8 months ago, 21 Nov 13:07
If you ever find yourself at the filling station across the road from Kisumu Boys High School, probably with your earphones plugged in to ignore the vendors with mobile kiosks, then most likely you are an impatient person like me heading to Bondo. A man with an overreaching forehead will tap on your shoulder (the third person to do this) and say ‘Ksss ksssss. Telo, amiyi watch?’ and you will shake your head, force a smile and say ‘Ero kamano, lakini dawe thura.’ No. You are not interested in any watch, or bootleg Ray Burns shades, or a cold fruit salad – however tempting because the eye of the sun is right above – or patcos, or biscuits pronounced as bisssssctsss. But that is the general hustle at the Kisumu Stend. Stend is what the cool kids of Nyalenda called Bus Stop and we all had to given in This area of the stend is where the ‘about to leave’ matatus for Bondo are. I do not know why we keep falling for this old trick over and over. Those matatus that have someone, usually a conductor acting as a driver, revving the engine, pretending to be in a hurry to depart. Another one hurries you to climb the matatu, and then just when it is about to fill up, half of the people who were inside alight, and you have to sit there for another 40 minutes. There is really no difference between these matatus and the ones at the main stage for matatus. There is only an illusion of haste. Here is the thing though. This matatu will not get you to Bondo. At Holo, you will be passed over to another matatu, which will also pass you over to another one when you get to Ndori. If at a particular time in all this you feel unwanted, nobody will blame you. But also, nobody will care. Only consolation is that your new Ndori bae will get you to Bondo. In one piece, if you have never used tithe money to buy KC Coconut. I have used tithe money to buy KC Coconut. Which is why by the time I alighted from the 14 seater matatu together with the rest of Siaya County residents, it was such a relief to recall the sweet taste of fresh oxygen. I was heading to Mageta Island. An island of which little is known, or given, yet whose significance is as important as a full load of bread to our Kenyan government. Mageta is further down the road – until the tarmac meets the water, and then further into Lake Victoria for another one hour. I was not ready for that kind journey, which is why I had to take a breather at Bondo Pride Hotel for a night before proceeding to the chula in the morning. Chula, for those who are not adept in High Valyrian is what my people of the great lake call an island. Bondo Pride Hotel – ...
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