At the Garbage Site


Staring at the decaying morsels of food remnants, yellowish green rotting vegetables, churned on top with ash and human feaces and all mode of garbage waste, provokes the urge to vomit. The air is thick with pungent smell that chokes and suffocates one at the same time. A cloud of flies buzzes hovers, flies and lands here and there on the rotting waste, and like a rioting mob in public gathering. Complementing the scene are scavenger birds flying high and low allover the place pecking and scratching the plastic bags in a bored manner. Street children also inhabit the place making it their territory after resisting “the swoop” by city council askaris to be taken to orphanages. This sight provokes me to thinking: if only the city council could find a better way of handling the waste, the city can avoid such sites that not only creating health hazards to the neighboring residences but also harbors thieves and dogs with rabies.
To the far right are walls of building ruins which the owner, after voice of reason decided to abandon; for his safety because of encroachment by waste and company. This is the headquarters of the ‘mayor’ of the disposal site, a huge, soot black, robust being, sleeping spread outside his ‘palace’ enjoying the morning sun. The ‘mayor’ raises his head, scans around his precincts, satisfied, yawns loudly and resumes his sleeping position by his cane. Young street children are quarrelling and fighting over a piece of bone, initially picked by a small boy. The ‘discoverer’ not able to resist his elders is pushed, and falls down away from the developing scuffle. He raises, disgusted, and dusts his tattered, long greased shirt. I doubt that he has shorts. Convinced it is ‘clean’, he moves off to another heap of garbage and scavenges on, consoling himself; someday I will grow strong to fend off my bullies and establish my niche in the territory and may be became the ‘mayor’.
The fight continues breaking up to series of small fights of twos and threes. Finally, the strongest rules, takes the bone and nibbles contentedly, moving away with pride registered all over his body movements. The battle is worn but the war continues, waking up ‘his worship the mayor’ who raises the cane beside him and threateningly, points to the fighting boys. Abruptly, the fights stop and the boys run away fearing his wrath. He would have stopped them before I think, but gave them time to sort out their differences. He grew through these fights himself. They help one survive in harsh environment like this and therefore are healthy for the young boys. Tranquility returns around the ruins, the ‘mayor’ bored, goes to sleep again.

Comments

  1. Bonie Nzioka Power of Words10 February 2012 at 11:06

    Power of words in bringing out sense of touch, smell, sight etc makes creative writing worthwhile...

    ReplyDelete

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