Sunday, November 16, 2014

Nyahururu



I wake up to the beautiful melody of humming birds. It is almost like the sound of a church choir composed of all sopranos. I would be the lead (sopranist) singer for this choir. I open my apparently large eyes and all I see around me is beauty; tall, short, thick and thin trees. Despite their differences they are all so close together like conjoined twins. The sun is all over me kissing my face hungrily like a man who has just discovered the art of kissing. The trees are surrounded by green grass beds that could make amazing picnic beds. I turn my head to look on the other side. He is there next to me. He gives me his huge warm smile and says: Good Morning! I smile lazily at him and turn away to stare at the magnified beauty on the other side. This is exactly the view I have always dreamt of waking up to; beautiful sun rays, a huge green forest, fluffy grass-beds and next to him; Except that this is not the Bahamas or the Caribbean or my future home in The Maldives; and most importantly ‘He’ is not Trey Songz. 


It is around 10.00 am on Friday. I’m in a truck (read lorry). A 4-wheeled lorry; not even a 24-wheeled truck! If it’s a Benz, this story could be totally different. I don’t know what company the lorry is and I’m not interested in knowing. ‘He’ is the lorry driver. His name is Charles. We are on the Nairobi-Nakuru Highway and are just passing the ‘Soko Mjinga’ market; that’s the name Charles gives me when I ask him the name of the place. The vegetation around the place is comprised of a very beautiful clean forest and green grass. We are on our way to Nyahururu. I have been physically and mentally preparing for this day for the past one week. 

I look in front of me as the road unfolds; it is like the unfolding of a new life; a new life ahead of me; a life that will determine my future. Behind us is a stretched road and as it disappears in the side mirror, hot tears burn inside my eyelids. I don’t cry though. I take in a very deep breath to fight them back; a technique that have proved workable for me these past few months. I have left Nairobi. For good… well, until a new opportunity comes calling. Nyahururu is going to be my new home for the next few weeks, or months or years. Fate will tell. (I’m glad I can finally admit it without tears that Nyahururu is going to be my new home).

 I will miss Nairobi; sweet old Nairobi. I will really miss you Nairobi and my now ex-hood Lavington East. For those who live in Lavington and don’t even know about the existence of Lavington East, may the good Lord forgive you for your ignorance. Lavington East is also known as Kawangware or Ungwaro if you are used to the mtaa language. 

When I was given the opportunity to leave my jobless life in Nairobi and relocate to Nyahururu my heart sank. I felt a mixture of deep sadness and fear in my heart. Nyahururu is the place where I started my life; not my birthplace though but the place where my maturity life began. Nyahururu is the town where I got my first job; had my first ‘boyfriend’ (or so I called him); it’s where I experienced my first breakup; where I bought and lost my first phone; where I had my first kiss (lol); where I received my first and only arrest warrant (Yeah, I was once in the Kenya Police’s most wanted list); Nyahururu is generally the place where most of my ‘first time’ stuff happened. While there I used to think that it was the best and sweetest place on earth. I was sure that nothing would ever do us part. Ours was a match made in heaven; until I ‘met’ Nairobi and all that changed. I cheated on Nyahururu with Nairobi and never felt guilty about it. Nairobi was so sweet to me that I swore to never return to my first love, Nyahururu. My relationship with Nyahururu changed from love to bitter hatred. Nyahururu became a wounded lover and any time I visited the town I could hear her/him/it (not sure which) screaming at me, cheater! Cheater! 

So you now understand why my heart sank when I was given the opportunity of going back to the town; the town which I swore to never return to; the town in which most of my sweet and bitter memories originate from. What if I go back and bump into my ex? Is he hotter than he was 5 years ago? Does he have a new girlfriend who is hotter than me? What if I bump into that policeman who almost got me arrested? What will I do when I pass by the spot where I had my first kiss? What will the people that I bragged to when I moved to the big city say when they see me back to their town? What will they say when they see the change in my hairstyle, my dress code, my smiling (hehe…), my voice (someone told me that my voice is breaking; that I now have a ‘bigger’ voice) and self presentation in general? Will they mistake this for pride or recognize it as maturity? What if; what will; what… What…??? These are the questions running through my mind as Charles struggles so hard to convince me that Nyahururu is ready for me and moving there will be the best decision I’ve ever made. 

 I’m worried about what the future holds for me. Nyahururu is the place where I started my life and going back there almost feels like a backward move. I am also worried about ever achieving my dream; my film making dream. Nairobi is like Kenya’s Hollywood. Film making opportunities were so many. Nyahururu on the other hand is like this town that no one has ever heard of in the film making world. However, I will trust the words said to me by one ‘weird’ friend of mine. (I’m sorry ‘weird’ friend for calling you ‘weird’). I call him weird because we have a very weir friendship; we have only met once. Ours is the type of friendship in which you do not communicate for 5 years but when you finally do, the conversation flows so nicely as if you last talked the previous day. The weirdest part is that he calls me only when I put up a blog post; and my last message to him informing him of my move was more of a blog post than a message. So he called me. Maybe I should start writing a blog post every day to frequent the calls. I’m sorry ‘weird’ friend. 

I texted him yesterday evening; in the last minute and he said very strong words to me; There must be something waiting for you in Nyahururu. It might be the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Face the place with bravery and most importantly WRITE. Continue writing. Do not let this be the end of your writing passion. Write about Nyahururu. Just write. And don’t forget to quote me in your next post. (I’m so sorry again ‘weird’ friend. I had to mention the ‘quote me’ bit). All in all, your words were exactly what I needed to hear at that moment.

And so, as I now see Nyahururu approaching, I am ready to conquer the town. I will tell its story and hope that by the time I leave (hopefully soon), I will leave it a better place. 

PS; Nyahururu is a very slow town. I wrote this post on Friday (31st October) and I just finished uploading it today (Sunday 16th Nove,ber). That’s how slow the town is.