When I came to this place, I was definitely seeking an escape from what exactly I couldn’t tell. I wanted to be as far from civilization as possible. I wanted to run away from friends. I wanted to run away from the convenient relationships birthed out of close proximity.
I wanted to get away from all the notions that I was my mother’s daughter and nothing more.
I wanted a place with a taste of nature; I had stared at concrete for so long.
I wanted a place where no one knew me, a place you could walk and not rub shoulders with strangers.
There was only one place, Ruturo.
In Ruturo, there’s only one apartment block and a slum right next to it, a pictorial depiction of haves and have nots.
It’s a place you can live for all eternity and just never blend in. Trust me you’d always be referred to as among ‘wale masonko wa plaza’.
The young boys here speak with a heavy kikuyu accent that is beyond education. I personally would laugh at this, I’m thinking of what someone who has mastered the queens language would do, they’d probably find material to amuse their online followers.
The ‘boda boda’ guys don’t need to ask where I live anytime I need a ride home. They just know.
More to the labels that generously went around, it was easy to know who was who just from appearance, the sun and the red soil and perhaps the ever present poverty have done a number on the locals here. They seem to be one with mother earth.
Here, everyone knows everyone. I’m not people oriented myself. The only time I interact with anyone is when I need something from the shop or when signaling my ‘boda boda’ guy for a ride.
I often find it hard to tell exactly where I live anytime someone asks me. Ruturo isn’t just a term you utter so loud and to be honest I don’t like it.
Kiambu is quite some distance from Ruturo so I barely tell people I live in Kiambu. Anytime I mention Tatu City what is imagined is the glorious flats going for 2.6M plus. I mean, I live in a bedsitter lol.
Kamiti corner isn’t just it either, that’s a totally different region although close. Ruiru, oh no, not Ruiru. 5 minutes’ walk from Tatu City is what I’ve decided to settle with.
Despite Ruturo being a slum, it has a taste of some country life. You see, I’d choose country life over city life any day. It’s who I am, a country girl. I don’t know about you but most of my best memories come from some dirty old roads. I have come to realize that I’d rather live on a farm in the middle of nowhere than in the city. Pretty weird, I know.
There’s poverty here no doubt, alcohol is men’s favorite pass time, girls are mothers quite early, and the boys find pure excitement in swimming in their birth suits. This turns their skin ghostly white, they call it ‘kuparara’ hence the name ‘dufo mpararo’. I call this place home.
Do I love Ruturo? Well, I would want to see more girls join secondary school. I would want to see boys dream bigger than becoming “wasee wa nduthi”. Anyway, at least now I get fewer visits from old friends, I plan to make new ones.
