Who care's in Nairobi?

This article is a work of satire and fiction. The events and characters depicted are purely fictional and intended for humorous entertainment purposes. The views expressed do not necessarily reflect reality or endorse any specific behaviour.

The City of Nairobi

The streets of Nairobi are littered with garbage, hawkers, kiosks, etc. In fact, this former city in the sun has become one big open-air market with no planning whatsoever. Now that the election is round the corner, things are worse. Getting rid of the hawkers would be like throwing good votes into the sea so no politician will touch them. 

Besides the garbage, refuse, and overflowing and bursting sewage system, the planning officers add to the pollution by spewing empty vitriol and unnecessary verbiage. We know that they are chasing rate defaulters because they want to raise money for the coming elections—the biggest ever in the history of independent Kenya. 

On the sidewalks one faces the risk of falling into uncovered manholes. For months now city residents have watched cover after cover disappear before their very eyes. When only a few were missing, it was easy to make a mental note of their bearings and positions. Not anymore. One would now have to be equipped with a laptop at all times and with the necessary software to chart their positions. These manhole covers are mined at night because they are made of metal. Kenya exports metals to china and nobody wants to know where these merchants are mining the metal. Nothing metallic has been spared—guardrails, street signage, and of course the manhole covers. Recently the City Council has started to replace the missing covers with plastic ones, but someone discovered that even the plastic ones have a thin metal rod for tensile strength. You guessed it, the plastic covers are disappearing too.

I have a friend called Mike who keeps minding other people' business instead of his own. He calls it fighting for human rights. Most of the time I just ignore him because his actions are a drop in the ocean. But quite often his eccentricity evolves into genius and you have to listen to him. 

Our friend Mike was more interested in the gaping manholesthis time. After a brief investigation, he found out the manhole covers were being looted by entrepreneurial manic lunatics who sold the iron to scrap iron mongers with irreparably warped minds. As if that was news. What was really news was the term he coined for the "thieves—"the merchants of vanish."

Why, pray, would any self-respecting trader purchase such looted public property when the urban and rural landscape is littered with rusty Bedfords, Anglias, Zephyrs, Prefects, Marinas, tankers, tractors, and other outdated decrepit chunks of iron, some of which are either 'yours for the taking' or can be acquired for a pittance? Mike was wandering alone, but I wondered where he had been all the time. The countryside no longer has such junk sitting and waiting to be picked. It was mined long ago!

Mike's Dream

Mike had this recurring dream in which two unsuspecting good citizens had accidentally fallen in those uncovered manholes in the dead of the night and disappeared without a trace. In yet another dream, an innocent reveller had his limbs entangled in two separate manholes, resulting in multiple fractures. But who cares?

So Mike went to the city hall to look for a junior officer who could give him a satisfactory reason why the council couldn't use un-pilferable material like timber, ceramics, concrete, or even mud. Fortunately for Mike, there was a lull in the council wrangles on that day, presumably for a well-deserved break.

After looking around for a knowledgeable junior officer with enough clout to face a probing mind, Mike found one. A studious-looking, bespectacled junior officer.

"We can't worry about open manholes now," the officer announced.

"Why not? Don't you know that you are endangering the lives of innocent Kenyans? Mike asked.

 "We have enough problems at city hall besides having to worry about manholes." 

"What problems would be more serious than..."

"We are losing a lot of money from parking fees defaulters and we want to seal those holes fast."

"I'm talking about innocent Kenyans losing their lives or even breaking their limbs. Some of those manholes look bottomless to me," Mike said impatiently.

"You are talking about small holes on the streets. What is one open hole on Tom Mboya Street compared to a burst sewer spewing a vermin-ridden froth for the past week in Pandora?" the junior officer asked. "We do not collect money from parking; the council will not have enough money to stop the spillages."

Mike couldn't help feeling that perhaps the council had bigger problems than he had imagined. He was, however, determined not to be derailed from his original mission of solving the manhole problem.

"What is a puny manhole compared to the lack of water in the whole of Karen and Langata for the past one year? Or ten feet of rubbish in an alley in Eastleigh?" The officer continued. 

Mike nodded to acknowledge the council's insurmountable problems. But he couldn't help thinking that if the council cared about anybody's well-being, it could at least start with the uncovered manholes.

Mike wondered if there was any sense in continuing with the conversation any further when the officer raised his hand to signal an impending statement.

"Do you recall your science class?" The officer asked, taking Mike by surprise.

"You know air is denser at sea level than high up on a mountain."

"What are you getting at?" Mike asked with a frown. This was a naked attempt to change the subject, Mike thought as he searched for a connection with his original query.

"Let me show you," the officer said as he ran off like a schoolboy. He came back with a glass of water and a razor blade. Mike inched closer to see this unfolding scientific experiment. It just might hold the solution to the gaping canyons on Nairobi streets. 

A glass of water and a razor blade

The officer placed the blade flat on the water surface, and as expected, it did not sink.

"So?" Asked Mike expectantly, hoping against hope that the climax was yet to come.

"So you see, water has a surface film that isn't easily broken unless..."

He nudged the blade with a finger and again, as expected, it sank.

"Even air has a thin surface film. If people learnt to step gently on the open manholes, they wouldn't fall in," the officer said with finality.

"Would you like to repeat that experiment with an empty glass and the razor blade?" Mike requested.

"Sorry," responded the busy junior officer, who had to leave immediately to attend to a very urgent wrangle that had been simmering for quite some time. The city had been declared a County and the contenders for that seat had promised to dish out some cash. 

Who cares, Mike wondered as he left the precincts of city hall and went back to the slime. There was nothing else to do except to make pace notes like a rally driver in order to avoid the deadly hazards on Nairobi's streets.