HATUSIMAMI NJIANI
#KitengelaChronicles

A wise man will tell you that it is a fallacy when the conductor tells you that the shuttle will ABSOLUTELY NOT STOP, especially when it is leaving for town from Kitengela.
Open your ears and glean the destinations they are mentioning. If it is “TAO! TAO! TAO!” jump in, even if it means you will pay 80 Bob instead of 70. (10 Cnts is a lot of money here!)

If you hear ”Tao! Mororogo! Hamosini, Mia! Kabanas! GM! Vishoni!!!” My friend, dial 100, pocket your free hand lest it gets grabbed and loudly proclaim to your imaginary caller how you shall be arriving to Athi River in the next 10 minutes. You can actually speak to a safaricom care agent to pass time (in the meantime)

You could also decide to go slow and hold onto the 50 Bob ones but I assure you you will be hungry, angry, and probably bearing some dents by the time you are in town.
Some vehicles, I have been thinking seriously, run on pure Sulphur. The thick smoke will definitely kill all your ambitions to be creative or enjoy the beautiful site of a traffic jam on the other highway.

I once boarded one (and I still wonder why) while headed to Nairobi. Before I got to my seat, I had a cut already. The jua Kali artisans did a poor job while constructing the chassis, leaving protruding blade-like edges in wait for any soft chunk of well-oiled human flesh.

It got me!

If you hear ”Tao! Mororogo! Hamosini, Mia! Kabanas! GM! Vishoni!!!” My friend, dial 100, pocket your free hand

The seat covers resembled a trodden carpet with gaping holes that reminded my of my class-four pair of shorts with two eyes in the bottom. I sat, my face looking like one of my favourite WhatsApp emojis. Dust rose from the bottom, up into my back and generated a sneeze from behind.

How I would survive to Nairobi, only God knew.
I had this very convincing feeling to leave the bus for another less threatening one but a lady in blue, with white teeth and flowing natural hair lightly sat by my side.
I looked outside and smiled.
There is no way I was getting out.

The driver successfully fired up the plugs and we were soon smoking our way to town.
I was just waiting for the driver to hit a bump, scatter us all over, then I begin a conversation. Lol!

It happened actually, but as soon as the bump pressed me against my dusty seat, I felt a cold syringe-like feeling pierce through my flesh and I squealed (Like a scared monkey).
I looked through the window, saw Savannah Cement roll past, then Portland and Bamburi… I stared all the way to town, thinking of the first VCT to visit in case the prick had worked on someone with a virus a few minutes before I boarded.
It was the longest journey to town, and regrettably, I didn’t even say a word to the lady in blue.

Today, when I hear the guys saying, “hatusimami njiani!!!” I say to myself, “hata hivyo hamnibebi!”