Kenyan Madness Abroad

Will this turn out to be the elusive outlet for me to unleash my creative genius on an unsuspecting world? Or is it destined to be nothing more than a hi-tech pen and pad chronicling the ramblings of a delusional mind? You be the judge ... Just so ya know there's a disclaimer: This blog contains strong language and some adult situations. Viewer discretion is advised.

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Cultural, expressive, thoughtful dude. It's not all good though coz I am also an internet addict, and a sometime stalker too. But I am happy to say I am in therapy for the internet thing :)

Friday, December 8

Ride in a ma-3



I am going home for the first time in about 3 years and I am as excited as a little kid in a candy store! I have started reminiscing about things I experienced growing up and how so much of that has changed.

The biggest change of all from what I hear are the ma-3s. They are now orderly and organized but back in the 90s it was survival for the fittest while the weak were often literally left by the wayside. If you couldnt hop onto a ma-3 that barely slowed down at your stop, you might have ended up walking or hitching a ride from a neighbor.

It was on a ma-3 that I saw my first ever crossdresser. This dude had the audacity to go out in public with eye shadow, lipstick, and pink powder on his cheeks! What's worse is he hadn't bothered to shave so he had some beards amidst all that makeup. Plus he reeked to high heaven of cheap perfume. Everyone (including the usually raucous manambas) was in stunned silence most of the way, occasionally stealing glances in his direction.

Speaking of manambas, this one time there were 4 or 5 of us riding to town and as we got off, one paid for the other, and this one said that one was paying for him, and the last one said the first one was paying etc. It was a slightly confusing situation and the manamba scratched his head while trying to figure out who was paying for whom. Finally he summoned his best English and pointed at my chile at the time and said ... "And worrov her?" lol

This other time there was a jamaa that was leaning on a small pole by the side of the road at Industrial Area smoking a cigarette. He was as cool as you please with his legs crossed at his ankles and his none smoking hand tucked under his armpit. You could tell he probably was a guy that had some small cheo of sorts and was used to calling the shots in his office. He stuck out his hand to stop the ma-3. It came to a dead stop at his feet and the manamba shukad to let him board. This jamaa (arms and legs still crossed) leaned his neck forward and peered over his glasses into the vehicle. Seeing no available seat, he waved his hand to show the ma-3 he wasnt interested. Ati "Keep going". He had no idea what was coming next. The incensed manamba slapped him 4 quick times sending his glasses flying in one direction and his cigarette in the other. "Nyani wewe, usisimamishe gari kama huendi!" the manamba barked at him amid the slaps and boarded the now moving ma-3. The poor guy was left looking absolutely stunned. The funny thing is his arms and legs were still crossed through it all.

Hmmm ... let's see ... what about the time the ma-3 was at a round-about and cut off this big, black budda driving an old, beat up Renault? The budda rolled down his window and stuck out his hand and unfolded the HUGEST middle finger I have ever seen! That thing was like a Cuban cigar! It looked like a rolled up Kasuku book covered in black shoe polish.

Let's not forget about the criminal element preying on unsuspecting passengers. At my first ever job out of high school, I had been sent to a market to buy a picture of Moi to hang on the wall (it was a brand new office). I haggled down the price and made Ksh. 100 profit for myself which I placed in my back pants pocket. That night as I was heading home, in the scramble to board the ma-3 a voice came from the back warning, "Chungeni ma-pickpocket!" Instinctively I felt for my pocket where I had stashed away my loot. Relieved that it was still there, I proceeded to struggle with the rest of the commuters to get onboard. Once inside, as I walked to my favorite seat (back-left), I caught a glimpse via the reflection in the window of something white sticking out of my rear end. It was my back-pocket hanging out like a tongue! And my money was gone! Kumbe the guy warning us about the pickpocket was either the pickpocket himself or his unscrupulous accomplice! As soon as they saw me check my back-pocket they knew where to get their night's ugali and muthokoi, the thieving bastards! I hope they choked on the maize!

Finally, I recall the time I was on a No. 46 headed for town. There is this steep section right after the intersection of Argwings Kodhek and Ole Odume roads where if you gather enough momentum, you will experience the roller coaster effect and your stomach will rise and nudge your lungs. Well, at least that's what it feels like. A cyclist was riding his black mamba down that road and he was really flying at top speed. Even his legs had stopped pedalling and were stretched outwards on either side of him. The cheeky ma-3 driver wanted to stua the poor jamaa for no reason and as he passed him, blew his horn at full blast: PWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! ... next thing there was a cloud of dust on the side of the road and a black mamba tumbling over and over. I always wondered what happened to that poor guy ...

4 Comments:

Blogger The future diplomat said...

lol, dude you can surely write

4:29 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

GOSH, the number of ma3 stories that we can all conjour up!! Thanks for sharing yours - made my day.

4:09 AM  
Anonymous nymmoh said...

huh whaaat...lolest, sijacheka hivo for long, ngatho yo good

4:31 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Seriously, I can't laugh any more...i'll pass out

5:11 PM  

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