In Rongai, when it rains, it literally pours, not just from the sky, but from rooftops, broken pipes, and clogged drains. The rain doesn’t just soak the streets, but also exposes the failures of the county government in addressing the persistent drainage issue.
The rains reveal the shortcuts, the neglect, the quiet sabotage of infrastructure that was never built to last. It turns roads into rivers, markets into swamps, and streams into open sewers. Funny enough, the long dry periods in Rongai make people long for the rainy seasons, but when the rains finally come, residents regret their answered prayers. The blessing they hoped for becomes a burden they wish away.
For instance, Mayor Road, a thin road that can barely accommodate two vehicles moving in opposite directions, becomes a total mess when the rains hit. Buildings along the road release rooftop drainage directly onto the already poor road, making Pedestrians and motorists squeeze past each other, each trying not to fall, stall, or splash. It’s the kind of traffic jam that doesn’t make it to your prime-time news but defines what life might be in this part of Rongai, simply chaotic, wet, and awful.
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At Mayor Road Number One, just at the diversion from the main road, the “lucky” water that manages to escape Tumaini’s blocked drains flows directly onto the road. The drainage here is even worse. A shallow temporary stream flows across the road, and like the Israelites before the Red Sea, pedestrians stand still, waiting for the waters to yield before crossing.
There’s no bridge, no culvert, no safe passage, and if there is any, it is probably overwhelmed by the amount of running water.
“You just learn to survive,” says Mercy, a fruit vendor along Mayor Road. “When it rains, I wear gumboots and pray. The water comes from everywhere: roofs, pipes. You can’t tell what’s clean and what’s not. But I have to sell. I have children to feed.”
Further down, near the Mayor Road stream, the situation turns from inconvenient to awful. Locals know the drill: when the rain starts, some people take advantage of the cover to release raw sewage into the river. The water turns black with an unbearable smell. It flows past homes, past businesses, onto the other side of the Nairobi National Park. No one intervenes. No one complains. For a visitor to this area, one may think it is a river of crude oil.
“That’s sewage, my friend,” says Kevin, a boda boda rider who’s seen it all. “Don’t ask questions. Just mind your business. If you see black water flowing after rain, just know someone opened a pipe.”
In Tumaini area, it’s the same story. The drainage system is blocked, or simply neglected, rainwater flows along the sides of the road, carving temporary rivers that threaten to spill into businesses. The water carries all types of trash, and this poses a health risk to the residents of Tumaini.
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Meanwhile, Kware Market has become a mess as stalls turn into muddy islands. Traders struggle to keep their goods dry. Buyers tiptoe through puddles, trying not to slip. The market’s drainage is a total joke.
“You come to buy tomatoes and leave with mud on your knees,” jokes Wycliffe, a vegetable vendor who operates in Kware market, “We should charge extra for the adventure. This is Rongai Safari. No boots, no business.”
The recent rains have exposed a system that has failed its people, locals are now urging the county government which tends to give them “pambana na hali yenu” vibes, and any other responsible authority to take quick action and solve the drainage crisis in Rongai. They want Mayor Road rehabilitated, proper drainage systems installed, and accountability enforced. And unless something changes, Rongai will keep drowning in neglect.
By Masaki Enock
