There are two types of people in Nairobi- those who own a Toyota Vitz and those who don’t; what drives these two is an even larger following of those who bitterly complain about the ‘miniature’ car that is the Toyota Vitz and those who don’t.
For those who may not be familiar with the car; it really is a tiny vehicle that can be conveniently carried in a shopping bag as a wedding gift, and be popped out to hit the Thika Superhighway after the wedding.
Problem is majority of the folk who complain about the small car don’t even own a broken bicycle; they peddle their travel plans haggling with bus conductors in public transport. Those who don’t complain probably have enough problems servicing their own cars to bother about public opinion regarding the tiny vehicle.
‘Siwes endesha Vitz’, I cannot drive that car- ‘hata nipewe bure’. They say as they wear off the soles of their weather beaten shoes dreaming about owning a car some day.
These is the battalion of Nairobi commuters, they own cars, only in their thoughts- the majority of the population who thrive on the rat-race that is living in this city of impresarios and fashionistas who are constantly dreaming the life rather than living the dream.
Welcome to the world of public transport commuters in this city; On weekdays- they sport dashing looks, sharp suits and whiffs of cheap and almost expensive colognes for the men and elaborate dressing with a condescending waft of all manner of perfumes for the women.
Then there is the forest of weaves, acre upon acre of the hairy stuff emitting an array of smells depending on the age and the hygiene of the wearer. All these cram in buses and matatus.
The psychology of the Nairobi commuter is influenced and determined by the time of day, day of the month, the weather and the state of traffic- then there are those peculiar commuter habits.
In the morning everyone is almost upbeat, evenings are the opposite- at the end of the month people dish out the highest denomination notes and terrorize bus conductors. Rain petrifies fake and real hair women who seek refuge in matatus. Don’t all these traffic snarl ups make all of us mad?
Your average commuter pretends that they are boarding a matatu out of choice, when the truth is out there- they relish the dream of owning a car some day, they really don’t have a choice per se.
I will confess I fall in this category of pushers ever since I disposed of my beloved ‘ Doro ‘ the 1969 made Volkswagen Beetle that stalls when it is supposed to move and moves when it is supposed to stall. I struggle for room in matatus.
These characters, passengers in public transport have interesting habits I chose to document just a few, not exhaustively you may add up .
The iron fisted one: The ‘ Ngapi?’ people
This is that guy or lady who insists on paying the least possible fare; the ‘ Ngapi?’ (How much?) fellow, if it costs say 50 bob to go on the 46 route, the unflinching raia will wait until fares drop to 20 or 10 bob; never mind he got to the bus stage at 5:30 in the evening, and doesn’t mind waiting until 10 pm. Be cautious of this ‘ngapi?’ fellas, they cause civil disorder with the first vehicle that drops prices, the fighting , pushing and shoving for space at the door of the vehicle is a preserve for the seasoned, I tried these ‘ Ngapi?’ business once and ended up having my neck under someone’s armpit in a lock called ‘nyongolo’, the next thing I knew my pockets were empty.
Wa madirisha
Peculiar breed of human beings, they must sit by the window by all means- as though their lives depend on it.
Only problem is they are in a constant state of warfare – if common sense dictates the window should be open, for example it hot or someone has downloaded one of those killer farts with the potency of a nuclear weapon, they insist on having the window closed.
Incase of the reverse- say it is raining for instance they insist on having portion of the window open- so you will find yourself in a constant state of battle for the window latch with these fellows.
The oglers
Flip through a copy of your daily, their eyes are ogling; try to send a random text message on your phone- they even have the audacity to tell you that you have miss-spelt something. The ogler sizes you up and down, sometimes they demand to know where you got that shoe or shirt.
The pickpockets
They size you up before you enter a matatu or bus, very suave and fluent in stealing- seasoned fingers that could stealthily steal your undergarments without touching the trousers you are wearing over them; if you enter an empty matatu, and maybe you are the first passenger and the next one insists on sitting next to you with all the available space notwithstanding; that’ s a siren blaring- same old tricks, they keep dropping things and asking you to pick up for them, they have the brown envelopes and newspapers to cover the experienced fingers as they disposes you of your wealth.
The gizmos and ‘gadget-eers’
Mostly teenagers and campus students though grown-ups are not spared- with all their gadgets, that annoying seepage of hip-hop from ear phones and headsets, then they are texting all the way with foolish giggles, some streaming videos. Not a bad way to survive a traffic jam though.
The preachers
Have a way of making you feel guilty; what with… ‘ Wacha mi nihubiri neon la bwana na wee ukiangalia hiyo sime yako au gazeti- ni wengi wana masimu na magazeti lakini sasa wamelala Lan’ gata’. They preach with fire, and subtly without saying as much demand that you listen.
That hawker by the window
These ones annoy me and really test my patience- they keep banging at the window and shoving things up your face with pleading eyes and gestures- I never buy from these fellas.
The sleepers.
Older men and women are major culprits, though I have noticed lately that this one is catching up with me too fast. The moment they occupy a seat, its like a switch goes off- very fond of converting people’s shoulders into pillows- the worst in these category are the snoring, sleep drooling type; my favorite really are the ones who sleep with mouths open. I never mind occasionally throwing a peanut and testing my target skills.
The flirts and psychos
That guy who positions themselves strategically to hit on women- usually tired or well rehearsed lines. I’ve had the good fortune of being ‘Hit on’ by a woman in a mat in my younger days…but there are the extremes, like every market has its own mad fella, every bus or matatu has its own pervert- deal is when you will be unlucky to sit near or next to them- there is the woman who brushes her boobs deliberately on the male hunk, eeer and the perverts who grope classified body parts.
Whatever your take, you will encounter atleast one of these on any bus ride in Nairobi or around the world
BwanaSagala 