LOOKING ACROSS

LOOKING ACROSS 

By Jeremy Leariwala 

Walker exits the van, immersing his fatigued body in a cold sea. A soft breeze, blowing directionless, carries a mixture of smells; from the leaves, tilled land to the approaching rains. Overhead, the sun lurks behind drifting clouds. Ahead stands a bearded man; one of the curios sellers aligned along Nyahururu-Subukia road, looking him over, sizing him and judging his purchasing power. But Walker stopped for something behind the shops. The magnificent view across the Rift Valley from Subukia’s Eastern viewpoint has always been nostalgic. 

“Jambo?” The seller beamed. 

“Jambo, jambo...” 

Walker throws him another glance. Early thirty-ish, with a countenance of a stress-free family man. The artefacts: grey-haired busts, spear and shield wielding warriors, jumbos, giraffes, Thomson’s gazelles etc, line up behind him like a battalion. Enviable canvas paintings hang on his shop’s wall. An affordable artwork of a gourd-clutching Gabra girl-white sets of teeth shining through her killer smile, beckons. Walker stops, pays for a soda and carry it to the viewpoint. 

 *** 

His first minutes are spent in solitude, seeping his drink, leaning against the wooden barrier. Beyond the barrier starts a drop befitting the legendary Columbus and his son Escarious. Walker’s bird-eye-view roves across the phenomenal valley, looking further right the move back left... 

 Although his sight, lately, has been waning he could still see the outstanding features. The road snaked down the hill from his right, a continuous black line, before petering into the distant-westward, on its way to Nakuru-Eldoret-Uganda or to Kisii-Tanzania. Crowded on the floor were settlements-motley of coloured rooftops, farmlands and electricity line poles. Rivers standout with their deep green trees and an elongated hill fills the western edge of the valley like a parapet. Atop that hill, a monstrous cross stares back at him. Obscured by the shoulder of the forested cliff in his left is a gigantic church building, tucked in the face of the hill, inside the pilgrimage place-Marian Shrine-plus the living things: dotted movements of people, livestock, birds etc. 

Some arguing teens storm into the platform like dare-devils. He straightens up. The youths settle in the right. Turning his attention back to the valley, somehow relaxed, his sub-conscious mind stirs awake with memories... 

As an evolving scholar, walker had passed here in a packed, speeding ‘matatu’. He was en-route, then, to a university far away in a cosy town called Kisii. Five years earlier, he had also set foot on the floor of this same valley, hundreds of kilometres up in the north, on an adventurous trip to a mystical spot named Suguta Valley. The experience, engraved in his mind, is unforgettable. 

Like in the past, Walker fetches his phone and snaps a selfie. He returns the bottle and takes off. 

 *** 

Such stops helped him. The minutes spent behind the shops, indulging in sight-seeing, rejuvenated his energies. Then comes the Godly moments; walks in Subukia, through the shrine and enjoying the serenity of the town.

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