The Poor Millionaires

 

Am sitting by the River Turkwel, Turkana county as i wait for my colleagues to complete the survey of the river. I marvel at the herds men leading their livestock across the river in search of pasture on the other side.

Their way of clothing catches my attention. A long worn out shirt stretching down to their thighs for some there’s nothing beneath, while others have shukas tied around their waist or shoulders.

Am not talking about the many who have  embraced civilization and thus dress as civilized men and women ,, no. am talking about the ones who’ve decided that the old ways are the best ways and continue in it like mzungu never landed on our continent. The locals call them Raia.

As they pass along carrying their G3 rifles one comes toward me and shamelessly asks me to give him 100 shillings. “Okay lad, I’ll give if you give me one goat kid in return” I tell him. He walks away quietly, annoyed  wondering just how selfish i am.

I am a generous person, but how can i give my money to a millionaire. Look at the huge number of livestock  that he has. I mean one camel goes for  at least 70 thousand shillings and he has like 100 of them, don’t even count the cattle, goats and sheep. I wish he new just how rich he is.

My poor millionaires.