The Bahatian

It is a different scenario when handlers or diary keeper of the president deems some people unworthy of a president’s attention, or views them in different light.   Since 2017, an athlete by name of Maryanne Wangari (pictured), a resident of Nakuru, had tried in vain to reach the head of state and present him with a glass vase trophy she won in a road race in Germany.   Her story begins in 2012 when she registered for the Nairobi Standard Chartered marathon, and emerged almost the last. Disappointed with her rear finish, she decided to throw in the towel, and call it quits. But a talent scout who was at that event spotted her, and seeing much potential in her, took her, with others, to Nyahururu for rigorous training in ‘making athletes out of novices’.

A century ago, a man appeared in this village following what was more of an animal rut than a footpath. He wore an animal skin, the standard wear of the day, before colonialism came to Africa and the colonized adopted the Western attires. Legend has it the man was a messenger, and was only armed with a sword tied to his waistline which was for self-preservation from wild animals than for antagonism. He had a headgear where coloured feathers, purportedly from an ostrich or peacock, were stuck. Anyone who witnessed him from far off knew him as an emissary of a tribal chieftain more than a spy heralding a raid.   And as he approached a cluster of huts that calm morning, young men on lookout noticed him and gave out the warning whistles that any able bodied man within the clusters of the huts armed himself with whatever weapon he could get. The man with feather plumed headgear kept on walking making every effort not to reach for his sword or make any hand movement that would ...

  His name was Muraya. That’s what the man introduced himself the morning he came up the winding path to my home. He was in white gumboots, a white lab coat and an equally matching white cap. He carried a cardboard with papers attached by a clip with a businesslike countenance.   My first impression of him was that he was a veterinary doctor. I’ve not heard of a major livestock disease outbreak or an ongoing vaccination. The least I expected to hear was quarantine the moment he opened his mouth.   Not so. He said he had come from Nyeri and represented Nguku Nene Poultry Farm. He spoke with ease of a seasoned salesperson and it appeared that this was his forte.   There was no doubt that he was a persuasive speaker. It took him less to make me ‘see’ and buy into his plan. Already, according to the list he showed me, some of my counterparts were for the idea. It was this simple. With Sh3, 000, Nguku Nene Poultry Farm would supply some farmers in my village...