In Summary
  • I recently read a feature in BBC arguing that in future, plastic will most likely be used as the geological marker of what this generation has left behind.

As I write this, I am covered with dust up to my eyebrows, and each time I cough, a little dust escapes from my mouth.

I have just come from River Road, where I have spent about 45 minutes looking for red or green ribbon.

If you haven’t been to River Road lately, the streets that side of Nairobi are akin to a shamba, thanks to the ankle-length dust that characterises the roads and pavements.

I had hoped to get the ribbon in the two supermarkets near my place of work, but none stocked the type that had been specified in my son’s school diary. ‘Small ribbons (red or green)’, the note from the teacher had read.

I knew where I had to go to get the elusive ribbon, but I was hesitant to extend my hunt to River Road because I have seen some bad things happen to people down there, the same place where my bag was recently slashed by a thief in the hope that the contents would spill out.


I had no option though, because the mysterious school project, which also required an old newspaper “with pictures”, manila paper, glitter pen (glitter what?) and glue, had to be done the next day.

And so I ploughed into River Road with trepidation, this time holding my bag across my chest like a shield — I told myself that if there was any slashing of bags to be done, the thief would have to pry my hands off my bag first.

I had thought that I would be quickly successful in my search, after all, River Road has it all under one roof, but I was wrong.

There were ribbons alright, but all were made using some plastic-like slippery material, which was not just going to serve the purpose. They were also wide, and wide is not small, right?

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