Young kids who are supposed to be in class for lessons during school hours are seen on the street of Makalavani West, dancing little bit of sungura (rumba) while taking some sips of bottled traditional home brews.

It was just around 9 and 10am on Wednesday morning that a friend and I took a ride. When we came to the location, named Makalavan West, he stopped the car in amazement at what was he was seeing inside that settlement. “Look! Just look bra!” my friend exclaimed. “Truly, this world is in its final time,” he said, drawing my attention to the kids who were in the street behaving like older students on holiday. I too held my mouth and watched in amazement.
“This place is home to people of different cultures, beliefs and moral views. I am among those who came first to this area a long time back now. What you saw there is just a piece of cake, a tip of a full drama that normally happens in our settlement every day, while the weekend usually makes everything hot and worse,” an elderly man, a retired school cleaner whom we gave lift to informed us as we drove off.
We hear good talks of development elsewhere, but in this settlement of Makalavan the only development that we see here is of drinking too much alcohol, being addicted to loud noise of shebeen music and uncontrolled movement of dogs that mess up our gardens with faeces.

Concerned resident