The Rarity That Is Kenyans Defending The Matatu Conductor

If there’s one trait that describes Kenyans apart from passive-aggressive, it’s ticking timebombs. We simmer like magma; waiting for a trigger to erupt. And we explode, sometimes to disastrous results, and then we go back to our merry lives like nothing happened.

So today, after my usual Wednesday song sessions with Ragz, I walked to my bus-stop of choice GPO. I’d have gone to Kencom, but the gridlock that greeted me as I snaked my way to GPO was heartbreaking. And waited I did, patiently for a bus to come. There was a multitude of people so I knew my chances of getting in first were slim to none.

Like clockwork, a KBS bus slowly made its way towards us, teasing our tired feet with the sound of its revving engine. Expectedly the conductor swung the door open and shouted “hamsini Kibera, mia Kawangware!” People let out their otherwise stifled sarcasm because let’s face it, we love to pretend we are polite. After a while, the conductor realized empty don’t pay rent and the fare ‘went down a notch.” I wasn’t impressed though, so I moved further back.

And then a compliant joined the foray, “fifty hadi kawangware” a shrill voice pierced the air. Suddenly there was commotion. Strangely though, no one was getting in. Apparently this was not its route, so they had to “cough” some money to a bunch of guys to be allowed to “beba watu wao”. The stuff you read about in books like Kinyanjui Komban’s Den Of Inequitues. I figured fifity bob to Kilimani was no so bad. I had contemplated walking, but the darkness was quickly setting in and who knows what monsters lurk stealthily in the shadows.

Traffic…traffic…soon we were on Valley Road when the lady conductor suddenly shot up and started collecting fare. Whilst doing that, she admonished us for agreeing to pay sixty bob on other days, when we know full well the fare is fifty bob. “Lady, who is your mother?” I wondered in my head. No one points out our faults so callously; we know we are being trampled upon but we are Kenyans, we just comply until we are at the end of our tether.

And then she got to this guy, who gave her forty bob. She respectfully declined saying she’d haggled for all of us to pay fifty bob, thus it was only fair that she be paid what was rightfully owed her. I found myself nodding in agreement. This conductor was a stark contrast to that fool in the Ngong matatus I used earlier in the day. Buffoon wanted to overcharge me AND REFUSE WITH MY CHANGE! “Kula vaco budah, chorea”. I told him I don’t speak gibberish.

Back to this guy, dude had a mouth like loose stool. I don’t get these assholes who feel that being rude to women makes them macho. Even after the passenger next to him offered to pay the extra ten bob for this nigga, he still went on insulting the “makanga” much to the chagrin of the men in the bus. I was gob-smacked, and for good reason. First he was Somali, and before you side-eye me for being a “tribalist” bear with me. We are in the month of Ramadhan, which means this nigga had just broken his fast. Who insults people after iftar? Geez! To be quite frank I have never met a muslim man let alone a Somali exchanging words with a lady in public during Ramadhan. In Mombasa my friends have this joke, that if you are born a Somali and you are not pious, you must have been exchanged at birth. “Wasonjo wameshika dini sie wengine utadhani makafiri” they say.

Suffice to say, eff words in Sheng laced Swahili, spiced with blatant arrogance don’t sound as cool as they do in the movies. In one fell swoop blows were raining on this dude like it was planting season. And then he started to yell that he was being victimized for being Somali. Nigga really? That was after he told this burly man in his fifties to “peleka” his “pang’anga kwa gazati na akaitombe” I kid you not, pardon my French. Asiye funzwa na mamaye hufunzwa na ulimwengu so goes the adage.  

I hate violence, I am the poster child of pacifism but this dude had it coming. You do not rile people who are grappling with issues from here to Kathonzweni. No. You shut up and “nyenyekea” as the man sitting to my right said resolutely. All this guy had to do was say he was cash-strapped, and even I would have paid that ten bob for him. Life happens, and I always pray that should I find myself in that precarious position, someone will bail me out.

Long story short, he was mercilessly thrown out of the bus, and a sweeping calm came over the bus like nothing had transpired. All I could here were hushed tones, discussing the incident in excruciating detail. Of-course whispers tend to be louder than screams. The one line that stuck with me was, “ma vijana wa sku hizi wana ufala. Wanadhania dunia ni ya nyanya yao.”

I hope he learnt his lesson, because it would have end badly for him. People have been thrown out of moving buses to the welcoming arms of hades. No one loves a man drunk with blind macho pride, it gets you killed in these streets. 

Caveat:

This post might offend. That was not my intention.

Image courtesy of World-Nomads  

Masalkheri