The tree leaves moved.A gentle splash of cold air on my withered face caused sensation of much awaited relief due to evaporation of perspiration.I smiled hearing the coy screams and shouts of my
grandchildren- who were out with their small wooden toys to play as the Sun was about to bid adieu. The noise also woke me up from my pseudo slumber. As I was trying
to push myself through the daunting task of getting up, I realised how long I have been lying there half asleep. I looked up to the branches of mango tree and
thanked them thoughtfully for the little respite they provided from the hot and humid weather at this time of the year. My eyes wandered to my grandchildren who were
running around my khaat playing a game called chuaa chuii. A broad smile spread over my wrinkled face seeing them run joyfully , they seemed to be flying like deers
and chirping like cuckoos - and faded into an expression of great satisfaction. I slowly helped myself get my spine straight and made my way up to the handpump to
freshen myself up. All these feelings were of great pleasure to me, a family and grandchildren to look forward to, a steady and well lived life propeled my thoughts to the days of
miseries and adversities when I was young and the country was under the british rule.When oppression followed by destitution was accompanied by a darconian struggle
of survival .
My thoughts wandered to the time when my family had some land. We lived on the produce of that land and exchanged goods with other villagers.Slowly the times changed after the british rule and somehow we reached a state when we were landless.A handful of white people snatched everything that we survived upon and pushed us into the darkness of destitution. The conditions
were precarious beyond imagination . Now I had to make a choice either to starve or to unwillingly join the same forces who oppressed us in order to provide for my family and myself. I hated serving the same
people who...