The Road Company that Took me to my Auntie’s Final Journey
The end
This is how the story ends… It is the wee hours of Thursday morning, I am in the bus not knowing what to do next and we are in the middle of the road… next to DOD compound, just opposite ABC shopping complex, a kilometer before Westlands Nairobi.
The reason why I am stuck here in an Easy bus is that I am part of the mess from a minor collision between two buses, both headed to Nairobi, the other being a Guardian. I have been stuck here since 4.30am when the glass shattered just next to my head, on seat 8A, just a seat to the back seat. I was semi-sober, from the on-off sleep since 8.15pm when I departed Homa Bay for the city.
I know for sure that the incident occurred at 4.30am, since I was preparing to decide whether to alight at Westlands or go to the bus’s booking office and get a matatu back from there. I just heard loud bus horns from our bus, followed by some sound like shattering glass. Though my windows did not disintegrate into pieces, the shatter markers were all over the pane. I suspected that I just needed to poke a finger and the whole pane would splatter down like beads.
“Sasa huyu jama anaingia kwa lane yangu kufanya nini!,” I heard the pilot curse as he brought the bus to a standstill – on the road – the momentum pulling most of us out of our seats. (I am not sure if it is this or the co-driver who had previously complained loudly, just after taking one other stop after Kisii, that some passenger had reported him to headquarters that he was stopping the bus often, yet he had a running stomach. “Hata hamna huruma – lakini nimesamehe huyu mtu,” he had uttered in the middle of the night, before firing the bus on. If it was him, then his temper was still flaring.)
This loud curse, screeching brakes, breaking glass and loud horns, on the still morning brought the half-empty bus into some action.
“Ni nini?, what happened?,” were the passengers, most from sleep.
We stayed here until 4.55am, when I decided to disembark and try making my way back to Uthiru. I knew that getting vehicles at the ABC stage would not be as easy as at Westlands, but I was doing nothing in the bus, waiting for I-don’t-know-what-who to resolve the traffic accident.
I left the bus just in time to hear the driver complain from some 25m back, where the Guardian was also parked, hazard lights flashing, that, “Si ukubali makosa!”.
I knew that was not going to happen. The first rule of traffic incidence, even clearly displayed on the windscreen is, “in case of an accident, do NOT admit liability”. I wonder why our driver was trying the impossible. Is he wiser that the insurance industry, that controls 4.18B in revenue as at 2016!
Just before the end
I bought a soda, ready for this night journey. I get dehydrated when faced with over 400km of pure tarmac. In fact I get dehydrated when facing over 15km and usually cannot run without water after that distance. I bought the soda from a Homa Bay supermarket, Shivling was the name, I guess. I almost applied for a shopping card with them since their “Loyalty card registration is free at no charge”. But this is Kenya, you know. Free needs re-definition. It started with free milk on sale in the 80s. Free forms are always on sale whenever you report something at the cops station. Free newspaper pull-outs are usually on sale with the vendors. You really need to be sure that 'free is free'.
That soda lasted me the journey from Homa Bay, at the shores of Lake Victoria, through Rodi Kopany, Rongo, Kisii, Narok and Nairobi.
The above road was smooth though. 12 hours earlier, 6.00am to be precise, I was squeezed on a privately hired matatu travelling from Homa Bay, first to Rodi Kopany through a smooth tarmac stretch, then diverted to the left at Rodi. Here we faced a stretch of about 15km of rough road all the way to Rangwe shopping Centre. Further on would be the famous Asumbi TTC, but we were glad to end our misery here. From Rangwe we branched to the right on an interior road to pass St. Abigail Complex School and then to yet other interior paths to the place.
I last met my Auntie Mary in 2012 during my dad’s funeral. She called me outside my dad’s compound and I still remember vividly how the conversation went five years ago…
“My child, is that you?”
“Auntie, it’s me!”
“I cannot believe my eyes. Thank you Lord for making me see this day,” she was emotional and all.
“You cannot know that your mum left you when you were so young, just nine years – I did not know that you shall survive! I cannot believe that you are so grown up! I did not know I shall see this day,” her emotions continued.
I almost joined her!
“I am happy that I have at least seen you all grown up and independent. I am sure you shall do great things. Now even if I die, I shall be OK,” she finished and took her leave.
Our meeting hardly lasted 10-minutes.
The beginning
I did not surely expect that my Aunt would die on me just like that. Two weeks ago, March 6th to be specific, my elder bro Willy sent me the text on both my lines that Auntie had died – just like that! That is the reason why I was at Homa Bay on this Wednesday, March 22 for the funeral.
Funerals also turn out to be social gathering where we get to meet so many people and re-live quite some memories – fond and otherwise.
“Onyasi vane, uli khano. Waetsire!,” my Uncle, Auntie Leah’s husband, declared loudly, in the excitement of the moment.
“Omwana uno yalingi nende ebifwanga,” he laughed loud.
He narrated to the benefit of the extended family how I used to match around the sitting room for visitors, to mimic the prison warders who were training at the residential compound of my formative years.
My maternal uncle Gilbert agreed, “Adier, nyathini ne timore mana kaka askach jela.”
They were both agreeing in their own way.
It was a family reunion, though in difficult circumstances.
At three-thirty we left in the same privately hired matatu back to Homa Bay.
I already mentioned that the road from Rodi to Rangwe is rough, while the main highway is quite good, despite both roads being class C roads. My research now reveals why. Do not think it is political, far from it. To build the Homa Bay – Rongo road, the construction firm setup a materials management point almost equidistant between Homa Bay and Rongo.
They managed to build the good class road that is quite smooth from this central point. The firm stayed at the material point for about a year (roads take long to build). In that time, a commercial centre started developing, to serve the needs of the workers and the surrounding villages already in existence.
The Road Company centre flourished and stayed on even after the main road was build. They were not involved in the works towards Rangwe, but they left their mark at Road Company centre – Rodi Kopany! The place you leave the tarmac as you head to Auntie’s place.
WWB, Nairobi, Kenya, March 23, 2017
