Awakened: How Zombified Nairobians Experienced a Sharp Rush of Life

I am just going to slide up in here like I haven't been gone for two years 😭✌️How are you? Enjoy my come back post! 

🚌🚌🚌🚌🚌

People in this Nairobi are extremely tired. The woman seated next to me fell into the deepest sleep known to man before we even left the stage. I know this not because I live in her head, but because her head has found a resting place on my left shoulder. I try to shrug it off, where? She's gone. So I just let her have it. I would want a brother with big shoulders to do the same for me when the need arises. This lady has found a sister with big shoulders. Isorait. 🎵 Lean on meeeee🎤

A guy enters the matatu...

"Thank you very much na poleni Sana kuwasumbua."

Mr. Man is getting ready for a sales pitch. I don't know what he is selling yet but going by his gratitude and apology all delivered in one breath, I think it's going to be something controversial like dawa ya mende, panya, kunguni. I mean who has those in their house? We are clean people my friend. Maybe you sell us air freshener like that chap on the Citi Hoppa the other day. That guy did his whole sales pitch and mentioned the scents available; bubblegum, strawberry, mango and one other. I forget. A woman picks one, sniffs it severally then gives it back to him declaring,

"Mi napenda Vanilla." 😂😂

To which the guy responds,

"Unajua madam vanilla imepotea kwa market kabisa."

"Kwa nini?"

"Container huwa inazileta ni kama zimekuwa delayed. So zimekosa kabisa. Si ujaribu hii pia huwa poa?"

She wants vanilla and that's that (but we know you Kenyans. You always want what is not on the menu. We be like, "Aaaaah hauna purple tea?" Na saa hiyo ni kibandaski). 

Back to present day. You already know that our guy is kind. He is also handsome, a black beauty with a diastema. Wueh. This must be a strategy to sell his controversial goods. Hit em with your good looks and perfect Kiswahili.

 Ehe?

Apology and gratitude given in advance, guy fishes out a knife sharpener. You know the stone that sharpens knives? That one. Us we called it 'kidi' growing up. I don't know what you guys call(ed) it. Do share. So this guy has this kidi in his hand. He goes on to explain that it has two sides, the rough and smooth. Ah. So it is kidi he is selling? Ni Sawa. Ghafla bin vu, he produces a knife like like like...(well insert movie star's name - the one who produces knives in fights. Kachaaa!) Nairobians are just looking at him, almost zombified. Yaani someone has produced a knife and y'all chill?! Why am I the only one looking for an exit?

Anyway. He goes on to demonstrate how to sharpen the knife - the rough side first then finish off with two gentle swipes on the smooth side. I don't care what you say, no one has a right to be that adept with knives. He's almost too comfortable. Aiii. Even chefs should chill a little. Oh, the kidi has a luminous green handle with a hole at the end for hanging neatly in your kitchen. Wawuuu. Lakini saying the truth, kwani people stopped sharpening knives on stone walls and abandoned concrete slabs from previous construction works? You are buying kidi? Kidi is stone in dholuo, just in case you missed it.

Haya. Si he has finished demonstrating...

"Kwa supermarket inauzwa shilingi Mia moja sabini na tatu lakini kampuni leo iko na offer. Unainunua kwa Mia moja tu. Na ukininua unapewa kisu na zote zinawekwa kwa briefcase. Sasa mboga na matunda itafanana na iliyokatwa na mashini. Kwa shilingi Mia moja tu, kisu na sharpener yake."

He hasn't even finished his pitch and hands are already going up. People heard free knives and said yes to the altar call. The once zombified collective is now awake awake. Yaani mngekuwa chap chap na mambo ya injili ya Yesu hivi si tungekuwa mbali? Heee! Guy starts distributing the package. If you like it you buy it and he puts for you in a briefcase, remember? Briefcase = Brown paper bag. 

Surely. Mko serious? Me I am not comfortable traveling in a bus with dozens of people carrying knives. People who are only too pleased at the thought of sharpening knives. You are you? I must get off. Now!

But can I?

Now this 563 seater before I get to the front...otek. Engine revs and the bus leaves the parking. I feel the weight on my shoulder. Sigh. It's going to be a long ride home.

<Yeah. No wonder the apology. I'll take it>

<Now see the legroom I am working with...>

#MatatuChronicles

#HamnaVisuNyumbani? 

#LivingInNairobi NeedsAManual

#RohoIweNgumuKamaKDF

LOST PART 2: Ndenderu Na Hukoooo

Hi!

Have you ever been to Ndenderu?

Hold that thought…

Did you know that a lot of people would rather get lost in Nairobi than ask for directions? To stay safe in the capital you must assume you are the only good person on these streets. That woiye looking old mama asking to use your phone is working in cahoots with some thieves who will steal your phone then get you beaten to a pulp if you fall for their trick. That person you ask for directions may point you to a dark alley and proceed to relieve you of the little wealth you have amassed in Nairobi, the city under the sun.

There are of course exceptions. There are people who will even offer to take you to your desired location. Free of charge! They will not ask for chai or worse, look at you with those eyes of “even you don’t feel shame on me leaving me empty?”

I just felt I should say the above. It may or may not have something to do with this week’s post.

Me I don’t know Nairobi. I am not the kind of person you call to show you this city. It is too big for me. I have been here for nine years now and I just go where I need to go and back to my humble abode. The only person I have defeated with my knowledge of this maze is a foreigner. So you can imagine my surprise the other day when I found out that one can access Ruaka from Kiambu road with a matatu. Mi kitambo I would just go all the way to Ngara and get a mat there. My comber friend told me that I just tell the conductor to drop me at Ruaka stage.

Haya. Si I get into the 14-seater. Of course my legs don’t fit on their designated space. Halafu, they are carrying excess, so I can’t even use the space next to me for relief. Anyway, I was told it won’t be long before I alight. I sat back and waited to see my landmark for Ruaka, QuickMart Supermarket. It doesn’t appear so me I am like hatujafika. Kidogo kidogo the matatu stops and people alight. Total Ruaka is the stage. Hmmm. I do not remember seeing this before. Anyway, I haven’t seen Quickmart so I lean back.

I am carrying a crate of eggs and frozen chicken for my friend. The chicken is there sweating sweating and making me feel uncomfortable. I hope we get there soon jamani.

We spend about five long minutes at total calling for passengers who might be headed to or towards Ndenderu. They were not many, so we continue with our journey. I had paid 20 bob for this trip and I was like, eh! This friend has saved for me at least 30 bob. Bless her. But now, I start getting worried. My Quickmart is nowhere to be seen. My eyes are just beholding mountains of soil at the side of the road. Eh. Where did the fruit and vegetables guys go na vile they dot the streets of Ruaka the way the corona red dots populate the map of the world? As in they are usually many!

There must be an explanation for this, I thought.

At some point, the car cuts a corner and my esophagus panics. Maybe it was me wondering how 20 bob can take one so far in these times of rona. Plus, aiii? Ruaka can’t have changed overnight like this. Manze the weather has even changed. The kamageras, those helping the kanges call for customers are now of full Kikuyu mode. Wololo! Iko shida. When the matatu comes to a halt and more people alight, I call the conductor and ask him, “Si ulisema unaingia Ruaka?”

The look on the guy’s face just told me I had messed up. Remember that Total Ruaka where we stood for 60 minutes? Well. That was my stop. My frens! I am in Ndenderu and environs! Mr. man tells me to just cross the road and hail a matatu heading to Ruaka. “Ni mob! And they will just charge you 20 bob.” I step out and the Kiambu road mud kisses Ndenderu mud. I would like to say it was love at first sight, but I was not paying attention. My eyes are now seeing a big sign written ‘Ndenderu.’

I cross the road and soon enough another 14 seater comes. He! Kwani people of Ndenderu got the rona vaccine and we don’t know? Social distancing is a myth. We have been packed paki – like biscuits. Selected few have masks. The chicken is still sweating and the eggs are nodding to every bump in acknowledgement. The conductor is talking about how so many businessmen have lost premises due to the ongoing road works. Well, I assume that’s what he is saying because he is pointing at the buildings marked ‘X’ and shaking his head too. The woman next to him humors him and the conversation continues. The driver and I both have our eyes on the road for very different reasons. I am not about to get lost again.

You can’t imagine the laugh my host let out when I told her the story. Sigh. Some people can’t even see you are carrying goodies and you can just decide to go back with them.  

Also, Ndenderu people you must do better. How is it that the first image on Googling Ndenderu is one of women raiding bars over illicit brews? Kwanza that’s the profile pic Google has given you. Makosa.

Matatu Methali of the Day: Kama hutaki kukalia kiti cha nyuma basi ng’oa uweke mbele.

 

LOST PART 1: When Is The Last Time You Went For Raundi Mwenda?

I want to tell you a funny story about something that happened to me recently. Oi. I should not have said ‘funny,’ because what if it is not funny haha? Well then maybe you will feel like I felt on that particular day- slightly embarrassed and very swindled.

Before we go any further I should offer the disclaimer that I mostly do not trust Google Maps. It has taken me places I should not have been in the first place. Imagine following that lady’s voice to a burning bush near Mt. Sinai yet you were headed to a residence in upmarket Nairobi. It is not funny. The destination on my right is not quite right, Ma Google.

My preference for mode of transport within Nairobi is matatus. If you are a regular foreigner on this blog you already know what matatus are. The following description is for the newbies especially those who do not live in this my country. Matatus are public service vehicles in Kenya. If you do a quick matatu search on Google (and no, the irony is not lost on me) you will see mini-buses with graffiti. A further scroll down south will reveal 14- seater nissans. Now that we are all hopefully on the same page, let’s continue.

Matatus in Kenya have conductors who collect your fare and alert the driver to stop where you are meant to alight. Side note, I was on a plane the other day and I heard the air hostess telling us that we should wait for the plane to come to a complete halt before we disembark. Allow me to bring to your attention that you disembark from planes and sort of just alight from matatus. Weird, because I think alight and flight rhyme so they should go together. I will however not belabor this point because English came by ship and entered my life through the back door and as such has never been my official language.

Ah. The side note interrupted us. I was saying that the good thing with matatus is that you can mostly trust the conductor to drop you at the desired stage. Sometimes isht happens and you find yourself at the burning bush because the conductor forgot so he gives you twenty bob to board another matatu which charges you thirty bob to take you back to your stop. Sigh. In spite of this and 99 other hiccups, matatus work just fine for me.

Now for the funny story… I urge you to laugh before I begin. It will encourage me.

I was on the internets on this particular day when I saw an ad by this man selling something of interest for what I thought was a fair price. It was actually. I promptly booked the item(s) and asked for the pin.

(Btw kumbe pin is not a universal language? Someone from the UK asked me what that is when I casually told her “tuma pin.” I had to explain that it is the map thing on Google).

A pin was sent. I asked if I could access the place using matatus. I was so relieved when the response came in the affirmative together with the name of the stop. I was then directed to call once I alight. Now this is where it gets complicated. Sijui which devil whispered to this woman, I mean me, to open Google Maps when I got off the matatu yawa. I loaded my bundles and proceeded to walk a kilometer in a direction I thought was accurate. A beg. It wasn’t. The good thing is that if I ever need to go to a certain hospital or some particular posh residences, I will not have a problem.

I did an about turn like I was taught during my short lived scouting days and went back where I had come from. It seemed like I had gotten it right this time around because I crossed the road and saw a road that was displayed on the map. The lady kept telling me to just walk straight. I waaaaalked till I started doubting I was on the right track. I gave up and called an Uber. I could feel that I was close and reasoned that the most I would spend is 150 bob. I know. That is still a lot of money in these rona times, but I was tired owada.

Why did I not call the host as instructed? I don’t know. Imagine I don’t. I don't know why are asking me questions that are causing me saviya pain. Anyway, the Uber comes and we begin a ten minute raundi mwenda in the area. For those challenged in Kiswahili, raundi mwenda means going round in circles like madness.

The map was not helping us. Two things, either the host had given me an inaccurate pin or Ma Google was not in the mood. Everyone we asked pointed us to Mt. Sinai, like the map. I finally remembered to call the host when we ran out of watchmen (pronounced soja for maximum respect) to ask for directions. I informed him as a matter of urgency that I was in an Uber about to update my Facebook status “Feeling lost with one other.”  He gave very specific directions and in like two minutes the car was standing infront of his gate.

The Uber driver was the first to break the silence after the engine quit covering the awkwardness. 

“Madam, si ni hapa nilikuchukua?”

We had gone for raundi mwenda for ten minutes only to end up at the exact spot the driver had picked me.  

“That will be 180 shillings please,” he announced before picking a call. He had another customer to attend to. 

I calmly send him his money. It was that calmness for embarrassment and slight anger. Amid all these mafeelings, I managed to ask him what prayer he had made that morning because it clearly trumped mine.

“Mimi huwa naomba asubuhi madam. Wewe huwa huombi? Anyway, hii story usichapie mtu. Itabidi umejiwekea tu. He said amid laugher. How many stars did I give him? Well…

I mean, I had to burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. Surely. Why me? Me who just wanted to spend a maximum of 200 bob on fare that day? Why do bad things happen to people trying to survive Nairobi? 

And that, ladies and gentlemen is how I was reminded of how I operate. You send me a pin, I see it, ignore and proceed to choke and affect you with phone calls until I reach your door step. I needed this unfortunate experience on my wallet and time to get pointed back to my north, without a map. 

Matatu Methali of the Day: Tafadhali usishike dereva mgongo!

 

REVEALED: What Your Mother Does During Matatus Rides

 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. 

Why a Good Brassiere is as Important as a Helmet and Other Stories

I don’t know why I am a last minute person, but I am. I am headed to the CBD then outside town, but no worries, right? It is only four-thirty in the afternoon. Also, the journey has not even began. I am standing at the stage. All matatus coming are hosting live concerts with the craziest boom twaf sound systems. Ladies and gentlemen, there are times when you have to admit to yourself not just your real age, but also the capacity of your organs to endure certain stresses and pressures of life. Look, my ears and heart can’t anymore, so I wisely ignore all of them moving discos and wait for one that is good for my fragile heart. 

When one stops and the conductor asks, “unaenda siste?” I say yes but not with your matatu. Me si I have told you before that I am born again so I do not like telling lies? He asks why and I say siwesmek hiyo disco. Two young girls who have just alighted laugh and reassure me that I am not old, that they were also haboring regrets about boarding it. This kind of affirmation is what I need in life, honestly. So for the public record, I am not old. I am old-ish.

“Unadai?”

“Ah. Zi.Zi.”

A brief conversation between a man and a passing teenager smoking bhangi.

The bystander, me, is trying not to choke from the smell of that thing.

“Wanafikiria hiyo ni raha. Na wakishikwa sasa?”

I nod in acknowledgement. He takes this as license to continue. I am then fed a whole, slightly informative thesis about these boys who pretend to have no homes but are actually stubborn run aways who refuse to live by the rules at home.

Another discotheque slows down. Out come three excited boys. They can’t be older than fifteen. 

“Do you know that’s what they do everyday? They jump from one matatu to another learning how to dandia."

“Wait, what?”

Another license.

“He! You didn’t know? Haiya! That’s how they pass time since covid started and schools were closed.”

I watch the boys cross over to the opposite side and sure enough, they stand at the bus stop seemingly waiting for another bus to dandia back home or wherever. 

“So it is like some sort of internship? It doesn’t look like these makangas are discouraging it!”

“Imagine these boys are training to be kamageras. When schools re-open, they will refuse to go back because where is the fun in that?”

It is a while before a decent matatu for the aged swings by. Thirty minutes later, I am aboard an out of town bound matatu. I am sitting pale back seat. But guys, be careful what you say. I seem to have angered the back seat gods the other day when I talked about the back seat being the only non VIP seat these days. But mi sikuwa na ubaya. Imagine they came to punish me. They made sure that I was running late so sitting at the back would be the only option if I was to make it to my destination before darkness descended the earth angalau. Fate accepted, I sat and prayed for a safe journey. 

PS: I should have prayed for a comfortable one too. This is the story of a lady with a big bossom and pain.

Traffic on Mombasa road at this time of day is fire to be basked from afar. The driver, in all his infinite wisdom decides instead of exercising patience and following the other vehicles, to take an alternative route – a short cut if you will. This route would have us going to Marsabit and back before we join Mombasa road again. The road to Marsabit is even afadhali. This short cut has potholes that sends the back benchers, two men and a lady, flying in the air. 

While the men only think of protecting their heads and perhaps backs, this lady is suffering quadruple injustices. Is it the head I will protect or the back? Or the twins?

I know ladies – especially us who have been blessed with nice big boobs will relate. Sometimes you just want to wear a nice bra that won’t feel like you are wearing one, you know, to make sure they are not hanging huko kwa stomach and causing shoulder and/or back aches. A lot of times these ones leave the twins enough room to dance and sway. Of course there is a disclaimer. You have to make sure your activities are on the minimal on these days. Yaani uko tu. Just there. Dancing and swaying. No vigour. Otherwise, do wear something akin to the breastplate of righteousness because wueh! These soft tissues do not take violence well.

So in short, kwa ufupi kapsaa, I wasn’t prepared for the violence the back seat inflicted. By the time we were joining Mombasa Road at Airtel from Bunyala Road (someone explain to me how this shortcut helped anyone) poor babies were looking at me as if I knew what I was doing coming into a war without a breastplate. But in the midst of pain we hugged and they forgave me. It is not like they have anywhere else to go (Muhahahaha). We are stronger together.

Kind appeal to the male species or small chested sisters: Next time you see one of us headed to the back seat because there is no other option, si we exchange? Offer us your seat. Watu ni kusaidiana.

Matatu Methali of the Day: It is true what they say, nyuma haiko sawa 😭

Ever wondered what it would feel like to have a scented mask? and other stories

 

Good day beloved human! You good? Great! I am awesome, thanks for asking.

I want to stop writing about matatu and Covid but that's all I see these days when I get into one. If it is not a conductor spraying your whole being, including organs with 'sanitizer,' it is the label on the seat cautioning you against sitting at a certain space. So bear with me, at least this week. Hopefully we shift a lil next week, donge?

Right.

I don't know if I had told you about this neighboring county I had been frequenting of late. Away from the town centre, matatus have been operating normally. Nothing like social distancing...every seat is occupied. Me I went there with my Nairobiness and I was given eyes, not just by the operators but by the passengers too. It's like my voice was too deep or my miniature Bantu knots reminded them of miss Rona. Whatever it is, everyone made it pretty clear that I should shut it and enjoy the ride.

But si Corona ni ya Nairobi tu?

But pray tell, even you how can you enjoy the ride when the matatu has come from towns bordering Tanzania and every few minutes someone lets out a cough and your shoulders are brushing ovyo ovyo? Headache! But I reached the town centre in one piece, or many - we will need an xray to confirm what's happening on the inside.

At least at the town center they grudgingly adhere to the rules imposed by the ministry of transport. On this particular day, I was in the company of someone who had not gone further than the town center since the first Covid case was reported in the country. She was so sceptical of venturing into the sick ward that is Nairobi. It came as a pleasant surprise that people actually sat one one on a seat as opposed to what she had experienced with the connecting matatus. Even the fact that they spray you with this unknown sanitazer impressed her. She still topped up with hers though, just in case.

Enroute, she kept asking questions like,

"How is Nairobi? Are there many people out in the streets? Are they wearing masks?"

How do I reassure her while laying it bare how Nairobi is just Nairobi? People are like ants. They are up in your space like nonsense. There is nothing like 1.5m social distancing on matatu queues. In short, in the paraphrased words of the cabinet secretary of health, we are treating this disease nomaree without a care in the world how abnomaree looks like (my mind is currently struggling how to include my anger about #CovidMillionaires in this story and why Kenyans are mostly desensitized to what the government is telling them about the pandemic).

I checked with her at the end of the day. She survived, albeit slightly dazed. I doubt she is planning to come back to the cirry in the next six months. For real. 

The rest of  my day was spent smart mouthing a conductor who kept telling commuters to give him small small money, "Hauna pesa ndogo?" Me in all my wisdom I asked him why he wants to impose poverty on us. We are rich. We don't carry small small money, but by all means give us back our small change without disturbing our peace. All this while wondering why no one has thought of making scented masks that you can activate desired aroma as need presents itself. The guy behind me was carrying something that smelt like expired or rotten bones. See how the scented mask would have come in handy? I just press for pineapple scent and the world is fixed.

I am happy to see that ladies are still using their big bags to carry a bunch of bananas they just bought at the stage. Why waste money on carrier bag when your handbag can gerrit?

That's all for today, see you next week? Great!

Matatu Methali of the Week: Kumpiga chura teke ni kumuongeza mwendo

5 New normals + my Blackberry's 10th year memorial

 Wassup?! You good? Me I am good. 

I was in one of the towns bordering Nairobi recently. Wueh. That place showed me things. From being arranged like biscuits in a matatu (and tuk tuk on another occasion) to a wasp tormenting passengers and refusing to leave the car as if it had paid fare. Over there it's like for them COVID 19 us a rumor please.

But to say the truth this COVID caught us by surprise and adjusting to these new normals for everyone sitting by themselves in mats may take time getting used to. Mimi enyewe I am trying not to complain much because I am mostly seeing good things. For example:

1.  Theft

I want to believe pickpocketing in matatus has been on the decline, and I am here for it! I remember quite vividly (thanks to Facebook memories too) the shock I had after being relieved of my Blackberry on the 10th of August 2011. Knowing me, I would still be owning that phone. It would have been our decade long anniversary this year, but I am conducting a 10th year memorial instead. As soon as I stepped out of that No. 8 matatu that fateful night, something in my spirit whispered, "You have just been pick pocketed." Sure enough. My phone was gone. I watched the bus fly off into the night and wondered why this same spirit was silent when the fool was sliding his filthy fingers into my pocket. In hindsight though, I recall the spirit making me aware the human next to me constantly trying to access an invisible object from 'his' pocket. I ignored and continued to watch the rain drops slide down the window romantically. See my life. Needless to say, we don't keep phones in pockets no more. We carry them in big gunny bags where one has higher chances of extracting a maize cob or a bomb before they get to my phone.

And when I don't have access to the gunny bag, I just sit on the aisle seat and place my phone on the next seat. It's vacant anyway.

I still remember you my Blueberry. This one is for you.

2. Wandering Eyes

It is now harder to snoop and read your neighbor's text messages, book, newspapers and any material that we were privy to pre-COVID. I must explain to judgy James and Judy that we do this to encourage reading culture in Kenya. We can't be encouraging Kenyans to read and put restrictions on where and how 😂Now one has to learn to mind their own business which is really an inconvenience to people who have made a career out of not minding their business in public transport. What are we supposed to do for content now? How are we supposed to satisfy the daily udaku quota? Have mercy!

Thankfully, the loud speakers are still in business - you know the people whose only volume preset is 'loud?' Those ones. So on occasion one boards the same matatu and you are sorted. Pity if they have to alight before you or vice versa yet the story had not ended. But yeah, we will take what we can get in these perilous times.

3. Fare

The cost of transport has obviously gone up, with fare being twice what it used to be pre-COVID. I can understand the economic impact of having to carry half your capacity but some of these operators are just greedy. Surely. Otherwise please explain  how someone who lives in Kasarani is paying the same fare as one who lives in Kitengela. It's ridiculous. Now we can't even laugh at Rongai people, (btw fare ya Rongai imefika ngapi?) we are now empathizing and saying "serikali!" because most of the times I think the government should regulate public transport. This privatization is messing our pockets a beg.

4. Man spreading (and other contact sins)

Men have continued to spread. That has not changed, unfortunately. Us women folk are however celebrating the relief that comes with not having a random human's thigh rubbing against yours. Let us not forget the random elbow 'accidentally' brushing your boob too. Aol!

Now we can also spread ourselves free! Covid nyale!

5. VIP status.

We are all VIPs in matatus now, all except the backbenchers that is. Those ones are still sitting three three. On top of that, the roads still have potholes so they have to endure the constant back aches and other back seat related risks.

The  most VIP seat is of course the one next to the driver. 

How I stick my head out of the window when seated with the dere... 

You can now imagine he is your chauffeur and instruct him on the route and road safety rules. You are also breathing less Covid air compared to the other passengers. If you are lucky, your chauffeur will be chatty and will tell you all he knows about about this pandemic and why the cabinet secretaries are taking all of us for fools. You will say "by the waaaaaaaay," as he continues enlightening you about the need for a side hustle, his plans for the future and gikmakamago. When you finally get to destination, he will wish you a good day or night and wait for you to step out of the car before driving away.

When you sit with the rest of the herd huko nyuma, you always risk leaving a limb in the matatu because they are likely to die if they let both of your feet touch the ground before they fly away.

I wonder if matatus and Subaru drivers have zoom meetings to discuss their zooming tabias. Zoom was probably invented in Kenya as inspired by these two.

Ah. Now I am rambling 😂 but my ramblings are usually intelligent, so you are welcome.

Otherwise? Si I see you next Monday?

Matatu Methali of the Week: Ukitaka stage ya kumi hamia Githurai.