Encounters With Madmen

While returning home from my ancestral land in December 2009, I sat in the back seat of a car that Uncle Gibson Mwangi had hired for us. As we passed through a small town whose name I didn't bother to ask, Uncle Mwangi said of it in Kikuyu, "This is the town with the highest number of mad people in East Africa."

If Uncle Gibson was telling the truth, I wonder how my hometown of Kiserian would fair in a ranking of towns with the highest number of mad people. I see quite a number of insane people in Kiserian during my daily walks in the town.

Some of the madmen roam while talking aloud to themselves. Others spend much of their time scavenging through garbage for something to eat. And all are usually dressed in dirty, greasy and tattered clothes. A few years ago, I saw one drink raw sewage water as some people looked on nonchalantly.

Sometime back, I saw a madman running while hitting people along his way. As he approached me, I didn't stay away from his path as others were doing. So he slapped me on my hand and continued running to wherever he was headed. I didn't go after him and retaliate; I just continued walking. As they say, wrestling with a pig will make both of us dirty but the pig will enjoy the experience.

There is one particular madman I see in Kiserian that I'd like to tell you about. He is called Faoro. (I guess his real name is Paul; it's just that we pronounce it "Faoro" in Kikuyu.) I have known him ever since I was a small boy. There was a time in the '90s when my brother Paddy pointed out to me how fast Faoro walked .

Another memory I have of Faoro was when he came to Mum's grocery shop and asked me to hand him a bottle of soda. I was about to give him the bottle before Mum commanded me not to do so.

When I was growing up, I heard rumours that Faoro was a very bright student in school. And if my memory serves me well, I recollect hearing that he went mad because of reading too much.

I still see Faoro every now and then in Kiserian. He always looks confused and absent-minded. It seems he has an idea of where I come from because he used to call me "Bot", the nickname of my eldest brother Joe Kagigite.

My attitude towards Faoro changed when I saw him react furiously at someone. Not bothering to find out what had roused his fury, I kept out of his way out of fear that he could turn his anger on me.

These days, Faoro doesn't greet me like he used to. I never bother to talk to him either. The anger I saw him vent makes me feel safer passing him by without uttering a word to him.

What amazes me about Faoro is that he has always had something to eat despite his insanity. For how can you explain that he is still alive to this day? I wonder where he gets his daily bread from. It seems I worship a God whose eye is on the sparrow and on mad people like Faoro.

Another thing that amazes me about Faoro is how he has managed to stay alive to this day ever since I got to know him in the '90s. I know of several bright and youthful people of sound mind who died in freak accidents. And here is Faoro, a man people label as mad, still going strong.

Mum informed me sometime back that Faoro became mad after he did something wrong and his parents cursed him. They told him he would become a restless wanderer like Cain, the man God cursed for committing fratricide. I don't know if Mum's account of Faoro's madness is true. Suffice it to say that Faoro has been a mad and restless wanderer for as long as I have known him.

By the way, Mum has warned me on several occasions that a parent's curse has dire consequences. I therefore advise all youngsters out there to live at peace with their parents and to seek parental blessings in all their endeavours. That's all I am saying.

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RECOMMENDATION: If you've enjoyed the above story on encounters with a madmen, you might also enjoy another one on "Some Mischievous Acts I Liked".