Of inherited land and selling: Part 1

Guest post by Samuel G. Njenga

I met this friend and neighbor in a burial of my cousin in shags. He had requested for a meeting with me after the burial citing a very important issue he wanted us to discuss. I took him to the local shopping center and we got into a café, ordered tea and some mandazis. I was very eager to hear from this longtime friend of mine.

Alex has been a buddy of mine since we were kids. We were born the same year, grew up in shags together, played childhood games together and went to school together. I vividly remembered how he used to pass by our home early in the morning so that we head to primary school together, carrying our books in paper bags and carrying our food in those Kasuku boxes. Life was hard but we really enjoyed. Simple times and simple days when my biggest ambition was to become a pilot beyond schooling; of course I never became one, but I guess someday I’ll buy a helicopter and learn how to fly.

The Alex in front of me was a former shadow of himself; it seemed life had really harassed him. His was a life of extremes. In his later years of primary school he became a rebel child, beating up other kids and generally misbehaving. He later joined bad company and decided to pull out from school. His mum got so disappointed and kind of gave up on him, after all he never knew a father figure having lost his dad when he was barely two years of age. Alex later graduated into a village thief, stealing chicken and cows and whatever else he came across. Of course he was always being looked for by law enforcers due to his stupid acts of stealing. He survived several attempts to lynch him. After all, the villagers knew him and thought that he would reform at some point.

Things got worse when he started abusing hard drugs. This combined with his criminal tendencies finally landed him in jail where he stayed for four years. By then we had lost contact as I had left shags for my campus life and later got employed. After serving his term, he returned home only to find that the society had sort of rejected him. It was a frustrating life for him up to a point when he attempted to commit suicide. He however never succeeded and was rushed to hospital and survived. When I heard of his suicide attempt, I felt that I needed to do something and went looking out for him. I managed to convince him to join a rehab. Sure enough after several month of rehab he came out a totally changed person.

He started doing menial jobs and joined the church. Being a survivor, he grew in the church and eventually opened his own church. However, the church never lasted for long and it closed down around two years ago.

Alex’s father had left some 3 acre piece of land and the mother held it for sometimes till sometimes last year when she decided to subdivide the land and give each of his 6 sons a piece. My friend Alex got his share of ½ acre somewhere in the interior Kiambu. He is a man of many ideas and life having not gone as planned; he decided to sell his ½ acre. When I asked him why he made such a decision, his explanation was simple. He had planned to purchase some 1/8th acre in a not so prime location with the proceeds of the sale, and then build a mabati house with the balance and whatever remains; he’d start a small business. Sure enough, he bought the plot and built the mabati house. That is the last I heard of him till he started looking for me.

The guy I saw in front of me never looked like he ever came across ‘big money’. He held his chin and started his story. Of course the bug that has bitten so many of my village mates had finally bitten my friend. The last time I went to the village, I found like 70% of my immediate neighbours had sold the small plots and moved. So many new faces around our home area coz majority of the youthful guys have sold the small inherited plots in search of better life and dubious business ventures. So sad….that the story my good friend Alex used to give me of villagers who sold their land and messed up was about to unfold…that proverb about the firewood in the rack laughing at the firewood in the fire, without knowing that it is next in line???…some direct translation here.

Next post, I shall tell you what he told me and I felt like giving him a pin to pinch himself back to reality.