The little Karioki, my neighbor, in all of us

Karioki, better known as kamse-kamse from his famous come and see threat which somehow implied how ruthlessly he would deal with you if you crossed his paths negatively, the brutal nature would make people want to witness this beating that he would give. Well maybe its because he was so small in size for a man in a very notorious Bananahill neighborhood or maybe it was he being just like many other short kikuyu men, whose anger and need for a bashing vengeance has no equal, or maybe it was Karioki just being himself, the king of short brutal men, and as so, he was my neighbor, nobody liked him just as good as he liked nobody,he was a strict father of eight, a constant extreme discipliner to his kids and a re-known wife beater in the village, so much for anybody with the right mind to like him, huh?

But he would engage me in a chat often, often here means once or less than once in an year, and as so i was his best chat mate, this is why i know the little thing in him that many cannot fathom, and that he is gone gives me the confidence i need, at-least the threat of come and see( Kamse) is not clinging on my shoulder. and so unfolds his story.

Like a tale you may not like it, he is the antagonist yet the bread and soul of this story, and now we start. In the pitch darkness filled night, when only dogs bark, at the dead of the night, only the sound of his motorbike, or that of those he used to repair would fill the 90s airwaves, so being his immediate neighbor, in country without laws on noise pollution, only meant getting used to the awful sound. Why he did it at night? and only at night? ha! Only god knows!

So now we agree he was peculiar, a noise nuisance, a wife beater and a brutal businessman to cross, but with that come also his engineering skills that were exceedingly good, and his lack of interest in politics-maybe he was not interested in them to resign to his own errands, or maybe he was so disagreeable to agree with anything or his stupidity-the same that made him brutal, would be so much to understand complicated things like the politics of the day ( As if they make sense? I agree, i am yet to see a country where people think they do, many just leave it to those idea-less crooks to run them, as those with ideas do other important things in life).

He found joy in riding motor bikes, even in his sixties, he would ride bikes like a 20 year old, he was good on that regard. In his eulogy, i learnt he in fact had not had so much school, that his engineering skills were as a result of an apprenticeship he had at one of the Hindus garages in town. Through those limited skills, his creativity and deep interest in the field, the night engineer was born, by the way i just realized that he must have made the night runners so scared-you know them the night runner? ok, they are those superstitious fellows who do all sorts of voodoo, sometimes the wizards and witch doctors make them run around places naked at the dead of the night.- i never met one, but stories like this are common in this crazy neighborhood, as crazy as its products, me being one.

So maybe his little thing was giving night runners a scare? wow, i would drink one on his honor for, if this is so, then he was helping the community, in fact protecting it from being bewitched? i lost my mind! By the way maybe he was doing it because his name also means the one that resurrected(karioki in kikuyu)

And so my little thing was writing his eulogy, and reading it for every other person never wanted to do it, the whole village at arms against him, like he was an outcast, and that’s why i did it, i wrote it with the most impeccable language, here was a platform to show that the little of the little things we do in life actually matter, that they actually have an impact. My concern was, if we treat him in the brutal way he treated others, what does that tell about us? How better were we than him then?

For me life is like a football match, where not all mistakes result to penalties, even if they emanate from stupidity, my stupidity, your stupidity, his and her stupidity, because we all share flaws, they might not be similar but true to fact, they are similarly present in all of us. My little thing is expressing such stories to the small village of leaders here-the world as we have made it,  her little thing, Nemata, or mama from another land, far far away from here but more beautiful, beauty is her heart for just last Friday i received a present of inspiration from her, and her little thing was to inspire the young budding writer from a distance and as her wish was, that has really inspired me! So now my dear readers, what’s your little thing? what is it that you do to inspire the course of the world in a positive direction?



ps:” Thank you so much for the beautiful present, the book is surely lovely and makes me feel so inspired, but the real color of inspiration, is in the heart that gave, the hand that wrote the beautiful letter and the thoughts, clear as they were, that sought to do great inspiration, i am indeed honored and humbled…from the bottom of my heart, thank you”

………………………………………………………………………………………………….. Asante sana Nemata (i hope i got it right clarice?)


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