Of Map Makers and Landmarks

Today’s post is a quilt of sorts. I could call it a mélange of pieces I wrote over time and left off. As I was putting them together, I realized it is not entirely a hodgepodge of unrelated topics, there is something, an invisible thread of sorts that ties the pieces all together! This realisation came to me once I had threaded them together, which in itself is something. See if you notice it, if you don’t its all well and good, enjoy the read!

My Supposed inaugural Hike

My youngest son accompanied me to my inaugural hike to Ugali hill and Sleeping Warrior a few years back after enticing me with a calendar of hiking events from a group he had hiked with. I noticed after a bit of reflection that it was inaugural only in so far as it was an organised event out of Nairobi. Some of us hiked all our lives, going to Bura Station from Zare Primary School was a hike, going to Mass in Wumari or Bura Mission was a hike, so was walking all the way to Kisemetinyi kwa mwakughu from Mwasange and back – we hiked all the time and still do.

When junior shared the hiking calendar on that occasion and I read that the Ugali hill and Sleeping Warrior hike was beginner friendly I imagined that there was a hiking trail with clear markings along the route. I was terrified when at some point, my companion having tired of my slow pace and having abandoned me, I had to walk through an overgrown expanse by myself, some of my fellow hikers being some distance ahead while others were way behind me. I feared I might come across a snake or even worse get lost, with no whistle and zero whistling skills.

The well beaten footpaths back at home were better even if bore no wayfinding signs. And I realised too that this was no National Geographic adventure in some developed world hike where everything seems so orderly. At least that is the impression of hikes I got from my TV episode encounters!

The Karura forest walks are much more comfortable but then maybe what gets lost to the adventurous spirits is the amount of time and effort that goes into creating the maps and wayfinding signs that help you not get lost or swallowed in unfriendly thickets in untended hiking trails! I learnt on another hike that this might be intentional, however the gorges forming in the Longonont trail making it almost unnavigable seem to tell a different story.

That is why whenever I go to Karura Forest, be it Sigiria or the larger Karura I never stop thanking God for Wangari Maathai for the great work she did in ensuring that the forest is preserved and conserved. Thanks too to all the friends of Karura who have taken time to create the maps and mark the trails so beautifully. It is an ever-refreshing experience. Being there makes one feel as though one is out of the city right in the heart of city.

As an aside but related, someone also mentioned to me that the beautiful golf courses we have in our country are intact thanks to the golf lover Mwai Kibaki. I haven’t learned how to play golf yet but I have had a chance to visit a few golf courses in Nairobi and the ambience is purely enchanting.

That it took some people the time and effort to ensure we get to enjoy ourselves in these spaces should be a challenge to all of us who enjoy these facilities. There is a place for well beaten paths with clear landmarks in life. We can be the map makers for those who come after us and also learn to spend time to conserve and map out these spaces so that those who come after us can enjoy just as much as we have enjoyed.

Travails in Shamata Gate

What looked like a wild chicken is the only thing I saw and took a photograph of when I finally, to my great relief spotted the parked van that would take us home from the foot of the climb to Dragon Teeth via Satima! As I took a picture of it, I secretly wished I could catch and slaughter it to make me some soup so I could regain the energy I had lost in my maiden attempt at a more gruelling hike than Ngong Hills and Ugali Hills. Am sure the Kenya Forestry Rangers would have had a field day clobbering some sense into me had I in my temporary insanity attempted any such antics!

You see, I was in a mountain sickness induced stupor after descending from Dragon Teeth of the Aberdare ranges. For sure I had witnessed the Dragon, its teeth bared ready to devour me; and it chased me down that mountain in a dreadful fright! My weak-kneed legs landed in bogs severally ensuring I was totally drenched by the time I was figuring out how to catch a wild chicken! Hiking guides never tell you this side of the story and I think it’s entirely heartless!

Next time a hiking guide, in a crazy spur of the moment, induced by imbibing too much tea or whatever else they take to make them so fit, tries to even remotely insinuate to persuade me to take such a crazy hike, I will outrightly decline. There is no shame in doing an honest appraisal of one’s abilities and being truthful when one is ill prepared for such a gruelling venture! And that’s all I’ll ever write about my inauspicious Shamata gate travails!

An adventure that nearly landed me in trouble

Given the ad hoc nature that my life had taken at this particular stage of my life, I resolved to create a strict schedule of rising early, making sure I do my exercises that comprised of at least 3km walk and then undertaking my daily chores in as systematic a way as I possibly could muster.

After the first walk that took me along the familiar and clear road, I was tempted to figure out where the small path that seemed well trodden led to. In my estimation it would take me all the way to the tarmac road. I did not reckon that before that it would emerge in a flat-ish area at the foot of someone’s shamba where there was tall grass that would make the foot path disappear for some meters a long enough distance capable of making an ophidiophobia totally frightened. This was exactly what I had been avoiding by keeping to the well-trodden footpaths.

Since I was already some way off into the adventure I saw no need of walking back. Instead I figured why not try out all the three branching footpaths I could see in front of me and pick the one that was clearest of the three. This meant hoping over some patches of grass and a bit of a back and forth because as I tried to figure out which one would serve me best, I came to a cul-de-sac twice.

Unbeknownst to me the owner of the shamba was watching me as I made my back and forth, something entirely unacceptable in these parts. When she could take it no more, she alerted me of her unhappy presence.

I was startled to have been the object of an unfriendly gaze. After answering her annoyed queries, exchanging very unfriendly greetings and profusely apologizing for my bad manners I left but I was shaken, not a little – I doubt I will ever use that route in life ever again after that encounter.

The courage to try stuff that could land me in trouble had escaped me. I am no anthropologist going out to study strangers I had never ever lived with. I am a daughter of the soil who has many hang ups about what some misinterpretations and misrepresentations could mean!

Communication breakdown at the fringes of a Conference

I stopped over at a car wash close to the conference venue. It had rained heavily in Taita the previous day, so our car was covered in mud. There was no way I was going to my destination driving a car looking like that.

As I urged the washing attendant to get my job done quickly so that I could catch up with my schedule I realised there was an altercation brewing. I approached the supervisor to enquire from her roughly how long the job would take under the circumstances. She saw an opportunity to vent her frustrations.

Since I had already ordered a drink, I indulged her. It emerged that one car had taken more than 2 hours to clean while 3 others were waiting in the queue. According to her an older hand had introduced a beste (friend) to her, recommending him as a good additional hand in the business. This was the genesis of the problem at hand.

Apparently, the new hand had reached an agreement with the one who introduced him on the manner of sharing the day’s earnings that he now felt was unfair. Since his complaints had so far landed on deaf ears, he was deliberately stalling the work. Frustrating his fellow workers, his supervisor and sabotaging the business.

As the supervisor who was doubling up as the bartender animatedly explained her concerns, I tried my best to advise her to inform her boss about the challenge she was facing so that an amicable solution could be worked out. All I wanted was my car cleaned quickly; I could not be an arbiter in the matter.

Instead, she insistently interjected, “Demo anaosha magari mengi Demo anafaa apate commission nyingi zaidi (Demo washes more cars, Demo needs to be paid more commission)”

Since she had been referring to the young men according to their skin tone all along, I imagined she was now switching to use their names. The statement was repeated severally.

“Demo anaosha magari mengi zaidi Demo anafaa apate commission nyingi zaidi“

I imagined she must feel strongly for the young man “Demo”, who clearly was the hardworking one.

“Demo ni yupi (who is Demo)?” I enquired seeking out which one of the three was Demo with the hope that she would reassign him my car so that I could escape the sweltering heat and rush to my waiting assignments.

Her confused look alerted me I was barking up the wrong tree!

She had all this while meant, “The more vehicles one washes, the more commission one ought to get!”

As I sat sipping my coke watching my car get a wash and contemplating Demo the name of a person, demoo the more and calculation of commissions on the fringes of a conference I reflected on the importance of clear communication.

I know too that the more stands for Magis in certain quarters, — a call to strive for the very best. While that can sound demanding or even perfectionistic, at its heart, Magis simply invites us into a lifelong journey of becoming. It’s not about chasing an unattainable ideal, but about continuously choosing growth, depth, and authenticity.

Importantly, Magis is not meant to be a burden. This is not about being driven by guilt or a relentless inner critic. It’s a joyful invitation — a choice to live with purpose, to grow with freedom, and to pursue the “more” that brings life, not pressure. It is a way of life marked by curiosity, courage, and care.

Choose the more today!