A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 13

 The nag

We have now heard from the daughter and her granddaughter. The daughter I eventually nicknamed "Jigsaw". She is a real "pain in the ass" as many would say. Actually, the correct translation is "nag" (She is a real nag). I'm still quite fond of her though. The granddaughter of the divine was nicknamed "Skydiver". I should briefly tell you here how that came about. The Divine, her son, Jigsaw, the granddaughter and I were sitting at dinner. I can't remember what was for dinner. Doesn't really matter, Giteri maybe. Throughout the day, the granddaughter was outside playing with the other children. The TV was on, I think it was the news. Nobody thought anything of it, peaceful the scene, suddenly the granddaughter falls off her chair. We wonder, wait for her to get up, sit back down on her chair, but she doesn't come up. I got scared that something had happened, get up, check on her. She is lying peacefully on the floor, her arms folded, her head resting on them, asleep. We all laughed. "It looked like she was a parachutist," I said. And later I remembered that parachutists call themselves "skydivers". That's where the nickname "skydiver" comes from. Actually, everyone got a nickname. The son too. He used to show me his muscles. "Fifty kilos," he said. I had to admire them, which I did. Encouragement was also needed. One fine day he came back, I think he had carried something, in any case he was very pleased with his muscles again. He stopped in the doorway, looked around, said "James Bond," showed his muscles again, smiled, disappeared into the kitchen. That stayed with him. From now on he had the nickname "Bond, James Bond." The Divine got her nickname too, much later, but she was not spared. We had invented a game. The girls and I, we played it many times. The game is very simple. In the evening, before supper, or even afterwards, we played it. We lie in bed, we pull the blanket over our heads, then I tickle them, I make noises, they giggle. This goes on for quite a while, we made a lot of noise. Sometimes I'd turn the light off, but Skydiver was afraid of the dark, so I had to turn it back on. One fine evening, we were playing again. We were very loud, not just loud. Skydiver shouted, "Monster is coming!" We pulled the blanket over our heads, I started tickling them. After a few minutes we had to gasp for air. We were lying by the bed, thinking nothing, when suddenly the Divine stood in the doorway. Skydiver saw her and she shouted :" Monster is coming!" That really made me laugh. I just said: "Skydiver has recognised you correctly. From now on, you are the monster." And that's how everyone got their nickname. Only one nickname is missing and that is mine. I must confess I don't know it. But I think it's one of the following: Idiot, stupid old man,... Mine is probably along those lines, but I'll tell you about that later.

Soon it's time, we all go to the river again. The children were so excited that they couldn't wait for the next weekend. Just like the children, it was certainly the same for the mothers. On weekends it is washing day, so the house is cleaned. There are strings stretched from one house to the other, and the laundry is hung out to dry on them. What a lot of chatter every day! What do the women have to say to each other? I have to hear it too, and I hear the voice of the monster, clear and distinct. And as I hear the healing voice of the beloved woman, I feel a new faith being born in me. Her nearness seemed to put everything in a different light, and I began to wonder if fate was not now knocking at my door. It's time, let's go. The path is the same. We are going the long way, not the short way. Along the way, everything is the same, everyone is running around in confusion, running ahead or staying behind. It's hard to keep track in this horde. Finally we reach the river. The wild horde storms off, it can't be stopped! The river is stronger! Jickdaw is the first at and in the water, the others follow her. I stay on top, sit down on a stone, actually a rock, and watch the commotion. Everyone is crowding around the edge of the river, going into the water, shouting. I worry that something unpredictable might happen. Just like last weekend, I warn again today: "Don't go on the rocks, it's slippery! You'll fall into the water!" Nobody listens. They are out of their minds! To be prepared for the unexpected, I leave the rock I'm sitting on and go to the opposite side, which is safer for me in case a child falls into the river.

A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 12

 Mto - The river

Somehow the river has become important, at least for me. There I could let off steam, give free rein to my thoughts. Because in the loneliness, as where everyone is turned back on himself, there it shows what he has in himself: there the drip in the purple sighs under the irremovable burden of his miserable individuality; while the highly gifted populates and animates the most desolate environment with his thoughts. In the plant are children, they become attentive, would like to know where I go. It is already noticeable, I go away every day, in the morning, then come back at noon. "Where are you going?" they ask me. "I go to the river," I answer. It didn't take long, just a few days, on weekends, they all went. The mothers are happy, finally they can relax a little. Only I have a problem, I have to watch out and it's not easy, who can watch out for some wild creatures, direct them? And me without experience! Off we go. Five children, two boys and three girls. One girl belongs to the Divine, the other girl is her granddaughter. We go the way we already know. Past the first church. The children see me again, leave everything, run out of the church, surround me, greet me. I shake hands with them all. We continue walking. A child finds a dead snake, that causes excitement! Of course, what else. The children don't walk along the path, they climb up the slope, jump down. It is a wild clamor. Some run ahead, others sneak behind. The big girl soon has enough. "How much farther is it?" she asks. "Not far." I've completely forgotten that I'm a mzungu, used to walking. After a few steps, she asks the same question. "We'll be there soon," I reply. And ask a stupid question, "Why?" "I can't go on," she answers with a sour face. "I am out of blood!" I laughed then. "So young and already out of blood!" The boys laugh at her. Finally, she moves on. The little girl is tired, I have to carry her. Smiling or even grinning, she sits on my shoulders. We reach the river, everyone is thrilled! I can say what I want, no one listens to me. The big girl gives the orders, the children follow her. With me they have absorbent cotton in their ears. They romp around, I can only try to avoid the worst, but that is not tolerated by the big girl. "We can take care of ourselves, we don't need you" She is upset and yells at me. I have to be careful that nothing happens. The river, or stream, is not deep, but the current is strong. If a child falls in there, it looks bad. Everyone stomps around in the water. I can only say : "Don't go there, it's slippery.... There's mud all over the place..." Whatever I say, nobody listens to me. They are all wet, their feet full of mud. They have to clean themselves first. "We're going home now," the tall one orders. We start walking home. "You guys are tired?," I ask. Of course, everyone is ko. "I know a shortcut, it's a shorter walk. Shall we go that one?" All are in favor. It's a slightly different path, we go a different way. A boy starts to cry. "What's wrong?" I ask him. He tells me something, don't understand it,need an interpreter, the big one has to help, she is in charge. "He says he wants to go home." "We are going home." "This is not the way!" How right he is. "Trust me, this way leads back, it's just shorter, we'll get back faster." Finally he stops crying. We keep walking. Nobody believes me that this way really leads back. But they do go, pants full, not daring to turn around to go the long way. I have to carry the little one, she is heavy and I am weak! I sweat, I run out of air, but she doesn't go, I can do what I want.

I wonder what the children learn at school. Somehow it seems strange to me. When I look at the children, at what is happening, I can only say that something is not quite as it should be. For a long time now, in the eyes of the parents and the children, the school has been nothing more than a machine for producing certificates, that is, positions. Maybe that's the problem. I also learned that the schools in Kenya seem to be run by a wide variety of churches. If that is true, then the church has suzerainty over education. Is that desirable? I can't imagine it is. The education of the young was more of a headache for him (Napoleon). Although he wanted to give religion a place, he did not think of leaving schooling to the churches, it was essential to form not believers but subjects, not theologians but people of the time. (Napoleon)