Behind Jua Kali garage
Kanairo, a short dark and beautiful brave young girl was walking to work when
she noticed a crowd of young men in groups behind the garage. She had noticed them a few days after she started
to work as a cook at Njoroge’s kiosk, which was stationed in front of
the garage. It raised alarm when she noticed that those people were just there
and, they were not doing anything constructive. Kanairo used to walk on the road which was
not very far from them. She walked through it every day she went to work early in the morning before dawn and later in the evening after sunset.
Njoki and Kamae were engineers at Jua
Kali garage and they were workmates with a very tight friendshipness. They were always together during lunch
hours. They were Njoroge’s regular customers and they used to go round the kibanda
when they were not at work.
Njoroge used to prepare traditional uji,
traditionally fermented milk, and fermented mango juice. Kanairo on the other hand used to roll the
dough and cook mandazi and tea. At first it wasn’t easy for her to handle jikos
with large basins full of oil boiling to their highest temperatures. Later she adjusted and became a pro in the kitchen. Even with
diploma certificates, she had found no job. This was her first job after
loitering 3 years without employment after she graduated with a bachelor's degree.
Kanairo usd to bake a bundle
of wheat flour, cover the dough in a
large bucket and keep it under room’s temperature over night. They started cooking in the
morning at around 5 o’clock, and they were used to work everyday, even on Sundays. Kanairo had a difficult time to adopt to waking up early, day by day she adjusted and she got used to it.
One evening after work, Kanairo decided to investigate what normally happens with the crowd that used hang around the behind
of the garage. She hid herself, sneaked work and went to conduct her investigation. As she got closer to the behind of the garage, she analyzed the graffiti artworks
that were drawn on the walls and discovered that the place was called Junkie or,
the Junkyard.
Kanjara was the first kijana she
met. He was dressed like a person who had slept in a garbage. He was smoking a cigarette
and his eyes were popped open, all focused on Kanairo as she walked past him. She
had heard Njoroge’s conversations with Njoki and Kamae and she had learned much
about the Junkyard and, she was aware of what to expect.
As she walked through, she came
close a young girl who had a baby on her back. “Hello sis,” the girl said as
she approached Kanairo. Kanairo stood where she was and faced her without
saying anything.
“Sis, we are starving, please give
us ten shillings at least, me and my baby can get something to eat.” The girl
said again when she got really close to Kanairo. When Kanairo looked at her,
she noticed the girl had chaves, a certain stimulant drug between her
lips and her lower front teeth. It made Kanairo think the ten shillings that
the girl was begging for was to buy something else and she was using her baby
as a bait.
Anyways Kanairo had learnt the
values of a good Christian in church that she used to attend during her teenage.
She had learnt about giving and being kind to others. She assumed her thoughts
and generously gave her twenty shillings instead. The girl said asanti and she turned her
face to face where she had come from.
Kanairo followed the girl with the
baby, and when she got close to her, “I know somewhere you can get sponsored
with food. I’m Kanairo.” She introduced herself to her with her face expressing
concern. The girl was ready to accept any kind of help without distinctions. Her openness gave Kanairo an opportunity to
discover more about Junkyard. Kanairo
gave her more details about the sponsors including their location,
requirements for the sponsorship and their addresses.
A young man of about 18 years
dressed in white chef’s coat came by. Junkie people called him ‘Mwīndia’, a gikuyu word for a seller. He was carrying a bucket of cooked rice
and beans or, R&B as the junkies called it.
Mwīndia was the one providing food for the people around the Junkyard at a
very affordable price. He stood beside them and told them that he was selling R&B. “How much does it
cost?” Kanairo asked. “Twenty per scoop like this one.” Mwīndia said as he showed them the measurement of a scoop then, he asked. “Can
I serve you some?” “Yes please, put us five, two for me, two for her and one
for the baby.” Mwīndia had no plates, he put his
rations on pieces of paper and he skillfully served them. And he left after he
had received his money.
The girl looked happy, she stared at
Kanairo for a short while, then she said. “Thank you so much for food, by the
way, they call me Mashujaa.” All this time, her baby was silently asleep. “It’s
nice to know.” Kanairo said as she took her first bite and she continued, “Mashujaa, how did you end up here?”
“Two years ago I was working for
EBRC, a rehabilitation center, as their official car driver. My duties were as
those of messengers with vehicles.” Mashujaa began, as they were eating.
Kanairo was listening very keen like a psychologist CID on a first
investigation mission as her mind jotted down the key points.
“I worked for EBRC for twenty three months
before I met Kununu, the father to this kid. We met as strangers, strangers became
friends and friends turned to parents.
“Kununu was a soldier for National Defense
Forces. And, he had not finished a month in Mugadishu where, he was posted to
operate before he met his death. And, he was among those who died when their kambi
was bombed by the Alshabaabs.
“I was on a maternity leave at that
time and it was my firstborn. I couldn’t take it when I received the news that Kununu
was no more. I got depressed and, from then henceforth, I’ve never enjoyed
life. First, I turned to weed when I was seeking solace.
“After my maternity leave was over, I went
back to work. And, I got fired from EBRC when the manager caught me smoking weed
behind the bathroom. I became broke, cashless with a fatherless baby and
without job.
“Friends, friends I tell you.” She
paused as she turned her kid in front so that she could feed it. Kanairo
wondered why Mashujaa’s kid was at peace all that time, babies are expected to
cry every now and then. “What happened to your friends?” Asked Kanairo as she bit
her last piece of R&B.
“It was Oti, the peddler at the
Junkyard. I first met him during his rehabilitation at EBRC. We had become
friends before he got expulsion for sneaking drugs in the rehabilitation center.
We were close and, he once told me about kamūndū’s power of quenching thoughts and depressions.” Mashujaa continued.
“After my husband’s burial, at
sunset, it was when I puffed my first puff of weed contaminated with kamūndū that Oti had surprised me with. Kamūndū’s highness is highly seductive and very addictive. You take it today and the
urge for its highness makes you want more and more. After I tasted it for the
first time, I’ve been looking for it and consuming it since then. People call
it mwisho wa mawazo, which means end of thoughts in direct English translation.
Kamūndū is a no joke, you taste it once and then boom! You are addicted, just
like that.
“I thought it was like any other
manageable drug but, it wasn’t. No matter how much I tried to avoid it, I
always find myself hunting to get it by any possible means.
“There are professionals here who
got stuck to kamūndū, like that dude in a trench coat.” She
said as she pointed at the dude. “His name is Muriuki, a certified lawyer with masters
degree. He came here just the other day and, he doesn’t seem to leave.” “He too
got hooked to kamūndū?” Kanairo asked while she analyzed Muriuki.
Muriuki was holding a syringe on his arm and there were 2 dudes standing beside him. Mashujaa explained that Muriuki was high
and he was about to suck his blood into a syringe so he could transfuse it to
desperate and broke addicts at an affordable cost.
“Not just him," Mashujaa continued, "campus graduates are also victims including Oti and those three
girls standing over there. They came here ashamed and depressed. They claim that
they have education but they have no jobs.” Mashujaa said while pointing at them.
The baby started crying, Mashujaa
removed some tablets from her bra, crushed them, dissolved them with milk in
a baby’s sippy cup, and fed her baby. Later, her baby fell asleep.
It was getting late and Kanairo had
to get back to work and prepare dough for tomorrow. She gave her a hundred and
she proceeded to Njoroge’s kiosk.
The next day after work. Kanairo
went to the Junkyard and found Mashujaa laying under a shade with her kid. She
woke her and, together, they walked to Dagoretti feed the children. A feeding
program for needy and for the less fortunate.
Mashujaa got sponsored and, she was
also offered free counseling sessions as she went through rehabilitation process.
Kanairo headed back home with hope that with counseling and support, Mashujaa
would manage a new drug free life.
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