I have never loved Migori Town.
It’s a town that reminds me of my epic failure. And for a half cast Luo between
a pure Luo father and a purer Luo mother, failure isn’t one of the things that
you like thrown at your face.
River Kuja particularly is a
scene that evokes funny sadness in me. You know that sad thing that you just
can’t stop laughing at? The year was 2008- my final year in the Bakora Hockey
Team. We had cruised to the semifinals of the Provincial Hockey Championships
thumping teams ungodly scores in the process. One particular
team, Kiabonyuru, (I can’t forget the name) were bulldozed over a dozen goals
in the first half by a well oiled Vultures Machine. They refused to take to the Migori TTC Hockey pitch for another half of humiliation.
Yours truly was on the form of his life galloping through that left half of the
pitch like a veteran gladiator. The teammates christened him Okusi, in
recognition of that combative heavyweight champion.
Abnery Pajero (I’ve never
understood which parent in their right mind calls their kid Pajero, failed
dream perhaps?), Baby J Mogz, Byudeh and Odhys (the ‘gode’ seller) were
particularly in scintillating form as well. There was talk that that was the
most complete squad assembled of all time. Mr Apaka, the de facto coach was
quite pleased with himself. That was a big thing. If there was a man difficult
to please it was Apaka Rangita. Especially if you wore trousers and didn’t have
the all-important XX gametes.
The morning before that fateful
day, we went through our usual morning ritual. You know, running around and
singing those profane songs your mother would have a heart attack if she had
you sang.
We had new kits but we saved them for the finals. I mean why dirty them yet we still had a final to cruise through? We were ready for the photo session that comes with the glory and good attire was one of those things that completes a good photo moment.
We had new kits but we saved them for the finals. I mean why dirty them yet we still had a final to cruise through? We were ready for the photo session that comes with the glory and good attire was one of those things that completes a good photo moment.
We lost that match.
The heavily assembled gallactico
saw defeat for the first time that season. A promising season was cut in the bud
and with that immortality and legendary status.
Baby J Mogz was particularly
disappointed in exiting the championship in such a way that he threatened to
commit suicide by jumping into the fast flowing River Kuja. We begged and cajoled, pleaded and
threatened, hissed in a bondman’s key and shouted almost to his ears. We
unleashed all of our limited therapist skills. And when all failed, we
proceeded to restrain him firmly.
What happened next was as ‘tragicomical’
as it gets.
Mr. Apaka, who had given us the
cold treatment since we caught the bronze instead of the gold got up from his
seat hurriedly as if noticing the commotion for the first time. Like a man
possessed he grabbed J Mogz by his trouser. You know how it is when cops grabs you
from your rear and suddenly your balls can’t breathe?
He then hauled Mogz towards the
open window as if thrusting him into the ravaging waters below.
You should have seen the heavily built horse of war shrink and plead for his life.
You should have seen the heavily built horse of war shrink and plead for his life.
You’re itching to break into a
roar of laughter yet you stifle it with all your strength coz you never know
what a disappointed coach can do.
I was in Migori some time back and
the unexpected reunion was haunted by the dark flashes from the past.
This time though I experienced
another side of the town.
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I saw them hurdled together in
small groups having intimate conversations. Their voices were low as if they
were conspiring against somebody or something. The voices would go up and one
person would walk away from the table after throwing their hands in the air. You
would know there was no deal.
Migori town is a town of deal
breakers. It’s a town of brokers and middlemen. They are like a pack of
marauding starved bulldogs. They can sniff a stranger from way off and suddenly
there’s something they wanna sell to you.
So let’s call him John. He
probably earns more per day than the average Nairobi guy takes home after
sweating their ass off for an entire month. He earns it by looking executive
and saying the right things.
John understands that in this
kind of business, looks are everything. So he spots tight shirts and leather
belts. He doesn’t do the last button on his shirt so as to allow his gold/gold
coated necklace to dangle and catch your eye. And just so that you know he is a
busy man, and more probably to complete the all mighty façade he’ll keep on
checking his watch as if he’s in a hurry for golf with the governor. Perhaps he
cancelled on the governor just to help your ungrateful ass.
By the way does the Migori
governor indulge in this excesses for the exclusive?
He probably sells gold, or knows
somebody who sells gold.
He is a power baron. He’s the guy
you go to if you want to set up a meeting with the county governor. The
governor probably owes him a huge favour. Perhaps he pumped a lot of money into
the gubernatorial race or talked with baba to do a ‘Tosha’.
John is the guy you go to when you
are doing a thesis on The State of
Governance In Kenya, Pre-independence, At Independence and Today. He knows
the political intrigues that bedeviled the grand coalition government as if he was
in the Serena team that brokered the deal.
John is quite the lady’s man. If his gift
of garb can fleece your pockets of a few shillings then it can definitely
invite your girlfriend for a bottle of ethanol.
The dark of the night finds him
watering his beak in an exclusive joint in the town’s exclusive joints. The Creadex and the Calabsh of the County. He’s a lavish
spender, Dear John. After all, as long
as the sun rises there’s always a deal to cut.
Bwana, this is the Migori and you should
know people.
DISCLAIMER:
The persons and places mentioned in this blog post maybe fictional and may not represent people or places in real life. Or maybe they do.
..........just in case John is friends with Mutunga.
