Once upon a time, Eastleigh was our city of gleaming lights and adventure

By Peter Kimani

Kenya: Terror attacks in Eastleigh this week have called to mind memories of the place. Esich, as it was known to the Sheng generation of my time, was the other side of life where we retreated for adventure. There was the film theatre near another estate called California, although the entertainment milieu was hardly about Hollywood.

Sometimes, my boys and I just roamed around for fun. One might say there was pretty little to see, save for the parked trailers. But even that felt better than our humdrum existence. The occasional drama being the bubble of excitement every month-end when the local pub would fill to the brim, and inebriated men and women would stagger off in a froth of excitement.

Eastleigh – in that sense – was our city of lights, the place we aspired to be, which was fanned by my high school mate named Abdi. He brought us blank tapes to record music at what felt like highly subsidised rates.

My perception of Eastleigh changed when I was a mono (in Form One). We went for a school trip to Eastleigh High School. I was enjoying my packed lunch when I was approached by an older student, I presumed, but he was not in uniform.

He shouted his greetings as if he was meeting a long-lost friend, and I responded with similar enthusiasm. But when he got close enough, he made a savage whisper: “Nipatie bob!” (give me a shilling). I had nothing on me. A shilling was such a big loot anyway. Back in the day it was enough fare from town to South B.

When I told the young man I had nothing to give, he got wild and drew nearer. And just before things could get ugly, my friend from my school (Bwire), a much taller and stronger lad, stepped in.

“Are you defending him,” the intruder asked, to which Bwire responded in the affirmative. The intruder opened a pouch that he was carrying and rummaged through. There was a jingling sound.

Boyhood forays

“Yassin twende!” another lad in uniform shouted at the intruder. Yassin walked away grudgingly, but not before gesturing that he would slit our throats.

We later learnt Yassin had been expelled from Eastleigh High School and was in the habit of extorting from other students. The jingling sound inside his bag was probably from his assortment of daggers.

My memories of Eastleigh have been nightmarish ever since. A couple of years ago, I drove through the neighbourhood, using my knowledge of the area from my boyhood forays. Several times, I reached dead-ends.

The entire neighbourhood appears to have reached a dead end. I wonder if Yassin survived into adulthood, or if he slit anyone’s throat as he always threatened. But I can safely predict my boyhood buddies and I could not have survived the police swoops being conducted with surprising regularity if we were found loitering.

The hundreds of ‘terror suspects’ arrested this week and subsequently released after being charged with vagrancy speak volumes about the quality of our police intelligence.

In the past, Eastleigh was only spared from terror because terrorists needed it to launder money acquired through dubious means. The police have been some of the core beneficiaries.

Now the monster they let grow out of control is seeking to free itself. Mass arrests can only mean one thing – harassment of many innocent people, which will make some cops very wealthy and create a new wave of radicalisation by those who will take the harassment as a manifestation of discrimination so many resent.