Passenger Mgondi

I know this is not something I’m planning on doing for the rest of my life, hell how did I even find myself here? Okay, I now believe her, of everything I love doing, risk-taking tops the list, right after doing her, lost the rights though, long story.

Anyway, I’m a sweet boy from the ridges of Githunguri where they still value coffee, unlike our government. I’d say it’s for survival. Not that I do not have other skills, you should have seen me dressed in black khaki pants, brown shoes, and a blue shirt pacing around the classroom explaining the invention of the wheel and for reasons only known to the creators of the curriculum, the importance of Agrarian Revolution to the ever-noisy class form two east. After my rebellious move hit a brick, I even had my hair shaved. I still believe that Africans were misled about having long hair, but for the benefit of my students—who, in Mr. Kuria’s words, “now see you as a role model”—I had to somewhat change my wicked ways.

Where was I? Yes, about skills. I am profession in both words, street and corporate but Nairobi does not care as they literary put it, “hakuna pesa imekarangwa” (no money is fried). Whatever pays the bill babe, out here we hustle like dropouts, by the way, if anyone needs a Kiswahili/History teacher, holla at your boy.

“Ni ngapi?” he asks

“Unashukia wapi?” I ask back

“Juja?”

“80” I say back.

He hands me a hundred-shilling bill and just because I can, I decide not to give back his twenty shillings change. Let him wait, maybe by then he will have his attitude fixed, mimi ni baby boy banah! It’s a romantic Thursday afternoon, with the sun rays pouring through the windows and casting long shadows on the floor. The slanting rays of the setting sun are giving a warm orange tinge to the sky’s different shadows both in and outside the bus. Now with some mellow reggae tunes playing in the background, there is no way I’m allowing this man to ruin my day. I continue with my ritual, move one step closer to the next seat, and as usual start with the left side. Collecting fare is one of my other skills.

“Oyaa change yangu?”

He shouts with his head tilted to the back making sure I hear and see him. Drama king. As a very peaceful man trying to avoid all this confrontation, plus really, twenty shillings! The economy can’t be that bad, I fish out four-five shillings coin from my side pocket with his attitude he better make himself busy by counting. Let me paint you a picture, it’s a 33-seater bus, yes, super metro only that Hii manyanga in ya Lopha! The dude is well dressed in a beige shirt with black stripes, that official look, probably works in one of those many offices in Westlands or Upper Hill. He’s holding one big ass phone which he is regularly checking as if waiting for that Mpesa message, sited on the left window seat, third seat from the backbench. At this point am leaning on the first seat from the rear collecting fare from the backbenchers so, for his money to reach him, I hand the coins to the closest person and nod, she understands and in turn, passes the coins to one last person before the intended recipient. Involuntary I smile at her, bad habits, she blushes showing off her dimples. “Eiish dimples, bro salimia huyu on my behalf” I say jokingly creating a very awkward situation between her and the guy seated next to her who takes advantage and says hi to her resulting in few smiles from those nearby. Today I’m Mr. Good Vibes. A minute or so later, I’m done collecting fare and headed back to my “office”, Kwa mlango ya manyanga. Just when I’m about to pass the third seat, I hear:

“Hiyo pesa ingine?”

Pesa gani?

Umenipea mbao.

Eeh, umenipea soo. Unataka gani ingine?

Nilikupea punch.

Ukapea nani?

You all go around saying, Makanga ni wezi hawarudishi change and other short stories. Now let me introduce you to our side of the story, passenger mgondi. I’m hoping that’s still the Sheng word for “thief”, Lol, I’m now starting to accept my age, but in my defense, the Sheng syllabus is being revised on an hourly basis. In this situation, only God is my witness and most probably everyone else will side with the client. Furthermore, the customer is always right. Now the guy gets really angry and starts yelling attracting everyone’s attention.

Mimi utanipea zangu!

He concludes, threatening to stand up. All this time I’m standing in the same position I was before while asking for his fare still as a tree trump listening to all the allegations. Involuntarily, I fold my fist glaring at him as anger runs down my spine. It’s situations like these that get me rethinking some of my decisions. First, how did I find myself here? Second, how dumb does this dude think I am? This is what you people forget I do not only collect fare I keep record of the money we earning with one golden rule, never lose money

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Pesa yangu!

The man starts ranting again this time addressing the other passengers explaining how we, lopha conductors, steal from clients and all other terrible services we offer.

“Na si wewe umepeana mia? Ni nini unaharibia wengine kazi?” the woman finally speaks as calmly as possible.

I serve a living God who has a way of coming through for His humble servant. I wish I had the right words to explain the shame on this thief’s face and the smile on mine. I have fought the battle without uttering a word, thanks to the sweet woman who decides to stand with the truth.

Woman be my hero; next time I see you fare on me.

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