From Sparks to Stories

  Guys, I am rethinking my life, because Who uses matatu? Well… I’m currently seated in one. In fact, I used one in the morning too. It’s not just transport, it’s a lifestyle, a commitment, a situationship I didn’t sign up for but here we are. So what does that say about me? Anyway, I’m here having a deep life conversation with my newly-found friends. You know how matatus do that, force bonding. One sharp corner and suddenly you’re sharing life philosophies with a stranger who smells like strong cologne and ambition. Now… plot twist. One of these guys casually mentions he hasn’t used a matatu in FOUR YEARS. Four. Years. The other one… acha tu. Her relationship with public transport is “once upon a time.” And I’m here thinking we are the same species. Do you know these people use matatus for experience? For thrill? Like it’s some kind of extreme sport. “Bro, have you ever hung on a door at 7am traffic? The adrenaline??” Meanwhile, for some of us, that’s not adrenaline, that’s surviv...

I was about to name this piece "you cannot shame the shameless" but I decided.  You wanna know why?  Free will guys. Free will.  But anyway...  The city under the sun. Such a beautiful name. Right?  So poetic. So promising. You hear it and you imagine golden light kissing skyscrapers, people walking with purpose, maybe a saxophone playing faintly in the background as life unfolds in soft, cinematic motion. Then you arrive in Nairobi. And immediately, you realize the sun is not kissing anything. It is beating. Beating the tarmac. Beating your confidence. Beating your sense of direction. And if you are not careful, it will beat your bank account too. By 4:00am, the city is in full performance mode. Matatus roar like they are in a Fast & Furious audition no one asked for.  Conductors hang halfway outside the doors, yelling destinations like auctioneers who are emotionally invested in your travel plans. Kwani you guys don't sleep? “Town! Tao! CBD! Ha...