If at all I had brains of substance, I would have become a great inventor or something instead of burning my poor brains with thoughts of farfetched wishes on how to get rid of troubling rats in Ngara. The area has become the Olympic town for not so lovely rodents which can be seen in a broad daylight doing some complicated gymnastic on the hills of garbage, as the fat cats meow in their untroubled sleep.

The obese giant rats have made acquaintance to the hapless residents who unfortunately have nothing else left to experiment on the little geniuses. The street verandas and sidewalks are filled with self-piloting kites of polythene bags and newspaper pieces that welcome the passersby with unrequested midair ballet at every slight swirl.

The flower gardens have been encroached with hips of garbage sheltering the noisy bird sized blue flies as the ownerless dogs accompanied with a dozens of puppies summersault with delightful sigh of plentiful food. The minor roads are in a moaning state that can be explained only if the person doing the explanation is willing to cry.

 The Garage road that joins Desai road is in a worse than worst situation and nobody seems to even murmur about it other than the residents who happens to say something when it rains. The roads seem to be in a rotting state with wounds of crater sized potholes that welcome drivers to the dreadful reality of neglect by the government.

I am lamenting not because I am seeking a place in higher table with the big guys but because Ngara is becoming older and rotting with each and every passing day. The rats have learnt how to avoid poison, the cats have more than enough food to trouble themselves with rat chasing, the dogs are busy eating and have made a pact with cats but the residents are crying serikali tusaidie to get rid of ever piling garbage.