I have always called the month of July "my foreign winter". I have spent the last three summers in Kenya, coinciding with the coldest era, And where the only way I know about fighting the cold is with hot tea loaded with sugar and milk.
One morning, In the health center of Makuyu, Ndung’u (the psychiatric nurse with whom I work) It began to fill hot tea plastic thermos. He gave me two to put them in my bag and put two others in his backpack.
"We are going to take some patients who live close to tea," he explained to me. I was no longer so rookie and I knew that "near" meant two hours walking, minimum.
When there is some wind, The flowers fall and cover the earth paths of a beautiful color
We started, We took the path that links Makuyu with Kamahuha, populated by Jacarandas who are usually in flower at this time. When there is some wind, The flowers fall and cover the earth paths of a beautiful color. I was always surprised that there are no tourists in that area so full of history and beauty.
We were walking next to the old track of a colonial era train, crossing small villages. Ndung’u, which usually tell me stories of patients while we walk, I was talking about a five -year -old girl whose mother worked as a prostitute.
Ndung’u was talking about the story of a five -year -old girl whose mother worked as a prostitute
- How do you think a prostitute charges in Makuyu?- he asked me. I shrugged to lose the price estimation game.
–Helines, "she told me enjoying my horror expression. Sixty Kenyan chelines are, more or less, 60 cents. At that time I had all my attention, and continued with the story.
–The mother works from six in the afternoon until six in the morning in Kenol, A town five minutes from Makuyu. When I get home in the morning, The girl has prepared ugali and breakfast tea. The mother eats something and sleeps, And then the girl wears and goes to school. When he returns home his mother is not, Take tea for dinner and clean a little.
- And you say he is five years old?- I asked astonished, remembering my five years. He told his head and stopped dry.
Before he could realize, my dear friend crossed the precipice by way of the train. I was tall. And I was afraid.
We had reached a small cliff; Below was a small river, in which according to Ndung’u there were crocodiles. Before he could realize, my dear friend crossed the precipice by way of the train. The steps agreed with the old wooden boards; one misstep and you fell into the river. And he was high. And I was afraid. So much that I forgot the girl's story. When he came to the other part he looked at me smiling.
"I can't," I said-, I'm scared of it. He started laughing.
"You can't go back to Makuyu," he shouted, "they eat you alive on these paths!
You can't go back to Makuyu, they eat you alive on these roads!
I looked down, I looked at the road planks, half rotten. Someone spent carrying two goats, As if nothing. Some children began to gather on the other side laughing at me. Finally, Ndung’u came to look for me, he took my arm and forced me to happen. When I got to the other shore it looked like a cat hyperventilating.
–The Mzungu adventurous– began to call me.
I did the rest of the way sullen with myself for being so cowardly. When we arrived at the patient's house we were going to visit, I was exhausted. We offered tea and sat in plastic chairs, At the door of his house. His nails were totally infected and Ndung’u said that they had to be removed to disinfect. When we finish, After selling all the fingers and chatting for a while, I was getting dark, So the way back we did in "Piki Piki" (A motorcycle that makes taxi) and, To my surprise, We were on another way that, Despite being longer, did not go through the bridge.
Why should we have avoided that part of life?- He replied. And I smiled.
- Why didn't we come before this path?- I asked Ndungu when we arrived.
- Why should we have avoided that part of life?- He replied. And I smiled.
I went to sleep exhausted and smiling for the gift I had made, without knowing it. Fear is simply that, something that people feel. Something that is part of life. Especially when you are far from home and do not understand how a five -year -old girl can live that way, or how a woman has to sell her body to buy flour and tea.
If you want to know more about Africa Karibuni projects: http://www.karibuniafrica.org/
