The slum princess

Kenneth Juror | Kenya

        

               She strode in her red peplum dress with a matching 7-inch stilettos elevating her to get a bird's view of the people’s heads. She had long, well-kept hair that ran through her mountainous gluteus maximus. She always loved holding it in the middle of her head, girls call it ponytail.

She adorned shiny luxurious jewels that kept many people in the estate asking themselves how she got such expensive jewellery.

The base

           

            Boys in the estate always loved ogling at this goddess who despite her jaw dropping beauty still preferred using matatu to and from the search of the usual daily bread.

One Sunday morning just as many were preparing to go to church, the local one which had its sound system loud enough inviting all to attend their services.

The rusty-iron sheet church was tearing apart due to the loud music; it was paving way for another permanent brick walled structure being built 50 meters away. The voice from the public address system was louder as the MPESA number was being read out; contrary, the same voice went the other direction when holding prayers!

            Away from the church, she was all out looking like an Aphrodite, the Goddess of love & beauty and daughter of Zeus in ancient mythology that was identified with Roman Venus. She wore a printed maxi-dress with a matching pair of sandals and a clutch bag to complete the look.

The base as the boys popularly referred to the estate was characterized by narrow alleys with used water meant for pipes finding its way in between the rusty mud-walled houses. They chatted the day out some going to construction sites that dotted the other side of town however, those who remained behind either sniffed and puffed away their lunch or drunk it all together.

            She did a hop-step and jump over the narrow murky filled water with her dress highly held to avoid it from licking this colored water. For a while her designer cologne was overwhelmed by the putrid stench from the streams and overflowing latrines that the base had.

Her return…

           

            After the church service boys who were doing their usual; playing cards and sniffing some contraband items, upon seeing her they stopped to ogle and stare at this unrivaled queen of the base. Some of them were too drunk to see her, one of the boys said “eyii mbona leo amekonda hivi” (today she seems slender) while the other said “yenyewe” (I concur) then he fell with a thud. Whereas others were dropping and struggling to be on their feet another bunch was busy fighting the stupor to find their elusive footing.

She continued walking unperturbed of the happenings around her as this was usual in the base, her Bible on the right hand and her red clutch bag firmly in her left. Suddenly, a crowd of boys and girls emerged from the direction she was heading; on noticing trouble she dropped her Bible and ran the opposite direction with the crowd not relenting, hot in her pursuit. As she ran she kept asking herself what she had done wrong.

She held her dress high up to enable her run fast, just as she navigated a corner she was hit with a shovel on the back that felt like a mild thunder which pushed her to the ground faster.

The crowd formed around her carrying all sorts of weapons as she writhed in pain. 

“Leave her alone” I shouted from the middle of the crowd, all eyes shifted on me as I walked towards her. A dread locked guy who seemed to be pulling the shots said “We will teach her a lesson she will never forget” as he unzipped his jeans that had seen better days giving way on the knees. Two other boys unzipped as the girls cheered on!

            She got herself from the ground, tightly she clang on me telling me “please please help me!”

Someone hit my back with an iron rod sending me to the ground instantly. She screamed so loudly in my ear that I woke up.

Hey, get back to work or continue studying if a student.

It was just a dream.