“Police na guitar! Police na guitar…” the children sing along to the christmas carol as they play at the extreme end of the compound of a home in a Kenyan village. Normally, they’d be playing at their usual spot, but it’s currently occupied.
The women in “lesos” sabotaged it and set it on fire. But they kids are not complaining for they know the feast that awaits them is second to none.
It’s just a matter of time before they get summoned by their wood-smoke reeking mothers to go take a shower and don their brand new Christmas “clothes”. Pardon the direct translation.
The clothes that smell like freshly knitted sweaters straight from the knitters!
On a lighter note, why do those Eastleigh products smell so bad though?
In front of the house, it’s a beehive of activities. The colour combination of body wraps in the vicinity is just glorious. The messages on the wraps are a story for another day, say Jamhuri day maybe? Moving on swiftly. The women are engrossed in preparing meals for the day. They are determined to make sure no one winds up the year without knowledge of how much a sachet (or two) of Eno costs! And believe me, it will happen.
The sucking sounds of fists retreating from freshly kneaded dough and the sizzling onions collaborate to make a great tune.
Further south in the goat shed, Kameri is giving his final speech.
He heard the men discussing how they’ll make him the main delicacy of the day and he knows in a few minutes, he shall face the knife… okay, that came out wrong.
Either way, it is estimated that he has approximately 30 minutes to live. But he is not afraid for he knows he leaves behind a kid and wife as his legacy.
As the men approach the goat shed and the boys lay out banana leaves on the ground, the goats bleat one last time in unison before Kameri gets dragged away.
It will be a mee-rry Christmas alright!
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