Once in a while, I travel to town just so I can stay sane. Living in the village sets one back a few months psychologically and I’d hate to be that woman. So I’m sitting in a typical Kenyan matatu. I choose the front seat but a disabled man comes and has to sit here… He for reasons only he and the driver know cannot wait for another damn matatu and secure the same seat. I have to move close to the driver or alight. I chose to alight.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a bad person. It’s just that, there was no way I was sitting next to the driver(I have thighs to die for and a fist that can break a nose) and absolutely no way I was going to sit next to the disabled guy. (I know I should be saying physically challenged but this guy… I knew him. I have traveled with him twice before but he was so rude and had demands I couldn’t meet. He’d go like “mama fungulia Mimi hii drisha.” woman get me the window. Now his hands are perfectly made it’s his legs that have a problem. I didn’t open for him the window, I looked at his face then his hands then pursed my lips. He got mad and started telling me “unanidharau, kwani mimi si mwanau…” you are treating me like I’m not a man enou… at which point I sort refuge in my earphones. He threw a lot of tantrums in his mother tongue. I concluded he is a bitter man. He is yet to embrace his condition and is always grumpy and angry at the world. It’s as if the world owes him money, a beautiful wife, children and a wheelchair that can fly to a beach in Malibu. I swore never again to sit next to him.
So I alighted and took the seat behind the driver. Not a very comfortable spot for a 5’6 tall human. We get moving and at some point along the journey, the driver and conductor decide to sell us. Yes, you read that right; they sell us to another matatu that was now truly, honestly and faithfully going to Eldoret. I’m so mad.. I hate being lied to like that let alone being sold(how do women feel when they are exchanged for cows?.. Woshe). I move out fast so I can secure my seat.
I find a middle-aged man there and as I open the door he jumps out so I can sit next to the driver, I decline and say I’m alighting at the next stop. It works. He hops back in and I get my seat. The comfort of this seat is what people who know the meaning call hmmm… orgasmic. I don’t know what that means but a friend once told me it’s like the feeling of chocolate melting in your mouth. Now that’s quite something but not more something than the last bit of eggs on your plate as a kid. I remember back then how we would eat vegetables then save the eggs for last. That last morsel was IT…Those who know know.
The gentleman then falls asleep and I’m so happy he won’t question my not alighting. He wakes up when he hears me tell the driver to stop for me to alight at the Noble hotel that’s about 2kms away now. The driver stops but I change my mind and say “wacha tu nifike town.” let me just get to the CBD. My sleeping but now awake neighbor quips “Ehehehe.. unaigopa giza? ” you scared of darkness? to which I give him an unsuspected “Hapana, naogopa kwa hiyo giza ntaweza ua mtu.” nop, just concerned I might kill someone in that darkness. “E!” (a very short exclamation he gives). The driver gets the joke and laughs heartily but my friend the sleeper is in shock and keeps looking at my face whenever lights from vehicles in the opposite direction light the windscreen. I’m choking with laughter at his utter disbelief that I, a woman, can actually clobber someone to death.