Crying Like A Mannish Boy

 

Today I wept.
Really, I cried.
Shed tears like a young school going boy of five.
Today, I ran home tears streaming down my mid-life beardy face.

Well, the last time I cried this hard I was, as a matter of fact, a school-going boy.
Do you remember when you were younger and you ran home to your Mama or Big Bro so that
they could avenge your tiny feelings for you?
Do you remember running madly blinded by tears? Running away from the bully? Or, when
you ran after the bully himself, crying and baying for his blood?
Do you remember the bully running away from you; he laughing at you all the while because
he was not sure what you intended to do to him if you caught him?

Well, that was me today.
I cried. Cried like a baby.

See, I am from work, and as it is on a Friday I decide to rush to the supermarket, grab some packed
food (for me) and a "latest film" from my guy.
I have these, and now am headed home.
I live on the other part of town, the shortest route to my house is through Oasis Estate and on to
Majangwa. Yes, I live in Majangwa.
Between Oasis and Majangwa is a large tract of land that the children from the two estates, and
those surrounding, use as a play field.
Lucky for these children, the Orkoiyot in the Government has not seen this piece of land and so
they play with reckless abandon, unknowing that children elsewhere are daily losing their playing
ground to some "Private Developer".

So, here I am. A brisk walk throughout Oasis, onto the Play Field. Here, the kids are hunting for
birds. They have catapults. They have piles of smooth pebbles. Some have banos (marbles) - these must be the kids from Oasis. (Those from Majangwa use marbles as legal tender for exchange, to settle debts and even bribe. It is currency.)
They are aiming well. I smile at some of them and even point out some birds for them.

The brisk walk again.
Through the field, across the tract of land....then suddenly it happens.
A marble lands on the back of my head...it sends me staggering forward before collapsing on my knees.
It takes several minutes for me to figure out what has just happened...the searing pain. My sight is
blurry. I think I have an internal haemorrhage...I can't see...I can't hear... Nothing.
All is quiet.
Then there is a muffled sob.
Then slowly the senses reboot, the pain comes galloping. It has brought all its tribesmen.

Another sob.
Then behind me, I hear the little bastards sniggering. They are now laughing at me.
I am mad.
More sobs. Even more deeper sobs.
Tears are rolling freely...I am standing up...I am running towards them. I am now running after
them. I cannot see the way, but I know, I am certain, the bastard who did it is from Oasis.

And so, the pursuit to Oasis begins.
A man circumcised by a thousand battle axe runs after three boys while crying (Don't forget that
being circumcised in Kenya is a big deal right now, it even wins you a tender!)
...there I was; running, choking on my tears, swearing and cursing, yelling and shouting that I would
teach them not to mess with a circumcised man again...

But...
I never caught anyone.

Now, the painful walk back to the Play Field.
And the sons of &)$&£%# from Majangwa had ransacked my Friday Treat! Not even one groundnut left!

As I write this, I am nursing more than a headache and a bruised ego...

....Oh, but I am planning murder. Those bastards will know that I have memorised Langston Hughes' poem, "If I Must Die"!

Crying Like A Mannish Boy.

By Macaria Wa Gatundu