What Will Become of Our Grandkids in the Diaspora?

Allow yours truly to quote from the Good Book. After the Ancient of Days made man and woman in His own image, He had a clear command to them. As clear as cyanide; “Be fruitful and multiply. Fill the earth and govern it.” You can read the rest of Genesis 1:28 in your free time. But there it is. A command from none other than the dad of Yesu Kristo. The creator of heaven and earth.

And so it came to pass that when a number of young Kenyan men and women crossed the big pond to make a life in Uncle Sam’s place, they did what men and women over the ages and civilizations have done. They met in parties, in weddings, on Facebook, in planes, in Las Vegas, in the gym, in schools and colleges.

After the initial meetings, they said, the heck, let us try this  boyfriend and girlfriend thingy. Let us see how it will end. So the girl moved from her rented basement quarters and moved into the studio apartment of the jamaa.

Before long and after playing cha mama na cha baba, they liked it so much. After all, having a constant warm body next to your tired self at the end of a long shift is always welcome. You get yourself a summer buddy to take long and easy road trips to see this land of the free and the home of the brave. From sea to shining sea. Kwanza this arrangement is at its best in the long cold months of late autumn and the unforgiving winter.

If you have never experienced winter. Then tomorrow morning, do me a favor, turn towards the hill near your place and thank the God who made that hill. Tell Him that you are full of gratitude that you don’t have to face any winter the coming season. Thing is, winter is brutal. The moment you step out of your  house, before you enter into your car. Before your car warms up. That is the moment when you blame the god of winter.

You want to cry like a small child when the bitter cold hits you. But you don’t. Because you are not a weenie. You are a tough guy. You remember the check you will get at the end of the week and smile internally. You remember that the four storied apartment you are putting up in Thindigua is almost complete and you smile for no reason. You remember that you have paid up your HELB loan and say the Grace. For it is the Grace that has brought you this far. So you scrape off the snow from your car as you sing along with Betty Bayo, Highway, from your car stereo.

What were we saying? That eventually the men and women who came here did not sleep on their ears. They fell in love and started making babies. If you want to know Kenyans abroad have made babies, then come with me as we attend a summer party in the park. Lo and behold! There are so many kids running around. Kids born this side of the century, after 2000. Little munchkins with American accents who can't even pronounce their Kikuyu names properly.

What is your name? You ask one seven year old. Mike. He says. Mike who? You ask. Err…Gey-tau. He blurts out his last name. Almost biting his tongue!

These kids love it here. They get to go on play dates with their parents. If you were born during the days of Elijah the Tishbite of Gilead, then you don’t know what a play date with your parent is. It means that you have an appointment with your mom or dad to go to the park on Saturday so that you can ride on your bike.

Thing is, huwezi achilia mtoi to go play by themselves in the park. Heck, your kids cannot even play in your own yard by themselves! Someone will call 9-1-1 on you. It will go like so: 9-1-1, Hello. Yes, what is your emergency. There are two kids playing outside house number seven on South Main Street. Thank you, I will send the police to have a look.

As sure as the Pope is Catholic, a cop shows up to house number seven on South Main Street in a record seven minutes. The cop rings the bell. By that time the kids have been called inside for brunch and the young one for his ADHD medication.

We received a call that there were kids playing outside by themselves. The cop says. Yes my kids were playing in the porch a few minutes ago. Are they ok now? The cop asks. Yes, in fact they are having brunch. You say. Can I say hi to them? Sure. Hey kids, how are you today? We are fine officer. They say in unison. Enjoy your brunch kiddos.

Ok madam, I will leave. But I will send the DCF worker for a follow up. O Lord have mercy. It is now a DCF issue. That my kids were playing outside the house. For a frigging ten minutes for that matter. Chineke God! What kind of wahala is this?

Two days later there is a knock on the door. The DCF worker has come.

We are following up on an incident two days ago when your children were observed playing outside the house by themselves. The officer begins.

For the next six months, you and yours are kept under the DCF surveillance. They inspect your fridge to make sure there is enough milk for the kids. They follow up with the kids’ teachers at kindergarten. The teachers themselves start asking the kids if they were playing by themselves outside the previous day. Your kids start spying on behalf of the system. Like little communists in an ujamaa village! They even start threatening you. Dadddy I will call 9-1-1 if you spank me. Mschew!

That is the reason kids have play dates with their parents. You keep a hawk eye on your kids. Everywhere. If you don’t, if you blink, the one-eyed ogre will come and swallow them.

So these munchkins born of Kenyan parents will also grow up and meet their spouses in school and college. And they will also have their own kids who will also require 24/7 monitoring. By then, that generation will be fully acculturated into the system. They will hear of their grandparents who came from a place called Muranga, in Kenya. They will hear stories from their parents about the Maasai  Mara, and Serengeti, and Samburu. They will hear from their parents about this place with outhouses. Only God knows if they will want to visit that place of akina guka na cucu.

In the meantime, guka na cucu are now retirees back in Kenya. When they were doing doubles and triples, guka na cucu built a nice retirement home in Utawala. Or Nanyuki. They also have a thriving daily farm in Subukia, and rental houses in Mlolongo. They occasionally go to the USA for medical check ups and to visit their grandchildren.

Their grandchildren will not understand a word from guka na cucu’s language. They will be regaled with stories from long time ago of Kenya’s 1984 when there was famine in the whole land. And there was no food in the whole village. Guka used to attend school on an empty stomach. An empty stomach and shoeless feet. And the grandchildren will wonder why there was no fridge in the house! Or why the stores did not have shoes.

And so it will come to pass, that by the third generation, the Kenyan kids will have lost their Kenyan-ness and be fully absorbed into the system. They will be small city mayors and councilmen and women. They will be busy as great Doctors and Surgeons, and Engineers across the 50 states. One hopes that they will be visiting their grandparents in Jamhuri even as they go to Cancun or Punta Cana for vacation.

By Mzee Moja | mzeemoja14@gmail.com