My Hometown

 

I was born and raised in Kisumu, a tiny, loud city in western Kenya. Due to the tense political situation in the country, Kisumu, the turf of opposition politics, was a rough place for an upbringing. The annual “Sabasaba” rallies, marked by violent protests along every street of the town, spelt danger to us children in an equal measure to adults. There was no place in Kenya where the riot police met their wanton brutality like in our beloved Kisumu, thus forging our innocent young minds into renegades. We grew up taught to opposition by the marginalisation and lack of care that our city and region received from the central government.

Despite the political troubles that plagued Kisumu, it was bursting with cultural heritage and pride. The dominant Luo people of the city were renowned for their love of fun, leisure, and pleasure. The Luo Benga, Rhumba, and Ohangla music permeated every corner and nook of this country. Members of other tribes and races appreciated music created by legendary Luo artists like Okatch Biggy, Owino Misiani, George Ramogi, Osito Kale, Bana Kadori, Ochieng Kabasele, and Aluoch Pamba. I loved the song Helena wange dongo by Okatch Biggy. I still dance to its tunes.

Kisumu, situated on the shores of Lake Victoria, traditionally known as Nam Lolwe, was home to the pioneering intellectuals of western education in this country. It was the first town to have an African mayor in colonial Kenya. It has produced numerous scholars who have achieved great feats for this country. Myth has it that the fish-eating culture of the Luo people made them brighter than other tribes or communities in Kenya. Furthermore, comedians like Eric Omondi theorise that every adult in Kisumu has a college degree.

Kisumu's hot and wet climate was sometimes frustrating, especially during the dry season when our pockets were dry. The high room temperatures of over 32 degrees Celsius, the scorching outdoor sun, and the dusty roads could sometimes make it the worst place. However, there was love and marvel when the August rains came, and children sang and screamed, “koth bi abia” (rain, just rain).

Nowadays, it rains there in December and even January. They were the hottest and driest months in the city. Things have changed for the better. I hope my hometown becomes more peaceful and lovelier than before.