My people! Wassup?!
First things first. I haven't been here for two week so I have to do this...
A moment of silence for the King of Wakanda, T'Challa aka Chadwick Boseman. Beautiful man. What a loss! Royalty has flown off to join royalty. We Stan.
Seriously. Take that minute.
Thanks.
****
Now that that's out of the way, let us get to the subject matter at hand - mothers and matatus rides.
We have all had them, I presume. Days when you've had a hectic (understatement) day and you just want to get home as soon as possible, take a long bath and spread your tired ass on the bed. What ends up happening though, hours spent queuing for a matatus in the middle of the Nairobi CBD. The person behind you has no sense of personal space and if they do, they are making the deliberate choice to completely violate yours. Your handbag is clutched tightly, almost incapacitating your ribs. Lord, the hooting! The shouting! Can everyone just freeze! You are also competing for space with hawkers who on more than one occasion elbow you as they engage in running battles with angry city council officers. Why are they always so mean?
I mean, this is a lot to dump on a tax paying, law abiding citizen, donge?
Yesterday was one of these days. Fatigue was real. Every stage in the CBD had queues that if one cared to track, would take you right to the spot where polar bears hibernate. For real. Have you ever known me to exaggerate things? Don't answer that. But yes, every queue had tired looking humans longing for baths but if Nairobi rental spaces have anything to say about it, they will end up having showers instead - short ones because their feet will have done a considerable amount of standing already. Si ni life? Your story beater here took her place on a queue and joined the congregation listening to man on his knees asking God not to bless the commuters but keep them safe from coronation virus or something like that. A matatu arrived just as he was getting up to collect offering/ "something small to help him because his life is in danger and he is not a stranger." I feel like he missed a chance to pause mid begging to say, "See what I did there? Danger and stranger rhyme! I mean, you gotta reward that."
This our matatu has been remodeled to to fit the social distancing requirements in public service vehicles. It is now looking like a classroom. Three seats on each row. The only thing missing is a chalkboard and spectacled kaunda suit wearing maths teacher talking to you about vectors and why they are vital in maintaining world peace. My own teachers, Mr. Odero and Mr. Musa would be surprised to see me seated at the front. They would feel my forehead for a fever and proceed to send me to the school nurse to double check because no way this girl is willingly at the front yet there are plenty of seats at the back. Lakini, this their remodelment of the inside is null if the Nairobi roads are still they way they were pre-COVID. I don't want to shout (the back seat gods were not playing with me two weeks ago).
I know you are wondering where mothers come in in all of this. I'll tell you in a bit, but first, a disclaimer. It has been a weird week in Kenya as we try to make out whose mother is importanter and emotions have been running high. I don't want anyone's emotions to boil so I promise you I mean no disrespect.
Next to me someone's mother. She is not young. Her phone' s screen bulb is on 400% - how it is not burning her eyes is a mystery because it took my youthful eyes a while to adjust to the calling sinner to Jesus light. Can I just say that I wasn't spying or anything? I had to sort of sit turned towards her because leg room, inadequate. So si me I start observing her because studying people in matatus is something I should be handed a doctorate for. I wasn't ready (read in woke voice) for what ensued, but I am so glad I witnessed it because now I have a story for my grandkids, and for you, children.
Dear mother was on wozzap/Whatsapp the whole time, catching up with messages and stuff. Everyone does that, no? Correct. So with your permission, I will tell you what your mother does on wozzap while in the matatus...
1. Profile pictures
Yes. Your mother is looking at people's profile pictures with what I can only describe as an investigative eye (English is hard sometimes. But you get it, right?). A zoom in here, zoom out there, pan left, right pause at the eyebrows then scroll down to the shoes and handbag.
There was a couple on one of the photos; a melanin rich, tightly hugging, heads together, widely smiling pair. She lingered on them a while. Maybe a prayer of social distancing was being said. Maybe she was thinking "Hawa watanipa wajukuu lini? as she whispered a prayer for God to bless them soon. She does seem like the earth moving prayer type. In my home church they are called wailing women.
I counted 10 scrutinizations and lord only knows what she thinks about your photos because her face wasn't giving anything away. Think 360 next time you are choosing a profile photo. Your mother certainly is.
2. There is a fashion group with all the dresses they want. She's there downloading all the 53 photos and viewing each one of them. I think she likes them. Please send mum some money. These dresses won't buy themselves. Also, the black that doesn't crack has to be adorned to perfection, isn't it? (Haiya! People still use isn't it in conversations?) The outfits all look the same as the one she is wearing, honestly, but there's nothing wrong with having a preferred style. Just send her money.
3. The above were just mere distractions. Let me just tell you how at this point I chuckled aloud as I saw something that made total sense on one of the plagues of modern day Whatapp communication - FORWARDS.
Who knows someone with the keys to the English language so we can change it from 'as patient as an ox' to 'as patient as a Kenyan mother reading wozzap messages and forwarding them to every person in her phone book." Niitieni PLO Lumumba or Atwoli bas. This is important.
The process is simple but one that has taken hours, possibly years of practice to master.
First they read all of the 10 paragraphs. If there is a picture, you know the drill. Zoomed to clarity, my friend. The text is then highlighted and the crooked arrow to the top right of your whatsapp page is pressed. There is nothing like thanking the sender who was also probably doing her part in this very vital value chain. It is a goes without saying kind of situation. It is a whole network I tell you, tighter than the leg room in this classroom. Next, an intricate selection process ensues before the message is forwarded to you and others including groups like 12 blessed sisters. I am not quite sure what happens to videos because there was no demonstration, but if I am to guess... same process, same end result.
I will let you in on another thing, if you don't get forwards from an older woman it is time to call yourself to a meeting and inquire from the ancestors why the women do not consider you part of the chosen ones. Really, it should concern you. Give you sleepless nights even. You deserve to hear that God loves you, or made aware of conspiracy theories and my favorite, 8 pages of health digest recreated in a text. I know a few who can adopt you. Just let me know down there if it's a go and I will make it happen...for FREE!
It is all so fascinating and hilarious to watch. I am actually bummed, as I am sure she is, when she signals the conductor "Wee! Weka Naivas! Nyita!" and hands him her luggage. Tired as I am, I wanted more time with her. We would have traded contacts. Because me I want in on her love. You can never have enough of this kind of love.
PS: Just in case you are one of the many Kenyans caught up in the mama verzuz mama battles, please, rest assured. Everyone's mother makes the best food. No need to compare imagine. Shida tu if she doesn't send forwards, that just takes her out of the game.
Matatu Methali of the Day: Nairobi NI ya mama yako.
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