twists & turns

Life is interesting with it’s twists and turns,; as everyone of us at some time learns. A few short years ago, what i am doing now would not even have qualified as a dream; wild or otherwise. I had what i considered as my occupation; and I played golf. That was my life. Easy. Comfortable enough. I was contented; until the restlessness set in!

Many years ago, a seed had been planted- inadvertently.

It was during a social responsibility engagement with a team of us, over a period of a few months. It bothered me then that after our day’s engagement, we would have to drive back to Nairobi- whatever hour of the night it happened to be! The activities involved traversing the central part of Nyandarua County, about one hundred and fifty kilometers from Nairobi. We mingled with the populace up and around the area where Mt. Kipipiri separates from the main Nyandarua ranges; including the occupied mountain villages.

In this whole area, there were simply no places that we could lay our tired heads on for the night! Unbelievably, here was a whole County (district by then), in the central part of the country, that did not have a single decent Hotel.

A place I called home.

After the engagement was completed however, i returned, like everyone else, to our familiar, organised lives in the Capital, Nairobi. Nyandarua and it’s discomforts was quickly forgotten. We went back to our ‘white picket fences’ in the green suburbs of Nairobi. After all, our parents and the villagers were not complaining. They were comfortable wallowing in the poverty of the stunted growth desired by their leaders. How else could they remain maleable enough to be manipulated. All that was required were small handouts in the couple of m0nths before elections, accompanied by the usual promises of the development agenda … The abject poverty and ignorance makes the locals easy prey.

But i digress.

My father’s death seems to have been the cue for me. Rather than cause a fissure with that life, it had a pull that i could not to ignore, or resist. It became an undercurrent in my life that no matter how hard i tried to ‘move on’ i couldn’t but respond to the invitation to become a living part of the land. Truth be told, i did not know what i was supposed to do. I just felt drawn to the land; comfortable in the countryside.

But the need to make a difference drove me. I fumbled; I fell. I got up, and tried again, and again. The inner voice kept me strong. The passion was real.