Kanjo

I detest city council askaris or kanjo as they are popularly known. They sit in their battered vehicles with all the windows reinforced with wire mesh and hungry looks on their faces waiting for some unsuspecting prey to pounce on. Woe unto you if you are unlucky and they catch you. You’ll have to make a choice between spending a few hours, or in extreme cases, days in a cell, or parting with a bribe to secure your freedom.

There’s a joke doing the rounds that even if they accuse you of shitting in the middle of Kimathi street at noon, just admit you did and get it over with.

I always thought I had mastered the skill of evading them until the evening I was caught trying to buy a novel from one of those street vendors.  I didn’t expect it. One minute I was bent over trying to choose one and in the next instant I was being hauled practically off my feet and dragged along on the streets. People turned to look, others with sympathy and others with amusement.

I was horrified and didn’t know what to do. The hand that was tightly holding my skirt was so firm that I knew I didn’t stand a chance of breaking away. He dragged me along to where one of their vans was parked. Already there was a pack of trespassers like me huddled inside awaiting their fate. He shoved me rudely onto the floor of the van and locked the door. I gingerly picked myself up and tried to find a seat.

Now, the kanjo vans have the set up of the face-me matatus we had from way before. You have to sit facing one other and the only way to avoid eye contact was if you looked at the floor. There were around ten of us huddled inside there. There was little room for movement and we were forced to either lean forward or back in order to accommodate one another.

The guy seated directly opposite me looked like he wanted to cry. He had this morose look on his face and I thought that any minute the tears would start falling. 

I looked away. 

There is nothing as sad as seeing a grown ass man reduced to such a pitiful sight. I prayed he wouldn’t start sobbing or worse wailing. I hoped he’d man up and just hold his tears at bay. No one was dead-yet.

The lady seated next to him was chewing on gum and had this don’t-care attitude about her. From the pile of stuff she held on to between her feet, I gathered she was a hawker. She probably went through this ordeal almost every day. She didn’t seem overly concerned and I wished I could adopt her attitude.

There was a strong stench of unwashed human bodies hovering inside the van and I thought I would throw up. I couldn’t clearly see where we were headed since darkness had started to creep in. 

No one said anything for a while, and then a man seated at the corner whom I hadn’t even noticed spoke up,

“Hawa watu lazima tutoe kitu kidogo watuachilie.  Mimi sitaki kulala cell.”

 “Utatulipia?”The hawker lady chimed.

H e wasn’t amused by her response, “Hio ni shida yako, kama hauna cha kujitoa nayo basi cell ndio kwako.”

She clicked her teeth in disgust but didn’t say anything else.

The weeping guy then came to life. “Kwanza leo ni Friday, tukipelekwa ndani tutakaa huko mpaka Monday ndio hata tushughulikiwe.”

I was torn between laughing and crying. On one hand it was terrifying that I may become a resident of the government for a weekend while on the other hand, the wailing guy was really funny to look at. I hate paying bribes but I knew then that I would have no other choice, unless I wanted to crown my week with a stay in police cells.

Some other lady who looked really polished said she wasn’t going to pay any bribe especially since she was picked for something she hadn’t done-they had accused her of leaning on a flower bed. She claimed she hadn’t been doing anything of the sort and was just standing next to it and furthermore she understood her rights.

I tried to tell her that kanjo and rights did not go well together but she gave me this dirty look that effectively silenced me. She looked like this type of woman who wouldn’t hesitate to engage in verbal warfare and would never lose. I didn’t want anybody to start telling me to mind my own business when I had urgent business at hand which was with the council askaris.

Eventually, the van stopped at some alley and the guys got out. They were four of them. In the dusk, they looked very sinister and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. At that moment, I missed my mommy terribly. They opened the back door and told us all to get out.

They demanded three thousand shillings from each one of us. No mincing words, no nothing, they just came right out and asked for the money. I only had a thousand bob with some loose change. My heart started beating real fast. I prayed that my negotiation skills were good enough to earn me a quick exit. We faced each other and started pleading our cases. 

Looking back, I still smile when I think about the negotiation proceedings. The polished lady absolutely refused to pay a single cent. The hawker lady didn’t even remove a single shilling-as I had guessed, she was a frequent culprit- but was nevertheless released. The weeping guy actually paid more-just so they won’t change their minds and refuse to let him go. I parted with the one thousand bob after lengthy discussions and they also let me go. To date, I still wonder what happened to the polished lady.

Lessons Learnt

I haven’t posted anything in awhile.

I have drafts that I have written and abandoned midway because I didn’t have the motivation to see them through.

So much has happened since the last time I posted that I am not even sure where to start from. So I think am just going to be random, put in bits and pieces of what’s been happening.

I’ll start with some lessons I have learnt:

1. Never ever walk next to matatus waiting to pick up passengers or in motion (route 6 matatus especially); unless you want a huge gob of phlegm splattered all over your face.

2. The matatus popularly referred to as “Nganyas” are a no-no. You pay double the fare in these vehicles. You pay for the ambience (read very loud music, dangerous speeds and foul-mouthed touts)

3. When in a fast moving matatu that is overlapping and over speeding, always ensure that you grab hold of something, anything, to avoid sprawling all over the floor of the vehicle or on the lap of the passenger next to you.

4. Remember to sit next to a sizeable person so that at least you have a comfortable sitting space. This is to avoid occupying only a quarter of your seat and risking having yourself sprawled on the floor when the vehicle hits a bump. Or having an annoying elbow persistently poking on your ribs.

A principal on the loose

Friday evening was a nightmare.

As one lady put it, one of the principals was on the loose.

Yes, Baks was in transit and half of Nairobi was held hostage. There was nowhere you could go to. The traffic was at a standstill. The only fellas who were lucky were the ones who could simply walk to their destinations.

I left work at five. Normally it takes me forty five minutes maximum to get to town. I got there after seven, two and a half hours later. The only consoling thing was that I didn’t have to go to work the next day, so it was all good. I knew it would be stupid to attempt to get home considering everything, so I opted to stay longer in town and wait it all out. Probably I would get home around the same time with the guys who were already on the road.

So I called up a couple of friends and hooked up with them. Only they didn’t come alone, each brought along a guest. Among the guests was an uncle who was visiting the city from the village. And he had a lot to say about different issues.

At some point, when we were discussing marriage, he was of the opinion that women should respect men for the men to love them back.

“There is nothing like a man respecting his woman, that is the modern bullshit (ok, he didn’t actually say the word) that you young people of today have invented. Women are not supposed to be respected!” 

We were rendered speechless a few seconds after this statement was made. The niece attempted to change the topic since I guess she knew where this conversation was headed, but the uncle wasn’t to be deterred.

“The woman’s role in any relationship or marriage is to cater to the man. She needs to feed him, pamper him and treat him like a king. Everything else is secondary.” 

No one wanted an argument on their hands so the rest of us just kept quiet and listened meekly. It seemed that this was a subject that was really close to his heart since he kept going getting more impassioned by the moment. Other people started turning and looking at us. It felt weird, I wished I could tell uncle to lower his voice but I didn’t dare. There is no telling what that would bring about.

So we sat and let him rant. Sooner or later we hoped he would exhaust everything and move on to more quiet topics. 

It took awhile.

Evening

Yesterday evening I took a vehicle whose last stop is at Odeon Cinema. We get there and as guys are alighting, this man starts complaining about where the vehicle has stopped at.

“Si mlisema mnafika Muthurwa?” He complained.

“Hapa ni Muthurwa!” the Tout shot back.

The man didn’t have anything to answer back. He just alighted meekly. I really felt sorry for him. He had a lot of luggage with him. On the other hand, I was also tickled, it was one funny comeback from the tout. I started walking chuckling to myself.

In the next instant, I was brought up short by some abrupt commotion. People were scampering to safety to get away from some guy on a wheel chair who was bearing down on the street at an alarming speed. I couldn’t believe his gall. And he wasn’t pausing. 

He just kept coming and coming and wasn’t even making any attempts to excuse himself. I quickly jumped out of the way too. I didn’t want to risk losing a limb just because of an ornery and aggravated fellow in a wheel chair.

And another day went by.

Adam

We all have friends, some genuine others not so genuine. We have people in our lives whom we can tell just about anything. Then we have those who serve different purposes; those to go out with, those who take you shopping, those who are just a statistic in our phone books-we hear from these like once in six months. You get my point anyway.

I don’t know where Adam exactly lands because he is everything I want him to be and so much more. He knows when I just need to vent and when I need some sound advise drummed into my head. You could say he maintains the balance in my life. What I love about him is that he can criticize me openly without holding back and oh boy can he open up. He tells me when am being a bitch and when I am acting cowardly.

There are many times I have threatened him and told him to keep off my life. I am glad he’s never listened. He is one person I can count on to be there through the bad and good times. We have been through a lot of stuff me and Adam. He was there when some street kid hurled feaces at me one bright Monday morning as I was headed to work. 

Luckily, most of it landed on my shoes and all I had to do was buy new shoes. Even then, he didn’t laugh and it was one funny sight-though I didn’t think so at that moment. I was so furious and wanted to give that kid the beating of his life. Adam led me to a Bata shop with this funny look on his face; it was only later that I realized it was because I smelled like shit! I had to fit the shoes outside, they didn’t allow me inside and only Adam stood next to me patiently as I got the new shoes and he disposed off  the old ones.

That’s just one of the many times he’s been there. And later as we walked on with me in my new shoes, he gave in to his laughter and made me smile too. Sometimes it scares me that it all started in a matatu one random morning. I wonder how it would all have turned out if I hadn’t forgotten to carry my wallet. I may never have known him and this to me is a scary thought.

I am just glad that I have him and that he’s been around even when everyone seemed to be walking out of my life.