A matatu escapade; why i weep for our generation.

Have you witnessed an escapade you don’t fancy lately? I will tell you about mine. It’s a cold Thursday morning: 7:28 a.m. Anxiously waiting for the next matatu, randomly wishing I was a bird and praying I won’t be late for my second day.You know how the first week at work is.Keep that record clean, right? I see one approaching and it stops right where I’m at.

Mmoja tao!

The conductors says and I notice his tobacco stained teeth and vodka reeking mouth.He quickly leads me on,hands on the small of my back before I give a brief one about body autonomy.He steps on my doll shoes;my black doll shoes as he precariously hangs on the door.The lad next to me smells like day old piss and there’s a relationship between his nose and mouth,and no,I’m not talking about our primary 2 science rhyme.Like the zen girl that I am,I start chanting the nimeuona mkono wa bwana song because the devil is not spoiling my day.But the driver won’t let me have it because the matatu speakers blares with a loud head banging

Wamlambez!

Wamnyonyez!

That’s when I notice weird looking stickers on the window and ceiling.

One says,penda jirani yako…funny,right?

Now with music on full blast I still hear Lady chuckles at the back of the matatu so I turn and see a group of high school girls with untucked shirts and ties on heads screaming on top of their voices.

There is one who has smeared lipstick and eye pencil like that M-Pesa lady who’s videos I don’t find amusing.

Another one is on phone with a Brian(does it always have to be Brayo?) whispering sweet nothings with a heavy fake British twang.She must be a 16 year old Caro.

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One chimes in;

Umebeba hio flash fwine,tutaeka mangoma tuishie town matyme

Then she goes back to singing this song saturated with obscene content and language.I don’t want to think about the randy escapade these young-ins are going to because Miss painted face  is changing out of her clothes into a skimpy red skirt and those gladiator shoes.

Fear engulfs me.I fear for their parents.I fear for the future and I fear for this generation.Because its all fun and games when its not your sister or child.In this world where everyone is living a life of make believe and caution carelessly thrown to the wind. Where the world is too permissive and the culture is subtly shenging its way into sorry life choices. And don’t you dare be found not knowing how it all goes or you will be considered a hermit who lives under a rock in a gated community.

Should I confront them? And how do I start when all these profanities are what society does and engages in behind closed doors. I also can’t stay silent because clutching on to my purse and voicing quick hail Mary’s isn’t enough.

The matatu parks,the conductor bolts and the ladies start streaming out. I decide to follow them and have a quick chat,even if it means running ten minutes late. Pray for me because this is a big step and may I add that I forgot my change?

P.s I’ll come and tell you if it ends with a black eye.

Noel Cynthia

I believe in living a poetic life, an art full life. Everything we do from the way we talk,read,write,to the way we welcome our friends is part of a large canvas we are creating.

One thought on “A matatu escapade; why i weep for our generation.

  • October 3, 2019 at 12:01 pm
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    Wonderful….so much creativity.

    Reply

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