Then you don't know Stend
Kisa and its stage for vehicles!
The manambas of Stend Kisa
tussle. I mean, even before the vehicle fills to capacity, which happens just
after every solar eclipse, there they are! One is in a faded UDF T-shirt and
miraa suffocating his teeth somewhere. Fighting over a woman's luggage.
The woman eventually enters, followed by her four children of equal height. Their heads resemble tortoises, and so with no ill intent you baptise them Likhutu-wan, Likhutu-tuu, Likhutu-tsiri and Likhutu-foo. She sits next to you, and places Likhutu-tsiri on Likhutu-wan, Likhutu-wan on Likhutu-foo, and Likhutu-foo on her laps. You have no otherwise but to find space for Likhutu-tuu on your laps, plus a noisy hen, the sugarcane they've bought from commercial fear, a burst baloon and seven nosefuls of pungent urine fumes.
The woman eventually enters, followed by her four children of equal height. Their heads resemble tortoises, and so with no ill intent you baptise them Likhutu-wan, Likhutu-tuu, Likhutu-tsiri and Likhutu-foo. She sits next to you, and places Likhutu-tsiri on Likhutu-wan, Likhutu-wan on Likhutu-foo, and Likhutu-foo on her laps. You have no otherwise but to find space for Likhutu-tuu on your laps, plus a noisy hen, the sugarcane they've bought from commercial fear, a burst baloon and seven nosefuls of pungent urine fumes.
Oh her God, who
has taken her purse?
But you cannot claim to have
been at Stend Kisa stage if you didn't see Amigo. Amigo is a legend around
here, and all who hear of him always know him first sight. You see, even Amigo
himself believes he is crazy! But we all know what he does, because you can
never fail to get the strong Luanda (holy) weed if he is around stage. Ever
present.
The only time he ever avoided the place was some April day in 2002, when the marketters (villagers?) decided without dialogue to force body hygiene onto everyone. But in those rags, Amigo is an asset to the transport guys. He scares children and pregnant women into vehicles to Kisumu or Lubao or to their safety.
Young college girls and frightened city dwellers also hasten into vehicles whenever amicus Amigo approaches. And manambas regularly tip him for services. Thank the skies, no sane woman can dress the Nairobi way when they travel through Stend Kisa, otherwise they might see what the woman of Murang'a saw one fateful day, long time ago, courtesy of Amigo.
The only time he ever avoided the place was some April day in 2002, when the marketters (villagers?) decided without dialogue to force body hygiene onto everyone. But in those rags, Amigo is an asset to the transport guys. He scares children and pregnant women into vehicles to Kisumu or Lubao or to their safety.
Young college girls and frightened city dwellers also hasten into vehicles whenever amicus Amigo approaches. And manambas regularly tip him for services. Thank the skies, no sane woman can dress the Nairobi way when they travel through Stend Kisa, otherwise they might see what the woman of Murang'a saw one fateful day, long time ago, courtesy of Amigo.
And our Stend Kisa has an
average of three beggars a day. No, not those scared faces who claim having
lost money after the manamba scuffles around them. Stend Kisa has regular
proffessional beggars who call you Al-Shabaab or Olelengo when you don't drop
something into their bowls. One is called Salimu. Salimu tells us he was born blind.
But he always knows when to remind you that you should not return that
one-thousand-shilling note into your pocket.
Whatever he smokes, it is not kitchen smoke. But I am not through with Salimu: he crosses the busy Stend Kisa road all by himself, appears at vehicle 'windows' all by himself, always removes and hides the big note from the bowl all by himself, avoids hitting the sales woman's maize cobs all by himself, yet he asks you to walk him to the food kiosk, and asks you whether you have paid for his meal so God could bless you.
Last time a person at Stend Kisa told me that my new leather (!) belt was smart, and you wouldn't want to know who that was.
Whatever he smokes, it is not kitchen smoke. But I am not through with Salimu: he crosses the busy Stend Kisa road all by himself, appears at vehicle 'windows' all by himself, always removes and hides the big note from the bowl all by himself, avoids hitting the sales woman's maize cobs all by himself, yet he asks you to walk him to the food kiosk, and asks you whether you have paid for his meal so God could bless you.
Last time a person at Stend Kisa told me that my new leather (!) belt was smart, and you wouldn't want to know who that was.
This Stend Kisa bus stage,
brethren, will kill someone some day!
No comments:
Post a Comment