Skip to main content

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.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

No one knows what it's all about

We are all in a rat race, whose beginning we do not comprehend, and whose end we cannot fathom. Therefore, in typical human fashion, we have invented systems that keep us sane, as we try to figure out what it's all about. We invented religions, economic systems, socio-cultural systems, political systems and so on, all to make meaning out of our lonely and short existence. But all this has fallen short of fulfilling us. We know we are on a journey, but don't know a journey to where. We do not know how we will know once we get there. Is it possible that the destination is behind us, but we have not recognized it? "Preposterous," we think to ourselves. Aren't we higher beings able to shape our own paths? Would we not know where our paths are headed? History does not agree. Every system that has been built seems to have been the ultimate one. Political & economic systems have struggled to lay claim to the title of the "best" and most "sustainabl...
Post a Comment
Read more

How well-meaning parents ruined us

Growing up, it was common for our parents to encourage us and tell us how we could be anything we wanted in life. "You can do anything you set your mind to do!" They would cheer us on. "Even the president?" We'd ask unconvinced. "Yes, you could even become the richest man in the world!" All this fascinated us. We vowed to ourselves that we'd in fact become people of substance who would be recognized in the entire world for our achievements. We'd ride in super-yachts like Abramovich and the rest of the mega-rich. We would produce life changing inventions, innovating our way to stardom. We'd become the next prodigy in music and sports. All this is well and good, meant to lift our spirits. Assessing our lives however, no matter how much effort we have put in to realize our dreams and visions, they have eluded us. We have become adept at doing other things though: commenting on FB posts, retweets, identifying the hottest political issue...
Post a Comment
Read more

Analyzing a carry trade proposal: Short USD, go long on bitcoin

I recently completed an assignment for an International Economics Policy class which entailed designing a carry trade. A carry trade is a financial transaction that involves borrowing (short) in a low interest currency, and lending (go long) in a high interest (yield) currency. For instance from Bloomberg 's rates for bonds, this would involve borrowing in Swiss francs (rate is -0.15 percent) and lend in New Zealand dollars (rate is 2.83 percent). All else remaining equal, the carry trade would yield a rate differential of 2.83+0.15 = 2.98 percent. Note: this is an unusual case where the interest rate we are borrowing from is negative; usually, this would involve subtracting the first interest rate from the second. For instance, borrowing in Japanese yen (0.04 percent) and lending in Kiwi dollars (at 2.83 percent) would yield 2.79 percent as profit. My carry trade in this case involves borrowing in USD at a rate of 2.33 percent, and buying bitcoins. But, what, you may ask, is the...
Post a Comment
Read more