Removing cobwebs in the living room edition

Hey! How goes it? If you are reading this it means rona has not sank its ugly fangs into your skin yet. Yey! But wueh! What a weird couple of months it has been! Glad to see you here. Even me I am glad to see me here...after 5 months...cough cough (This is a 'I am a little embarrassed' cough. Not anything life threatening). Cough! 

Otherwise, like I said up there, this is the removing cobwebs from the living room and check up edition. I would love to get a wave from you at the end (that will cover the check up part). The cobweb cleaning part starts now... 

I am bored in the house so I decide to go to one of the malls in the neighborhood for some window shopping.

Free advice: If you are going for window shopping just carry your eyes and feet. Leave your hands and wallet at home. Otherwise, you will spend on; "ah. I better take this now that I have seen it. Who knows how many people are looking for it. I may not find it next time..." or on "wooow. I had not budgeted for it but this cup just speaks the truth about me and chocolates." The list is endless. So yes, leave your hands and especially, your wallet at home.

The 'window' shopping lasts about three hours. Time is so sneaky. You focus your gaze elsewhere for two minutes, time supersonic's two hours ahead. I swear that is what happened. By the time I got outside all  thoughts of walking home had been trashed. I cross the busy highway to go get a mat.

On the other side, a kamagera approaches me and asks where I am headed. Kamageras are the guys at the stage who help conductors find commuters for a small fee. They are the ones who shout "wawili ijae!" but when you enter you find that there are only two of you in the vehicle - you and the poster of Mariah Carey or Jua Cali on the roof. 

I ignore this particular kamagera because, wueh! The fumes that come from his mouth threaten to suffocate me to death. No way I am doing my best to avoid rona then small small let these fumes that I can hear penetrating my surgical mask and dissect my liver kill me. Adagi! Whatever this guy had drank, strength to his kidneys. 

"Madam kwani hutaniongelesha?" 

Silence. 

"Unaenda wapi siste?"

"Silence."

"Hata unaringa na umevaa kama conda. Nkt." 

Low blow. I was wearing  maroon pants that I only use during field work, miles away from Nairobi. But Michuki (Rip) surely, you just decided we will never wear maroon without being stereotyped again? Isorait. 

I hear you laughing. Stop. It's not funny. Ok. Maybe a little. Even me I chuckled kidogo as I took my place at the curb next to other commuters waiting for transport. 

I wait a whole thirty minutes for a matatu, wapi? All of the ones stopping want me to go to Ruiru, Meru, Marsabit, Thika, Somalia - anywhere but home. At some point one from my route slows down a couple of meters from where I am standing. Relieved, I start running towards it. I hate chasing matatus, but this is the first one that has stopped since I began my vigil approximately 30 years ago. Plus, it isn't a 14 seater. You know me...I don't do 14 seaters unless the trumpet has cried and it is the last matatu going to the rapture meeting point. I am not missing heaven because of my knees. La hasha! Anyway, I ruuun and as I am almost touching the bus' smoky rear it suddenly starts snaking away.

 Alaaar.

The conductor starts gesturing that the bus is full. I slow down and watch as it speeds away. I have many questions, top on the list being they didn't know the bus was full when they stopped and the conductor beckoned me? Yaye. I am born again, so I will not call them useless. 

You guys think the walk of shame is that walk you do when you are from your best half's place wearing the previous day's clothes. No. I don't even know why y'all call it that. Next time you do that walk, put a spring to it. Kwani? Si it was a great night? Glorious even? Strut it! The real walk of shame is the one you have do back to the stage after you ruuuuun after a mat and it leaves you for whatever reason. You pass humans thinking to themselves and because you are a mind reader you see their thoughts saying, "Usain bolt has come back." You give them the look for "mind your business, Kimani" and begin phase two of the wait.

Ah. I should tell you about the couple that passed me some minutes after I got to the stage. A tall guy and a short mama reaching him just above the waist. They were holding hands and before I could say "awwww" the part of my brain that does not know romance, asked loudly, "hawa waogopi Corona?" But what is rona in the face of love? I remember noticing the lady wearing Bata ngomas and a cute dress that made her look like a doll. She also had long braids that hung past her butt. The guy tilted his neck towards her to listen to her stories. Awww. I watched them walk away till they disappeared into the hurrying evening masses, seemingly immune to what was making the rest trip over themselves.

I would spot them from my matatu seat kilometers later, still walking at the same pace, same bliss. Literally lost in their own world. I just concluded that what I am missing in this Nairobi is a tall neck tilting man to hold my hand and listen to my stories as we slowly walk home. This would have saved me not only time (would it have though) but also the twenty bob I ended up paying to a stop that was not even home.

Who am I kidding? Which hand would have been held yet I had bought the whole mall?

But just imagine. What if all of us had that man, or woman who enjoys long walks? When some of these matatu thugs add fare, we just hold each other's hands and walk home...mos mos. Matatus would not joke with us the way they are used to. 

Amen.

Sanitize! 

Matatu Saying of the Week: Kama uko na haraka itisha ambulance.