Still Sings the Nightbird

The stars are shining

229 T The stars are shining abi could sense some good news on the way. Premonition. She wondered what it could be but soon after, Ariani returned from the Kabete Post Office, she thought she got the answer. There was a letter with Canadian stamps for her. She opened it eagerly. Dear Kabi, How are you? We are all fine here. Jwak and I have just come back from assisting in a community well fare project. As you know, over here, the poor are helped in all their needs by the government. Clothes, medicine and food are given to the needy. Many of these are refugees from our continent… I know you will agree with me when I say things must change at home. That Governments must feed their people and make them feel happy to belong home. Charity will never suffice! I read your letter with joy and sorrow too. I am happy that you are having a break. We are sorry however, to hear about Kenyalini Village plight. I send this for you to donate to the multi- purpose center. No holidays for us. Comfort yourself and those people you love so much on our behalf. No need to tell them where it comes from. I hope one day soon you will have the chance of seeing Jesolo and Jan. Jwak and I are so proud of the J family and also of Wa Ngais and of Wakabi. He calls them the W & K family. He wishes to come home soon for he says he misses the sun. I miss it even more. He has a deep wonderful singing voice. I wish you all the best and hope to hear from you soon, Love, Aris and Jwak Kabi set off at once to the Multi-purpose Center. More than fifteen families were still living in poorer structures than the ones that the bulldozer destroyed. These houses the sun saw first when it rose on the eastern corner of Kenyalini Village. Many of the villagers K 230 moved to a zone that they gave a new name - The Ghetto. The sun set there. Each visit to Kenyalini Village seemed to add new life to Kabi. She remembered Malaika and Nakupenda often. She had many friends there. One day, as she walked through the demolished slums, Kabi looked up and saw Dama Atieno in a blue and white dress that used to be her own. It was a Sunday and Dama was in her best dress. Dama stood on a high mound on the ground. “You are here again! Karibu!” She said happily. The bond between them was strong. She had promised Sayari, her University times friend, and now a senior lecturer in Sociology at the University of Nairobi to return to Kenyalini with her. “Yes, I’ve come, just to say ‘jambo’,” she answered. “And I bring my friend again.” “That is what we like, Kabi. We ask for no more than friendship. I have never begged in my life. I’ve been reduced to this,” Dama said. A tear shone in Dama’s right eye. Soon Dama, Kabi, Pendo wa Weereh and Sayari were seated in one shack, around a smoky fire. It was cold outside. There were half cooked kidney beans in a sufuria on the fire but the wood was wet. Kabi’s eyes streamed with tears. She had to go out of the shack for a while. As in those days long ago, the smoke forced her tears out. Sayari followed her closely, also rubbing her eyes. When Kabi managed to look up she saw, a blind woman, helped by her grandson, coming down the slope toward the shack. “Mungu, we got visitors while we were away,” she said. “Mama Nonii is not here, but come in. We are here because God is in us and has preserved us.” The happy granny, who was called Googo Nonii, did not know that Kabi and Sayari had already been inside and left because of the smoke. Kabi re-entered the hut where Dama and Nonii were chatting. She was embarrassed. They had no tears in their eyes. They told the visitors not to fear, for the wet wood had been removed and the beans said to be finally cooked. A glance at the beans told Kabi that 231 they were not quite ready and maybe would never be. Perhaps the beans rejected being boiled. Sayari’s...