Scene I — Six Months Later
(Darkness. Slow sounds emerge. Wind. Metal sheets rattling. Distant coughing. A leaking tap dripping rhythmically. No campaign music. No whistles. No convoys. Only ordinary struggle. Lights rise slowly. The market looks older now. Dustier. Tired. Campaign posters hang in torn fragments from poles. Mungai’s smiling face is faded and peeling. The unfinished road remains unfinished. Potholes larger. Nyina wa Wanja sits quietly beside nearly empty baskets. Business is slow. Very slow. Kamau enters carrying a worn jerrycan. He looks thinner. Less energetic. Less sarcastic.)
Nyina wa Wanja: You disappeared.
Kamau: Water queue at the river. Three hours. The borehole stopped again. The electricity bill is not paid.
Nyina wa Wanja: Any job?
Kamau: Only promises. Those remain fully employed.
(A weak laugh.)
Nyina wa Wanja: At least your leader won.
Kamau: Do not start. I already regret professionally every morning.
(Silence.)
Kamau: Did you hear the dispensary ran out of medical supplies again?
Nyina wa Wanja: Again?
Kamau: Now patients bring; gloves, syringes, painkillers, hope, and sometimes their own chairs.
Nyina wa Wanja: Lari is dying slowly. It is in hospice unit. (Long silence.)
(Darkness. Slow sounds emerge. Wind. Metal sheets rattling. Distant coughing. A leaking tap dripping rhythmically. No campaign music. No whistles. No convoys. Only ordinary struggle. Lights rise slowly. The market looks older now. Dustier. Tired. Campaign posters hang in torn fragments from poles. Mungai’s smiling face is faded and peeling. The unfinished road remains unfinished. Potholes larger. Nyina wa Wanja sits quietly beside nearly empty baskets. Business is slow. Very slow. Kamau enters carrying a worn jerrycan. He looks thinner. Less energetic. Less sarcastic.)
Nyina wa Wanja: You disappeared.
Kamau: Water queue at the river. Three hours. The borehole stopped again. The electricity bill is not paid.
Nyina wa Wanja: Any job?
Kamau: Only promises. Those remain fully employed.
(A weak laugh.)
Nyina wa Wanja: At least your leader won.
Kamau: Do not start. I already regret professionally every morning.
(Silence.)
Kamau: Did you hear the dispensary ran out of medical supplies again?
Nyina wa Wanja: Again?
Kamau: Now patients bring; gloves, syringes, painkillers, hope, and sometimes their own chairs.
Nyina wa Wanja: Lari is dying slowly. It is in hospice unit. (Long silence.)
