Living abroad

By PETER GAITHO
Published December 20, 2009

“I have an urgent issue I want to discuss with you,” said my friend, Jack Kimana, from Kabuku, Limuru, in a voicemail message on my cellphone, with trepidation in his voice. “When you get this message please give me a call.” 

You see, I usually leave my cell phone turned off in my car since it is against my company’s policy  to carry the gadget into my workplace. And because I hustle between three part time jobs, my phone is usually off for several hours in a day.

Every time I turn the cell phone on, I am usually faced with a cornucopia of voice messages, missed calls, and text messages. I usually answer them later, if I remember, but my friend Jack’s message seemed urgent, so I called him back immediately.

“Mundu wa Nyambura, why haven’t you told me you are going to Jamhuri?” Were Jack’s opening words. You see, I happen to have a visa that has multiple entry stamped on it, meaning I can hop in and out of Obamaland as many times as the elusive dollar allows.

This is not the case with many of my countrymen living abroad. America is a country of immigrants, and you do not go asking people how they landed at Uncle Sam’s, and what work they do. But I digress.

“Pole sana, I didn’t mean to sneak out,” I blurted an apology. “I fly out on Sunday, and will be in Jamhuri for three weeks.”

“Then you are the man I want, can we meet ASAP?” That is vintage Jack. “I want to send you to Ngecha,” he says.

When we finally met the following day, Jack had a sad story to tell. You see, Jack came to the United States 12 years ago on a student visa. He attended college for a few months then the allure of the green bucks took hold of him, and he started skipping lessons. Eventually Jack and college parted ways, making him go out of status- the euphemism for an illegal immigrant. Losing status is not a problem since Jack joined the more than 12 million undocumented workers that dote this capital of capitalism.

To try to be legal again, Jack did what a number of immigrants usually do-  he got himself an “American spouse” – and now he has some kind of reprieve from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. The process of finding an “American spouse” to conduct what has been called sham marriage is a topic for another day. For now just know that Jack is “all set.”

Over the years my friend Jack has not been sitting on his ears, as the saying goes. He knew better, and he acquired some land in his hometown of Kabuku near St. Paul University, Limuru. He planned to construct a rental property and a house where he will eventually settle his family.

“One cannot bank on living here forever, at one point I will go back home kujenga taifa,” Jack told me as he continued with his narrative.

So Jack has been sending money for the last five years to his younger brother, Kamande, ostensibly to construct the rental property.

“But I am really, really worried, mundu wa Nyambura,” he said with worry written all over his face. You see, for those five years, my friend has sent more than Kshs 3.5 million to his brother for the project.

“The other day my brother sent me a picture of the supposedly almost completed apartment building,” he continued, “but my elder sister called me yesterday with the most shocking news that almost sent me to the ER  [emergency room] with a heart attack.”

Apparently, according to Jack’s sister, the apartment building is still on the first floor, and work has not been going on for the last seven months. No doubt the picture that was sent was that of another similar building!

“In the meantime, my brother is operating two Limuru-Nairobi route matatus,” Jack continued. “It has come to my knowledge that while I chase the dollar alternating between two jobs, all my money is being spent by that ungrateful son of my mother.”

Just to help my friend confirm his fears, I took him to my house to check on Google Earth, and see if we can zoom in to the supposedly red roof tiled house.

“Google Earth updates their images once in a while,” I told him, “let’s see if in their latest satellite photos of Limuru, thenwe can locate your house.”

True to his sister’s account, all we could see on Google Earth was what appeared as an incomplete house and mounds of construction materials in Jack’s property.

“When you see my brother, tell him that I will be coming home in two years, at which time I will expect to start collecting rent from my apartment or else…,” Jack said with a seriousness I had never seen before then.

“Pole sana for your predicament,” was all that could come out of mouth. Or what do you tell such a heartbroken man, you who know?

So now you know, all of you Kenyans, who receive monies from relatives in the Diaspora to carry out projects for them. It is possible to “see” a house under construction miles away via Google Earth.

Related Posts