I can’t forget Min Ochieng’. Who can? Her voice commanded silence. You could tell anytime she passed because the earth trembled. The other day I saw her squeezing through the busy market and it was hilarious. Everyone mumbled as she passed. The few unlucky ones, whose eyes met hers, always landed a question that suggested trouble “In gi wach?”
Min Ochieng’ somehow ended on my favorites’ list. I appreciate her attitude.
Unajua sikuwa hivi kitambo.
Most of our conversations had this as the opening sentence.
Aje?
I didn’t want to give her ideas that I know what she’s talking about.
Hivi. Hii mwili. She responded.
madhrau nimeonyeswa s’babu ya hii mwili yangu, imenifunsa vitu nyingi sana kuhusu hii maisa, Nancy.
If you understand people from the lakeside, you’d understand why I loved to giggle whenever I talked to Min Ochieng. Her Kiswahili was hilarious. Maisha was maisa and madharau was madhrau.
She pauses then recollects herself.
Her life must have been amazing. She must have been Miss. Lwak High at one point during those pre-colonial days. Too much, I know. She isn’t that old.
Whenever she recounts her life, there’s always those old beetles that dominated the roads during our grandfathers times. She was always in different hotels, different towns and with different men. She must have been our Kenyan Cinderella lakini wa kutembea sana.
A lot must have happened over the years up to the day she sank to depression. She blames her weight on this.
Chungana sana na hawa vijana wadogo. She points to the man minding her business across the road. Phone on his hand, smiling and typing, he turns and catches my stare. I look away quickly and turn my attention back to Min Ochieng. Ningekuwa wewe sahii, ningesikila sana hiyo degree yangu.
Kwani nimefanya nini sasa mama Ochibo? She interrupts before I ask her.
Lakini sasa vile wewe uko na watoto tiyari, pambana nao. Usiwache hawa vijana waku wuondo hapa na hizo nyef nyef zao. I wish she knew I’m nursing my third heartbreak.
I look at Min Ochieng’s life and I can tell she’s kissed a lot of frogs and she learned things the hard way. Unfortunately, she never landed her prince charming; by the way she complains about baba Ochieng’s relentless nagging and alcohol. I wonder why she complains about him when she can squash her like a cockroach. I mean the man is almost the weight of my 10-year old.
Min Ochieng has trained herself over the years to put on a façade and defend herself so no one can put her down over her weight. My colleagues wonder how we get along. If you’re currently in a village far from home, you’d understand how we clicked the first time we met.
Unauzaje omena?
Hii ni salasini na hii kubwa ni sixty bob
Nipimie vizuri yawa
Yawa gave me away and gave her the chance to ask, “to in nya kanye?”
I’ve been her customer since then but she landed my favorite list when we met at ACK Emmanuel Parish. Our first conversation was words of encouragement. Right now she sounds like a broken record because sometimes she repeats herself so much. I don’t take her words for granted, though.
Her life helps me correct my mistakes. I can’t imagine giving myself to a man I don’t love for the sake of luxuries. I want to love. I’ve made mistakes I wish I could un-do. I’ve kissed frogs without being swept off my feet. I’m trying my best to love myself first so I don’t settle for a man who does not value me.
When Min Ochieng asks, “unataka nini kwa mwanaume? Hesima, mapensi ama usaidizi?” I always tell her I want it all.
Unfortunately, it’s hard to have it all in this era. Men will take care of you as long as they get something in return. A man will give you everything you want and claim you have no right to ask why he’s late or why Charlo wa Mat keeps calling every night.
Then there are those son’s of satan who will live off you then let their third leg lead them to Shiru, Ann and Liz. These are the ‘vijana’ Min Ochieng warns me of constantly. I want to measure myself, then once I know my true worth, be sure, there will be tax on top of it.
I must heed to Min Ochieng’s sarcastic but educative words; this life isn’t for the faint hearted and love exists, you just have to know where to find it.
Nancy Atieno's Notes 