I cannot feel my back.

I rant a lot, and I think it is because I spend so much time on Twitter, because all people seem to do there is tweet whatever comes to mind first. I mean, just look at Trump. And since I have more of a following here than on Twitter, I will rant here.

Again, I cannot feel my back. That is not an overstatement. I have just carried suitcases, beds, racks, utensils, and things I did not even know I owned, down three flights of stairs, then up two flights, then around a tight bend to a tiny house in the middle of forested Kabete.

I have moved house after a few tumultuous months, not only of house hunting but also of moving. In those tough months I had to give up my study desk, and now I am practically bedridden all day, like a ward patient. Even my hostel at school had a table to write and study on.

Now my back hurts, and I cannot straighten it because I have no desk to sit at.

Tough.

One day I will write about those tumultuous months, once the storm has passed.

But some reggae artist once sang that when the going gets tough, the tough get going, or something along those cliché lines.

Moving house is always an experience. A new beginning. It can be a downgrade or an upgrade. It can be the start of something beautiful or the beginning of a downward spiral.

I never knew housing was such a massive global crisis. Growing up, my mum built our house while I was still young, so we did not pay rent. Most of my friends’ parents had also built homes or were living in staff quarters provided by nearby companies. So housing did not cross our minds much. Everybody had a roof over their heads.

When I first came to university, there were more hostel rooms than students, so I thought demand was not that high.

Until people started spilling into Kabete and apartments began to rise. Before it was mainly trees and red soil. Now apartments are everywhere you look. As an economics student I understand that supply has to meet demand, but when you are part of this capitalist world you realise that even looking for a house is competitive. Good apartments go to the highest bidder, not the struggling comrade.

Housing means a lot.

In a certain game I am playing, one that is making my computer lag, it is a city simulation. Before you can build industries, roads, hospitals, or fire stations, you first have to build high-density housing.

In real life, you only understand the global crisis of homelessness once you are actually house hunting and everyone tells you they have nothing available. All these Lil William’s affordable housing projects are marred by corruption scandals, yet I can bet that every unit is already booked. People need houses more than ever, especially in growing areas like Kabete.

I am glad my mother had the foresight to see this long ago and built two beautiful homes before the economy began to decline. Our home in Karachuonyo is beautiful. I have spoken about it here before. I am proud of it, though I do not think I tell her that enough.

When my sister had her nyombo ceremony, the house held all her bridesmaids, the unplanned guests, my aunts and their numerous children, and still had space for a working kitchen. The compound was large enough to graze the cattle from the nyombo, and there were trees around the edges where people could sit, laugh, and rest.

When I was younger, I never understood why people would build in isolated places like our Otaro market. I used to think, “What if you run out of salt in the middle of the night?” We had heard stories of hippos coming out of the lake on their night walks, so where would you even get salt at that hour? I thought the constant movement and noise of busy streets would make me feel alive forever.

Then I came to live in Nairobi, and I realised that apartment life might not be for me.

Still,

Maybe this is the start of something new after a difficult thirteen months. We have to make the most of what we have, do we not? I have to be grateful for the small things before I can handle the big ones. A roof over my head deserves a thank you before I start dreaming of the countryside house, the open yard, the trees, the orchard, and dogs running wild.

That is my rant.

Now I need to go stretch my back.

✍🏽Reagan.