WINTER IS HERE

A bus.

It’s occupants.

Chaos.

A keen observer would notice that a great deal of things are happening in here. I blame the cold. Winter is here - it attacked at dawn.

“Tumia cough drop, upate nafuu mpendwa. Baridi kama hii inaleta homa na magonjwa kadhaa, cough drop ya KSL itakusaidia sana. Ni shillingi kumi tu,” energetically chimes the highway cough-drop vendor in this KBS Nairobi-bound bus.

On his left hand is an open packet of the cough drops, on the right some coins which I’m assuming were part of his sales for the day. On his back is a black backpack with grey horizontal stripes at the back. One would assume that it carried other packets of his product but Nairobi being Nairobi, one’s mind might be triggered to think otherwise but today we choose to think - cough drops, yes? Yes.

If the backpack could talk, it would probably say that’s it’s been needing quality rest & relaxation time. It tightly holds on for dear life because it’s got a relentless hard working man depending on it. He goes about his business, after one or two sales alights at Nyayo Stadium.

Seated next to me is a youthful guy; from the conversation he’s just loudly had on phone my assumption is that he’s a Gen Z. He summons the rather elderly conductor saying, “Wee Msee, hela zangu nipe!” Only Z’s are that openly remiss with their words, arguably.

The lad/lass who called him earlier has seemingly annoyed him and the pent up anger from the conversation had no place to land other than on the conductor. Poor mzee.

“Unanipa hela zangu ama la?” He continues.

“Hawa konkodi washenzi sana.”

I don’t know whether our boy from the coast wants our opinion after his last statement because all we can do as judge and jury is wonder in dismay and in our heads ask, “Who raised you boy?!”

As we approach Bunyala Road matatu stage, which isn’t really a stage, officially at least, a guy in a brown hoodie moves forward to alight from the 3 seats right before us but before the bus stops he attempts to open the metal door. Just as it begins to open the cold body piercing breeze hits the 2 passengers seated at the first two seats adjacent to the door. The bus hadn’t stopped yet but was coming to a slow halt. An argument ensued.

“Wewe huoni hio baridi inatukula hapa?” the man seated asks. His counterpart silently watching.

Instead of simply apologizing, he angrily retorts, “Ni nini wewe?! Sasa nisishuke ju unakulwa na baridi?”

“Sisi ni abiria kama wewe! Wacha madharau nani!”

The argument came to a sudden stop when hoodie man alight after a nudge from mzee. While on the ground, he made sure to give man on seat a hard stern look that probably had “Usiniongezee stress we mzee!!” written all over it.

Right from the seat hoodie man left, window seat, sits a middle aged woman. After her seat mate alights she places her luggage on the seat with intentions to put it on her lap when another customer boards. Several people board at Bunyala and find seats at the back except for one man who surveys the bus and finds none. Mzee hasn’t seen the bag until the man points it out.

“Madam unalipia hio kiti?” he asks.

Madam hasn’t heard him, she’s facing the window, seemingly distracted.

“Madam! Madam … utalipia hio kiti. You will pay!” went mzee’s rising tone.

It looks like madam isn’t listening at first but mzee and the standing man, the silent judge & jury battalion finally realizes why that was the case.

As she raises her right hand to pick the huge backpack, the leso covering her shoulder and bosom area falls to the side, revealing a swollen left arm. All this time she has been in pain and there’s no way she’d have mentioned to mzee (or to the jury). Poor woman.

After noting her state, the ‘standing man’ graciously picks the bag and offers to place it on his lap as the journey continues. The jury can hear bits of the conversation they’re having now with the woman narrating what caused the swelling.

I’m glued to my phone writing this, ears & eyes alert trying to catch some other action. Our Gen Z friend just got his balance back - thank heavens!

So much frustration around. Is it the winter-like cold? Or maybe it’s something more …uuhm, corrupt? 

Like what you ask?

The government.

I blame the government. Let’s blame the government. It’s easier.

We’re at GPO. “GPO, ICEA washuke! … sifungui hii mlango tena hadi Ambassador!!”

Might you know who gave out that threat? 

Oh Lord, winter is here.