I have been away from social media, away from this blog, ignoring phone calls, not responding to Whatsapp or texts I have just been. I would like to tell you something profound as to why I am silent but I have no reason. There is nothing deep I have just been sleeping too much and living in my dreams. I have also watched marathons of House of cards, re-watched Game of Thrones for the fourth time now, it’s a complex show, I’m not stupid just need a little more watering to remain green and of course, Power because Ghost’s ass is fiiine and they keep showing it. I have also read books in an effort to escape from myself. If I had my way I would have moved to an alternate universe. You get the drill by now, what I didn’t clearly say is that I nearly got depressed. Yes, depression.
I have absolutely no idea why. That’s because I am human and life is not a Kindle Paper White loaded with my favorite books that I can forget about my tribulations. It hasn’t been exactly roses and tulips. But I hold on, because my friend asked me to not let go. I stayed the course. I have been working very hard, while at it I how I found myself with so much work the last couple of weeks that I didn’t have the time to book a ticket to Mombasa and my amazing friend didn’t have time either. I really wanted to be on the SGR (I need to experience this before the euphoria dies). So I found myself in a bus on seat number 40 headed to Mombasa on Saturday night because I needed to attend an event on Sunday afternoon. See the convenience chopper owners have over us regular folk?
My nightmares started when seat number 40 was booked by me and a menopausal man. Seat 39 is adjacent seat 40, if I don’t say that you’ll hate me. A young girl between 15 and 17 years sat on it that makes us seat mates. The bus heaved and breathed its way out of the city. When we got to the “South C booking rock” – they don’t have an office there if you are late you just wait by a rock on the side of the road- a couple got in and walked up to me and the young girl. With the guy leading he asked us to move from our seats. We didn’t respond so with the commotion the conductor came to investigate. After an earful he asked us all to walk with him to the front of the bus. I have always thought I fight for my rights but I avoid arguments more than anything in the world. The conclusion was that young girl and I were to wait for different buses. I was to catch a bus for 9:45 pm and the young girl was to catch a bus for 10:15 pm. That’s when my black girl power kicked in. I gave the conductor, the driver and his co driver a mini lecture about how inappropriate it was to drop two ladies in the middle of the road in pitch black. If you know me, you know I look like I just completed high school so technically I was the same size with that girl except I look more mature and stuff. I road hard for that girl, I was ready to be left on the road but I wasn’t ready for them to leave that girl. In those ten minutes I stood on in the chilling velvety black tarmac I lived and breathed that girl.
Eventually they gave in and we got back into the bus. They gave me a seat and the girl was to sit on the floor just near the door. It’s like I was possessed and I just couldn’t tame the animal inside. I gave the girl my seat and offered to take her place. You know that place between the bus driver and the door? The one that looks like a bed? They lay a mattress like thing, covered it with and maasai shuka and threw a pillow and just before my very own eyes someone built me a throne for the very first time. I sat down next to the co driver and the conductor stood all the way to Mombasa – I can’t even begin to explain how good I felt. I didn’t fuss much so the conductor kept wondering why. I used the very cliché line “no human is perfect”. I remembered how my colleague kept missing deadlines to book me transport to Mombasa and smiled inside. I am terrible at times so I told my colleague I would not forgive him, “nimekusamehe Ted”.
Incidentally the driver was chatty Charlie and he kept talking about going to canaan , his beautiful wife and daughter and his bomb ride, Subaru. Subaru people is there anything you need the world to know? Are you guys trying to compensate for something? How long do you take in the sack? I also learned that my Kiswahili is so rusted, who knows what hasidi means? I learned why Dares Salaam is known as Bongo. Our driver was Tanzanian and he is convinced that in a few years Swahili will be as popular as English, I’ll wait. The driver kept giving me props for standing up for that girl. I felt like Khaleesi for a moment but I am not a stellar human because I rode hard for that girl, I did it because it is normal and I like to believe someone would defend me as much as I fought for that girl. We are only as strong as we are empathetic enough to try on someone else’s shoe. It wasn’t my good deed of the day. It was just a good deed and that is how we all should live.
P.S Mombasa people are great. I went to buy an orange at a mkokoteni cart and the seller cut up a whole orange for me to taste. He said “Dada kama sio tamu usinunue.”I almost left without buying but he had guilt tripped me to buying four more.
P.S2 We should have a candid conversation about depression not just because but because we need to stop ignoring it.