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Who Uses Matatu?

 


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 survival. That’s “rent is due and Bolt is not in the budget.”

Same matatu. Different realities.

One person is inside there praying the driver sees heaven before they do. Another one is there like, “This is such an authentic Nairobi experience.”

Authentic??

My brother in Christ, this is my daily bread.

And it hit me, life dynamics are funny like that. The same thing can be someone’s struggle and someone else’s story to tell at brunch.

“I tried matatu once, it was crazy!”

Tried??

My guy, I have a membership card. I have a seat preference. I know which conductors are honest and which ones will look you in the eye and still refuse your 50 bob change. We even tried giving them a cool name 'nganya' but is nganya even a word. Judge us if you want. We don't care

Some of us don’t “try” matatus.

We live matatus.

And somewhere between the loud music, the random stops, and the conductor shouting “Tao! Tao!” like it’s a personal calling, you realize…

We are really not living the same life.

Same city.

Same roads.

Same matatu.

Completely different stories.

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