Permit me to recount one of the most tragic and horrific
tales of this new 21st century.
If one is weak in stomach or low in tolerance of the macabre then I
would suggest saving this story for another; if not, proceed with caution and
guarded heart, knowing this could very well be disturbing.
This past week brought a harrowing tale of destruction and I
wish to recount the tale in its vivid details.
It was Wednesday and I was minding my own business, continuing the
cleaning and arranging process of our places of residence here in
Nairobi.
I was driving down our very own
Karanja Road when I
saw a pigeon crossing the road in front of our van.
I was alone in the vehicle and ensured that I
was giving way to any people and large livestock that may have been amidst the
roadway.
Nevertheless, I saw the pigeon
and making a quick mental calculation, assumed he would be free from the
oncoming path of the tires.
I was wrong.
The van, slowly rolling forward, apparently
caught the bird on his blindside and ended his time on this earth.
I did not realize it but in my watching for
pedestrians and larger versions of animal kind, I overlooked the most peaceful
and imbecilic of creatures.
My ignorance
mercilessly killed the flightless and otherwise grounded avian.
Well, I hadn’t the slightest idea that I had put to an end
the life-force of this pigeon on a peaceful stroll and proceeded to our place
of domicile.
Upon arrival at our place
we had a meeting that lasted about twenty minutes and I discovered after the
meeting’s end that the self proclaimed owner of the bird had presented himself
at our gate.
He told our guard that he
was the owner and I had slaughtered his overgrown canary.
The guard asked what he wanted and instead of
calling for financial reparations, he asked for an apology.
Knowing I was unavailable, the guard told him
we were all sorry and he left peaceably.
The meeting ended and I found no small commotion outside our
gate, immediately understanding it was voices of great excitement coming from
many of the children that commonly hang around our cul de sac.
Upon further inspection, they had possession
of the slain pigeon and produced it as they saw me approaching.
The pigeon really stood no chance against the
machine that gave it a swift flight to eternity.
Its head hung limply to its right side,
gaping open to display whatever is found in the neck of a bird.
Moreover, the tire did a fine job of
splitting it right down the middle with what appeared to be a large sized piece
of meat.
No time was wasted and one of the fellows had started a
fire, another found a knife, even another produced some salt and all together
they began to roast the bird just outside our gate.
I must admit that they did a fine job in the
speed and accuracy of their project, shortly producing a gourmet meal of
roasted pigeon.
Thoroughly impressed
with their culinary skill, I thought it only wise to add something to their
light afternoon snack and brought them some salt and vinegar chips, certainly
the best side item for pigeon.
The boys down the small bird morsels and made quick work of
the chips.
As they completed their meal
they asked if I would run over another or at least buy them one some day that
they may eat one again.
I laughed to
myself knowing that either are possible scenarios as you never can quite know
what a day in Kibera will hold!