MY VIEW: Is life short of lemons to give, pulping us instead?

Her body lay on the road, blood splattered about. The sweets she had been hawking were spilt all around her. What a painful death the poor hawker must have met!

Two matatus, probably rushing to beat their competitors in the battle for profits, had squashed the hapless woman on Jogoo Road two Thursdays ago as she sold sweets to make ends meet. What started as a mission to get a little profit under the scorching sun on the risky road ended in tragedy.

Total loss. Total misfortune to the people who depended on her. Utterly unacceptable.

The hawker’s death evoked memories of a 2015 incident where Cecilia Njeri, a student, was crushed to death as she tried passing between two matatus in the city.

One driver must have been so impatient that he could not let a single mortal pass as he reversed his vehicle, smashing her ribs and other organs. “Cut-throat competition” can never get a worse illustration.

But it is not just matatus that crush Kenyans, ejecting their lives and their hopes of a bright future.

Everywhere you look, there is someone bent on crushing others in his or her quest to further their interests in this capitalist world.

Life proverbially gives us lemons, which presents us the option of crushing them to make lemonade. But it is becoming clear that there are individuals who cannot even give you a chance to collect your lemons and blend some lemonade. They crush you instead.

CRUSHED

Most self-respecting young women will tell you of that boss who could not give them a chance in the corporate world because they could not let him play with their bodies.

Such a man is, in his own way, crushing the hopes of these young women who grew up empowered and trusting in the strength of their credentials, not how much crushing they can persevere under a man’s weight to get a footing in life.

In Nairobi and other urban areas, the common adage is that you are not an “official” resident until you have been mugged or robbed dry. There is always someone in these areas planning to gain access into your house and sweep it clean — to cart away your electronics, your utensils, your cockroaches, your all. And they sometimes succeed.

There is always someone fantasising about squeezing your neck between two hard surfaces as another fishes all the valuables from your pockets. Talk of being welcomed to the neck of the woods.

There is always a thief with a motorcycle plotting about the day they will snatch your property. You won’t miss a scallywag waiting for the day he will pounce after you have dropped your guard while using your phone with your vehicle’s window open.

On a larger scale, there is always that government employee scheming on how to grab Kenyans’ taxes by the billions, then gobble them down their insatiable stomach.

All these thieves are crushing the lives and hopes of Kenyans who are struggling to make an honest penny, unaware that there are pest-minded people who will not think twice about killing others to get the fruits of their sweat.

CYBER-BULLYING

On social media, the modern-day marketplace, it is always easy to get oneself between two hard surfaces that can squash more than self-esteem. Cyber-bullying is an all-too-potent threat and people have killed themselves because of the unsavoury remarks they received online.

The cyber bullies are there to crush, often with little regard to the mental state of the people they engage. They torment unyieldingly, harass incessantly and pound unforgivingly, and if the subject of their actions is not well-grounded, the result can be fatal. Remember the Nairobi woman who threw herself onto an oncoming car at night, partly because she had been ridiculed in a Facebook group?

Then there are the high-handed capitalists who practice modern-day slavery and crush Kenyans’ hopes for a prosperous future.

Talk to the Kenyan workers subject to the minimum wage and you will shed tears trying to understand how they cope with life, especially in Nairobi. I once spoke with a guard who had resorted to sleeping at Jeevanjee Gardens on most days because his pay could not allow a commute to the tiny shanty in Eastleigh where he was putting up.

I read frustration in his voice. He had left the countryside hopeful that things would look up in the city, but it was now clear that each passing day, a rock was being placed over him, crushing him deeper and deeper into the mire of penury, making him poorer. I felt bitter at the thought that there was someone reaping big money by using the poor guard as a pawn.

It made me feel like asking grandma to send over the stone with which she ground her millet so I could literally crush someone.

Email: [email protected] Elvis Ondieki is a ‘Nation’ reporter. Caroline Njung’e’s column resumes soon.