50 Shades of Mathree

 I’m sitted at the back seat, as usual, in this mathree. By the music that its playing, one can definitely take a wild guess where it is heading. The driver decides to tune up the volume. I guess it’s his favourite song that has just started playing. My eyes can’t be jailed in one direction of vision, so they choose to jump from one site to another.

The first thing I notice is the stubborn kid who keeps on crying every now and then. The mother looks tired of its behaviours. Was I this stubborn? Did I keep on crying every now and then when nothing went my way? Or something I wanted wasn’t delivered to me? Then again, you are not the right person to ask these questions. The mother keeps on shouting at it everytime. By the way it looks, and its behaviours, it wouldn’t be a surprise if one of the famous loud politician is a relative to it. The cries keep on getting louder by the minute. Come to think about it, maybe this is another reason why the driver tuned up the volume. The man next to the mother keeps on turning his head towards the kid. Making angry facial expressions towards the mother. He keeps on adjusting himself on his seat. I think he wished he never sat next to her. Men, kids don’t bite, well… unless you keep them hungry or put your finger in their mouth. To them, food is anything that fits between the two jaws.

A message tone from my phone rings and disturbs my concentration. I’m quick to check who it is from.

Deposit cash into your account today through M-PESA…

I don’t read it through to the end. I don’t even remember when I opened an account with the bank. I’m quite sure I have one bank account. Okay, I don’t know whether to call it an account because I don’t check it up oftenly. How much does it even have? The guy next to me stares down at my phone as I scroll through. He does not have even the decency to face elsewhere after realizing I caught him. I’m tempted to type one of those memes I find on Instagram where they say they are about to bomb the vehicle. But I fear for my security.

I do a little census of the passengers in the vehicle in my mind. More than half of the passengers look to be in their late forties or early fifties. The ratio of men is higher compared to that of women. If only that was how the world population would be. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t be here telling you this. The first person alights from the vehicle. I’m quite sure most people would wish the mother and her kid would be the ones alighting. An old man replaces him in his seat. He is full of rhytides on his face. This got me thinking. How will I look like when I’m old? A little imagination flashes my mind. No way, I don’t want to look like that. My daughter, if you ever get to read this, I just want you to know something. Sometimes your make-up will go missing and other times it will get to finish fast. To knit the short story long, I think I wouldn’t mind to use make up in my old age. Damn!!! you should have seen my imagination. I really look ugly.

The lady sitted infront of me brings me back to reality from my day nightmares. What catches my attention, is the phone she removes from her handbag. I’m sure it’s a Z4. My dream phone at the current moment. If I’m to judge by her looks, I would say either she got a sponsor, the phone was a stolen one or one of those counterfeits. I try to peep who z calling her but the font looks too small. I’m sure this guy sitted next to me has got a giraffe neck and could see everything. He stretches himself towards her and takes a very good look at the screen.

Tuko karibu kufika… (in a jovial mood).

Her accent has got the mother tongue nature in it. I’m sure today some people somewhere will sleep past midnight listening to her stories and bragging from the city. Within a few minutes, my destination comes to an end. As I get off, I get tempted to follow her. I also want to sleep past midnight listening to her stories. Someone send me some bus fare so I can accompany her to her whereabouts. If you do, I promise I’ll come back to tell you what she said.

It wouldn’t hurt to share…