…The Story of Uncle Alexander Kimakia
By George Njoroge
For 40 years, Alexander Kimakia lived for a house he had never slept in.
He left Kenya in his late 20s, a young man with a suitcase, a big accent, and a bigger dream. America was not kind to him at first. It was cold in winter, lonely at Christmas, and brutal in the way it made a man work.
He did what millions of Africans abroad do. He worked. He worked the night shift. He worked two jobs. He worked jobs he would never tell his mother about back home. Warehouse. Security. Cleaning offices at 2 a.m. while snow fell outside.
He sent money home. Every month, without fail.
First, it was for a plot along Kiambu Road. Then it was for a foundation. Then for walls. Then for a roof. Then for tiles imported from Dubai. Then for a chandelier he saw in a magazine.
It took him nearly 10 years to finish it.
Five bedrooms. Three floors. A mega mansion at Mushroom Gardens Estate. The kind of house people point at when they drive past and say, “Who owns that one?”
Uncle Alexander owned it.
This year, at 70, he finally came home. For good.
His family threw a welcome party. Goat was slaughtered. Neighbours came to see the famous house. His Range Rover, which he had shipped home years earlier and kept polished by a caretaker, was parked in front like a trophy.
He walked in, looked around, and smiled.
That smile did not last long.
● The stairs
The house has a living room, a toilet, and a kitchen downstairs. That is all.
All five bedrooms are upstairs. Three rooms on the first floor. Two more — including the huge master bedroom with its walk-in closet and balcony overlooking Kiambu Road — on the second floor.
Uncle Alexander cannot climb those stairs alone.
Even with someone holding his arm, steadying him, encouraging him step by step, it takes him 10 minutes to make the climb. Ten minutes of pain in his knees. Ten minutes of gasping for breath. Ten minutes of fear that he will fall.
So he made a decision.
He lives in the living room downstairs.
His caretaker — the young man he hired to watch the house while he was in America — now sleeps upstairs in his master bedroom. In his bed. In his dream.
Uncle Alexander sleeps on a couch that has been turned into a bed, next to the television he never wanted in the living room.
This is not how he imagined retirement.
He imagined waking up in that master bedroom, opening the curtains, looking at his compound, and saying, “I did it.”
Instead, he wakes up to the sound of the caretaker’s footsteps above him.
●The Range Rover and the malt
In America, Uncle Alexander used to say the same thing every time he was tired:
“One day, I will go home and enjoy life. I will eat what I want. I will drink what I want. I will drive my car and enjoy my house.”
Life had other plans.
His Range Rover is in the garage. It has not moved in months. It is rotting. Dust on the windscreen. Tyres slowly losing air. He cannot drive it. His eyes are weak. His doctor has forbidden it. His blood pressure will not allow it.
His Malt — the sweet, cold bottle he used to dream about after a long shift in America — he cannot drink it either. One bottle and his blood sugar shoots up. The doctor warned him: “Alexander, that Malt can take you.”
He cannot eat nyama choma. Not the way he imagined. The cholesterol, the doctor says, is sending warning signs. The fatty meat, the fried food, the rich stews — all gone.
Now, his menu is fruit and vegetable salads. And even that, without dressing.
No salt. No sugar. No oil.
This is the man who spent 40 years doing menial jobs so he could one day enjoy the finest things in life.
Now he cannot enjoy any of them.
● The lesson
Uncle Alexander does not complain much. He sits in his living room, watches the news, and sometimes stares at the stairs.
When his nephews visit, he tells them one thing:
“Don’t wait.”
Don’t wait until you are 70 to enjoy life. Don’t wait until the house is finished. Don’t wait until you retire. Don’t wait until you are too old to climb the stairs to your own bedroom.
Because by the time the mansion is ready, the man who built it may no longer be able to live in it.
Uncle Alexander Kimakia built a house for a young man. But he returned as an old man.
And that will be the story of more than half of us — Africans abroad building mansions back home, sacrificing our youth, our health, our best years, for a retirement we may never enjoy.
The best thing to do is not to wait for retirement.
Take mini-retirements now. Come home now. Eat now. Travel now. Laugh now. Live now.
Because the house will still be there. But will you be able to climb the stairs?
*Uncle Alexander is 70. He is home. But he is living in his living room, while someone else sleeps in his master bedroom.*
That is not retirement. That is a warning.