The thing we take with us

Njambi sits silently while the potbellied man who smells like nyama choma and beer complains about the same thing again.

This is their fifth encounter, and while he pays a hefty amount for her service, she is annoyed by his constant grumbling. She says nothing, part of the job is to let the man feel heard and adored, even just for a few minutes. As if the world belonged to them.

She wonders if this was a mistake but shoves the thought behind when the man puts on his t-shirt and starts counting a thousand shilling notes.

Njambi would not have been in Nairobi were it not for Mwas. He had come to see if he could make life better for them. They ended up in Mukuru kwa Njenga, where she left him because she says to herself always,

'mapenzi si chakula' (love is not food)

***

James Mwangi (Mwas) walks into his house after making sure Brian had gotten home as people know him. He had tried to help him stop the illicit liquor drinking, but Brian had lost all hope in life. He however had no courage to end it.

He changes into another torn shirt, the one he sleeps in and as he is about to blow out the light from his Koroboi, the screaming begins.

" Moto ! Moto ! Saidieni"

There are people screaming and others running. Beyond his four mabati walls, chaos begins.

He walks out of the house, inspects where the fire is, some shanties down from his.

Mwas takes the two remaining Jerry cans of water. He was to use them for cooking and cleaning, but fire must be put out. After all, if he does not help, there will be nothing left to clean and nowhere to cook.

He carries his Jerry cans, hurries to the burning houses.

They try to put out the fire, some throwing soil, others pouring water, others wailing.

He hears a faint cry; a little boy is trapped inside one of the burning shanties, there is no way out for him. Mwangi finds a way to get to the end that is not burning; with all his strength, he pulls away from the rusty mabati. Some men help. He walks in and frees the child from where he is entrapped. The child's mother is never around at this time of the night. She is a sex worker at Koinange street.

James Mwangi worked at a pineapple plantation. They would harvest the pineapples for juice processing. He had been hopeful that things would open up for him eventually and had tried to save up to buy his farm while still maintaining the needs of his come-we-stay wife, Grace Njambi. She had had ridiculous demands, but he had been blinded by love even to notice. When he got fired, they had to survive on his savings until no coin was left in his name.

The boy runs out through the exit created, and just as Mwas is about to escape, the two-storey shanty right opposite collapses on the little boy's home, and Mwas is caught stuck underneath. You know those, the kind made of mabati that would fall by just the slightest of wind. It is a wonder how people manage to live in them. But they do because that is what survival requires.

The fire amplifies, and the people move further away while still trying to put it off. Mwangi screams and cries and is short of oxygen. He has his last seven minutes. Memories speed through his mind. Njambi...

Tomorrow, the little boy's mother will be told. She will be too frail from the news to go to work. It will take weeks, but when she finally recovers, she will relay the news to Grace, tell her that the man who loved her died saving her boy.

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