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They told us to wait

They said we should wait. The wazees were deliberating. They were discussing "important" issues of national security and interest. So, we walked out. We stood by the door. It was raining hard, and we strained to stand as close to the wall as possible, to avoid getting drenched.

Inside, the air was exuberant. The wazees were laughing heartily as they imbibed to their fill with nyama choma and Tusker baridi. My stomach was grumbling. I looked around at my friend. She was shivering. "She's going to catch a cold if we don't get somewhere warm soon," I thought to myself. I could stay here and wait to see the wazees and tell them why we had come. Or I could save my skin and call it a day (or night). I chose the former.

I motioned to Wanjiku to follow me. She seemed shocked. We had come so far, having walked in the wind and rain for two hours. She was heavy with child, and due any day now. We passed the Toyota VXs that had transported the wazees to their favorite watering hole. Inside, we could make out silhouettes of figures sitting and watching us. I stood for a moment. Why did these men protect our oppressors? Why did they watch us with disgust, while they went back home to cold, leaking shacks, without electricity,  and to hungry mouths waiting to be fed? Why did they protect these cartels?

No matter. We walked quickly past the row of SUVs and trudged in the mud. The closest clinic had no doctors, no nurses, and no medicines. When the medics had not been paid for three months, they had left. They wanted to serve, but they had children, families, and needs. They too had mouths to feed! If only mzee Chege would come to our aid, and drive my friend to his Muuguzi Mwema Private Clinic about 50km away, maybe she would have a safe delivery.


I gave Wanjiku a quick glance. Despite her state, she was determined. She gave me a reassuring nod. We quickened our pace towards our village. We had 2 hours of walking to do. Maybe tomorrow the wazees would listen to us. Perhaps tomorrow the nurses would come back. Or maybe they would fix the dilapidated road. Or perhaps they would lower the fuel prices so we could afford to hire a taxi. Or perhaps I would be lucky enough to be called by the mjengo people for a job.

Wanjiku stopped suddenly. She held her abdomen and let out a shriek. I stopped straight in my tracks and the hair on my back stood straight. "Oh God! Not here, not now!" I screamed as I ran towards her.
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