I agreed. Half an hour later, he showed up at Afya Center with his best friend Willies and I dandiad their Uber to Ngong Road. While on our way, these two made fun of my short haircut among other annoying stuff. If you think that my current haircut is too short, I was planning to go bald imagine. And Cecil, for the zillionth time, my head is not a resting pad for your hand OK? It doesn’t matter how short I am or how short my hair is. Ikufikie! Mscheeew!

Anyway, we parted ways circa 7pm as I headed to my hacienda in Kawangware. Here is the thing about Kawangware, almost everything you hear about it, is true ….well apart from the hotbed of Corona allegations. Its dense population makes it the perfect breeding ground for all sorts of things, drama being among the top. I mean there has to be a reason why we have The Real Househelps of Kawangware show right? Actually, here is a fun fact, we have a Villa Rosa in Kawangware, only that it is a Jaba Base. Kawangware has matatu stages with very funny names for example Congo, Msalaba, Coast, etc. At this point, I can confidently say that Kawangware residents are the Nigerians of Nairobi, dramatic AF! And believe me, we are very proud of it.

On getting to the block that houses my hacienda, I was welcomed with loud chants which sounded like radical prayers of sorts.  “What is it this time!” I wondered as I walked past the caretaker who informed me, that someone on our floor was hosting church prayers. “That is great! Considering they are making a lot of noise! That is really cool” I thought to myself as I opened my door. My small sister Maryanne called me to confirm if I had gotten home safely a few minutes after I got into the house. I then suggested to her that we have a family video call via WhatsApp instead so that I could say hi to everyone.

Our family WhatsApp call which had my two sisters, mum, and cousin Kliph, was interrupted screams, and yes you guessed it right, they were straight from the house opposite mine which was the host of the noisy prayers. The screams were piercing, bordering between pain and crying and clearly coming from the vocal cords of a female homo sapien. “Agie kwani unaishi kwa msitu gani hiyo?” mum asked. From someone who had declined all the multiple invites to visit my house, that was an unwarranted question. Funny thing is that each time I face time my mother, she will ask for a virtual house tour which will feature many intrusive questions such as “Iyo in boxer ya mwanaume nimeona hapo?” or “Unajua izo ice cream ziko kwa fridge ndio zinakupa acidity? (She always insists that I open my fridge and give her a fridge tour too) Next time uzilete huku tuzikule na uwache kupenda kula vitu baridi” *Sigh* Mums though.

The screams went on and off like those pesky KPLC token machines. The funny thing was that each screaming session was followed by loud prayers and then singing. My sister Regina was quick to remind me of the bible story where Jesus cast out demons from humans to nearby pigs. “If I were you Agie, I would lock up my doors so that the demons from the screaming lady don’t get into my house.” She teased amid laughter.

At that point, I could only lock myself up in the house and imagine what the screamer looked like. Probably she was a normal lady whose quest for spirituality and Godliness had led her into a house in Kawangware that was opposite the house of a nosy writer. She must have been in search of answers and hope. Desperately waiting for a miracle. So she congregated with people like her in the name of God. For some weird reason, I imagined that she was rocking a poorly done middle part weave that made her look like a low budget beardless Kat Williams. Maybe she left her house in a long oversized dress, simple loafers, and pressed a bible tightly against her bosom on her way to the fellowship that would later cast out her demons. I have never been exorcised before but from her screams, it must be a very painful ordeal.  So guess what, I am keeping my demons. Life is hard enough.

Later that night as I retired to bed, just when I thought that all the drama was over and it was time to catch some beauty sleep, there were screams again. This time from another lady who had been locked out of one of the houses. She sounded drunk and was confessing her love to the person(s) who had locked her out as she begged to be allowed back in. Mark you, this was at around 1 am (yes I am nocturnal)! Seriously y’all don’t know the meaning of a 10 pm curfew? Y’all chose drama every damn time? *Deep sigh*

Na sihami by the way.


System jo, imeninyima kazi jo, degree yangu, ni urembo jo