Mlachake
JF-Expert Member
- Oct 13, 2009
- 4,472
- 4,723
DISCLAIMER: Long listing
Yesterday, I had just settled down with my Sunday Nation and a
mug of tea when I heard a timid knock. Not expecting anyone, I was contemplating
what to do if it was those annoying Jehovah's Witnesses again as I went to open
the door. But nothing would have prepared me for what awaited me.
It was
a sight that made me quickly think of the thing that the proverbial cat dragged
in. A short dark early twenties girl stood there with beseeching eyes. She was
in a black top under a sleeveless orange sweater. The two garments did not cover
her navel that protruded from an early pregnancy bulge. Below that she was in a
white denim skirt that could have done with a long soak in omo with powerfoam.
Her feet in open sandals, were covered by a thick coat of red dust that had
clung to the oil she had applied on her feet. As I stepped out to hear her story
better, she turned and I noticed the skirt had a huge black smudge on the
sitting area.
She quickly told me that she was knocking doors to beg for
fare to return to her home in Mweiga. She had come to town the previous day to
look for her cousin who is married to help her look for a job. Not able to trace
the cousin, she had walked to the police station when night fell where she had
been allowed to spend the night, sitted on the floor in the report
office.
Fearing a scammer, I quickly told her I did not have any money to
give her and that is when the tears that had all along been rimming her eyes
dropped. 'Hutanisaidia hata kama ni chakula?', she asked and that's when my
heart took a flip. I told her to come in. From a paper bag she was carrying she
produced a leso that she lay on the sofa before sitting down. I served her some
tea and she gulped it down as I got some rice and stew from the fridge and onto
the cooker.
From the kitchen I heard her ask if I could give her some
water to freshen up and I showed her the bathroom, and how to operate the hot
shower. Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the shower with the leso wrapped
around her, wet clothes in her hands - 'Nianike hizi wapi? - I opened the front
door, gave her some pegs and went back to the kitchen to serve her the
food.
The food done with in short order, I started getting her story. She
had done her KCPE in 2012. Last year a married AP deployed in their home area
befriended her and they had been 'pushing' until towards the end of last year
when she got pregnant. When she told him, he reportedly sought a transfer and
was moved to neighbouring Laikipia. Her mother threw her out. She has been
foraging in Mweiga until she thought of coming to look for a job in Nyeri. With
food in the belly, the girl who had reclined on the sofa switched off and my
next question was answered with a soft snore.
I locked the front door,
pulled out the keys and quietly went to the bedroom with my papers.
Two
hours later, wanting to catch the news at one, i left the bedroom. the girl was
still deep asleep on the sofa. One leg on the floor, the leso had slid off,
leaving her hairy mound of venus out in the open in all its glory. I quietly
retreated back to the bedroom and exiled myself there for the next three
hours.
Sleep is a biatch. It can leave you vulnerable.
Yesterday, I had just settled down with my Sunday Nation and a
mug of tea when I heard a timid knock. Not expecting anyone, I was contemplating
what to do if it was those annoying Jehovah's Witnesses again as I went to open
the door. But nothing would have prepared me for what awaited me.
It was
a sight that made me quickly think of the thing that the proverbial cat dragged
in. A short dark early twenties girl stood there with beseeching eyes. She was
in a black top under a sleeveless orange sweater. The two garments did not cover
her navel that protruded from an early pregnancy bulge. Below that she was in a
white denim skirt that could have done with a long soak in omo with powerfoam.
Her feet in open sandals, were covered by a thick coat of red dust that had
clung to the oil she had applied on her feet. As I stepped out to hear her story
better, she turned and I noticed the skirt had a huge black smudge on the
sitting area.
She quickly told me that she was knocking doors to beg for
fare to return to her home in Mweiga. She had come to town the previous day to
look for her cousin who is married to help her look for a job. Not able to trace
the cousin, she had walked to the police station when night fell where she had
been allowed to spend the night, sitted on the floor in the report
office.
Fearing a scammer, I quickly told her I did not have any money to
give her and that is when the tears that had all along been rimming her eyes
dropped. 'Hutanisaidia hata kama ni chakula?', she asked and that's when my
heart took a flip. I told her to come in. From a paper bag she was carrying she
produced a leso that she lay on the sofa before sitting down. I served her some
tea and she gulped it down as I got some rice and stew from the fridge and onto
the cooker.
From the kitchen I heard her ask if I could give her some
water to freshen up and I showed her the bathroom, and how to operate the hot
shower. Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the shower with the leso wrapped
around her, wet clothes in her hands - 'Nianike hizi wapi? - I opened the front
door, gave her some pegs and went back to the kitchen to serve her the
food.
The food done with in short order, I started getting her story. She
had done her KCPE in 2012. Last year a married AP deployed in their home area
befriended her and they had been 'pushing' until towards the end of last year
when she got pregnant. When she told him, he reportedly sought a transfer and
was moved to neighbouring Laikipia. Her mother threw her out. She has been
foraging in Mweiga until she thought of coming to look for a job in Nyeri. With
food in the belly, the girl who had reclined on the sofa switched off and my
next question was answered with a soft snore.
I locked the front door,
pulled out the keys and quietly went to the bedroom with my papers.
Two
hours later, wanting to catch the news at one, i left the bedroom. the girl was
still deep asleep on the sofa. One leg on the floor, the leso had slid off,
leaving her hairy mound of venus out in the open in all its glory. I quietly
retreated back to the bedroom and exiled myself there for the next three
hours.
Sleep is a biatch. It can leave you vulnerable.