By The Rackster
Do you ever wake up in the morning and feel like the day has planned something for you? Not like something good. No. Bad. Like it is daring you to get up. Like it is waiting for you to drag your feet to the bathroom to pee. Like it wants you to take a morning shit and then at the last possible moment remind you that you are out of toilet paper. It has become that primary school bully with green gram hair and permanent scowl that nobody liked. The guy that smelt like burnt offering on Tuesday mornings like he slept at an alter sacrificing all his good intentions. The one that nobody liked but nobody ever dared to tell them they don’t like because they were afraid. The one who had many friends. Only because if he said you were his friend then you were his friend. You would not dare go against them. Today feels like that bully.
First, it is a Friday at the time of writing and between me, the clothes I have on, the Airtel unliminet on my phone and poverty we have 232 shillings. That’s when you know it is bad. Because usually you round off the figure. That 2 shillings gets lost in translation. But not today. I count that. Because it is a rat race out there. Look at Bill Gates, rich guy. Richest guy actually. Woke up and found out that he is no longer the richest guy in the world. I would not know how that feels but it must be devastating. Think of the repercussions. There’s a rapper somewhere that might have to throw away a whole album because all his punchlines were based on Bill Gates being the richest. Maybe his wife is looking at him with bad eyes. Wondering what kind of a man he is. How could he? It was the only thing they had. Number one. Now it is gone. I can’t even imagine what a round of golf between those two guys will be like.
“Hey Bill, I think you should go first.”
“That supposed to be funny Jeff?”
“Wait a second Bill I didn’t even mean to…”
“Haha very funny Jeff. Very. Fucking Funny.”
Then Jeff would think Bill lost it. And it is not like it is such a big deal. I mean they are still both stinking rich. Wait… 90 billion wouldn’t stink. Hell that would waft nicely into people’s nostrils and lives and buy you favors with God himself. But anyway. Back to my 232 shillings.
So that is all I have meaning I cannot even afford to be late. A minute late means I get rush hour rates. Rush hour rates means no lunch hour. No lunch hour means I get grumpy. Me getting grumpy means I need a drink. Me needing a drink is bad because I cannot afford it. See where I am going with this? Do you?
Second thing is I forgot to charge my phone. At least one of them. The one with the alarm set. So I woke up late. Which is not really like me; I usually wake up before the alarm goes off but the day. Well, the day decided to tweak the weather a bit. It let the clouds hang low and sent in a little bit of fog for sizzle. So while it was well past 6 I thought it was barely 4 am. So when I realized what time it was I was torn between putting a tea bag under my tongue, jumping into the shower taking a piss, run the hot water and open my mouth. I would have killed 3 birds with one stone. But when the day has a thing for you. A bad thing. A vendetta. Well, they talk to KPLC and that means there was no electricity. Oh and also I do not have tea bags.
But miracles happen when you least expect. I felt a little bit sick. So that covered my excuse for having breakfast. Deep down I hope it is not cholera. God knows I cannot afford a health institution right now and I have been late with my insurance payments thanks to good ol Jack Daniels. Brilliant Chap. Worst friend. So no breakfast saved time. I rush to the stage, grab a mat after asking the conductor 17 times that the fare was 50 and not 80. 17 times. I have no room to start arguing over 30 shillings on a Friday morning.
So third thing I sit next to the window; then this lady sits next to me. Full hair on her head. It’s brown. So maybe not her hair but it still looked nice. And full. Like a squirrels tail. She has an iPhone. Yeah. In this weather; an iPhone. Let us roll our eyes together. Lol. And she was restless. She kept cussing under her breath. Clicking. Mscheewing. Looking out the window. Looking at me. Saying something under her breath. Getting up. Walking to the door then coming right back. Taking a seat. Cussing some more. Putting her head on the seat in front and closing her eyes. Praying maybe. Then getting back up. Looking around the mat and cussing some more until the mat started moving. Which seemed to calm her down.
But you see the thing is when you are having problems of your own. 232 shillings worth; you cannot afford to talk to someone else about their problems. You just can’t. So you keep it all to yourself. At least that is what you tell yourself until the lady next to you pushes her elbow into your rib cage. You are not sure if it is an accident or she just felt that she cannot suffer alone. Her mental turmoil will be your physical excruciation. So I eyeball her. Okay I do not. I just look at her with nice eyes and smile. She does not smile back. She looks back at me like I am the source of her problems. Beelzebub’s nephew. Like my skin resembles a demon’s scrotum. Yikes. Why did I even make that comparison… Never mind. But she speaks.
“What is wrong with this traffic?”
In my right senses I want to say everything. That the cold has gotten to it. That last night it slept without having dinner. That is now hungry and cold. That the economy is so bad the wife left it and now it has nothing to live for. Even the kids. They do not have its DNA. The wife cheated. So now it wants to punish us. But I don’t. Homicide in matatus is rare. Almost non-existent. I am in no competition to become the first. So I politely murmur:
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know I am late?” She rattles off.
I want to respond. Tell her of course I did not know. And that I suck at this game. But I don’t even get the chance to so she goes off again.
“I have a meeting at 8.30”
I check my watch for effect. It is 8.07.
“There’s still time. We’ll make it.” I try console her.
“No. I have to meet my boss first. I am sure she is waiting for me.”
“But she hasn’t called you has she? You are fine. Panic when you see her call.”
“Do you know I still have to connect? Town is not my final destination.”
We are back to the game. I still don’t know. What I know is that I should just keep it all to myself. But I don’t. I ask her where she is going. Turns out; we are going the same direction. I point that out. Then quickly wished I did not. There’s nothing as bad as fraternizing with a lady on a Friday morning, walking to the stage together and having to pay courtesy fare since you are chewing her ear away when you are now effectively 182 shillings rich. (See the half full half empty thing I pulled of there?) Luckily for me the day is not as vindictive as I thought. She gets off the mat faster than me when we get to town and I spot her in a small crowd of people, leaping, running, jogging, walking away in a huff. Her and her bushy hair and fancy iPhone.
Turns out the day does not only have a vendetta on me. Actually her day might be much worse because I failed to reveal that I know a short cut that would cut her run, walk, hop, and leap to the stage by five minutes. Oops. My bad.
Have a great week guys.