Baskadia

I have been very nostalgic this week. Not sure why but I terribly miss home, not my mother's house per se but home, Marsabit the county at large. The whole of it.

Normally, I dread the journey back home,it's very tedious and long. I am fussy, restless and always agitated the first 5 or so hours.

I mean I have to sit my ass on not very comfortable bus Seats for hours on end. But the dread wears off immediately I get to Isiolo, and the faces of our people, the chaos, the mouths full of Miraa, the yellow teeth, the spatting all over the place, the playful street fights, the dirty mad people, beautiful women in deras, the hotels with very delicious meat and chai ya ngamia, the never ending begging from chokoras at the hotel entrances, all these make me feel at home, nikifika Isiolo najua baaas nimekaribia nyumbani kabisaa.

And somehow the rest of the journey is filled with excitement, I don't feel tired anymore,I am excited about the last stretch to Marsabit, even the bushes, shrubs and red soil give me peace, I am going home.

I honestly miss home, I miss the people, I miss the smell of air and how it changes depending on different parts of the county, getting into the county from Isiolo, the hot merrille, laisamis, loglogo air will hit and burn your face. Your eyes will squint at the reflection caused by the white sand. Very humble "manyatta" houses standing lonely under the scotching sun, women adorned in shangas and long earrings, in colorful (mostly bright colors-especially red)deras seated on the verandahs of the shops along the highway waiting for travellers to buy drinks and snacks. (Some of these shops are lucky enough to have refrigerators, buy sodas from them sometimes when you travel up north.)

Men in their kikois under the very few scattered tree shades, either spatting saliva while brushing their teeth vigorously or chewing Miraa, probably waiting for the sun to go down so they can take a walk back home. Once in a while scratching their groins and unwrapping and wrapping their kikois probably to let some air in.

And as you proceed towards Saku town, the air changes to a more soothing probably cold air. And you'll be met with some green bushes and as you head towards civilization, buildings and modern houses come into view. The mountains are beautiful, The long stretch of the highway as it bends and turns and straightens and coils is gorgeous, the cold however is sometimes mercilessly biting.

Once in town, you'll be met with a not so very vibrant community but beautiful people going about their businesses. It's a town that has attempted hosting all the tribes of Kenya at least, just that people run away when the insecurity menace crops up. But largely,we are good hosts. Ni maji tu hatuna.

Any direction you decide to take from town, will have you meeting different tribes, different cultures, different people but all similar in a way. You will meet the borana, the sakuye, the gabra, the khonso, the garri, the few somalis, the mighty Burji, the wata, the Rendile, Samburu, hao wote.

You will be hit by the smell of cattle dung, the road with loose soil that the animals use to and fro home. Men and boys in short bedsheets tied around their waists, sticks on the shoulders and hands draped loosely on the stick, legs crossed and lazily humming and whistling the day away. Little beautiful girls carrying firewood and water jerrycans on their backs, some probably pregnant will smile at you on their way home.

You will be hit by the smell of qaya and Lubathina, incense, from houses in the evenings. The smell of walls freshly smeared with cow dung will have you wanting to sit down. You might be served with mand'asi and hot spiced tea once you sit.

A wedding might be going on in the neighborhood, make sure you drop at least 200 shillings at the gate entrance for 'gumaat' least you are considered a stingy guest. "Sikulangi" our mugithi, our jam session will be airing on the rusty cracky speakers, don't forget to move your waist and feet simultaneously, it's the only dance style we have, you'll grasp it real quick.

You'll be met with well fed women, some with faces lighter than their legs and hands, white teeth, lots of perfume that will have your head spinning, say hi, they are very welcoming, you'll get the best of meat and anjera.

On days like today, I'll go to YouTube search for sikulangi songs and just watch the beauty in my people. In our Chaos and hate and insanity we are still authentically northern. We have a language only us understand and that gives me hope that someday home will be as lovely and as welcoming .