The city in the sun is cruel to those who have been unfortunate enough to taste the wrath that characterizes its other side. For people visiting, this might be an unbelievable revelation but it’s the truth of the matter. Other than the skyscrapers, the kidero grass, the lasses, the wildlife in the parks, the feigned friendliness of the people or the view of the city when dusk falls, there is an ugly side of this town depicted by car-jackings, everyday mugging, murders, unraveled thuggery, corruption, misappropriation of public funds, heartbreaks and joblessness.
This city has an unquenchable desire to swallow those not strong enough or to just watch as they retrogress from joblessness, desperation, depression to going completely mad. The city just watches on as the son of the peasant staggers from an office to another, with tons of papers looking for something better to do than to always sit at home and hang out with the boys. In many cases the doors get shut in their face because either the government is checking on the wage bill or the poor feller doesn’t know someone ‘important enough’.
He walks from one office to the other and upon entering he tells the receptionist that he is looking for a job and without bothering to look up she replies;
Do you have your cv with you?
Yes I do.
Just leave it with us and if anything comes up we will contact you.
Definitely. Here it is…
As she looks up to take the cv, he notices the blood red that is her lips. She is of light complexion, (aren’t they all). Definitely pretty, her fine fingers are well maintained with black nail polish. Her hair is as dark as the night and it falls just below her shoulders. Her eyes are as clear as the waters from a stream in the mountain. He can tell that she was created to be an impression of how God is truly good at what He does. She has expensive looking, silver, Rolex watch on her right hand. She is beautiful but cold. As she picks the CV from his hands she doesn’t even smile. It’s like the reply and the follow up actions are somewhat programmed in her.
As he walks out, he thinks of how in another existence he would love to have her as his own, to feel the softness of that hair in his pals as he strokes it in Diani…
The day ends with no progress and since it gets more dangerous in the shadows, he has to go home to his leaking roof with nothing but his papers. He only has 30 shillings in his pocket so he has to lie down at Uhuru Park as he waits for fare home to drop after rush hour. This means he has to wait till 9 pm to go home.
Being the rainy season, the ground has pools of muddy water everywhere and he has to jump from one pool of mud,another pool of open sewer, a stream of gushing, angry rain water to his doorstep. He is lucky if he is not mugged on the way since the place knows nothing like street lighting. His floor is wet which means that there’s a probability that his bedding and clothes also are. He is lucky. His clothes are but not his bedding. He makes sugarless strong tea, takes is with ugali and goes to bed, tired, hungry and desperate.
The following day he wakes up, hangs his clothes out to dry and goes to a cyber café’ in the neighborhood to check of any jobs that could have popped up overnight. There’re none.
Going back he finds the clothing line empty…
To some, this description is the work of fiction meant at exaggerating what really is happening in the job seeking world but what do you know if you haven’t been there. The jobless Kenyan youth of today are a disillusioned lot. Going through University for four years plus just to be jobless a decade later.
The Kenyan society and the world in its entiretyare cruel for those without. Our youth have to struggle to make ends meet days with no end. They have to put up with a corrupt system of governance, a selfish leadership, a self-centered private sector more concerned with self-enrichment than quality employment…
Years come and go but the inequality that has been enshrined in our daily practices continues to be the cornerstone that will dictate what kind of life one lives based solely on the part of the nation he has brought up in.
The son of the poor man will struggle through elementary school, to a system of free primary and secondary education that’s more focused on watching the day end than on providing quality education. The lucky ones will get an average grade, the government will take them up through its government sponsorship system, but because they are average, they will be forced to take up a course that they didn’t want to do in the first place, go through university surviving on government loans and after four years they will owe the government so much money with no means to pay up whatsoever.
Two years down the line, HELB will start knocking the door, demanding its money back. With no means of income, lack of a support system, desperation will kick in…
With an unemployment rate of 25%, he will deteriorate to another statistic swallowed up by drug abuse, terrorism, armed robbery, violent extremism and before too long his life is cut short by the barrel of a gun.
Why did he die? For what really?