Christened The Nairobi Style: The Memoir of a Sewage Waddler.

 Six O'clock in the  PM , Saturday,  the 5th.
Its Easter Weekend, and I am in Nairobi, the City in the sun, My city.
It seems like the perfect  April evening.
The city street lights illuminate the sky, casting a seemingly warm glow over the city's skyline.
The sky darkens,casting a gloomy vibe against the storeys that congest the city center.
It's going to rain. I panic.
I am not prepared to deal with the mayhem that becomes of this lively city once the first raindrop touches ground.
Throngs of people scurry, to various bus stops tyring to beat the oncoming onslaught and get home.
Then without a warning,the skies open!
Chaos follows.
The atmosphere is buzzing.
Engines revv, buses hoot. A dark blue cloud of smoke from bus exhausts envelopes the city. Conductors call out,at the top of thei voices to anyone who cares to listen to the chaos thats the aura of the late evening.
People rush,helter skelter, to find shelter outside the shops lining the streets.

Amidst the heavy splutter of the rain,a somewhat synchronized symphony of Umbrella and shower Cap vendors shouting,no, singing  their lungs out  fill the side streets, each one of them hoping to take advantage of the situation and make some quick bucks.
Beautiful Nairobi girls with their fake wigs and cheap weaves fly from all corners each trying to find a safe spot to hide from the rain,some managing barely to cover their faces,caked with makeup thats already smudging, forming small rivulets down their cheeks and on to the flimsy chiffon blouses.

I stand outside a shopping mall,contemplating my exit from this mayhem before me.
I am in my Jeans,Tee ,a coat that can barely keep the cold away, and flats.
No handbag,no purse,nothing.
I am a self-contained kind of girl, and today seems to be the day of reckoning.
As I stand stupified,clutching on to a frozen Chicken liver pack,my mind wanders back to the house,where my unused umbrella lies and suddenly I wish i could reach out and take it.(Where the the heck are Superman,  and The Flash, when a girl needs them?)
Someone pushes me hard.My reverie is cut short as I stagger into the rain battered street.
Experience from my days as an attachee at a local weather station tells me that this rain is not going to stop anytime soon. It dawns on me that I must make a decision, fast, before the streets flood.
I take a step forward and hurtle my being in the street.
Too late,the street is flooded.
Then, and only then,do i realize that I have made the most unwise decision in the history of my existance.
I waddle through the mixture of rain water and Raw sewage that is Nairobi's streets runoff, a shade of gray... no,black.
As  I step, hop and jump over pools and ponds of  dirty water my mind is screaming in disgust.I make a mental note to buy me a pair of gumboots.
Ten minutes of wadding through this bacteria and fungi  ridden water, I realize that there not much I can do to help my situation,other than plead with the Heavens that I do not catch an infection.
Takin a deep breath,I slowly ease into the comfort of having the street to myself.
There is no one stepping on my toes or pushing me around as I walk, so, like a duck,I hold my head high, and sashay through the rain, singing along to Shakira's Hips Dont Lie, now strumming inside my head,with no care in the world,occasionally raising my hand to wipe the water that is constantly running through the cornrows thats my hair,down my face into my clothes.
Funny how this rain makes me feel sexy.
I won't let this rain beat me down, no, I won't.
Endless minutes of hopping through steets and lanes seem to pass. Finally ,I find myself a bus to take me home.
I shrug off my coat,shake off the excess of the rain water soaking it and get in to the bus.
I am so cold and wet ,my brain is almost freezing and the only thing that is keeping me sane is the
cold pack of frozen liver that I can't wait to get home and fry.

The ride home is short,and as I alight from the bus it suddenly occurs to me that I have finally been christened the Nairobi Style,
Swimming through Nairobi sewage.
So,
Today call me,
WN,
 The Sewage Waddler!