Hell of a Journey

(From the Archives…)

I love travelling in comfort too. So I can be very choosy on which matatu I will use (when its public means). As I write this, I am actually travelling. I am headed back to school from Nakuru. I should have travelled back on Wednesday and here I am on a Saturday afternoon travelling back.

I did not plan to travel on this day. I have disappointed a few. I will find a way to apologise. My plan was to shower, make my hair (which requires little work. Good thing about natural hair), then go buy some junk and eat as I watch some lately acquired Indian movies. But that’s not how the day went. Plans changed the moment I wore my shoes to go and buy junk. Instead of walking out with that 100. I started packing my stuff. I travel light. I ensure I leave a set of clothes anywhere I sleep. So for anyone who plans on inviting me to visit, just know I will come with a set of clothes to stay. I will also leave a toothbrush, for next time. Another reason why I travel light because I hate packing. So all I carry when travelling are my phone, laptop, the laptop charger, USB cable, earphones and at least one set of clothes. If need arises, I can always have an excuse of making my host buy me something.

So I am in this new matatu. The guy seated next to me is an old man. He is wearing an oversized navy blue jacket. Carrying a purple umbrella. Has a hat that am assuming is as old as me. And has a strong irritating cigarette smell. That is the guy who got to seat next to me. His eyes kept surveying every single corner of the matatu. Like he was seeing one for the first time. He was helping everyone who had a problem. Closing windows. Finding a seat. Doing nothing. Basically everything. And just like that, I knew I was going to hate this journey.

Leaving stage. One guy decides to take advantage of the traffic jam and buys a bottle of soda. Immediately he pays up, the jam clears and we are speeding away. Without his change. Now that was hilarious! Poor guy started screaming at the driver ‘dere ngoja kidogo sijapewa change yangu. Dere!’ Dere was not listening. He kept going. That was getting good. I wanted them to have some sort of exchange. You know just to spice things up. Some little entertainment. Well we dont always get what we want…Dere stopped the matatu. Kumbe he actually was looking for a place to stop. The guy got his change. More signs of a bad journey.

Leaving Nakuru. For  the 1^st time I was travelling to school without having to listen to mugithi all the way. I am all for cultural diversity and appreciation. But I prefer we diversify by listening to a mixture of languages. I swear there was a time I started preferring the DJs mix. However annoying they can be especially when the DJ keeps interrupting to tell us to enjoy the music. How about you shut up and just mix! On this journey, there was no mugithi. No DJ mix. But, not long into the journey, one mama starts singing. And guess what? Its mugithi! The hell is that? The whole matatu joins her and now its a choir with no conductor and off-key musicians. Bad journey!

All the while, I did not stop typing. It was the only way I could distract my self from the really annoying surrounding.

Half way into the journey, it starts raining. I love travelling in the rain. Its just soothing. But not on this day. I needed to open the window fully. Why? My neighbour started yawning! I can tell you for a moment I felt the smell of a dead rat. It may sound mean but that was it. Thank God for my strong stomach. I dont even want to imagine what would have happened otherwise. I felt like I should ask the driver to stop the vehicle so I can alight.

Three quarters into the journey. Tantrums! I love children. I am very good with them. But I cannot stand it when one decides to throw a tantrum in a public vehicle. The child wasnt even thaaaaaat young. I mean he was at that age where they know what the are doing. This kid starts demanding for everything! Screaming at the top of his lungs and man he had some volume. I was so pissed at the kid I gave him my harsh look when the parents were not seeing. He went quiet. Until he realized I was just a stranger, then started again. I wanted to shout right back at him. ‘Shut the hell up!’

Finally I could see the hills. The ones that assure me I am almost in my destination. The driver needs a pat on his back. His speed was good. He is a good driver. I am concluding this piece as I wait for my stop.

My neighbour made friends with someone in the matatu and therefore I had to suffer every time he spoke and the wind was strong. I am just glad he did not sleep and try using me as a pillow. I hate when someone does that. I am not a pillow. I have small shoulders and they are not for hire! The rain stopped so I opened the window to breathe. The mamas finally stopped singing! The lead singer fell asleep. Maybe she was bored by her own voice. Who knows?

Everything was beginning to seem normal just as I approached my destination. Then the kid started yet another tantrum. And my neighbour yawned! Shit!

I need my own car. Soon. Or else I will go mental. Or hate travelling all together.

In relation to that, I may need a driver. I may or may not know how to drive. Very irrelevant. Suitable candidates to send their applications.