Upon Leaving Mombasa

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Jenna Sigei

Writer
Nairobi, Kenya

December 26, 2014


Jane Sigei
Gladstone Rd
Nakuru, Kenya
Dear Jane,
I tool the bus to Mombasa on Wednesday night and he met me on Thursday morning and took
me to his home.....suffice to say that I was seriously disappointed and shocked by the way he
lives.....and had to review my own fairly bourgeois sensibilities and then began to question my
value systems and previously held sense of self.
The problem for me is that he lives in a half finished house in the poorer side of Mombasa,
called Likoni, bricked and walled and roofed etc, but still no piped water or electricity and no
decorative touches. Not a romantic campsite kind of structure but a bare walled three bedroom
house, the floors of the sitting room just finished but the other rooms not completed, no kitchen
or en suite bathroom yet. His own house is encased within a closed kind of courtyard complex
with three other one bedroom structures and central bathrooms and toilets (two each) serving
the enclosure. I can imagine that it could be lovely when it is finished.....but then I have a very
good imagination. What tempers my own view is that the other structures in sleepy impoverished Mombasa are not much to write home about.
Hmmmmm....................
So his story is that he decided to buy a large plot of land in Mombasa after the divorce six
years ago, rather than renting a new home in Nairobi. His self worth was so diminished by the
breakdown of his marriage that he just wanted to start again from the bottom up, within a
community of people who would not judge him by his lack of material possessions, as he was
judged in Nairobi. He tells me that he has other houses in Nairobi and Mombasa that are
rented out or being used by family members. He tells me that he demolished part of the existing old houses on the land in Mombasa, rebuilt part and rented it out. The final part he is building for himself and using all his money as it comes in to build piecemeal. Fair enough
maybe........
I also understand, though more from deductions, rather than his own clear admission, that his
strong drive to find meaning for his life, led him to spend most of his earning in different kinds
of organized religious groups that further impoverished him. He started out as a Catholic and
he became a missionary for many years in Tanzania working for a charity with street kids and
getting them scholarships through achievements in sports, mostly football. Then he became a
Scientologist because it exposed him to international networks and gave him a narrative of
enhancing his natural abilities through positive thinking and other such mind over matter exercises. Then he went to work in Oman and whilst living with a family became enchanted by
Islam (this part I sympathized with) and learned arabic and even started going to the
Mosque. He was in love with a muslim girl and considered conversions. But in the end he
came back to Nairobi, married a lady who is greek. They could not have children, so he began
to feel useless. They adopted a daughter and eventually she left to return to Greece. Thats
when he retreated to Mombasa.
Interesting.perhaps admirable in part so far maybe..........
So he decided that because he sees the potential for a life with me as his wife, he decided that
it was important for me to share this experience in his half built house, with him rather than
staying in a hotel.
It is lovely that I should be considered so noble and generous of heart and in many instances I
am and have been very happy to live in villages and break bread with people I love. But now I
realize suddenly that I am not that saintly character that I believed I am, I am really not that
good when faced with the thought of living like this with a future spouse even in the short-term.

Koinange Street, Nairobi, Kenya.

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My own poverty is not romantic and I am terrified that I will not find a means of escape. I cannot find any part of my inner being acquiescing to this standard of life and certainly when I am
not anesthetized by that kind of delusional love that you can only maintain in your 20s. So.I
was not happy by the standards of my accommodation during this first visit. But kept my peace
because he must be very very brave to make such a move with someone he clearly does not
know very well, more especially with someone who he can see clearly lives a very middle class
lifestyle.
Anyway, I was ready to turn round on the spot and to tell him outright that this relationship
cannot work because of the economic disparity between us. I suddenly felt totally OK about
going back to settle into a long term of celibate, solitary living. End of dreams, full stop!
What stopped me was that, although I am appalled by his frugality and poor living conditions, I
cannot yet find fault with his character or his personality. He is a sober, sweet, gentleman, kind,
thoughtful and extremely loving. I could not bear to humiliate him and since I can now clearly
see why he has remained single all these years....which upwardly mobile city woman wants to
live the village life again?..........I did not want to add to his long list of what I can only imagine
were fairly abrupt, maybe brutal rejections, like the one I was rehearsing in my mind.
So I drew breath and just sent a horrified text to my sister. She said, well, since the man has
bought his own land and is building we should not disdain him, especially since we do not even
have our own homes. Secondly, since he is well travelled and educated and exposed in other
ways I should also reconsider my view of his apparent poverty now. Thirdly, she said maybe
it's an opportunity to base our relationship on a strong foundation, where I can be his support
now that he so clearly needs me. Finally (and this is the only thing that actually trickled down
from my head to my heart), that I should just think of it as a challenging camping trip, tell him I
have a work thing that is forcing me to come home early. Which is what I did. But told him we
must come back to Nairobi on Saturday morning, since I have to go to church on Sunday, you
have to book the bus tickets a day in advanceso I was stuck there on Friday).
He reluctantly agreed but now decided to come with me on a reciprocal visit to Nairobi for a
week to follow-up on business and spend more time together. Well, I was just happy to know I
would be leaving soon and decided to just grit my teeth and survive two nights in his shack,
focus on the fact that he turned out to me a really passionate and more than decent lover.

AFTER THE ORGASMS


So we made love all day and all night on Thursday and then went to his office in Mombasa
Town on Friday. Here the story is that he joined forces with three friends to buy a large office
complex. The four of them can therefore offer full property development services - he is an
architectural engineer, one guy does the drawing, the other two do the legal side and other
services.
So then they partitioned the block out - the front is rented to 4 small clothes stores and at the
back the four of them partitioned the area to individual offices. His own office is in an attic like
area at the top, which he has not yet finished partitioning.
The location of the office is good, right in the centre of town. All the structures here resemble
those ramshackle, colonial structures you see in Accra or small towns like Alexandria or Ismailia. Hmmmm........
After working on several job applications all day which cheered me up, because I could again
imagine a "clean", urban future elsewhere, sipping Cappuccinos, reading good books, hanging
out in shiny malls........my shallow false self was fairly satisfied.
Back to reality....we went back home to his shack on the other side of the river. Strangely
though, I totally loved the short ferry ride with the masses of bodies rushing to board morning

a: Work Street Work City, Work State Work ZIP

e: Work Email

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and night and shuffling through the bustling dusty tuk tuks, motorbikes and overcrowded matatus. Like Accra, going home in the dark, markets lit by lamplight, selling everything......our poor
dark African city lives where slums are sandwiched in between upscale apartments. I did not
long to be insulated in my air conditioned car etc...this part I loved, but realized that the non
negotiable for me is a clean neat home, with as much beauty as I can have, even if I have to
live in one room, it has to be fairly decent. I can sacrifice much else for just that.
So....despite all the lovely orgasms and the gracious beauty of the man in the midst of next to
nothing.......I could not be charmed. My inner child is fairly appalled and I have some serious
making up to do to be at peace with her again. My saboteur has set up her own radio channel
in my head....broadcasting day and night, on why being alone forever is totally preferable to
managing with this man, living on the edge of subsistence. I know in my mind I should calculate his collective assets before I write him off as poor, but the over-riding take home image for
me is that he is prepared to live like a slum dweller, not acceptable to me even for a day.

CHANGING INTERIORS
All this has triggered a long stream of inner reflections which challenge my sense of my self. I
am this person supposedly committed to a life that empowers disadvantaged communities
worldwide. I claim to love the poor and hold passionately to projects which create wealth with
dignity for poor communities worldwide. This is part of my personal vision, mission value based
system of living that I describe to myself all the time. Just last week I told my friends about how
pleased I was with myself, for being so good so stable, so Zenlike water. Well, I am so
grateful to God for challenging this idolators edifice I was beginning to build for myself. Who do
I think I am? I am a child born in village to poor folks saved only by extraordinary opportunities which their education offered them. They were also just blessed to be at the right place at
the right time. This man that has been introduced into my life however, was fairly middle class
by Kenyan standards, his father was an architect who worked for a large international company all his life. In many ways I am really pleased that he can live like this because now I know
that I can take him to the village in Nigeria to visit some of my own relatives, those who still live
in mud shacks, people I love and respect deeply, but who can only be seen if you are able to
look beyond their material possessions and the basic conditions that define rural life in Africa.
I think I can love this manbut really not yet. First, I have to secure my income base and be
sure that I can maintain the life I have built for myself and my children, without his help. Now I
wonder whether part of the enduring attraction with Mutua is that he is a Made man? He has
consolidated his wealth and exudes that assurance of a man of financial worth. And yet that is
what repels me too, because he thinks of everything in terms his power to possess it and cannot build a relationship which requires compromise and shared vulnerabilities. What is wrong
with me that I do not shun and disdain a man who is closely associated with demonic and dark
forces? Have I been ensnared completely by the love of money and the Pride of Life?
I dont know what it isbut clearly there is a lot of interior work still to be done before I can
build a life with John or any other man for that matter.

Sincerely yours,

Jenna XXX

a: Work Street Work City, Work State Work ZIP

e: Work Email

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