USHAGO: The 10 commandments for every Nairobian headed to the village

The idiosyncrasies of the average Nairobi dweller are as predictable as they are ruffling.

After causing yearlong havoc in the city, getting embroiled in petty estate wars, shutting Quiver Lounge down every Saturday and bedding every college girl and boy around the corner, Nairobians finally find time to drive down to whatever village they leaked from, bringing along their rowdiness, their brashness and their palpable aloofness.

In the village, they meet their timid relatives, who have made an entire ceremony out of their arrival - slaughtered the fattest ram, mowed down the messy fence, scrubbed the main gate's patina and trimmed up entire pathways.

Well, before you get lost in the fantasies of the little god you imagine yourself to be, here's a few quick commandments to follow as you luxuriate from the pains of your village mates.

The 10 commandments for every Nairobian in the village.

1. Thou shalt not use colloquialisms

Phrases like, "This jiko is not wakaing," or "this ninio", or "I zimad the moto" or, you know, "si we go beba the kuni" should be dropped.

Use proper jargon. You're speaking to your school dropout uncle, not your drunken mates at Taveta Lane. The village has already endured a tough year and the last thing they want is you bringing along your nauseating "Kanairo" argot.

You can always pick it up once you're back in the big city. For now, no one will get it if you ask them how is "diggz" and your grandmother will surely not appreciate it if you tell her "there goes my girl!" Speak like everyone else. Or maybe, just shut up and, maybe, sleep? Yes.

2. Thou shalt not ostracize your children from the neighbourhood

Your children are part of the village. Doesn't matter how fancy your Nairobi home is. Or how many times they visit the Karen Waterfront.

Once they land back in the village, they belong to everyone else. We're free to use them as we wish.

We will even send your darling son Dylan, Jabari or Jayden to the market. And to the river. And then to the market again. This neighbourhood is one. And we shall all co-exist as one. Let your children integrate. And eat mud, if possible.

3. Thou shalt put your phone down

Here, there's a raft of activities to do. You'll be required to wake up early, kill a snake or two, climb trees, balance a bucket of mangoes on your head, cross a creaky bridge, sit through your relatives' village tales, kill another snake, entertain the Pastor and repeat the entire routine again. And it's not even 3 pm yet.

There's really no time for you to be entirely on TikTok. Or catching up on Abel Mutua's Mkurugenzi episodes. For the love of God, put that phone down.

4. Thou shalt not dent that hired 'moti'

Thousands of Nairobians, it's obvious, will hit the village in that sleek ka-moti they hired from those 'jamaaz' near Odeon Cinema.

The moti attracts daily fees even as you cruise around in itintimidating the fellows along the dirt roads, as they rubberneck, silently murmuring to themselves.

Yes, that sheeny Mazda Axela may be yours for now. But the 'jamaaz' at Odeon Cinema still need it to be as spanky by December 28. Don't wreck it in one of those drunken village capers. You'll pay dearly, Boo.

5. Thou shalt not request your cousin's CV - If you don't really want it

Deep-pocketed Nairobians are always approached by that broke but ambitious villager in the hopes of securing a ka-job in Nairobi. It's normal, you cannot control it.

But if you are not in an actual position to change that fellow's life, and actually find him employment, don't bother asking for his CV. You're wasting both his and your time. It's simpler to talk them out of it, rather than having to have them go fish out a CV, spruce it up, hand it to you and then kill their dreams. Just eat your bananas and stop bothering villagers.

6. Thou shalt join in the family chores

There's no way you're still going to be in bed at 10.10am whilst the rest of the household is up and busy.

Wake up early like the rest of the people, join your younger sister in the kitchen, join the men slicing chicken's heads off, and join your sisters-in-law as they pop beans.

Be part of the chores. Sweat a little. Get a little messy. Get muddied like everyone else. You're not Meghan Markle. You don't even have butlers in Nairobi anyway.

7. Thou shalt dress down

You're deep in a village in Igambang'ombe, Chuka, and there's no reason why you're still rocking those fake Balenciaga glasses, tiny leather skirts, cleavage-teasing cami tops and carrying around that little crossbody purse.

Here, you need to drop all that glitterati savviness and dress like the next guy. You need to throw on an oversized t-shirt, get those random pants, slip into some crocs and try to cover that garish arm tattoo, for chrissake. I mean, you're sitting next to Kendi, not Kendall Jenner.

8. Thou shalt not grumble 

Does the soup look like a puddle of water in a street in New Delhi? The ugali tastes like the crayon moulding of your little kid? Does the tea taste like the stuff they serve at a detention centre and does the air smell like you live under a sewer? Well, deal with it!

Nothing here is going to be perfect. Don't go grumbling, cursing out, trashing things and belittling stuff. You won't be here for years anyway. You either put up with the mediocrity or pack your bags. 

9. Thou shalt not raid the farm

This is one of the most sacred commandments. Calculate the value of what you brought home compared to what you wish to take out of it.

Don't raid mama's poultry, grabbing four of the fattest chicken. Don't go swarming into the farm, ploughing down the healthiest banana stocks, stockpiling an embarrassing amount of mangoes and ridding all the trees of the avocados. And no, that rabbit was not reared for you either. Calm your gluttony. There are still people to be left behind after you leave.

10. Thou shalt spread some cash around

Hit the local drinking den, buy the entire bar down (it won't cost you more than $20), chat up random drunks, buy them a few dozen 'quarters', that ageing kiosk lady from your childhood? Throw some coins her way.

Your uncle who totters into the compound sloshed out of despair? Throw him some few hundred bobs.

Younger bro who idles his days at the market? Line his pocket too. Don't be stingy. Fix the village's economy. You may not be Rigathi Gachagua but you sure can start from somewhere, no?