I grew up in an estate setting for a better part of my childhood. We had this obsession for bikes…even the girls. Every house hold had a BMX! It was a need, not even a want. We’d ride around the estate all day racing, doing the so called ‘scrambo’ stunts, hand free and the likes. I was what the Kikuyu’s call a “Wanja kihii” which is a term for tom girls. When the bikes got boring, we would sometimes go around ringing peoples bells and running away, stealing guavas from people’s trees or deflating people’s car tires (If anyone did that to me right now I’d loose it!) Apologies to all those residents who woke up and found flat tires.
Anyway, enough digression. Our estate had all kinds of people. We had all tribes, races and we even had a mad man! One of our neighbors had a relative who was not mentally stable. He walked round the estate all day, sometimes talking to himself. We all avoided him. We got used to seeing him around so, as long as he was minding his own business, we never bothered him….well, the rest did not. I, on the other hand decided I could bully him just a little from time to time. I would call him “dirty feet” when passing by him on my bike. He always acted like he didn’t hear me.
So, we had a relative who lived with us then. She had a son, 1yr old at the time. He was learning how to walk so it was very exciting. His mother sent me to the shop to buy milk and asked me to take her son for a walk while at it. Since I was going with the boy, I couldn’t take the bike. As we slowly walked to the shop, we ran into “dirty feet”. So I put on this naughty smile and whispered “dirty feeeeeet” as I passed him. He turned around and walked towards me from behind, so I could not see him approach. All over sudden, PAAAAAAH! The guy gave me a serious kick on my behind that sent my heart racing from the shock. I heard a loud roar of laughter from the cute boys who were sitting around idling.
I took off, grabbing my sore behind, leaving dust behind me and the baby who was also shocked and crying! I got home in a split second, only for my cousin to ask for her son! She was furious and didn’t care what had happened to me, all she wanted was her son! She quickly sent me out to get her son and I just couldn’t believe her. I was so freaked out! I hid behind car after car, wall after wall, just like in the movies, peeping just in case I ran into him again. Eventually, I got the baby back home, but no milk! I camped in the house for a while and completely avoided “dirty feet” until he was finally hospitalized. Lesson: Mind your own business or life will bite (or kick) your behind!