His golden years had passed and the places Wilfred Omondi frequented had closed or were long past their heyday of merrymaking.
Omondi opened his door only wide enough to allow his skinny frame through and and made his way outside to meet us for a chat.
“You sure know how to cheer up an old geezer. A chat about my youth makes me nostalgic, though today, I am a shell of what used to turn eyes," he began cheerfully.
The 70-year-old smiled, exposing lack of teeth on his lower jaw and some upper teeth. His head was clean-shaven and he wore an oversize brown shirt with mismatching sandals.
Omondi lives alone in Korogocho slums, Nairobi, after separating from his wife several years ago. He leaves his house only when necessary: to use the toilets located a few metres from his house or early morning to light a fire on the three cooking stones strategically placed outside his door.
“From 2000, I have never set foot in the CBD. No one visits, so my entire life is now here,” he said.
The father of four leaves the house at dusk when darkness is closing in to prepare his meal. Dinner serves as breakfast most days while lunch is a gamble.
Omondi chooses to take the rough with the smooth and maintains a hearty laughter, even giggly, and a string of stories whenever he gets a chance to chat.
He was born in Nakuru in 1952 with three other siblings. My father and mother worked on a farm owned by a white man, Omondi recalled.
“My father loved watching soccer matches and he often would take my brother and me along with him.
Omondi went to school up to Standard 7. Then he got a job with the Ministry of Works in 1978 following a government directive that residents must make up at least 10 per cent of the workforce of every institution.
His face lit up as he recalled how he toured clubs to listen to music, dance to his favourite tunes and watch matches or races.
“I worked with the government until it decided to retrench a number of employees. I was left jobless,” he said.
“I watched plucky nobodies I scavenged with on the dumpsite make astounding fortunes overnight, out of nothing
In the early 1980s, Omondi moved to the city in search of a job, but nothing was forthcoming. To survive, he found himself at the Dandora dumpsite, scavenging for food and items to sell with a group of young people who were also struggling to survive.
“I ate what I managed to get and sold anything that appeared to be of value. Most nights I spent outside as I saved enough to pay for rent,” he explained.
Things had turned around and so much was happening so fast before his eyes. Omondi recalled how he watched the city’s boisterous coming of age — panorama of miraculous new communications technologies that suddenly appeared, transforming everyday life. How social media sprouted and took over the world.
“I watched plucky nobodies I scavenged with on the dumpsite make astounding fortunes overnight, out of nothing,” he recalled.
Speaking only in English, slowly and punctuated with hearty laughter, Omondi recalled the urban-youth subculture that had emerged, rude and violent, unlike his day when respect and politeness were served at no cost.
End days are nigh, Omondi predicted.
Then old, tired and too weak to compete with younger scavengers, an organisation, Restoring Dignity Korogocho, found Omondi.
“He lived in a house that was bent towards one side and looked like it would collapse anytime. The roof was leaking and there were only a few carton boxes and gunny bags that he slept on,” Restoring Dignity chairman Fredrick Ogolla said.
He said the organisation built the house, an iron-sheet structure where Omondi currently lives. They also furnished the house.
“We provide him with food supplies that he can use monthly because he is too old and too weak to go to the dumpsite. His health has also improved greatly since we enrolled him in the programme,” Ogolla said.
Though they were offering support to Omondi and other elderly people in Korogocho, Restoring Dignity said they hope to eventually reunite Omondi with his family, with whom he has lost touch.
“Omondi rarely talks about his family, but often, though he seems to glow with happiness, he is lonely. We hope that one day, he can reunite with his family,” Ogolla said.
“We are aimed at uplifting senior citizens living conditions in Korogocho, providing basic needs like food and bedding as we restore their dignity,” he added.
(Edited by V. Graham)
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