CITY LIGHTS

City lights

PART I

“The city lights shine so bright, but no matter how bright, we still find ourselves trapped in the comfort of alluring darkness, hopeless enough to search for nothing of value to hold on to”

Something has always intrigued me about city lights. Something profoundly deceitful, yet unknown to me. It might lie in its sense of satirical humour. Its nature to shine, giving idealistic hope to the hopeless, or rather to instill power to the most powerful.

Like I said it’s not known to me.

The city lights portrays itself as a decoy, something so immensely attractive that has made mortal man susceptible to social crimes.

Anyways….. It’s exactly 1:00am, after a sweaty session of love making. She sleeps like a new born devoid of perception of time, unaware of the dangers of my dark night. Nights like this sleep abandons me; my dreams remains shackled in the shadows.

In my share of dark life, she’s the only purest being that stands desolate in my world. She waves her hand in a show to warn me about something, but I can’t guess what.

She lies blissfully next to me, I wonder whether there was a time that I could sleep at peace, even just for a moment. I admire her tranquility, but for how long would she last in her purest form?

Sleep acts as a shield that protects us from some sort of a harsh reality. With it we feel in a perfect harmony that relinquish the moment we wake.

I feel shackled, in a new world order defined by 21st century’s societal norms, which have justified evil allures. And man being a man driven by selfish desires, lust for, money and power, politics, women and drugs comforted in gambling dens: all this portrays his vulnerability. Only few are left standing in their purest forms, either searching for answers in The Bible, sleeping or just watching with fingers crossed on their chins, staring as everything falls to pieces bit by bit.

Careful enough not to wake her up, stealthily I get up from bed, dress up in my black jeans, black top and black sneakers. I pack some left over foods with drinking water, take a deep sigh, grab my brown leather jacket, and take off.

You must be worrying about my occupation, let me assure you it ain’t anything to be worried about. I don’t blame myself neither do I blame you for what I’m about to become. I walk straight into the darkness, as I make my way through the city lights. Armed with food in my bag pack. I’m confident enough that whatever the evil might bring, can be persuaded by food and not conflict.

PART II

I come to a halt near a joint club. Stare at it for a while then take a walk. There is nothing captivating and disturbing like watching lonely hearts of women and men; some younger than me, some older than me, drinking together in a show of salacity. The music isn’t that loud, at least from where I stand I can’t tell what music is playing. There is a distant moan of a woman being pleasured, it dimes away slowly by slowly as the music keeps to its’ tracks. Beautiful girls halfy dressed in white and black are busy moving around carrying glasses of wine on trays. In the front of the stage, where almost every man is eyeing, there lies a naked woman. Dancing pretentiously. Swaying her hips in all kinds of manner which seems to fascinate the underdog boys seated at the front seat. Leaving their trousers bulging out, mouth salivating lasciviously with desires to quench their thirst. To set free their out bursting pintles.

I know am an artist, but The beauty, the exquisite features of a naked woman goes beyond my imaginations. Poets will write, painters will paint a portrait. But none of these artists’ work will ever surpass the art of God.

Finally, I get to my destination. They’ve been waiting for quite some time now. Their patience will surely pay someday. I loved spending time with them, and they consider me as some sort of a father figure they’ve never had, more of a role model, and the thought of playing dad impregnates empty spaces in my head with childish pride. It is not like I’m proud of their current welfare state, but somehow within them there lies a spirit of a fighter. There lies an endless glowing splint of hope. In them they’ve come to accept who they are and what the society mistakes them to be. To some, their existence is more of an unpleasant stench of a never healing wound, that chokes them whenever they drive along the streets of Nairobi. By now my reasons for packing left over food and drinking water are now out in the open.

It’s been three weeks since I began spending time with the street kids in Gikomba. Nobody knows their predicament, past nor the future. But certainly enough they’ve come to trust me with their past and the present, hoping in exchange that I will deliver them a slice of a future so bright where they can gain access to basic social facilities and possibly be treated as humans, or as citizens of a beautiful country yet fathomed in clouds of mediocrity of tribalism, marginalisation and corruption.

They are just kids trying to survive. They’ve got no asset written on their name. they are homeless, neglected and marginalised. Their living standards are poor and unhygienic. But someone might think they’ve grown immune to it. What amazes most is the aspect of family. This puts a smile on my face, because at long last you can see that the street family are not different from any normal family. They group themselves into cliques of 15 and each clique has a father and mother. Daily each household got to do everything and anything to survive. Their stories are compelling, some are heartbreaking. Economically they beg for money and food, if it doesn’t pay the boys pick pocket. Stealing is a risky game when you miss your steps the mob gangs on you. Girls are not left out. The only asset they have is their body. They resort to cheap prostitution, where you light a candle, and as long as it burns, you can do whatever you want with their body. In the end you pay fifty shillings or at times twenty shillings. Because desperate moments call for desperate measures, and in such a situation you either do it, steal it or starve to death. Most of them are teenagers. Right now I’m dealing with just a household, and Lord knows how many street kids are lurking in city lights, trying to bury their heads in darkness, because their cries for a better society is far fetched and no one seem to be bothered.