Kenyan Madness Abroad

Will this turn out to be the elusive outlet for me to unleash my creative genius on an unsuspecting world? Or is it destined to be nothing more than a hi-tech pen and pad chronicling the ramblings of a delusional mind? You be the judge ... Just so ya know there's a disclaimer: This blog contains strong language and some adult situations. Viewer discretion is advised.

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Location: United States

Cultural, expressive, thoughtful dude. It's not all good though coz I am also an internet addict, and a sometime stalker too. But I am happy to say I am in therapy for the internet thing :)

Saturday, March 11

The day I almost lost my life to a heifer

I had travelled to the slopes of Mount Kenya for a few weeks after completing my form four exams. The weather was warm and the air fresh. One beautiful morning with the sky blue and not a cloud in sight, I decided to take a walk and see the cows grazing by the river. For a city boy like me, seeing cows was a thrilling experience. To add to my excitement, Ndungu the farmhand had told me a new calf had been born a week earlier.

After having a filling bowl of porridge, I donned on a straw hat and my favorite Bata Bullets rubber shoes. My stride was sure in those shoes. In our school Sports Day I had volunteered to run the 5000m for Red House. For the race, I wore my Bata Bullets and all I will say is I did not come in last ... ahem.

The herd of cattle was, as expected, grazing by the river. I spotted Ndungu sleeping under the shade of a nearby tree with a blade of grass dangling from his mouth. As I approached, at first I could not see the new calf because the herd was so tightly packed together. I picked up a stick and the plan was to use it to seperate the cows so I could make it to the middle where I was sure the calves were.

Most of the cows moved aside as I walked towards them. The ones that were not quick enough got a swift whack on their hides. I had seen this tactic used in numerous tv documentaries of Masaai herdsmen. A proud smile crept on my face as I felt I was a master over the herd. These huge beasts respected me!

However, there was this one cow that would not budge. "This must be the mother trying to be protective" I thought to myself. I raised my stick to show her who was boss, but her reaction startled me. She backed up a couple of feet and turned to face me. She scraped her hoof against the ground and let out a grunt from her nostrils. She also raised and lowered her head menacingly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ndungu jump to his feet like safari ants had made a feast of his ankles. "Weeeeh!" He yelled. This confirmed to me that there was real trouble. "Toka hapo, hiyo ngobe ni diabo sana morio!" Under any normal situation, I would have found this hilarious. Ndungu always tried to impress me with his knowledge of Nairobi slang that he would pick up at the bus terminal from the matatu touts. However something in his tone made me realize that there was nothing funny in what was about to happen and my stomach fell.

Although the sun had not reached it's peak and there was a cool breeze, my brow began to glisten in steady beads of sweat. There was nothing between the cow and me except five feet of real estate. Real estate that this cow could purchase in a jiffy without a bank account.

Punde si punde the next thing I knew, with flaring nostrils the cow charged, and the bullseye (no pun intended) was my ribcage. I was pummelled right in my torso by her lowered head. I did not have a chance to brace myself for the impact and I let out a whoosh of air from my lungs. My morning meal of porridge went flying out in one direction and I went flying in the other. Was this cow attempting to get restitution at my expense for all the humans that had ordered prime rib at nyama choma joints?

It has been said that when you are about to kick the bucket your life flashes before your eyes. As a searing pain shot through my chest and as I landed on my hiney, I started to see visions of my life. I saw my first diaper which was fitting because I needed one right now. I also saw all the bad things I had done to this point - my 'F' grades in school, stealing soda and bubble gum from Mama Wairimu's kiosk, and throwing stones at Safari Rally cars as they raced by (Yes Joginder Singh ... that was me that broke your windshield at the Molo junction) ... Why, oh, why did I engage in such unbecoming behavior?

There was no time for atonement now. Quicker than lager turns to piss, I sprung to my feet before the heifer could regroup for another attack. Ndungu had frozen in his tracks after he had seen me bowled over in a cloud of dust. His eyes were as big as saucers and the blade of grass was still hanging from his lips. I knew I was on my own.

You know how you read in the papers that some random fellow was trampled to death by an elephant in the bush? Ama massacred by cattle rustlers? Or struck by lightning? What thought immediately crosses your mind? Poor shaggs mundu, right? I thought about my obituary and what it would say - 'The death has occured of B.K. killed by common livestock'. Anyone reading it that din't know me would say "Aww that poor shaggs mundu". Hell to the naw, I wasn't going out like that! In my humble opinion, some deaths are more whack than others. The sheer ignobility of having my lights turned off BY A COW of all things created a deep resolve in me to survive.

Despite my lungs having been emptied of their supply of oxygen from the solid headbutt, I turned and took off like my life depended on it. Coz lets face it; my life depended on it. The vicious ruminant was hot on my heels and I prayed my Bata Bullets would be up to the task and not fail me. I was in full sprint and I could hear the hooves on the ground and the grunts right behind me. This animal was determined to make minced meat of me. I shifted up a gear and even overtook a dragonfly. What had my Biology teacher taught us? Adrenaline results in either flight, fright, or fight. In this case the cow was the only one in the mood to fight, while I handled the fright and the flight elements.

There wasn't a tree in sight to climb or a thicket to dive into and I knew the lactic acid in my legs would soon start to build up and turn them into lead weights. Long gone was my straw hat. My beads of sweat were now full-fledged pools of perspiration. As I ran zigzagging across the farm cutting tight corners until my ear nearly touched the ground in an attempt to shake off my tormentor, I wondered if I could make it to the local butchery? There for sure I would find some able-bodied men that would help me outnumber the bovine animal and settle this score. If I made it there, I personally would turn it's hide into a drum and it's hooves into glue.

Just then one of my beloved Bata Bullets fell off. The cow turned it's attention to my footwear and stomped and chewed it to nothingness. That was all the distraction I needed to make my escape.

Drenched in all manner of bodily fluids, I ran into the house, took a quick bath, packed my bags and wore my second favorite pair of shoes. I was off to the bus terminal and caught a matatu destined for the city where I belonged, leaving Ndungu still wide-eyed with his blade of grass.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

very good storyline and narrating concept. i enjoyed it. keep it up.

10:50 PM  
Blogger Ken said...


8:07 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"....Aww that poor shaggs mundu...."

LOL !!

12:19 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

LOL!!!!! Serves you right for taking your city mentality to shags! Still LOL!! Pole sana for that hard lesson. Look on the bright side - at least the cow didnt have horns - kwanza those Ankole cow horns otherwise you would be past tense by now

4:31 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

manze i commend you not just for the stories but for your very deadly writting skills

8:20 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

hahhahahahahhah!!! ifeel like i have heard this story before!!! mmmhh!!!
your manenos are tight.. please keep updating.. you make ma days..

1:39 AM  

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