Walking Home (21 page)

“Wait!”

I turned. It was the woman who had spoken to us as we entered the church. She had two other women with her—one of them was the woman who’d bought the peas, and she still had the bag in her hand. They came over to us.

“Are you not staying?” the first woman asked.

“We have far to go before we can sleep.”

“You said you were passing by. Where are you passing to?”

“Today we will travel to Nairobi.”

“By foot? And by yourselves?” She frowned and looked concerned.

“We have no other way to travel, and nobody to travel with us.”

“And you know the way?” the first woman asked.

“We have needed assistance through this section to get us back to the highway. People have been kind,” I said.

“People can show such great kindness.”

“And such cruelty,” the third woman added.

“Today we will only offer kindness,” the first woman said. “I have no vehicle to offer, but we will have somebody help you move to the next stage of your journey and get you back to the highway.”

“That would be most thoughtful.”

“And I would like you to take these,” the second woman said, offering me the bag of peas. “They are sweet and you can eat them as you walk.”

I hesitated but then took the bag. “Thank you so much.”

“It is not much that I have offered,” she said.

“It is an act of kindness and nothing could be greater,” I replied. “Thank you for that act even more than what the bag contains.”

“We have heard the Word,” she said. “You may spread that Word as you travel.”

I
took one more look back. The man was still standing at the place where the path met the tarmac. He waved and we waved back.

He had been with us for over an hour, guiding us through the twists and turns of roads and paths that led us back to the highway. I didn’t know if we could have done it without his help. Now he was going back home and we were walking forward again. I wasn’t sure how short the shortcut had been and wouldn’t know until we saw another sign announcing the distance still to travel, but at least we were back on our route.

With a quick glance I saw the man disappear around a bend in the road. I felt afraid and alone once more. For these last few kilometers we had been in his care, moving under his direction. Now there was nobody
but me, leading us along a road I had never traveled to a place I’d never been to be met by things I could not predict. At least my fear had reason.

“Can you see the string?” Jata asked.

I started from my thoughts and for an instant didn’t understand. Then I recovered myself. “I’m so surprised that
you
cannot see it,” I said. “Take my hand and we will begin again.”

The day had become increasingly hot and the sun brighter. Between the two, the water had been drawn back up and the mud had dried, making the puddles smaller and the walking easier. The way continued to be downhill, and that helped pull us forward.

The peas the church woman had given us had all been eaten. They were as sweet as candy. Along the shared journey the man—his name was Njoroge—had asked people if we could pluck plump pears overhanging the road and they had given permission. We had eaten our fill. I had felt warmed by the sun and by the people who had helped us get this far. I had felt hopeful. Now, walking alone again and passing by people who did not speak to us, I felt that hope drip away with each step. Once again we walked and walked until many hours and many kilometres had passed since we had left our friend behind. Would I have any hope left when we reached Nairobi?

The road was now wider, with two lanes in each direction. On both sides of the tarmac were wide walking paths, and set back from them was an almost uninterrupted line of shops and stores, homes and homesteads. With the extra buildings came extra people. It now seemed as if it was impossible for us to be alone. There was a constant flow of people that made the time pass quickly.

There were also reminders of what had been going on. We passed more burned-out and overturned vehicles, their contents gone. There was the usual assortment of closed buildings, but some had obviously been put to the torch. A storm had passed through that had come not from the sky but from the people beneath it. But had it passed in the direction we had come from or the direction we were going? And even more important, was the storm going to sweep over us again?

We continually passed by roadside markets. There were dozens of stalls and hundreds of people flocking around, buying and selling everything in sight. Although I was still full and satisfied, the food stalls were the ones that most caught my attention. We had not gone hungry and still had many days of food with us, but it remained my greatest worry. Thank goodness for the kindness of the people we had met.

“There is a sign!” Jata called out.

Farther down the highway was indeed a large
green sign. I could read the word “Nairobi,” but I couldn’t make out the distance. We’d need to be closer to read it. I felt a sense of anticipation. What would it say? Fifteen kilometers? Twenty? No, it couldn’t be that far anymore. It might even be ten, but better not to get my hopes too high.

I stopped in front of the sign. It only said
NAIROBI
. What good was that if it didn’t tell us how far away it was? Unless…

“Sir,” I said to a passing man. “Is this the line where Nairobi starts?”

“Where the government says it starts,” he replied. “The real starting point?” He shrugged. “That is for Nairobi to decide.”

“We’re here!” Jata yelled out. “We’re here!”

“Yes, in a few more steps. But we need to find a place to stay. I saw a place just back there where we might spend the night.”

“We should go forward and enter the city,” Jata said.

There was not enough sun remaining in the sky to allow that to happen. “No. We do not know what is ahead, but I know what is behind. Come, we will rest. Tomorrow we will travel
through
Nairobi.”

I turned and led her back the way we came. I knew it made no sense, but I didn’t want to go forward just yet. Nairobi was dangerous and would be most
dangerous at night. Today we would sleep beside the beast but not within it.

I opened my eyes and was surprised to be greeted by light. I must have drifted off again. Throughout the night I had tried to fight sleep—my back pressed against the building, Jata nestled with her head on my lap. She still slept.

The air was misty and the sky overcast. That didn’t necessarily mean a storm but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to rain. We had been blessed by a dry night. The overhang of the small broken building I’d found wouldn’t have provided much protection against rain, and there were neither doors nor a roof to offer more shelter inside. It wasn’t the best, but it was the best I could find. The building’s chief asset was that it was far enough away from the road and from people to allow us to sleep alone. Here the people were so plentiful that there was no fear of animals but it had been replaced by the fear of the people who chased away the animals.

Jata stirred from her sleep.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“I am tired … and hungry.”

“We can fill your stomach, but you need to be awake.”

“My feet are tired. Do we have to walk far today?” she asked.

“Maybe not
as
far, but still far.”

That was a reassuring lie. I was planning on walking until we reached the far side of Nairobi, even if it meant going all day and into the dark. I would not have us stay there even one night.

“Let us gather wood for a fire to cook our breakfast. How about beans and maize?”

“Yes, that would be a good breakfast to have instead of porridge,” she replied.

Jata rose to her feet. Before I could stand too, she draped her blanket over top of me.

“You stay and rest. I will gather the wood. Even big brothers need to close their eyes sometimes. I will watch you.”

The road was like a never-ending river of cars and lorries,
matatus
, pushcarts and donkey carts. So many of the trucks spewed out clouds of black exhaust as they roared along the road. At the sides and tentatively venturing out between the lanes of traffic were scores of people on foot. I gripped Jata’s hand tightly as we walked, hour after hour. I hadn’t known what to expect from this city, but it was more. More of everything. It never seemed to end. Not only had I never
seen
this many stores and people and vehicles, but I had never even dreamed there could
be
so many. I was beginning to worry that I had miscalculated and it would not be
possible to cross the city in one day. If that were the case, would this city swallow us up? Would we be able to come out the other side at all? I hurried my pace.