Once in a while, there is a creation that changes the world, or, for that matter, a particular industry. Take, for instance, how the invention of the printing press changed the publication industry, or what television did for entertainment. In our industry, we could perhaps count the invention of the birth control pill and male condom as the most revolutionary developments, freeing women from the unwanted consequences of sex (children and diseases).

An old adage says that a friend in need is a friend indeed. Another one talks of true friendship being tested in times of strife. However, in the competitive times we now live in, true friendship looks like a mirage. Everyone seems so engrossed in themselves. It’s doubtful if anyone has the mental and emotional space to carry the burdens of others, or genuinely share in their joy.

Adam lost his apple because Eve took it. Covetous, she plucked it with delicious abandon from that legendary and alluring tree. She did not waver; Adam had taunted her long enough. And, with one, crisp, robust, annihilating bite, she was exiled. Sent from the Garden of Eden, out of the jungle book, a fugitive forever. Eve ran. She ran at breakneck speed from the land of milk and honey into the unyielding terrain of her future sons, Cain and Abel. From paradise to penitence for one little nibble. I am no Eve.

We too mourned when Professor Wangari Mathaai passed away.And, like everybody else in the country, we on the Street made a pledge to take care of the environment, and particularly so by planting trees. However, the same as with many politicians, it turned out to be an empty promise. Empty rhetoric aimed at fitting in with the national mood at the time.

Truth be told, the environment, at least the one outside our houses, is the least of our worries. We tend to treat such spaces, where we live, with the attitude of many a Nairobian—not with a sense of ownership, but with the mindset of a temporary passerby. “The city is not mine. Let those who are responsible take care of it”. The “our” in “Keep our city clean” is left out.

On the Street where we earn our living, we treat cleanliness of our surroundings with casualness. We sit, smoke and drop the filters on the ground, as if we are in some village bar. Then we sip from bottles of liquor and soda before trashing the Street with them. It doesn’t matter that a bin may be only a metre away.

We don’t feel obliged to take the few steps towards it. Later in the night, when we have lost hope of capturing customers, we will channel our frustration into complaining about how dirty the city has become. Wondering aloud why all those who are supposed to keep it clean, have not done their duty. Talking of workers, most streets in the city are swept at night, supposedly when there is less human and vehicle traffic. The workers, always women, will occasionally come to our part of the city, where they curse as they sweep. Though we try to befriend them and hesitate to litter when they are around, it’s all in jest, with no serious commitment to the hygiene of our workplace. The indifference is also ingrained in us when we walk down the Street during the day. Even though many do not litter, it is not because they care about the city, rather because it would be against city bylaws, and the council askaris are usually hovering around to pounce on those who trash.

Yet, there were moments when we kept our workplace clean. I think it’s Nini or some other girl who convinced us that if we kept the Street clean, then the city council askaris and policemen would stop harassing us. After all, if we left the Street better than we found it, then that would be one less sin—perhaps reason enough for the authorities to stay away. So, we made a collective effort to keep our place of work spotless. But it didn’t turn out as Nini had predicted. The city fathers seemed blind to our efforts, and we certainly did not find any redemption with the local police. Eventually we went back to our trashing ways. Another effort was made by a nongovernmental organization that came and sold us the idea of recycling the discarded plastic that was all over our zone. The idea was to make jewellery from the plastic and other trash, then sell it to colleagues and other city residents. Some girls tried; theymade pretty earrings and necklaces, but soon gave up. The fifty-shilling earrings didn’t seem enough motivation, amidst the taunts from the rest of us.

That said, girls who have been on the Street longer seem keener on cleanliness than the relatively new ones. Time makes the girls start respecting the place where they earn a living. Perhaps if we kept the Street clean and stopped thinking it is cheesy to do so, maybe business would boom. Okay. Now, I pledge to keep the Street and city clean in the hope that you clients will come rushing in. Won’t you?