I am just back from a little trip, that’s not quite out of the ordinary, so not much to say about it here. Now that we have established that, it doesn’t mean something in terms of thoughts or ideas could not come out of it. This is just one of those moments when going down memory lane seems appropriate.

A few months ago I took a trip to my maternal grand parent’s rural home. That should be somewhere in the western part of the country about 60 miles off the border of Kenya and Uganda. Well the time I was actually making this trip it was just over 15 years since my grand pa had gone to be with the Lord. R.I.P.

Its rather natural that I too had never made a trip back there in just the same period of time. I was really anxious about this trip… ok more like I was freaking out because I was taking informal public transport to a destination I didn’t know much about. Well the thing that I forgot to mention is the 15 years before that day I was in my teens. So that just made the situation worse.

Anyway it was important for me to get there as I was going to bury my late cousin and I was an opportunity to meet up with his wife from Malaysia since I had never met her. I guess that is motivation enough to delve into uncertainty.

I left Nairobi in pretty formal transport, that is a bus, that, took me to Kisumu City by the shores of lake Victoria.  I then had to alight and take another mini bus to the Country side town of Kakamega. The trouble seemingly to me would have to start up from Kakamega town to the village of Shikunga which is a rough distance of about 30 miles. At this point you are all probably thinking Google Maps???? Here’s the thing. I really don’t think Google knows that village exists.

So anyway with a bit of coaxing and tight negotiations, I was able to get hold of a couple of guys who were willing to give me instructions as to how to get to Shikunga. Come to think of it. Maybe they were not as willing as they seemed. Probably they had some piece of information and were willing to exchange it for a couple of currency bills. The good news is that they got what they needed and the better news is that I got my directions.

So off on the final leg of my trip I went cramped into a bus with a sheep, a hen, a sack of potatoes, not forgetting the creature that kept fidgeting inside a muddy linen bag.  I don’t wanna know what it was in that bag. So, finally, 30 miles and 2 hours later. It was calls for me to get off that God forsaken bus. I had attempted to catch up on a little bit of sleep and I had engulfed a chocolate bar that had had the most part of it melted off.

As I got off I was amazed and kinda relieved. My worries seemed to be losing ground on me. A blessed day it was. For real I was delighted. Not really because I had been freed from the death trap of a van (Notice how every time I describe the truck, I use a different name).  Anyway I couldn’t believe my eyes. Dejavu or whatever you want to call it. I instantly recognized the place. It was like I was there only just yesterday. In 15 years it was great to see the Old Catholic church still standing at the junction. On top of that the guy who fixes bikes and his old shack were still weathering life in the same spot. This was excellent for me. Lo! And behold the half built red brick pit latrine was still standing proudly in its spot… just as it did 15 years ago.  No one had bothered to finish putting it up and it seemed that it would continue to stand there for eternity. I was finally Home and back at my roots.

Funny how things can remain stagnant in certain parts of Africa. Its one thing losing directions to a certain area simply because you haven’t been there in a while but its another thing not losing direction to certain area simply because you haven’t been there in a while yet the locals are so considerate that they haven’t bothered to tamper with manmade landmarks just so that you can find your way home when you decided to return. Just like the prodigal son.

Oh yeah. You know its been a while…