Shabaan
Shabaan is dark. Dark as my mother’s soot coated cooking pot. The one she uses to boil bitter traditional vegetables that accompany ugali (maize meal). He likes chewing the bitter khat leaves, a stimulant. One side of his mouth is always bulging from the days cumulative chewing of the drug, ringed with a pale green residue from the leaves. And his teeth have this rusty tint of brown that are evidence of his numerous experiments with smoke and leaves.The skin on his neck is rough and dehydrated the surface like bark.
Shabaan is a caretaker. He’s been around for as long as the trees have been — all he can remember ever doing and being. During the day, he sweeps the wayward leaves that fall off the trees. When darkness sinks, he doubles up as a watcher of the dark — he guards the premises of this new estate.
Shabaan is observant. He has watched families grow and couples split. He has refereed fighting matches between neighbors and has dealt with unruly visitors. He’s been the herald of terrible news and the database of the juiciest estate rumors.
Meet Shabaan, he’s the estate’s caretaker, night-guard, cleaner and problem solver .
